[https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/3bbdf04a-45f9-489b-9f60-6dfff94bad15/deyqy2d-47ee7694-895c-42ee-9745-e9899b65871d.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzNiYmRmMDRhLTQ1ZjktNDg5Yi05ZjYwLTZkZmZmOTRiYWQxNVwvZGV5cXkyZC00N2VlNzY5NC04OTVjLTQyZWUtOTc0NS1lOTg5OWI2NTg3MWQucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.K3dIE7JFqwMVjUMw50X-6ZbLRRbkIfNjVPViLmR8nyE]

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[https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/3bbdf04a-45f9-489b-9f60-6dfff94bad15/deynaf0-46822c6e-3e99-471d-9419-f5facaa2670b.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzNiYmRmMDRhLTQ1ZjktNDg5Yi05ZjYwLTZkZmZmOTRiYWQxNVwvZGV5bmFmMC00NjgyMmM2ZS0zZTk5LTQ3MWQtOTQxOS1mNWZhY2FhMjY3MGIucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.MB2ih6oCUm1ypHYdAe3H2mZzVt3ARYZ5Z7blDBNZnLg]

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[https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/3bbdf04a-45f9-489b-9f60-6dfff94bad15/dcyi132-c0d7a5c8-982b-4ec8-a4b3-460270788441.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzNiYmRmMDRhLTQ1ZjktNDg5Yi05ZjYwLTZkZmZmOTRiYWQxNVwvZGN5aTEzMi1jMGQ3YTVjOC05ODJiLTRlYzgtYTRiMy00NjAyNzA3ODg0NDEucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.LGVpw9cmxzabhY5aYUjAOu_-LDS940l13CuT1mkW1po] circle of red-terracotta unfolds before their feet. The hedges and the brambles, that frame it, contrast, textually against its weather worn stone. A swath of grass three feet wide, lower than the top of the floor, separates the circle from the arboreal fence that surrounds it. Not a single branch or thorn encroaches into this moat of sod. Four hefty obelisks, of translucent black, slightly offset from the edge, mark the cardinal directions of North, South, East and West. A fifth, slightly taller than the rest, holds the center point of this misplaced oddity, with precision.

'Wow! That's fucking daunting!' Joe exclaims. The deer and the hunt quickly chased from his thoughts by the scene that sprawls out before him.

"And old," his companion declares, sliding her hands tentatively on a pillar of black glass. It's tone and texture appear much like that of the forge by the cabin. But where it is warm and inviting this is a touch bit ominous. "My father teach me of runes like this, ancient of days they from. He call-ed stone... Dark Ice... Mana-nodes. I think. Look nice, feel... not nice."

Somewhat out of place, in this somewhat out of place place, four statues are arranged haphazardly. Brilliant in their own right. Made of what appears to be marble. Flawless in their creation. There is a warm hyper-realism to their color. They stand tall in this out of the way amphitheater of clay.

'Who the hell would carve statues out here?' he amuses, running his hand, reverently, over the mane, of one, of a pair of winged horses.

She touches the face of the other equine stone, deciphering the craftsmanship with her fingertips. "There's something else here too. Nother energy."

'Oh I felt that since we stepped in from the hedge, a couple different energies. The hairs on the backs of my leg and neck are tingling.' he tells her, smoothing his fingers on the muzzle of a mighty stone wolf. 'There's a warmth.'

"Mmmhmm. You think touch be cool, but they not. You see the green? It shape away from circle. And the grass stay low."

'Like someone or something has kept it at bay.'

"Yes." She picks up an idol of a raven that was laying on its back. Its wings are spread, its talons stretched out, as if it was, alighting, or fighting, or grasping at its prey. She is surprised to find it's much lighter than she imagined it to be. She puts it back down gently, giving it purchase to stay upright.

He puts down his bow and quiver, unfurls a patchwork blanket and sits down, to ponder this invigorating enigma. She turns and sees him and grins. "You get a face like them when you think," she teases.

'Little Moon, As far as we know, I could be two hundred and fifty five years old, be happy my face isn't like this all the time.' Her laughter fills the air as she walks up beside him and bumps her hip into his shoulder, "You think made or happen?" Her hand pulls his head closer to her hip and she gently massages his temple without thought.

'What I want to know is how they've stayed so untouched by weather and time. I mean there's no moss, no erosion, no fading. There's not even any crack marks from extreme temperature changes.'

Her scent catches him with a purpose. He breathes in deep and feels it inciting him to take action. Down a course that seems dictated by a multifaceted intent. His hand teases up from her calf to her hip. He pulls her in front, to face him. Her hand drifts and brushes through his hair as he blows his breath out, against her, with purpose. Her soft hair ripples and her hood slightly opens. The flesh beneath swells at the cool, teasing breeze. She shutters at the sudden tempting on her skin. When his tongue meets her hot, moist flesh, she tenses. He toys with her and tastes her.

