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Naika shook his shoulders with a ferocious force. “Noah?! Please say something!”
His head lolled to the left, bloody spittle dripping from his cheek.
She screamed, frustrated tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “Hekate? Dílseacht? Someone help him!”
Hekate grabbed her by the shoulders, but did not move her aside. “Naika, there is little we can do but wait. The Allfather said Noah would be fine—we must wait for him to find his way back.”
Defeated, Naika wrapped herself around his lithe frame, humming a familiar tune between whimpers. “I’m so sick of this. So sick of losing! We didn’t ask for this, we didn’t want this—why are we paying for it?!” Her words tumbled out before she could stop them.
Hekate swallowed, her face no longer gentle, but hard-set and feral. “None of us asked for this, Naika. We gods and goddesses didn’t ask to be killed mercilessly. We didn’t plead for someone to destroy our homes, our families, our lives. Despite what you may know of our unconventional ways, we had our own reasons to live.”
She realized that Hekate had never heard such from her—only her friends, her true family, had waded through such murky waters with her. “Hekate, look, I’m sorry.”
The elder goddess cut her short. “No, Naika Connors. So far, I have relented. So far, I have done my best to be patient and kinder than my nature is inclined to. But I will not continue to bear the weight of your destinies. Perhaps it isn’t a quiet life in a small town; it isn’t keeping to yourself, and shutting the world out.” She turned to Sirus, his eyes unable to stay her steely glare. “It isn’t building ships or welding metal. But it is your fate, like it or not.”
With a loud clang, the elder goddess tore through the shop’s back door. Panicking, Naika hurried to lay Noah’s body down. Without a word, Sirus took her place, holding Noah’s head up into the light while Dílseacht dabbed a cool rag against his forehead, Naika eventually chasing Hekate out into the dark.
“Hekate, please, wait!”
Body crouched, her wild energies compounded around her, billowing the dirt beneath armored feet. Her eyes took to the sky, lips uttering the same faint, otherworldly whispers as before. In an instant, Hekate split through the air, her ascent sounding through the sky like thunder.
She was gone.
Naika cradled her head in her hands, pulling at the long strands that fell all around. “Damn it,” she growled, a half whisper barely squeaking out. She braced herself and screamed into the sky; a hollow yowl that would take the Heavens themselves aback. A light snowfall began around her, little snowflakes drifting into her hair and vanishing along the pathway’s cracks. The heat of her skin melted them instantly, wetting her cheeks to a steady drip.
“Miss Connors,” a voice came through the dark, its owner silhouetted against the door, “he’s coming around—I thought you would want to know.” Dílseacht eased towards her, holding out his hand.
She wiped the snow flurries away on the cuffs of her sleeves.
“I know it’s hard; life simply is,” he added, “no matter the task, the hardships will remain. It is up to us to live and fight against such sorrows.”
Naika took his hand as he led her back towards the Shipmake, where her misfit comrades waited. She could see them through the window; Sirus was at Noah’s side, one hand on his shoulder, his face part concern, part relief.
“Besides, I’m sure she’ll come back soon,” he added quietly.
Naika sniffled, hands rubbing her cheeks and up through her hair.
Dílseacht pushed the door open, offering her the space.
“Hey,” she said quietly, brows knitted over a runny nose, her hands fumbling with the belt loops of her jeans.
Noah looked dazed, but smiled at her. “Hey, Nai. Don’t worry. I’m okay. My mouth hurts like hell, but I’m mostly just sore. And one hell of a headache...”
“Yeah, that’s great, Noah,” she stuttered, trying to compose herself, pushing The Call away from her mind. “Do you remember what happened?”
He looked up into the light, studying the dust that danced about the large fishing hooks that ran along the ceiling’s wooden slats. “We were outside,” his fingers pointing back and forth between Sirus and himself, “and we were practicing, then... I woke up in here.” He rubbed along his wrist, the sigils around his knuckles barely smoldering. “I do remember feeling really woozy, and I had a splitting headache hit me.”
