The dueling half-siblings amidst the bloodline of Dagr continue their exchanges of blows; although Heimdallr knew how to abuse the weaknesses of his characters, the truth was that he hadn't ever fought more than a few times in his previous life. Experience and knowledge went hand-in-hand, but the prior often resulted in greater results for a reason.

And although he was exploitable, Heimdallr's older siblings were still older. In the case of this smug-faced oaf, Elgr, the main problem was Heimdallr's body wasn't too strong. Dagr's many sons all had a place in the hierarchy due to age, but their own physical strengths varied even further. In all the books, the main weakness of Heimdallr was that his strength paled in comparison to that of his brothers... but his durability made him able to withstand and fight them on some level of footing.

In short, now that I am Heimdallr, his strengths and weaknesses are my own. Standing up to his brother had likely not ended well, but that's because Heimdallr didn't have the degree of knowledge I do about my creations. Even if the pacing isn't covered in the book, it stands to reason that I can direct the flow of things by simply using something simple.

As we wrestle and fight, Elgr's intensity grows; he stops struggling for the stick and swaps to throwing punches at my sides, each blow landing more firmly and meaningfully than the last.

"Get off me, bastard!"

The irony is that Elgr, too, was one of Dagr's many children; much like me, he had been kept at arm's length due to his youth and lack of any professed talent. Dagr didn't care to deal with the horde of children in his wake so long as they didn't cause problems or interfere in his ambitions, ultimately leading to Heimdallr and many of the brothers fighting for any scrap of attention.

Unlike Heimdallr, I don't care for attention. All I want is to live. And if I want to live, I can't let this musclehead teenage brat throw or batter me down.

I grit my teeth, shoving my finger into his sore spotted chest and agitating the wound again. Elgr screams in agony and relents just long enough for me to scramble to my feet. I turn and dash through the gap of my younger siblings, narrowly tripping up as he stumbles up and after me but fails to slip through the same gap.

A smaller frame like mine makes it harder to fight but easier to escape, after all.

I barrel out ahead and run for a doorway leading out of the small outdoor plaza, barging through the dangling cloth drapes and skidding down a hallway that I at the minimum recognized: Dagr's Fall Keep. As the centerpiece for much of my new series' earlier chapters, it had plenty of conception and design put into it to make it authentic and a perfect place to be a kid in thanks to just how many crawlspaces and hideaways there were.

A pair of armored huskarl walking the hallway bar my path unintentionally, forcing me to dive under one of them with Elgr hot on my heels. He quickly steps around the man but misses his chance to grab me whilst diving after my shadow, leaving me free to sprint as fast as I could toward the only room Heimdallr ever felt safe in while younger.

"Gullveig!"

I barge through the doorway, still unused to the sound of my childish voice but using it nonetheless. "Gullveig, Elgr is trying to hurt me!"

The interior of the room is a stark contrast to the stone and wooden longhouse-type decorations of the hallways, blending to mixes of bricks both clay and stone of many colors. At the center of the room lie a large array of bound scrolls scattering a tabletop, each one detailing paths across the seas around their home and afar. Behind that table, of course, was the seated and quite frustrated Gullveig.

The blonde-haired woman is younger thanks to the past-started timeline he had arrived in, but the mature air about her that was prominent to the character hasn't waned. She rises from her chair while the duo of boys run in, the contours of her beautiful-rounded face darkening with anger whilst she merely pulls out her wand and aims the small pointed stick their way.

"Enough, both of you," she says, both of her golden eyes glowing and the end of her magical tool pulsing in-sync. Both of us drop from our run straight to our bellies, sliding across the ground to a halt. "Do you not realize the room you intrude on has more value than either of your sorry hides?"

Even Elgr knows better than to talk, regardless of him being addressed, with a magician of Gullveig's status asking such a rhetorical question. What little of my old life and my work blending together into this new one paints me the full picture of Dagr's sorceress and how to navigate her. I bow my head before Elgr can, ensuring that my bloodied wound is fully visible.

"Dagr's ninth son apologizes to the Magician!"

Elgr may still be intending to beat me further but he follows my example with a huff. "Dagr's seventh son apologizes to the Magician."

The magic holding us in place relents, instead turning to move and reposition the various scrolls across the table under secure paperweights or into old satchels meant to store the oldest and most valuable of them. Gullveig approaches us watching me, her cold look unrelenting and fierce on the back of my head.