Purrs vibrate from the back of her throat as she kisses him back with the lips of her sex. Using her hooded nub like the tip of her tongue. He stiffens and grows from her flavor and the passion she imbues. Her scent is like myrrh, musk and frankincense. Her taste, like Manna on his tongue.

There's a flicker of blue, that sparkles like star dust, falling out and away from them. Flowing like mist. Filling the statuary with a heavenly almost hypnotic chorus of glittering specks.

She pulls herself away from him and slowly lowers herself down, his hands holding her steady as she descends. Eyes lock. She feels his heat. And then his flesh. Slowly and steadily she surrounds him. Her legs wrap around his back and cross. Their bodies meet and they pull each other tight.

The blue mist throbs with electric pulses. Tiny diamonds of light thrum, reaching for each other, pushing out to the circles edge.

Lips meet with a hunger, and a sweet desire to feed the other. Hands tease, at flesh, nerve, breast and chest. She rolls herself side to side, wiggling her hips as he grinds up and back.

She rubs her face against his cheek and whispers in his ear, "Let's see what may hap, we open our gates."

He pulls her back to reclaim her mouth. Eyes close, tongues touch and taste and tease.

The energy around them fills the grove, encasing them in a dome of writhing, cerulean light. Plasma sparks... fades... and recharges. Aurora like waves flow and ebb.

They close their eyes and open the doors to their visions. He smiles at just how easy its become. In just a few hours. Knowing that's all because of her and the patience she had in teaching.

The images, they see, are not what either would have ever expected. Nor something she ever experienced before. It's of each other, and the statues, right here in this moment, but from the outside. Like they're watching as birds in a tree. Or ancient, disembodied, entities looking down upon themselves from the clouds.

There's a movement in the mind. A slight stretch of a neck and a swaying of mane. The landscape outside the circle changes. Trees un-grow, rise, and unfall. Then it all fades away in a blur.

Eyes see and take in the others, though both of their physical ones are closed.

The runes on the pillars become violent in light. Vile and blinding against the sleek black stone. They pulse and flare as if fighting against the rock itself. Demonic reds and violent yellows push back with hate, against this new found, iridescent intruder. The air tastes acrid to the nose. Like ammonia. Urine. Fear.

Her tongue finds his jaw and she follows it. Her teeth find his ear. He twists his neck to offer her more. His lips brush her forehead. She gasps and fills his mouth with hers again. They breathe into each other and out.

A ghostly battle rages around them. Sickly shadows cower against the light that burns and slices through their mass. The wolf's maw and the raven's talons, tear at malevolent, vapid creatures that swirl around the stone. Like a plague of locusts advancing on a field only to be cut down before they feed. They scream and shriek and slink into the ether.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

There's a crack. And a presence.

He remembers this. A memory. One, not his to recall. A vision from his first waking day. When this ability first was shown.

And so does she. From a painful day, so long ago. A day that changed her whole entire world.

She falters at the feeling twisting in her stomach. He senses her emotions and strengthens his hold.

'I'm here little moon.'

She feels his touch tingle down her sides. His words remind her she's not alone. Not anymore. Her heart beats harder, ringing in her ears like a war drum. An indignation boils from deep within her core.

The circle flashes and hums as her body rises and falls back on him. The last of her imbalance wavers and fades. A warm mettle rises up her spine, steeling her conviction.

His hardness aches within it's own skin. Fueled by her. Consumed by her.

Two warriors, clad in crimson-gold mail, lunge toward a hunkering shape. A misshapen being seeped in hate, exuding the smell of decay. It gives them pause before they charge. Their eyes become fire and fury. They step forward and bring the storm.

She nips his lower lip between her teeth and tightens. A low steady purr fills his throat, from hers, tearing down his grip of control.

The storms not enough. The two champions stutter, stumble and fall. With the last of their breath they strike with their all. The black mass, wounded, recedes with a frustrated roar. The earth trembles.

The blue light gathers itself in, then explodes, in a rush, toward the five standing stones. The runes burst and their energies flare in one last frenzy of fruitless defiance.

She rises and falls back on him, her back arches in silence, her hands frame his face. Her lips go to his and she groans in his mouth. Her body trembles. He growls as her climax drags him over the edge. Her shivers renew as his seed flows into her, again and again and again. They collapse into each other and laugh. Kissing tenderly through the spasms and the afterglow.

She hums. The sounds of wildlife filter back in. Their breathing calms. The landscape reforms

A steady scratching cadence catches their ear. There's a flash of black and gray in their periphery. Something hot and rough, like sandpaper, wets both their faces. Turning wide eyed they see the wolf, now renewed to fur and bone. Slobbering them with kisses.

"Tezera! Play nice," a strong feminine voice chimes.

The wolf sees her, his tail a flurry, he runs to her side. His backside dancing faster than his long furry appendage.