“Okay,” she quipped, a bitter smile hassling her muscles as the thoughts inside plowed through one another.
Sirus coughed, loud and hard, gathering everyone’s attention and desperate glances. “So Naika, let’s talk outside a minute? We’ll be right back, Noah.” He forced a slight smile, his entire face grimacing in retaliation.
The two of them made their way through the shop, past the office and to the front door, closing it delicately as they left the security of the Shipmake’s walls.
“You gonna tell him?” Sirus asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked nervous, his shoulders hunched in and his head slightly down—so unlike himself, Naika thought.
“I don’t know what the right answer is right now,” she replied, her mind attempting to sort out their options.
“I think you know the right answer is telling him. What if we come up against her in a fight?”
“After everything else, how can I?”
“I’m surprised that you’d even consider the idea. He hasn’t kept anything from you in all this.”
Naika’s thoughts turned to the secrets she had seen in the dark recesses of the Astral. “I didn’t know he loved her until all of this happened.”
Sirus scoffed, unconcerned with offending her. “And because of that—something so trivial and personal—you’d withhold the fact that she is now the enemy.”
“No, Sirus. It is exactly because of that, that I don’t want to break his heart.”
* * *
Noah sat against the table’s edge, gawking at Naika and Sirus as they relayed the day’s events. He rubbed the back of his neck, craning it this way and that, wincing when a movement pulled against his jaw. “Wow... he spoke through me, huh? Don’t know how I feel about that, considering I collapsed into a convulsing heap. What did he say?”
Naika tried to shallow her breathing, each breath feeling like a plethora of metal cubes rattling through her chest. “He said that... he saw Asgard again. And that you were a great student—very receptive to what he’s been trying to impart to you.”
Noah couldn’t help a baffled grin. “Cool. I mean, it’s confusing as hell—me being my own freakish student and all— but I can feel good about it. Anything else?”
Dílseacht held his breath, staring into their reflections in the window. One tick. Two ticks. Three ticks.
“No, not really,” Naika finally blurted out. She could feel Sirus’ electric stare boring a hole through her skull as Noah’s smile faded into an uneven frown.
“He sent me into shock just to say that?”
“Well,” she backtracked, her mind reeling, “he mentioned that Godeater has an army, but we knew that from Satet, so—that’s all.”
His posture elevated, Noah nodded with a pursed lip. “That makes more sense. At least he thought to warn us... I guess.” He stretched both arms high into the air, knocking against one of the colossal hooks hanging from the ceiling. The faint light of his sigils ricocheted against the gray metal, casting a few sparse rays down around the room. The Gungnir that lay across the floor at his feet flared its burning lights, glimmering upward and casting Noah’s face in a mask of shadows. Naika shuddered as her heart plummeted even further.
Hopping from the table, Noah rubbed his cheeks, a pained look squinting his eyes. “My face is killing me, but I’m starving. Let’s hit the Diner.”
* * *
Talulah’s Diner was empty, save the staff, as Naika, Dílseacht, Noah and Sirus piled through the door. Settling into a booth along the windowed side, the eldest Vick waved to a waitress that lingered at the cash register. Her head tilted slightly, she stared back at him, offering no motion in return.
“Doesn’t seem a pleasant crowd tonight,” he observed, noticing no familiar faces behind the bar. Noah laughed, propping the Gungnir into the booth beside him.
“No one to give weird looks at carrying a spear around. Speaking of not seeming pleasant, where’s Hekate?” His laughter was cut short by the dismal faces in front of him.
“I was only kidding, guys.”
“She took an unexpected leave of absence,” Dílseacht recounted, his other comrades silently studying the grain of the table and the shine of the lanterns outside.
Noah stared at both of them in turn, waiting for an explanation that never came. “Huh, okay.”
The waitress finally rounded the counter, approaching their table with a slow gait. Her ashen skin contrasting severely with the white of her outfit, she jerkily pulled at the open chest of the shirt, covering what looked like a jagged scar down her left breast.
