The Matriarch woke up in a comfortable bed, made of animal furs and cleanly carved wood and stone. The walls were beautifully engraved, and the furniture looked to be made for kings. It was small, but comfortable.
It took her several moments before she decided to move at all. The stinging pain still reverberated through her veins and bones, but at a severely reduced rate. The memories flooded back, as the trauma she underwent was not removed from her mind in any capacity. She wished at least some of it burned out of her brain, but alas, it had taken a deep root.
She sat up, looking around the room and admiring its surroundings. First things first, she most decidedly needed a shower. It was primitive in design but still seemed to have some level of plumbing within, a very strange mixture of modern technology and old school tribal workarounds. It was when she undressed she noticed that her veins were blackened and scarred, and her heart sank. Her lungs burned as her breath became irregular with fear, and moved on towards the mirror and noticed the scars she knew she would carry for her entire immortal lifetime. All across her entire body, as if she had been struck by Zeus himself.
She took extra care to caress her own face, and peered at the mirror for an extended period of time, and drank in every detail. She exhaled deeply once more, wincing in pain but noticing that after every pained breath the pain recedes slightly. As the humans say, ‘one day at a time’, and it was something she took to heart. She had her shower and after a couple of hours, she did feel much better than before.
Her clothes were clean and folded, but as she noticed, went unrepaired. That was all the truer for her mask, which was shattered into pieces, that she then collected and pocketed. The damage of her actual outfit wasn’t too severe, nothing that made her look like a homeless mage or starving artist, but she reappropriated herself all the same. Some of the robes had been burned off from the magic that Matthias wielded, including an entire sleeve where her arm now showed. It functioned well enough.
She exited her room and the vision was bright, almost to a painful degree. An entire neighborhood of clean, bright wood. Cleanly cobbled roads. Massive golden towers were seen in the distance, and the faint echoes of song were heard throughout. Some of the wandering denizens were humming along with it. Most of them paid her no mind as she wandered the streets, looking for some sort of hub or nexus area so that she could navigate better.
Oddly enough, her robe was not terribly out of place, nor her scars. A lot of wandering civilians had scars of some kind of their own, many on their face and arms. More than a few had lost an eye. It took her a few minutes but she did notice that most people were speaking a variant of Dutch or Scandinavian, but not exclusively. The Matriarch herself defaulted to English due to her time on Earth, but nobody seemed to have trouble understanding her. The main information she gleaned was that she was in Asgard, which worried her terribly.
There was a time she planned on arriving in Asgard, to give thanks to the All-Father and possibly take her place as a proper Goddess of Knowledge, but she always had the nagging feeling of being unworthy. She still considered herself young and naive, part of which proved painfully true from recent actions.
“I can’t be the god of knowledge if I don’t know anything,” is a phrase she repeated in her mind often. It’s held her back more than anything, because even on a logical standpoint, nobody knows everything. Learning is a constant effort, and always will be.
Still, being in Asgard made her incredibly nervous. Odin was considered a god of war, and respected warriors. Yet here she was, after suffering a humiliating and foolish defeat, she was afraid she would not be worthy of entering his halls.
She had something of a minor mental breakdown, bracing herself against a pillar with a bear carved into it. Hel herself had wonderful timing in interrupting it. She came flanked by a couple of Valkyries as a sort of elite guard, greeting her kindly.
“Matriarch! We’ve been looking for you.” Hel’s speech was oddly soothing for someone who looked as wicked as she, but her smile warmed her cold appearance.
“I am… adjusting. I remember you, in my realm…”
“I am Hel, lady of Helheim.”
The Matriarch’s shock was easily seen through her widened eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to bow, salute, or be reverent in some way. In truth, she was far too tired to think deeply about it and simply spoke normally.
“Oh. Well, you know me, then.”
“That we do. My grandfather would like to meet you, and I have some friends alongside him I want you to meet. We have a lot to talk about.”
Grandfather. Hel said it so naturally, but The Matriarch knew what she meant. She muttered some variants of “Oh shit, oh shit” a few times to herself as she was escorted by the threesome through the realm of Asgard.