In my age, I had little experience with women... but this is a very well-made story connection I wrote rearing its head: Gullveig's attachment to the only son who lost his mother out of all of Dagr's lot. Specifically, she wanted to shape one of his heirs to one day replace her and pursued Heimdallr for his latent magical gifts. In the books, of course, this ends up ultimately failing to gain the original Heimdallr as her protege and drives him to finally pursue a warrior's gift of endurance. After she pushes the ninth son to the brink of training, he inevitably drifts away and gains his father's favor for his durability before the book takes off into its first training arc.

But in this story, I can change that and should. Changing the story in this fashion may cause a large drift from the story, but most of the major events were set in action before Heimdallr was even born. As far as my writing and planning were concerned, even a completely different take on Heimdallr wouldn't change much. This is because, unlike Heimdallr who needs his father to learn, I have the knowledge as his stand-in to make myself gain the benefits from Dagr and Gullveig.

"I wished to ask the Magician something when I ran here," I recite, a mix of feigned and real fear selling my youthful anguish. "But Elgr was intent on fighting with me after I told him I would surpass him."

My head still hurts but the events before being struck are still obvious: Heimdallr resolved himself to grow stronger on his tenth birthday and immediately went to tell the younger siblings who looked up to him. When he arrived, however, Elgr was there bullying the group. Heimdallr leaped to their defense and whethered the fight well... until he finally admitted he would surpass Elgr and was struck. The two fought intensely in the original and were inevitably pulled apart by the two huskarl who'd been in the hall, yet now he and his brother had run right past them without fighting to ensure neither of the two intervened in the sibling squabble.

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It was a deviation that was small, but useful; Gullveig looks us over, hovering her gaze on Elgr for a moment longer than I. Her gaze makes him yield the truth.

"It... went like that, Magician. But he insulted my honor in front of our siblings and-"

Gullveig sighs and waves her hand toward the teen, throwing him backwards through the air and out the door. It closes and leaves the two of us alone, finally relenting the spell and letting me get up in the same motion to bar the entry.

"I will step in this one time, Heimdallr, but do not learn to rely on me."

She steps back to the table and sits in her chair while I get up and walk over to the edge of it. "But Magician is strong and should be relied on, shouldn't she? Few are more trusted by Father than you."

My words are careful... and that catches her attention; Gullveig looks at me with a silent and observant glare.

"You flatter me too much for one of Dagr's brats... surely that strike you took didn't knock too much sense into your thick skull, did it?"

True to Heimdallr's body, it's astounding to realize just how much the pain of the strike had already faded despite the bloodied and bruised wound still being there. Now that I've obtained his physique, it's not too different from having the pain tolerance that would make any masochist jealous; in later chapters of my story, Heimdallr was able to endure being stabbed multiple times with only slight pain. It had long set a reputation as he grew up that his body had been born tougher than even his father... but that his strength and manners were the cost. It led to him rebuking many friendships and floundering a lot of opportunities.

But now, I can change that with careful and cautionary steps. It'll start with the relationship he always could've had with Gullveig.

"Magician may be right. I actually wanted to ask... if Magician could help me grow stronger."

The woman's eyes don't move but the twitch of her finger is the tell that I wrote into her: she finds this unsettling. I would, too, if a rather loudheaded kid like Heimdallr suddenly came to me acting more mature than ever after getting into a petty fight with his sibling. It's a sign that I need to give a better line of logic to this.

"You threw him so far with that spell," I beam, punching the air and knocking over one of the table's many paperweights. "If I could do that, then-"

She reaches out and grabs my wrist with a scowl. "Stop that or I won't hesitate to throw you into the hold's lake!"

"Sorry, Magician! I just got so pumped thinking of how you used magic and-"

"Enough," she barks. "You're too wild to consider using spells like that. You don't even have the talent for this."

All of her distrust seems to have faded... but I can't be too cautious. I pull myself free of her grasp, crossing my arms and pouting.

"I am not wild! I am the first-born son of Dagr's third wife Rán! I was born to touch the stars just as my forefathers did! On my name as Heimdallr Dagrsson!"

I open my right hand and reach out toward the ceiling of her chamber... and toward the glass pane across its top that lets in the sun or moonlight. In the daytime it's impossible to see them, but stars never truly go anywhere. In this world, mages made bonds to one of three things: the world, the gods, or themselves. Magic among Dagr's people had almost entirely been the first of these, with Dagr himself able to manipulate the seas and the earth while fighting. Demons and their many monstrous servants normally obtained it from the second, with their many dark gods watching over and wanting to change the world through them. The third are magicians much like Gullveig, who create unique magic beyond comprehension of any but those they deem worthy or with sufficient magical affinity.