The smell of putrid meat assaulted their senses. “What is that,” Sirus asked, covering his face with the neck of his shirt. As each of them turned to face the kitchen, Dílseacht let out a terrible wail.
“Naika, move!”
Alarms suddenly screaming in the back of her mind, Naika whirled away, jumping from the booth up onto the tabletop in time to see the waitress lunge for her. She kicked back hard, sending the girl into the neighboring table. “What the hell?!”
Dílseacht was already out of his seat and hastily unbuttoning his sleeves. “Stay back! She is not human!”
As Naika quickly examined her features, she realized that one of the girl’s eyes was missing, a gaping hole in its place against her ragged, gaunt cheek. Her skin did not consist of a dark complexion—it was decaying, bit and pieces flayed from the deteriorating muscles underneath. The awkward gait she exhibited, the result of a busted kneecap that bulged against the outside of her leg.
The creature was recovering quickly.
“Okay, what is she then?!” Sirus shouted, his clothes already clinging to him with static as he charged lightning between his fingers. She swiped at him, narrowly missing his jawline as she fell forward into the booth. He scrambled from under her weight, hauling over the back of the seat and to the tiled floor below. A flash of light filled the diner as Sirus sent a multitude of lightning arcs across the booth’s metal hand rail and into the girl’s body. Sparks ignited the starched fabric of her uniform, rampaging through her body before grounding back out into the ceramic tile floor. A barrage of shrieks and wails erupted from the girl as she flailed hard against the booth’s cushion, hoping to suffocate the flames that were quickly engulfing her remains.
“Looks to be a draugr,” Dílseacht yelled over the noise, magick pulsating between his palms, “stand back, and let her burn!”
The elder Vick blew into his closed hands. A fierce wind raged between them, fanning the flames until they licked against the ceiling, blackening the checkered metal plates.
Noises of every type erupted from behind the counter as the other uniformed creatures skittered into the open foyer. A man rushed them first—his skin a dank green, waterlogged and swollen, with a gash that circled his neck. Noah flipped the Gungnir over the back of the neighboring booth, cradling the tip in one hand. As he whispered into his cupped fingers, the spear burst into flames, each sigil spewing fire through their engraved lines. Raising it high over his head, Noah jumped from the top of the booth, bringing the spear down into the man’s chest.
The flames fizzled against his skin, each one going out at their source as the Gungnir punctured through the creature entirely. The man staggered, the angle of the spear forcing him to fall to his side. Within seconds he had recovered, rushing Noah once more, the Gungnir wagging back and forth with each step. Naika rushed past him, moving through the short double doors at the diner’s side.
“You must take off their heads,” Dílseacht’s voice rang over the chaos, “if you cannot burn them!”
As Noah struggled to free the Gungnir from his enemy, the creature’s movement suddenly halted, a clean slice cleaving his head from his body. Behind the crumpled mass stood Naika, a butcher’s cleaver in hand, her face a puzzle of horror and uncertainty and triumph.
Dílseacht wrestled another draugr away from the group— a younger man, bullet spray littering the left side of his face. Noah flanked the monstrous onslaught, reaching for a cast iron skillet that rested on the inner work counter. He swung hard against Dílseacht’s foe, denting his already-fractured skull and crushing his left eye socket. The creature sagged against a nearby table, knees buckling under his weight.
Dílseacht drew a ragged breath. “Iron can work well, too.”
Conjuring a storm of words, Noah lit the Gungnir ablaze once more, pushing the tip into the younger man’s ripped uniform. The fabric erupted in flame, singeing and curling against ashy skin until the flames eventually engulfed the entire body.
“Stay on the mat!” Sirus shouted, a whiteout flashing through the Diner as he shot a multitude of electric waves through the remaining draugar, the stray threads of their uniforms and last remnants of hair catching fire. Naika, Noah and Dílseacht all ducked away, taking refuge on the rubber mats that marked the EMPLOYEES ONLY area.