Some gorgeous white horses came flying (though they were wingless) down towards a clearing they entered. They had some chariots in tow, designed for several passengers. It was then she got quite the view of Asgard. It was absolutely beautiful, with the greenest of trees, the calmest of fauna, and clearest of waters. It was a mountainous like region with waterfalls aplenty, some of which she could hear from the sky. The buildings were massive in scope, all had wonderful nordic architecture. As they turned around a mountain, all other buildings dwarfed the one she would gaze upon. Their flying horses made route directly towards it, and The Matriarch had to ask.
“Is that… what I think it is?”
“Yes, Matriarch. We sail for Valhalla.”
She shook with both anxiety and excitement in equal measure. They flew down towards the massive bridge connecting Asgard’s mainland to the monumental size of Valhalla itself, large enough to be its own city. Sure enough, it was true. It housed and hosted tens of thousands of warriors, and not all of them from Scandinavian roots. There was a core of them to be sure, but as others through time and space adopted the Norse gods as their own, many could count themselves among Valhalla’s warriors regardless of their origins.
The bridge itself was the busiest thing she had seen yet. Massive crowds flowed through Valhalla constantly, it took some actual time to even approach its massive doors. As they did so, The Matriarch even found herself humming along with the song that she would soon hear better, erupting ever loudly.
Enter now, of Beast and Tale
Slayers of all, Wyrm and Whale
Come in now, Drinks and Meal
All is glory under Odin’s Seal
Fear not, the Fight is not done
Your fight and training has just begun
Fell the beasts, one by one
All are Odin’s Daughters and Sons
It went on like that for some time, and The Matriarch’s mood improved as she looked over all of the people wandering within.
Without thinking, she couldn’t help but say out loud to her companions, “The women here are so pretty.”
Hel had a sly grin, and accompanied it with a chuckle. “Well if you remain for long enough you could find yourself a companion or two to warm your bed. There’s no shortage of lovemaking here, to be sure. This is a realm of celebration.”
“That won’t be… necessary. I kind of want to admit my failures to Odin, find out what his judgement is, and get back to work.”
“It’s not that kind of meeting, Matriarch. Don’t worry.”
After having spent some time in the crowds to enter, Hel’s name allowed them a speedy entry and they shuffled through some chambers within the grand halls of Valhalla and made it towards Odin’s throne. It was a lot more spacious inside than out, but that was probably because she spent the last hour suffocating against dozens of wanderers and hopefuls. She got the indication that a lot of the people crossing the bridge were just there to marvel from the outside, or simply did not pass a warrior’s test to be let in proper.
Either way, it did not take long for The Matriarch to be right in the present of dozens of gods that were her superior in age and experience and undoubtedly, war. Odin himself, wearing black and silver robes of fine make while holding a staff with a wicked spearhead at the very top of it. His beard was greyed, and he lacked an eye as per the legend. Flanking him were his two sons, Loki and Thor.
Loki was dressed in some leathers, practical and he seemed ready to leave outright. He was cleanly shaven, and his hair looked clean and conditioned. He barely paid the visitors mind.
Thor was regal, with bright silver plated armor that seemed to catch all light to reflect off of it. He was also quite a hairy man, with a bushy beard, but it was trimmed and maintained. Mjölnir was sitting on the armrest next to him. The head of the hammer was also a beautiful silver but the hilt looked a lot more standard than she expected. Other than its engravings, it looked like anything that any blacksmith could use at their work (if a bit oversized).
Below those thrones were some others that she did not recognize. They were in varied states of attire and even attention. Some greeted the newcomers, some stuck in their work at some tables. The technology present was as varied as ever, as she was certain there was a man working on a laptop, right here in the halls of Valhalla.
As the chattering wound down, Hel greeted her grandfather kindly.
“All-Father, now in our halls are the heroes of Yggdrasil. They stopped the advance of chaos, and The Matriarch herself survived a battle with… Matthias the Soul-Eater.”
When Matthias’ name was uttered, several locals of the throneroom chattered and his name was repeated in reverence and fear. Even Thor tightened his grip on the armrest.
Odin spoke up, “That is most impressive.” He turned to the heroes on the side, “And that device there was able to stave off his attack?”
