It starts with a rustling of covers. It feels warm. An arm pulls. She can hear breathing. She feels her own heartbeat. The headache is the first thing to hit. Her body aches; it is quite sore. She remembers she has long hair—she can feel it behind her head. She can’t feel her legs. Wait, no… yes, she can. Something is very wrong. She tries to summon all of her might and it fails. A breath escapes. Her eyes open weakly.
A girl with brown hair is staring down at her; she blinks once.
“Strife, your awake!”
“Who…you…Vera…why…” Strife’s words come out weak; her body attempts to pass a groan, but it comes out as a weak breath. She can feel aches all over her body. She finally gives up as a breath escapes her lips.
“You gave us quite a scare back there.” Sweiza’s voice shows some form of relief towards her mentor; perhaps for the first time since she has met her.
Sweiza feels more relief as she gets to finally speak about events ahead, “We’re currently…”
Strife lets out something akin to soft groan, but it comes out as a whimper. Sweiza is up from her chair and her hands brace the bed. “Strife!”
Strife passes out.
—
“Dear Journal,
It has been quiet in the three days since we have bid farewell to ‘Bothnin’. Most of the crew seem uneasy and unable to speak to each other. I think they are just happy knowing we are not fighting any Harbor Magistrates or facing turbulence from ‘The Cult of Loki’; at least I hope not anytime soon. As for the cult, one of our own crewman, “Torry Enders”, is a member. I was shocked, if not worried when I found out. But he assures me that there are other members like him; they have entirely different reasons for being in the cult. ‘Great Change’ was his watchword—but for a peaceful livelihood that would benefit everyone. Mr. Enders understood why I—myself and others in the crew—did not want him to come with us. He did give us an enchantment to contact him from his ‘soul mirror’ when he found out we were heading to Myrkvellir—it seems he is quite knowledgeable about areas bordering Niffleheim
Along with Mr. Enders, we have lost another crewman. Ulla—whom lost her husband—was traveling to Bothnin originally before the incident with Delphis and Alcyon. I wish her the best of luck; I hope she finds herself safe and in good health in coming years. But what lies ahead for her, and then I wonder what fate has in store for the rest of us?
For starters, Salmira has already seen to that. I, rather the Gigas Dura crew and myself, will be heading to Myrkvellir. There are a series of ‘circumstances’ in that region which required our attention. She would not allude to what—something to do with a statue that cries in the rain and then an abandoned castle. She disappeared before I could ask further; her aurora also caused quite a stir to the crew as it is normally not seen by anyone. Her ‘aurora’ is the myth of legends; if only people knew that ‘the witch’ can travel through time and alter it as she sees fit. I do not know about ‘Salmira’, but what I do know is that I have heard of ‘Myrkvellir’ ever since I was a child. It is the land of legend rooted in illusion. It is supposedly the realm where a person can sleep and then everything in this world—through all the nine realms—visits us in our dreams. I’m not sure what they mean by that, but I’m sure Demi will visit me when the time comes. Myrkvellir is also supposed to be an area inhabited by enchanted beings, creatures of the occult; and then the expected goblins, gremlins and dragons of course.
I am worried about Strife. She has been in charge up until now; somehow dragging me into her tutelage and then this mysterious ‘journey’ and ‘life quest’ of hers. She says it has everything to do with me; but I’m not sure what she means. Is Odin really that bad? I have my own reasons, but that is for another day. For the time being, she has been bed ridden and passing in and out of consciousness. Several of us have decided to maintain bedside vigil for her when she finally wakes up. Her condition is the result of a ‘soul device’—much in the same fashion as a ‘soul mirror’—it uses a person’s soul (or being) and to power said device. The problem is it isn’t a sure thing—too much use of the device, and it is different for everyone—and it can wipe their soul out of existence. What is left is a soulless husk where the body has turned to stone. That is at least what Mr. Enders told me concerning the Magistrate and his shattered ‘stone’ remains in the harbor office. Strife is still alive without those bad consequences, but it seems to have drained her completely, much in the same way the ‘berserkergang’ leaves a person bedridden for several days. I hope she will be okay. I kick myself every hour for not asking Salmira about it.