The lights surged, throwing the Diner into a state of blackened chaos, the electric fire all but suffocated by its victims. A click, then gentle hum resonated from the roof as the backup generator surged to life. The floor runner lights flickered first, dimly illuminating the writhing mass of bodies at Sirus’ feet.
“Hold the lightning,” Naika barked, gathering the draugars’ attention as she made a break for the kitchen. She rummaged through the supply shelves, grabbing a slew of items and tucking them into the makeshift basket of her tunic’s long hem.
“Noah, light it up,” her voice rang over the encroaching crowd.
One by one, she pulled canisters from her tunic, running and dumping their contents onto each of the seven creatures that gave chase. She doubled back through the center of their group, gathering them all into a tight cluster while showering them with the last few drops of oil.
Shoving Sirus towards the restrooms, Naika dove for cover behind a toppled table, pulling the tabletop close to her back.
“Now!”
Noah pitched the flaming Gungnir into the crowd. Flames erupted in a vicious haze, scorching everything within a few feet of the draugar. Dílseacht harnessed the winds, fanning the blaze back from the wall, while attempting to leave Naika unscathed on the opposite side.
“It’s getting out of control!” Noah coughed into his sleeve, smoke stinging his eyes and burning in his chest.
Amidst the burgeoning flames, Naika looked into herself, calling on her Goddess soul. She felt the biting cold, chills emanating from her center and rippling across her skin. Frosted icecaps beckoned to her, begging her to come home, back to winter’s embrace. She longed for its solace, willing the ice to encase her. Her blue-split eye shimmered as snow swirled through the door, thick and heavy, dousing the largest flames but leaving the draugar to their fiery fates.
She leaned against her shelter, breathless. Noah crept out from hiding, collapsing onto a swivel stool at the bar. The elder Vick crouched to look at the smoldering bodies, checking for any signs of life, while Sirus circled with mass, pacing rapidly.
“What... just... happened?”
“Definitely draugar,” Dílseacht confirmed, “but why?”
“Which ‘why’ are you talking about?” Noah probed, nestling one elbow into the crook of the other and rubbing his sore jaw.
“Draugar usually have strong ties to a particular location—their graves, places important in life—and they fight to protect treasure. But so many of them here, why? What treasure could they seek here?”
A high shriek, like steaming air escaping a plugged teapot, sent them reeling back into battle mode. One by one, the draugar’s bodies turned to blackened ashes, leaving flattened composites of themselves upon the tile.
“Again, what just happened?” Sirus blurted out. “Where did they go?”
Dílseacht’s bewildered expression offered no answers.
“I don’t know, but we need to clean this up,” said Naika, dusting herself off, “we need to call the authorities—see if they can find the employees.” She startled herself with the severity of her voice. “I hope they’re still alive...”
All the while, deep in the innermost cargo pocket of Noah’s jeans, the Apple of Discord glimmered and seethed.
* * *
The egg timer on the stove jingled against the warm metal, the nearby teapot whistling in perfect sync.
“Here, let me get them,” Naika said, the edge in her voice unmissable as she swatted at the ashes that strayed from her tunic.
“Oh it’s okay, honey, I can get it. I’m not that old yet. Besides, you’ve had it so tough lately,” Chier’s Mamaw took long, graceful strides to the kitchen, her long patchwork skirt rustling gently with each step. “I’m so sorry about your mother. I—I just couldn’t tell you myself that night. I couldn’t hold so many broken hearts at once.”
“It’s okay,” Naika sighed, “it wasn’t easy for any of us. I know I have to be strong. Mom wouldn’t stand for it any other way.”
Mamaw returned with honey vanilla tea and grilled cheeses on her finest china—hand painted plates decorated with butterflies and pink houses and little white bears. “You haven’t outgrown your favorite meal yet, right?”