The trio chimed in, apparently their introductions were already had but Hel managed to lean in and whisper their names; Hephaestus, his son Herakles, and Fredja. She knew two of those names.
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Herakles spoke up, demonstrating the device. The suction as well as the two power cells that absorbed the chaos, now lying there empty with no energy within.
“Yes, Odin. But with a cost,” it was then he deployed a larger screen for the room of other immortals and deities to see. He went on to explain.
“The amount of chaos The Matriarch was infused with cannot be understated. Once she was sequestered away, my team found that it was overloading my device, still untested as it was. When we took it back to our ship, we knew we were still connected to the aetherial flow and if we let the devices detonate, then we would continue to poison our worlds and our mission was going to be for nothing.”
“We flew our ship out to a planetary system with the least amount of flora and fauna we could find. No mortals, just animals. Some hot-coal planets still yet to form life properly, and this was the best we could do. We expunged the cells and let the chaos detonate, and it consumed the entire solar system. It is marked as X7-9978, something that human technology won’t discover for some time. The entire system is now flooded with some mutated chaos energy that fries electronics and poisons the ground.”
On the screen, showed recorded footage of a type of orange shroud that encompassed several planets. It zoomed in on various points of the planets, everyone watched as the waters dried up and trees rotted instantly. The chaos had effectively cut off the entire system’s connection to the aether, and everything rotted from within in short order.
“It will take thousands of years for it to disperse without having its source to feed upon, but it was the best we could do.”
If The Matriarch was one for eating, she may have very much vomited right there on the perfect floors of Valhalla. The potential, she thought. An entire solar system was destroyed for a millenia to come, just to save her. She could not hold back her tears, as even in her immortal youth, was still old enough to have watched civilizations grow from mud huts to sprawling cities. Her entire mind was consumed about all the things that will never happen in that system because of her hubris, because she thought she could duel a god of war to a victory. Her crying almost went unnoticed until her breath was sharp enough to echo in the halls, and many eyes darted to her and noticed her despair. Many of them looked upon her with sympathy, sharing in her sorrow in their own way.
Odin set his staff aside, and stepped down from his throne to approach The Matriarch and grasp her shoulders. He embraced her in a kind hug, as any grandfather to their child would in their time of need. It was a wonderful, kind hug that warmed her heart that mixed with her depression over the revelation of her indirectly murdering an entire solar system.
Odin spoke when he disengaged from the hug, not taking his hands from her shoulders.
“This is a victory, Matriarch. Matthias the Soul-Eater once laid siege upon Valhalla, attempting to absorb all the warriors I have collected for a millenia. He sees undeath as an insult, while I find it a boon for the wars to come. You fought, you lost. But you fought with honor, and this will not be forgotten in my halls.”
The Matriarch’s voice was cracked, but she responded with as much regality as she could muster.
“Thank you Odin. I could not stand by while he murdered innocents, regardless of the circumstances of their undeath. It still appears that I have murdered much more in the case of potential. That entire system could have birthed millions of their own, they could have been your followers.”
He shook his head, “Do not worry about what could have been. Only worry about what you can do. I took my own eye to give mortals knowledge, and it seems you let your soul be poisoned to do the same. We are kin, my child, and your poison will leave just as my own sight remains unaffected.”
“You are welcome in Asgard, Matriarch. Remain as long as you wish, and when you are ready, we will welcome you as a new god.”
The Matriarch nodded weakly, his words going to heart and her sobbing came to a close. Odin did not return to his throne, but the staff returned to his hand and he and his sons began to make their leave. He gave his goodbyes, leaving the throne room to Hephaestus’ team and his son’s demonstrations. Many immortals lingered, asking questions about Matthias and his progress.
In fact, The Matriarch made an immediate beeline towards Herakles. “Did you track what happened when I lost, sir?”
“...We did,” he spoke plainly.
Fredja looked at The Matriarch with some concern, “It’s not good news. You may not want to hear it.”
“I want t-, I need to hear what happened,” Matriarch insisted.
Herakles sighed, working at the laptop for a few seconds before pulling up some news feeds of the realm she left.