I am not sure what Strife will say about my decision, but until she is awake, I am technically the one in charge; or so Olaf has informed me due to the fact it was our (Strife and myself) ship before the survivors came on board. I have decided after Myrkvellir we would head back up towards Muspell to return Elga, Lock and Olaf to their homeland; there was no objections. I have decided the rest of the crew will also be returned to their homelands—which is sometime away in the lands of Alfgard and Vanir. Thankfully, we do not have to worry about supplies for some time—the harbor inhabitants, and especially Mr. Enders were more than happy to fill us ‘up to the gills’. The entire ship is overloaded with supplies, both above and below deck. We’ve had to take to sleeping on the floor, but that is something everyone of us has gotten used to. It still looks funny to see large crates and barrels that have been roped down to the sides of the ship. I’m surprised we haven’t sunk with all of this stuff!
I did not mean to make this entry long, but it feels so long since my last one before ‘Bothnin’. One other thing to account for is that two of our crewman are a little worse for wear. Lock had a bullet graze his ear, but he is otherwise alright. Douglas got the worst of it; but thankfully he was wearing that strange armor that stopped the bullet from hitting his heart. He still has a nice bruise from it, so the armor is not one hundred percent effective. On the other hand, Sprite is in better spirits these days. He was personally awarded (by Mr. Enders) different ‘sweet things’ and other sugary supplies from the Harbor Magistrate’s own food stores. The man (the magistrate) was clearly a glutton, and it would explain why he was so fat. The fool!
Mr. Enders also gave me first choice of anything that was from the magistrate’s collection—any curio that wasn’t needed by the cult of course. In my ‘being’ are many vials of basilisk venom, as well as many husks of basilisk eggs; Mr. Enders assured me that Strife would survive the ‘soul shield’, as well as the curse that comes from expending oneself with it—he also assured me that she would be most interested in the ‘spoils of victory’. Whatever. There were many different curios in the magistrate’s collection. I took everything that Mr. Enders himself didn’t need or want. I do not know if it will be useful, but he told me they are the spoils of victory. I suppose. I feel like a thief, but that is nothing new; old habits die hard as they say.
Lastly, there is the matter of the cult members that escaped. Mr. Enders has assured me they would not get far and that they would be hunted down. The dwarves apparently have a ship which can fly in the air. It makes transportation quite easy to other areas. The reason we don’t see them in Midgard is due to such things being outlawed. I had not seen one of them until I had been in Bothnin. Technology!
P.S. It will be at least two days before we make it to Myrkvellir. During this time I have chosen to name this leg of our journey, “Myrkvellir, Where No Valkyrie Dares to Tread”. I think it sounds fitting, as we do not know what lies ahead of us; but that could also be said about Bothnin and Jotunher before we arrived.
-Sweiza Serif”
—
Sweiza orders the Gigas Dur to be anchored two miles from shore. The crew is not to come with; Vali objected strongly saying, “I’ve come all this way, dealt with the loss of both my team and crew; then my science instruments; then dealing with Delphis and Alcyon. I surely object!” Sweiza agrees to let him come along, provided he shares his research with Strife. He has no objections.
By the time she has gotten to shore, a certain dragon makes himself known to the trio of Sweiza, Sprite and Lars.
“Were you following us? I haven’t seen you since the battle.” Sweiza’s eyes are wide-eyed and full of enthusiasm at the fact the dragon lived.
“Your ship is easy to trail underwater.”
Surt then raises one of his wings with a hole in it. His raspy voice is unmistakable.
“A new breed of pest has a stronger weapons.”
Sweiza gapes at it.
The dragon seems unphased by the girl’s wonder; he instead blows a puff of breathe from his nostrils at Sweiza. She shields her face with her arms. “Yuck! Dragon breath!”
Sprite lets out a laugh at her; she swats her hand towards the ground as a warning. He immediately shapes up. No sweet things for him if he misbehaves.
—
The pace and their going is touch and go. The dragon doesn’t seem to mind; at least he hasn’t said anything—but Vali’s constant observance of plants, writing into a notebook, and then having to capture their ‘souls’ with that strange device of his…
“Vali, really! We’re not going to make good time before dark!” Sweiza suddenly jumps when Vali turns around with the strange device pointed at her. She lets out an audible ‘eek!’. She quickly rushes up and swats the device out of his hands.
“Don’t ever point that at a person!” Sweiza’s frantic words are lost on the light elf.
“Don’t be absurd! You backdwellers of Midgard are so…” Vali freezes as the shadow of something looms over him. He spins around and drops the ‘device’. His body shrinks and his guard drops completely; his absolute submission is apparent.