Two familiar figures approach from just outside the circle's edge. Ethereal in form, clad in that same scarlet-gold armor as the two who fell, just seconds before. There's a purpose in their step and a, noticeable, lightness in their visage.

"Hello." Solata greets, her skin glistening. The sheen of her sweat highlighted with the touch of the soft waning light.

"You are the keepers of this place?" Solata inquires.

"Of this place. No. Of our dear friends. Yes. I am Dionisia, this is Terrano," she replies. Her hands scruff the wolfs muzzle, "We have watched over them for millennia." The raven alights on the others shoulder. He holds out his arm, it takes it's place and squacks out a greeting, "This is Grim."

"And those two over there getting their legs back are Lanx and Jax," Dionisia continues, "Tezera, introduced himself already."

"They are your companions now, charge them well," Terrano adds, now stroking the back of the chestnut mare Lanx.

"They sacrificed that we may have a chance to end it," Dionisia says.

"But we did not. We only sent it back," her companion completes.

"But you found a way to end its tether here, Carry our quest, Find a way to end it," the female warrior implores.

'Who or What is it?' Joe asks.

"It is that which has no name but many." their voices ring as one.

"We call it It because that pisses It off," she chuckles, then fixes her gaze on Solata,"You have been wronged by it. You have felt it. Find a way to end it. So that this world may be as it was meant and not with its influence."

They turn and look, pointing over the ridge, she looks back to them and sees the girl, nose to nose with Jax, scratching him behind his ears, and she smiles, "You both have been touched by that place too. We can see it in you. Carry it with you. There's others like it."

"As there are others like this," Terrano seethes, "Spread out among the world and hidden to most. Just like here."

"Are you Valkyrie?" Joe muses out loud.

"Some have called us that." Terrano replies.

"But I thought Valkyrie were all female."

"Not to our knowledge," she laughs, "But many an eon has passed since our day. And you humans have such a funny way of reshaping the truth or renaming things to fit your cause."

"You're preaching to the choir, sister," he jokes.

"Terrano. It's time love." Dionisia elates. "Fólkvangr calls, our oath is complete. We leave you our armor. And these two faithful companions. Our Pegasus friends must return with us, much of their life force was taxed, even before this battle ensued. But they may return one day. To repay this kindness. They have a score to settle too, I think."

"Thank you, for bringing them back from the stone," Terrano says with a bow, "they are loyal and stalwart. The armor is light and strong," he looks them over, "though it may not fit, fashion it to your will, change it into something new. We have no more need of it."

They raise their swords to the sky and their images fade. Merging in the golden red light of the sun's waning moments.

"We must go from this place to a warmer home. Our time is done. Thank you."

"Find a way to end It. But do not rush as we did, be patient, be ready."

"Be true."

The two bronzed skinned warriors turn and walk into vortex of gold.

Grim settles on Joe's shoulder and nips at his ear. The wolf let's out a low mournful howl and settles his head to the ground. Joe and Solata sit next to the great grey beast, offering a compassionate touch.

The night goes quiet and still. There's a lapse in the motion of time, that brings a calming end to the discourse of the day.

Joe stifles a laugh. 'Well. That! I did not expect today.'

"Me too."

'So... we get back to the hunt?'

"Yes."

The raven takes flight. Alighting on a tree branch to keep vigil. The wolf just lies there. Chin on the ground, sighing.

'Cmon ya Big Lug," Joe solemns, while folding up the quilt, "They'll be time enough for that later.' He looks at the girl, bending over to pick up her bow, and snickers, 'You know? When I was a kid, I read a lot of books. And the guys in those books, they got dragons, and unicorns, and pegasus and even giant eagles, to help them on their quest.'

"Giant Eagles? Like the little man with big feet and the grey wizard turned white?"

'Yeah. You were reading that weren't you?'

"I did-n't do all. How do... does it end?"

'I'll tell you what. You tell me the story to the point you know and I'll tell you the rest. The best I can remember.'

"Yes. Please."

'Hmm. Speaking of that story, did the things that those two fought seem familiar to you? Especially the big one.'

The girls eyes close, picking at a memory from some years ago. They open slowly with a cautious recognition, "Nazgûl?"

'Yeah they were a bit like them. Weren't they? Subtle differences but really close.'

"Painted words close to them. No sword or armor, just shape."

'Shape and malevolence.'

"Mmmhmm."

He pauses, reflecting on the complete and total absurdity of the things he's seen. The things he's done. 'How can this possibly be the same Earth I'm from?' he ponders. 'And why the hell isn't all this freaking me the fuck out? Then he just laughs to himself and remembers what he wanted to say.

He shakes his head, 'Anyway, what I was going to say, before that little side track took me, was... Gandalf had Great Eagles, Atreyu had Falkor. Hell, even Sirius Black had Buckbeak... Me??? I get a raven named Grim. Who likes pecking me on the ear."

"Be worse," she chuckles.

'True. True. He could be a, really annoying, clockwork owl.'