Naika bit into the crunchy, buttery bread and its gooey center. “Never,” she replied, a mouthful of cheese sticking to her tongue.
“That’s my girl. I hope you never do.” Her age lines became ever more apparent as Mamaw folded her hands into one another, studying her own palm as if it were a map.
“I still haven’t heard from Chier,” she heaved a breath that could shake the world’s foundation, “I am starting to fear the worst. I can’t feel her anymore. So many nights, I wake up to the sounds of her screaming...”
Naika focused on the paint that swirled into giant flower blooms along the walls. Each bloom had a date drawn into its inner petals—one for every great event in the lives of the Genley family. Chier’s birth flower was a Gerbera daisy, Mamaw had told them; a big, bright flower, with a honeyed-brown central bud and hundreds of petals that faded from orange to neon red.
“Because she’s a little spitfire,” she had said, winking at the two young girls and giggling with them.
Mamaw followed her gaze to the wall. “My little Spitfire. Naika, please,” she pleaded, her voice cracking like a fissure in aged earth, “promise me that if you find out any information, you’ll tell me. I know I didn’t give you the same courtesy, and that pains me every day. But please tell me.”
War waged behind her eyes, and she knew it showed on her face. “Mamaw, I wouldn’t know where to begin with how strange everything has become— how our world is collapsing in on itself.”
“Strange things happen in the dark,” the woman noted absently.
It was then that Naika’s mind split open, her experiences spilling out in a cascade of words. Nell. The Forest. The God of Winter. Hekate. Zeus. With every detail, Mamaw’s eyes grew in awe and dread, her mouth staying slack. A gentle flurry of snow drifted around them as Naika spoke, the storm growing fiercer until neither could see the room beyond the ice. Odin. Eris. The funeral. As her words hit a frenzied pitch, the snowflakes halted, a sheer wall of freezing ice surrounding the table. She gasped for breath, readying herself.
“Mamaw, Eris took her. She’s in the spirit world. We are going—“
The woman stood, cracking her chair against the ice.
“What?! No!”
She slammed both fists into the crystaled wall. “The only life I had left, gone." With disgusted fury screwing her features into a scowl, she pointed at Naika. "Because of you! You brought her into this! I never wanted to believe the nasty stories they told, Naika. You were different— you always had been— but I always believed that you were a confused little girl with powers beyond your understanding. But now..."
Tears welled up in Naika's eyes as the venom of such words sunk into her skin. "Mamaw, please, no—" She choked on her sentence as the ice surrounding them began melting into wavering puddles at their feet.
"No, Naika. Look around you. Everything you touch crumbles. Those you love are hurt or killed!"
She tossed one painted plate to the ground, splitting it into three large pieces.
"You are cursed, girl. And whatever your curse is, it's coming to fruition now."
Kicking the shards of glass at her feet, she stomped through the icy puddles towards the front door. With brute force, she yanked the door open, slamming it into the curio cabinet situated behind it.
"Get out and don't you ever come back."
Words did not come. Naika's throat swelled with their weight, unstoppable tears streaming down her cheeks. She held herself tight as she hurried to the door, nearly slipping in a watery mess of her own creation. As the door slammed in her face, the heavy click of each lock sounding through the wood, she turned to face it.
"I will find her! I will make this right, Mamaw!"
Her head drooped against the door's cool frame, the Call screaming through her mind. The world was spinning behind her eyes.
"I'm not cursed..."
She hoped to prove it to herself more than the empty wood that heard her cries.
* * *
Noah was stretched out along the thin gray sofa in his living room when the front door's latch jingled against itself. It opened partway against the balled stopper, slamming against the lever that held it tight.
"Noah? You home, son?"
He started upright, snatching the smooth black blanket from atop the sofa and draping it all around himself, hiding the burning marks that his white tee and pajama pants failed to conceal.
"Yeah dad, hang on."