Trembling, the light elf attempts to stand his ground. He attempts to speak, but Surt is not one to back down. The dragon adds further emphasis to effect as he rears up on his hindlegs and spreads his arm wings; the sun is blocked out for the immediate area as the dragon’s eyes glow red at the light elf.
“Know your place; or I’ll find a new one for you in the pit of my stomach.”
The light elf isn’t phased. He’s stopped trembling and sees through the dragon’s bravado.
“You’re a fool! Your kind is the re…”
Surt isn’t having any of it and lets out a fireball at a tree behind Sweiza. The girl looks around at it wideeyed. Her head turns back around towards Surt. She can’t read his intentions; just whose side is he on anyway?
“Surt!”
The dragon drops back down to all fours. His tongue flicks out through his mouth once. He simply walks past the girl without a care. His tail swishes the now fiery emblazoned tree for effect and cracks it over. It hits the His head looks back at Vali and then to the girl. He turns his head back around and holds it up as if imitating snobbery amongst humans; he flicks his tongue up towards the sky for good measure.
“We have to go.” Sweiza looks at him with some discontent. She doesn’t wait for his response and turns around to follow the dragon.
Vali looks at the girl’s back to him. He adjusts his glasses. If only there were others from the Dura here; but they might outnumber him. The dragon is the most powerful being here; maybe the other Valkyrie. He analyzes the situation. He’s outnumbered and has no combat skills. Better to play along and get his ‘photos’ with his parch capturer.*
*parch capturer - a strange device not unlike a camera in usage and appearance. It literally uses the sun to burn an image into one of many square pieces of ‘ash paper’. As the name suggests, it captures mostly in grey and white, and a few shades of black. Coincidentally, Sweiza’s reckoning about it being a ‘soul stealer’ is not mistaken; the device will capture the imprint of a person’s aura, particularly those that have enchantments about them. To a citizen of Midgard, this is how it gets its name as a ‘Soul Stealer’.
Vali decides not to argue. He scrambles for his device and the small rucksack that carries his research.
—
Vali disagree’s with Sweiza’s reasoning; they have plenty of food on the Gigas Dura. There was absolutely no need to leave it behind. Sweiza disagrees. Hunting helps conserve food (‘resources’ as Strife calls it). Besides, Sweiza is in charge and wants fresh meat; Surt and Sprite have no objections.
Vali winces as Sweiza’s arrow hits its target and the small rodent squeals in pain. There is absolute delight on Sweiza and Sprite’s face as they look at each other.
“Dewey!” She lets out a cheer of the Sprite’s name and he flies after the direction of the arrow.
Vali’s eyes close as he minces his words and shakes his head. Years at the elven academy and this is what he is forced into in the name of ‘Botany’. “Goddess Freya help me!” is all that enters his mind.
Surt is most excellent (according to Sweiza) in flushing out rodents; they are quite plentiful and dinner is soon served. Vali winces and shrinks at the stick with rodent meat on it. Sweiza shoves it in his face. “Eat. We don’t want to hear your complaining about being hungry.”
He finally obliges. It doesn’t taste bad; but he’s had better. The spice—Midgard pepper, is not much to his liking. But whatever.
Sweiza sits back and looks up at the sun; a happy expression on her face. This journey, and especially the day, are becoming better and better.
The thought of the arrows and crossbow enter her mind. Torry had mentioned a mythical crossbow that could fire enchanted arrows that returned to the owner’s hand. Such a device is a thing of legend. It is called an Atlas Bow. Sweiza instinctively rolls her eyes at the thought; it gets a peculiar look from the dragon. She says nothing.
Sweiza has heard of the Atlas Bow. To have it told by Torry, the weapon was designed by Vanir mages and then forged in Alfgard. People blame the Muspell-Valhalla War as to the reason its location became vulnerable to pirates. It was eventually recovered, but sits in a museum in Muspell. Odin has been trying to retrieve it for his personal collection ever since. In her own time, Sweiza has heard of the same kind of enchanted bow that sits in a museum. It is closely guarded, but it would be the perfect hunting weapon.
She looks down at the crossbow next to the fire. It is mostly metal and of dwarven design. Torry had insisted she take it with many quivers of arrows. It wouldn’t be needed by the magistrate’s guards now that they had fled. Sweiza agreed on the grounds it would help with hunting; but more importantly, because she could treat the arrows as disposable; something she would never do with her own collapsible shortbow.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Perhaps Torry was trying to win her over. She doesn’t know. Thinking of Torry, she finally pops her question to Vali.