Heimdallr, as a protagonist, had the potential to use all three. World Magic can only be obtained through blood, which he did through Dagr. Godly Magic could be obtained thanks to his mother's connection to the God of Stars. And the third is something that only I can help him acquire... by showing Gullveig his potential right now, when his magical affinity awakens. But in my case, I have a unique problem of being unable to use Dagr's bloodline yet and not logically being able to use Gullveig's spells without making her feel threatened.

My palm and eyes glow blue, my vision turning from blinding sunlight to a light-muted vision that lets me see past the sunlight and see the star sitting amidst the field above. My bloodline calls out toward it... and the God of Stars himself looks back just as I had written about in texts that Heimdallr wouldn't ever experience in his life but would read about. All of the world seems to stop around me, the ball of light spinning and burning around the outline of a fore-standing great shield.

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That shield pulses and recognizes me... and its voice reaches my mind an instant later.

You are not but are him.

He can see my soul so he knows I'm not Heimdallr... but he says I'm still him, too? I may be old, but does that mean that the two of us really are the same?

I ask the great god Svalinn, protector of the Stars, to forgive my presence.

You know of me but not of how I am. Who are you?

...

I am Heimdallr. I had another name in a different life, but my name in this one is so; does Svalinn judge me lacking of this name?

The sun pulses and the shield grows; in the expanse of the sky, it stretches to blot out the rest of the stars behind its guard.

Heimdallr. I grant you your name. In exchange, you will become one of mine, just as the one you replaced was born for.

This one understands, Svalinn. But what do I-

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The sky above me returns to normal, but not before my eyes and palm's glow fade. It was brief but an instant that leaves you mentally fatigued, exactly as I said it would in the story. Only now I can feel the change in me just like the magic systems I devised explained would happen.

My chest swells with a different energy between every breathe almost like a third lung, yet it doesn't exhaust its supply nor grow full with a single breath. This feeling is the creation of a God's Vessel: a magician of a god's true weapon and most critical asset. Demon lords within the setting would refine and grow this power over centuries... but Heimdallr and his mother's family bore ties to a just god who's intervention in the world was far more potent due to how it refines. While they draw power from killing and absorbing the strength of their victims almost like a game, I instead gain strength through my very survival. The longer I live, the more it will grow... and even though it is sufficiently lower in effectiveness, defeating other mages carrying a God's Vessel would let me grow in power, too. It wasn't as potent as the ability to "farm enemies" like the monsters, but it still had great potential for someone in such a safe place like Heimdallr. I would have at least six years before any major conflict arrived, which would let me refine this into a battle-capable power.

Gullveig watches me curiously and oblivious to the change thanks to her unique magic being outside of the normal flow; her power was conceptual in origin and as such made her conceptually different from grasping my own strength. Her ability changed based on her own mind and conviction so she couldn't grasp the very nature of Svalinn's magic from the start. But, while unable to understand or learn it, she would be able to see my magical affinity if I used my vessel or any equivalent within the three magics. Her form of magic drew on wands and the conceptualization of enchanting them or objects with power to carry out will... but that power was rooted in her magical affinity's strength, in turn growing when her soul made deeper roots to the power she chose.

In my case, this pledge is the beginning of my growing affinity to Svalinn's magic. It's an initiation into the Order of Star Mages.

And the very first side-effect blooms in my palm: a single, inch-wide sphere amidst a starburst of brilliant blue. Svalinn's Glow is the most basic spell that can be used when you carry his vessel, yet its side-effects on the young mages are instantaneous; while the star floats from my palm, I feel the color flush from my face and the flow of oxygen in my body slow. Svalinn may have been part of a fantasy setting, but I made the side-effects of using his magic improperly extreme: side-effects of interactions with space. A spell of this degree may be simple on appearance and function, yet the side-effect was oxygen deprivation.

I collapse to my knees and the star twinkles out, my vision fading whilst the Magician rushes to my aid. Gullveig stops me from dropping to the floor, instead pulling me into one of the nearby chairs with a scowl.

"Dumb brat! Breathe!"

She touches my chest with the tips of three fingers, her eyes glowing red and her voice reaching me despite my fading consciousness.

"ᛈᚢᛚᛋᛖ."

Magic pulses through me like a defibrillator, distinctly targetting my lungs. The motion pumps the air out when she pushes down, and pulls it all in when her fingers lift. I take a deep forced breath that feeds my oxygen-starved body, feeling all my senses rush back at once. It crashes into me like nothing I can describe aptly, but can with if I try simply: it really fucking hurts.