He pushed the door closed, swinging the lever back against the dark wood before opening it once again. Edward Humphreys—Ward, as the world knew him— hustled through the doorway, dropping two large suitcases to the ground and tossing a messenger bag into the sofa’s matching chair.
“Long time, no see,” Noah quipped, holding out his cloaked arms.
His father took no notice of the gesture, marching past him while loosening the off-white tie from his silken blue shirt.
“Where are the papers I left on the counter?”
“I have no idea. Haven’t seen any.” He took in his father’s busy expression. Premature salt and pepper hair, styled in a short pompadour that bounced back and forth as he mumbled to himself; steel blue eyes that were always searching for the next big thing.
“Ah! Here they are,” he exclaimed, tapping the thick dossier with his knuckles. “I won’t be here long. Staying home tonight, then flying to Austin tomorrow morning.”
Austin.
“Yeah? Will you be seeing mom while you’re down there?”
Edward scoffed. “Why would I want to see that woman? I divorc—“ He turned, halting in mid-sentence as he met Noah’s enraged expression.
Noah wasn’t one of his boys.
“Uh, sorry son. Not used to talking to you about that kind of stuff. No, I won’t end up seeing her.”
Noah left without saying another word. His heavy footfalls marked a path to his room, where he locked himself in, shrugging the blanket off and slouching into his desk chair. Every time he saw his father, he expected things to be different. They never were.
The definition of insanity.
Craning his head over the back of the chair, he let his thoughts drift astray; he was no closer to saving Chier, or the world. His body housed two souls, both of which were capable of taking control. Life was both at a standstill, and going two-hundred miles an hour.
He shifted views, instead focusing on the bits and pieces he had seen of the onyx fortress in Asgard. It was astonishing to comprehend—he had once ruled there, taking his throne atop all of creation, watching every single thought come to life across the realms. He had taken this wayward resurrection upon himself to save the entire universe. In that moment, he felt quite brave.
In an instant, gravity relieved itself of force, his body floating upwards into a plethora of stars and nebulae, all shining in explosions of gold and pink and green. His hair stood on end as he sped, upside down, through galaxies and solar dust, wisping through them as though they were holograms shining on the infinite sky.
In the midst of space, he could see nine great circles, split into three sets: a perfect line of three spanned the middle; another three sat high above them, in random array; and the final three lay at the bottom of the line, forming the points of a wide triangle. His body hurtled towards the uppermost circle, its contents hidden behind a great wall.
As Noah neared the globe at the top of the sky, he could see the others more clearly; one seemed to be made entirely of ice, another of fire. Others shined green and blue, the middlemost of these closely resembling Earth. The sphere nearest him was desolate— dark red soil, riddled with cracks and holes, its grounds crumbling away as it shifted through space.
The broken mirror, Noah thought to himself, it must have been the portal to that world.
Great silver gates rose before him, an ocean’s worth of water cascading out from beneath its ornate barriers. The wall that shielded the realm connected to the gate with huge links, a chainmail of sorts holding the two pieces together. Noah watched himself land softly in emptiness, ripples of rainbow shimmering under every step. He approached the gates’ main latch with a spirited heart, reaching out to them with a confident touch.
Sigils burst into existence along the blank pad, forming a deep-set V-shape that mimicked birds against the sunset. A jet creature began to take form under his fingertips, a thick, primordial ooze pulling itself away from the etched silver. One wing first, then an elongated onyx bill, the substance transmogrified into a partial raven. As it eyed Noah carefully, its face split in half, a fully-formed head growing from each side. It wriggled to free itself from its silver bondage, legs and feet and another wing eventually loosing from the alloyed metal. Both raven heads croaked, a deafening sound that quaked the entire realm, shaking the stone walls and causing debris to slide down from the river’s banks.
Noah offered an arm to the creature. He swam through the vastness of his memories, searching for the pangs of familiarity that emanated from the two of them as the dual-ravens perched on his wrist.
“You are... Huginn,” his thought echoing through the passageways of his mind and out onto the astral waves. “And Muninn?”