“You had mentioned you were part of an elven academy. Did they ever mention the Cult of Loki?”
“Never mention that name to me again!” He stands up and stamps his foot at the ground; sending dust into the fire. Sweiza pulls her stick with meat away. Sprite flies up eye-level with Sweiza. He looks back to the sleeping dragon; he then looks to Vali. The elf flinches backwards once. “Sorry.” It comes out in a very meek voice.
Sweiza and Sprite both look at each other. Sweiza lets out a smile and the Spritekin lets out a grin. Vali is funny, even if it isn’t intentional.
—
Towards evening, Sweiza is alerted to Surt letting out a puff of smoke from his nostrils. As she steps forward to see what is the matter, she catches the distinct lack of birds chirping. She looks around. Sprite is hovering motionless in the air; Vali is staring in the same direction as Surt; they are both looking at a red aurora. This can only mean that…
“Hello again.”
Sweiza jumps and her head bolts down. Salmira is directly in front of her.
“Quit doing that! You need to appear like a normal person!”
Salmira’s eyebrows perk up. She looks up at the aurora.
“You say that now, but at the end of this little meeting you’ll ask me to accompany you throughout Myrkvellir.”
“As if!” Sweiza’s arms cross and she bolts her body in the opposite direction as Salmira. Her closed eyes open and she chances looking back in satisfaction at Salmira’s reaction. The woman isn’t there. She knows what is coming next. She just catches the red hair in her peripheral vision; she winces as she turns back around.
Before she (Sweiza) admits defeat, there is one last act of defiance in her voice, “Travel to a crescent shaped beach and then south by southwest on foot. Now what?”
Salmira perks up. “Very good.”
Sweiza lets out a grumbled breath of discontent.
“Oh you; you act as if it will be as bad as that Bothnin incident.”
Sweiza’s eyes narrow into a frown.
Salmira shakes her head, “Right then. The Cult of Loki is present here in Myrkvellir. They are up to a few things that I need taken care of. You do have a map don’t you?”
Sweiza holds out her hands and sheepishly shakes her head.
Salmira tilts her head. “Wouldn’t Lady Strife normally poke and prod you into being well prepared?”
“She is currently on the Dura sick fighting the effects of a ‘Soul Shield’.” Sweiza’s eyes close and she shakes her head. She can’t believe she is feeling ‘anything’ for Strife’s well being.
Sweiza is snapped back to reality.
“Oh, one of those. She’ll be fine. She lives through the effects and is a little wiser towards how they work. Spe…”
Sweiza interrupts Salmira. “I don’t mind running these little errands for you. But it would be nice to have a little support from you every now and then.”
Salmira’s mouth turns into a light smirk. Sweiza sees the reaction, but isn’t quite sure what it is for.
“If you actually stayed with us, there wouldn’t be a need for a map, or these little ‘meetings’ of ours.”
Salmira’s head tilts to the side. Sweiza’s eyes narrow.
Sweiza’s face drops in surprise.
“Fine, whatever!” She turns around and storms off.
“Vorkera, what are you doing? That aurora belongs to Salmira!” Vali makes an attempt at discourse, but Sweiza storms right past him.
Sprite soon zooms past Vali; the dragon’s head follows the Sprite. He looks back at Vali, but is content to leave him there.
The group pushes forward through the current forest for another hour before setting up camp—a red aurora watching over them the entire night.
—
Children are dressed in masks and clothing which can only be described as backwater, yet tribal. There skin and hair color, are varying shades of blue, green and yellow, if not a single solid color; their eyes follow much the same. The pointed ears are what stand out the most. Sweiza recognizes them as gremlins. Her attention shifts to the cheers of adults as the children dance. Sweiza stops one of them to ask what kind of festival they are celebrating. They say they have caught dinner.
Sweiza says it smells good. She is curious what is for dinner.
They say that ‘she’ is for dinner.
A horrified Sweiza looks down to see that she is naked inside of a cauldron. The water in it bubbles up at her—one of the bubbles pop and a green carrot floats up where the bubble was. She eyes it once. It smells good. Wait, what is she thinking? Suddenly something odd floats by. It looks like a rat tail. She tries to let out a shriek, but she feels her body lock; the situation continues to overwhelm her and she feels herself pass out.
---
During the morning, Vali wakes up from a very restful sleep—quite good in fact—he hasn’t slept this well in a long time. A long yawn escapes his lips, but he feels something wet tickle them. His hand instinctively reaches up to deal with ‘whatever’ it might be. His eyes crack open at what lies in his fingers.
A spider.
He flings it away and pulls himself up to a sitting position; another yawn escapes his lips.
“Lady Vorkera, when are we leaving, I have…” He stops short after looking around. Their camp is empty. For that matter, he is in a strange location. It is a clearing. He pulls himself to his feet. He appears to be lost and outside of his entourage. All the better for him; they were only getting in the way.
He is about to start on his way, but he notices something odd about the trees—rather it is their shadows that are catching his attention.
The shadows are moving!
His parch capturer is already out and he starts snapping a few imprints of the phenomenon. The academy will surely like this; it will probably get him a writeup in a peer reviewed newsletter, or better still—a newspaper!
He controls himself from taking more than three imprints. His equipment is valuable and he is here for botany after all.
He looks down and sees some moss has covered the bottom of his feet. He shakes his foot once and it slides off. His shoes look odd. He wonders. He sees the shadows moving again and starts to look up at the sky. The sun and moons of Avalan are moving quite fast across the sky—they soon set. He can clearly see the stars in the sky, but they also appear to be moving. That infernal red aurora is also appearing and disappearing, but faster than he is used to seeing. Night soon turns to day; the sun quickly moves across the sky.
Vali scratches his head at the phenomenon. Myrvellir is known as ‘The Land of Illusion’, but legends also speak of it being able to convert a person’s dreams to reality. He looks down in thought. There is more moss growing on his shoes. He shakes it off again. This time the moss has some roots which have taken hold in the shoes. He looks down and sees the leather is starting to look wetter than it should for the current weather.
If this is a dream, he has nothing to worry about, but what if the legends about them becoming reality are true? Could this be one of the fabled illusions? Can the illusions be real?
He doesn’t wait around to find out; he starts off walking in the most likely direction the group would have gone without him—south by southeast was the original direction for ‘whatever’ thing Lady Vorkera is after. The thought of her comes up; she didn’t make him privy to what they were looking for, other than the fact they were chasing down the Cult of Loki and the answers to Delphis and Alcyon’s research. He silently hopes when they make it to Niffleheim he can see their souls rotting in misery.
A good thought!
He stops when he sees the forest’s plumage start to change; fall colors! His parch capturer is out again. The phenomenon with the sun and moons—and then night and day—all continue to shuffle together.
He looks down again. The moss has continued to creep up his leg. Why is it doing that? He tries to shake it off. Nothing happens. This time he takes his hands to dust it off. There are moss roots growing out of his right pant leg.
The days and nights speed up; the moons closest to the planet are a blur as they shuffle across the sky. The sun is still faster yet. Just what is going on?
Soon he is cold. It starts to snow. He feels the bite of cold hit him. It starts to snow. Then a blizzard.
He tries to train his cold and shaky fingers on his parch capturer, but his shivering worsens as the cold hits him. He can no longer feel his fingers. He drops the device to push his hands in his shirt; the device can wait, keeping his fingers is top priority.
The snow soon melts as spring embraces the area.
His body gradually starts to warm up again.
When he is relieved that he can feel his fingers again, he starts to walk forward. He feels his feet snag and then rip something. He looks down. There is moss up his shoes, legs and up to his belt. However, it is what is growing out of his shoes that concerns him—there appears to be a root system. He rips the moss off with some difficulty. He tries to move his feet again, and hears the same tearing as the roots in his shoes have taken hold into the ground; he falls over when one of the stronger roots snag.
He tries to pull his shoes off, but they appear to be caught on something. He tries with all of his might, but nothing happens. He can see in real time that moss is starting to grow on his shoes and creep its way up his pants. Great concern is his priority as he pulls off his pants with some difficulty. Horror overshadows his panic as he can see what appears to be tree bark growing up his leg.
Wait, no! His legs are turning into bark. He tries to pull his shoes off, but they appear to be solid and stuck. He can’t feel his legs anymore. The moss continues to cover his pants and starts to grow up his leg. He can feel the skin on his lower pelvis turning to tree bark. He can see leaves in front of him; they are moving.
Wait, no, they are growing out of his legs!