The dual-ravens cawed, loud and gravelly, in reply. At the sound, the silver gates rattled, the center pad splitting at a diagonal as the two panels slowly creaked open. A stone guard post stood empty where earth connected to the partially-invisible rainbow passage, its walls long overgrown with ivy and kudzu. Massive temples rose before him as Noah and his companions moved into the main courtyard, their designs all entirely different from one another. Their placement seemed to follow lines of their own, the temples set in a design that he could not discern; twelve buildings weaved back and forth on either side of a massive fortress, one that stood in dark contrast to its aged and gilded brethren.
His heart stood still as he drank in the sight.
The heart of Asgard.
The fortress spanned to the sky in a ferocious mass of forged onyx and silver. Several winged entryways and towers attached to the core of the building, where a wide hall lay open before him. Abandoning his apprehension, Noah raced toward the citadel, swinging himself between each of the silver pillars that held the onyx overhang aloft. Huginn and Muninn took each loop with him, swooping down from great heights to speed past him, zigzagging toward the main hall sheltered inside.
The great hall stretched upwards and outwards for several yards. A set of long dining tables rested at the center of the room, heavy mahogany toppers that were encrusted with silver filigree and caked with dust. Numerous pathways crossed through the room, heading upwards and downwards and out to the open grounds beyond. One lone hallway sat apart from the others; situated against the back wall, the walkway was far wider than the rest, its walls covered in glimmering jet stones.
An ache set upon Noah’s chest, a calling that seemed to come from deep within the citadel— deep from within the onyx hall. The dual-ravens came to rest on his shoulder, chirping and chattering from both heads. Approaching the walkway, he could see that the path led to a flight of stairs, their height greater than the hall’s ceiling allowed.
Each of his steps thundered through the fortress, their echoes infinite within the labyrinth of passages. The stairs climbed further into the sky, eventually halting to a smooth rock ceiling. Noah studied the ceiling from a distance, searching for the answer to the stone riddle; he knew that the Hliðskjálf and the connecting corridor were elevated from the main floor, and that just above the throne room was the topmost balcony of the fortress. But how did these places connect?
Muninn squawked in his ear, pecking at his cheek. Noah craned his neck away from the two-headed bird, agitated at his lack of focus. He knelt against the onyx wall, pulling his hair back and letting it fall slowly against his forehead. The dual-ravens heads chattered— one in turn, then the other, a conversation that their master could not comprehend. Each wing fluffed out, shaking a stray jet feather to the ground as they took off, their flight pattern barely wavering as they flew straight towards the rock above.
The dual-ravens sailed right through.
“Wait! How did you...?”
Two disembodied voices halted his own.
“Thought,” said one, higher pitched. “Memory,” said the other, a deep bass.
The voices melded together, a strange, autonomous harmony between them, both repeating themselves at a slow rhythm.
Thought and memory?
As the words bounced against the walls of his mind, he searched for their significance. He was confident that he was alone in this Asgard—save the ravens— so he doubted any tricks or traps had been set before him. Traces of runes sizzled to life around his fingers. One here, another there—spelling something out in his ancient language. Rotating his wrists, following the flaming sigils, he tried to translate their meaning.
All at once, he understood. “Huginn and Muninn—thought and memory! I remember!”
The hall shook wildly, the stone ceiling adjusting against the walls. It cracked and seized, but eventually settled back into place. All of Noah’s hope dispersed, replaced by frustrated defeat.
“I don’t understand. I thought I did it—I made it change...”
Caws trumpeted from the ceiling as Huginn and Muninn flew back through the stone, idling on flapping wings directly in front of his face. With a strong thrust, the dual-ravens raised itself into the ceiling once again, all motion and sound from them silenced by their move.
Noah shoved himself into the tiny space between the last step and the rock overhead. He braced both legs against the walls, testing the strength of each, and reached up toward the roof he hoped to lift away.
Both hands disappeared into hard, dark stone.
He snatched both arms back, checking each finger, wrist and palm for any signs of damage. They each looked entirely normal.
“Whew, okay, you can do this.”
Steeling himself, he reached into the illusion again, feeling for what might lay on the other side. Cool air met his fingertips, but no wind. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he dove headfirst into the rock.
The move was painless—it felt no different to him than standing, breathing, blinking. As his upper torso emerged on the other side, he peeked with one eye to inspect his surroundings. The ceiling slab opened into the middle of a long hallway. A wall stood directly behind the hole, which held a hefty black and silver suit of armor, a lengthy weapon rack hanging directly above it. The lone rack was dusty, but empty. The opposite walls were decorated with small oaken tables and various portraits etched in stone, eventually leading to a single door on the right-hand side, and a postern that lead above.
Noah knew precisely where he was.
Balancing on the stone floor, he heaved the rest of his body through the slab. Once he gained footing, a pop and a click sent the floor rattling, the true ceiling of the floor below shifting back into place. Within moments, the sounds and movements ceased.
Huginn and Muninn hopped along the table closest to the door, clicking and cawing back and forth.
His heart was raging within his chest, burning with excitement and a bit of trepidation. The air hummed with an ancient, heavy magick that sent pulses down his spine. Each step toward the door brought his past— and future—closer to both memory and realization.
It was larger than he remembered; the aged oak of the door, scrawled over with ancient markings and outlined in silver, reached all the way to the roof. Its width seemed to have doubled—tripled?—since his last, and only, visit.
A heavy click heralded his entry, the ancient bolt knocking into the wood and settling back into itself. The weighted door slowly creaked open.
“Hliðskjálf,” he uttered quietly, taking in the power and beauty that the room offered. His throne was of astronomical proportions; worked from solid metal, the legs were shaped into massive paws, the seat resting on the backs of two wolves, their heads, staring directly ahead with sapphire eyes, acting as armrests. The backing was a plush black velvet, rimmed on both sides by great metal wings, the budding branches of a tree cut into each feather. Ahead of the throne were nine mirrored plates—eight intact but visionless, one shattered into numerous pieces that still littered the wall.
Noah shook a little, a sudden chill rampaging through his body as Huginn and Munnin joined him, landing precariously on the head of one wolf; their clawed feet danced as though the wolf might come to life and snap them up.
He stood in silence before the throne, examining it over and over again, committing every small detail to memory. In one fluid motion, he turned, positioning himself over the seat, grabbing onto both armrests as his body connected with the plush velvet.
A million lights flashed before him, an explosion of sights and sounds pouring into his consciousness. He watched as the worlds formed at the Yggdrasil, the tree of life dipping its roots into the lands of the dead and living. Midgard, the world of men; Asgard, in all its glory; Vanaheim, an abode for various Gods; Jötunheim, home of the giants; Alfheim, home of the elves of light; Hel, where the dead rise; the split worlds of Nidavellir and Svartalfheim, lands of the dwarves and the elves of darkness; Muspelheim, the realm of endless fire; and Niflheim, the world of unceasing ice. He saw himself as Odin, sacrificing himself at the tree and losing his eye in quests for ultimate knowledge. The births of sons and daughters, gods and goddesses and giants. The eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, which he rode faithfully across the realms, and Huginn and Muninn, the ravens that had acted as his eyes and ears in the world of mankind. Geri and Freki, the wolves that sat with him at the throne of the world. Premonitions of Ragnarok, the end of the world, where he would have been defeated by Fenrir, the great wolf—a fate that the Godeater’s uprising had altered.
Overwhelmed, his body shook in great tremors, eyes wide and mouth fully opened. He gasped for breath, his throat seemingly swollen. Every rune that marked him poured fire, their flames eating away at his clothing. At the edge of his vision, he could see Huginn and Munnin, climbing to his shoulder and pressing close to his ear.
“We are your thoughts. Remember. We are your memories. Remember. You are the raven.”