Panic finally sets in. He can’t move his legs anymore. He turns himself on his forearms and crawls forward. His left arm is the first to convert into wood and a tree. He finally crawls with his right arm. He can feel it hardening. He has one last attempt as he reaches up for the sky. The witch is a curse and bearer of ill events within legend and superstition of Alfgard, but perhaps she will help him.
He lets out a final cry for help; his right arm hardens solid as it reaches for the sky. An eclipse of one of the moons shines down on him as his last memory is a cry and then a whimper that escapes his lips. His head finally turns to wood and his skin bears a bark covering; his hair finally turns to grass. His hardened body gives way to gravity as the former light elf falls to his side.
He is a beautiful tree as his leaves and grass hair sway in the wind.
The seasons with no regard, continue to speed up.
—
It is night and the stars are out; the full moon of Hayduria casts an eerie glow on the forest below. It is enough to dimply illuminate the forest.
Sprite and Sweiza continue walking through the woods when they find themselves in a clearing. Sprite eyes Sweiza once. She seems not to be paying attention. Instead she is staring hard into the woods. He hears her stomach growl. She turns her head around at him.
“Perhaps we should start hunting.”
He nods at the statement; it is a good idea.
Sweiza turns around and her body language sharpens.
“Sprite, be on your guard. Strange things happen here!” Sweiza says it with some serious playfulness at the Sprite. He holds himself firm and gives a salute. He’s heard of Myrkvellir from other Sprites, so he’s no dummy; however, he isn’t about to be outsmarted by fear.
Sweiza lets out a click. On cue the Sprite charges ahead into the woods. His reaction times are second to none. But he doesn’t see any birds or rodents. For that matter, he can’t hear birds chirping. He knows this is bad sign from all of his previous hunts with Sweiza. He turns around and bolts back the direction he came.
He finds himself in the clearing, but his partner is not there. Instead, he sees a shadow from the opposite edge of the clearing walking towards him. His first instinct is to freeze, but he bolts upwards to the trees. The shadow continues towards him. It is just below the tree.
The figure calls out to him. It is a male voice. The sprite hides up near a tree branch. He feels the tree vibrating from several hits. He hears a chopping noise.
It takes some time, but the tree starts crack as it leans forward. Sprite tries to fly out from the branch, but the branches of the falling tree get in his way. He snags a twig and cannot break free. He falls with the tree to the ground. He finally takes to using his teeth to biting the twig.
He hears footsteps.
He looks up to see a dimly lit figure. It looks like Sweiza, but something is off. She has a strange grin on her face.
“Sera! I’m stuck, help me!” The Sprite looks up with discontent and weary concern in his voice. The figure pulls out a bow.
“Why a bow? It’s a waste to use one of your arrows on a tw…” His ears and body droop when he hears the string of the bow pull tight.
The glint of the moonlight on the arrow makes a discernible streak as it flies at Sprite. He lets out a cry when he sees the arrow flying straight for his eyes.
—
Surt eyes his mate once. She is a fine creature; a wyvern like himself, but grey iridescent scales that shine a light blue and lavender. What intrigues him is the edges of her scales; they are a dark purple. In the right light she appears a very brilliant emerald green and then different shades of metallic blue. Her colors were simply a bonus; he chose her for her intelligence.
The dragon looks up at the sky with intent. Today would be a celestial event. The moons Mek and Mecer would hang in the sky as a double eclipse. The double eclipse would also cause the two dragons to have their scales change color; Surt’s mate in particular would have a brilliant display of pastel and jeweled colors, while Surt himself would simply have a cascade of grey and white flush over his scales. Either way, it would rekindle their vow of the last one hundred years.
The event is beginning.
The two dragons cradle and then wrap their necks and tails against each other in a typical firedrake (Muspellian) display). The event will last for some time, roughly a few days.
However, there is something odd about the eclipse. Both dragons’s eyes narrow. Their excellent eyesight locks in on what appears to be a dragon high in the sky. It lets out a blue firebreath towards one of the moons.
The dragon moves closer to the moons. What is this display? No moon is savage enough to…
Both dragons look in horror as the firebreath widens and circles the moon. Could this in fact be Moongarm that the gods speak of? Is Ragnarok starting?
Worry fills both of the drakes. The firebreath scatters across the moon in disjointed criss-cross fashion. More blue flame erupts from the moon. The moon suddenly splits and the fragments scatter. The double eclipse ends, but another moon is just beginning to eclipse the sun.
Something is very wrong. Surt and his mate unwind necks and tails. They take flight into the mid-day sky.
The moon destroyer sets its sights on the next moon Mecer. It’s firebreath lunges for and grabs the moon. The criss-crossing fire disjoints itself around the moon; the moon is engulfed and suddenly splits. The fragments move and the sun becomes visible.
Something is very wrong.
The two dragons cannot understand what it is, but they can tell simply by body language that the other is carefully observing the other. There is no mistrust between them, but they need to find safety for fear of the dragon overhead. Perhaps that dragon is their new leader and will usher them into a new age; but it is doubtful. Dragons do not dare oppose Odin.
—
Sweiza stands up sharp and eyes the strange sky. The day and night is shifting faster than it should; the moons and sun flash and arc across the faster than any bird she has seen before; the seasons are also rapidly moving.
Sweiza shakes her head and stamps her foot on the ground. “What the hell is this? Salmira, is this more of your crap?”
Demi quickly flashes in front of her, but he is pale like a ghost. He attempts to speak, but fades from existence.
Everything suddenly freezes. Sweiza expects the red aurora, but sees nothing. Salmira suddenly appears in front of her.
“Salmira, what is going on?” Sweiza stammers in frustration. “Where are my friends?”
The cycle of day and night starts to change again; the moons pick up again, the sun flashes by the sky; the seasons change once, but they suddenly freeze again.
“You’re caught in a time loop.” Salmira’s form fades once and then returns to full. She shakes her head up at the sky as the day and night cycle shifts once.
“What? How, why? Is this some trick?” Sweiza again stammers in frustration. Her voice is exasperated.
Salmira shakes her head. “The sentinel of this area still fights me. I have no claim here; she is still allied with Salyra.”
“What does that mean? Where are the others?” Sweiza starts approaching Salmira. Salmira’s form fades again. The woman cradles her arms in frustration. She looks up at the sky as one of the moons streaks; one of the day and night cycles completes before freezing again.
Salmira’s face changes to something much more serious as she scowls at Sweiza. “I’m having trouble staying focused on your location—the same for your friends. The sentinel appears to be teleporting you all over the continent in spurts.”
Sweiza shakes once and her mouth purses into a disgruntled frown, “Is that why I’m having weird dreams? Are they having the same issue?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is you and your friends presences are being shifted around Myrkvellir. There are other presences afoot that are also getting shifted around. I assume ‘she’ is doing it to keep everyone off guard and hold the advantage. Do not be fooled by her brother; they are controlled by the same tower.” Salmira continues the same serious look at the girl—as if staring right through her.
“I don’t understand!” Sweiza cries out in more frustration. She holds herself steady soon after fearing a slap across the face—perhaps past forewarning from Strife’s harsh lessons. The slap never comes.
When Sweiza opens her eyes, Salmira is standing in front of her. “Find the Spirit of Myrkvellir; it is the sentinel that protects this continent. Be warned, she doesn’t trust outsiders; win her over, but do not trust her brother, he has been corrupted by the influence of Loki and Odin.” Salmira is quite firm in her voice; this is a mission Sweiza will carry out.
Sweiza objects. “What does this have to do with anything? Why does this concern me?!”
Salmira’s eyes close and she shakes her head. “After Salyra destroyed Mek and Mecer, a fragment of Mek came hurtling down and struck the tower that controls this area. The shield that protects it was destroyed; part of the tower was also destroyed with it. It was left open to Loki and Odin’s influence. The male counterpart of the tower was influenced, the female counterpart chose to hide herself away and complete the mission. They will not listen to me. Do you understand?”
“I don’t!” More frustration from Sweiza.
Salmira shakes her head. “In order to complete your mission here, you need to get that tower under control. Win the sentinel over; she can get help you.”
Salmira’s form starts to fade again. She looks up. “Honestly. We’re trying to help.” She shakes her head again. “The sentinel has no control over what times and locations you are shifted to; use this to your advantage. Find yourself in a treeless corridor and follow it. The trees will turn into a jungle. Find a large clearing with black, white and violet stones; the tower will be black like obsidian; part of it will be destroyed. It will look like a decaying obelisk or monument. I can’t protect you until the tower is under control; good luck and watch yourself, I can’t have you dieing on me.”
Salmira’s face suddenly snaps out of reality in a flash. The day and night cycle continues to shift with the moons and sun flying across the sky; the seasons continue to cycle rapidly.
Sweiza fumes at this turn of events. She doesn’t have a choice and she knows it.