Their duel was not being recorded, and there were no indications that she stood up to him at all. However, the newsreels were grim. Every other headline was a count of the dead, “100,000 dead” here, “65,000 dead” there. Recordings of destroyed skyscrapers and razed cities in his immense campaign to root out and destroy all vampires. Which was everywhere in modern times.
Vampires, eventually, work their way into every facet of society. They became construction workers, nightly nuclear plant engineers, and CEO’s of multimillion dollar companies. By eliminating so many of them at once, the world’s economy collapsed. In Matthias’ logic, this was the growing pains to become something better without them.
It just seemed so damn pointless, to her.
“Can you tell me about him?” she asked.
Hel was the one to chime in with a response, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Aye, she might be able to give you more than we. He never really fucked with the Greeks,” Hephaestus said, as his team got back to work.
“Just… anything. I guess, what do the Gods think of him?”
“We think he’s a lunatic. Gods of War may be able to call their people to sacrifice themselves into honorable combat, but he’s just a madman with a notable hatred of the undead. He’s not the only dead-hating god, but he’s the only one who has taken it as far as he has. Over an incredible amount of time, he has acquired virtually unlimited resources, bouncing between planes of existence, wiping out all undead.”
“Why have the gods not stopped him? Does he not absorb the souls he takes, to not be sent to their proper afterlives?” The Matriarch asked.
“He does, and that’s why we call him the Soul-Eater. Honestly, from what I’ve heard, his rise to power was a very slow burn. He showed up in some legends as a monster slayer, and apparently he can be quite charismatic when the blood flow of war does not course through him. So when he interacted with gods, he was pleasant enough. We just didn’t know the burning hatred that was beneath the surface.”
The Matriarch nodded, her initial curiosities sated. “What happens now?”
“We were thinking of returning you back to your home realm. I’d like to come with, for a time. If you are to be one of us, then I should probably learn more about you. If nothing but to help your legend grow, Matriarch.
The Matriarch didn’t think of the implications of an offer but nodded politely and said, “I’d like that.”
“On our way, then.”
With that, the various teams within Odin’s halls dispersed.
Hephaestus, Herakles, and Fredja went back to their ship and sailed to parts unknown. It would not be the last she saw of them, as Hel would later describe the kinds of adventures they got up to. She would meet them again.
Hel did as she requested and joined The Matriarch in her lonely, unnamed halls of knowledge and learning. Over the course of many months, Matriarch spoke of her own ventures into earthen realms extensively. One time, Hel watched her mask being repaired. It was a perfect recreation, but she knew something was missing. She was different now, a scarred and damaged being. So she painted on some cracks on the lower portion of the mask, representing where she took a punch from Matthias that initially broke the mask, its hardened enchantment meaning nothing to his might.
Hel was even inducted into Gnosis as a sort of honorary member, as she could not devote her life to it like the other acolytes (she had an underworld of her own to administrate), but she had some fun designing her own mask. Using The Matriarch’s shape as a basis for an idea, hers was more skull-like in shape but adorned with gold trims and beautiful ruby engravings. She kept it upon a shoulder holster most of the time, treating it as a grand gift. Hel didn’t much care for wearing it at all times like it was requested of real acolytes, but considering her station nobody really argued with a God of Death.
Eventually, The Matriarch resolved to hold back Matthias’ advance, at least once. Knowing that he was a proper god himself, killing him outright would be a task of elephantine proportions. She knew she would need allies, a team, and proper training.
One day in one of her offices, she said “I need to know how to fight, truly. I need to know how he fights, most of all.”
“Then you probably need to find the Shadowcrest wives,” Hel responded.
“I’ve seen that name written before, but their legend is obscured. Who are they?”
“The matron wife, by the name of Kyna. She was one of the Vanguard’s top assassins and eventually created another military of her own by the name Shadowcrest, like a noble house. She grew weary of their increasing bodycount and fought Matthias… and won, paying with her immortal soul. She then ascended into godhood, becoming a sort of God of the Night, per her skillset. Her combat ability is unmatched, and she’s trained many gods since then.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.”
Hel chuckled, “Indeed, and readily available for romance. I think she’s up to… four wives now?”
“Sounds like a busy life.”
“I’m not sure what I’d do with one, to be honest,” Hel conjectured.
“Would you like to give it an attempt?” Matriarch’s suaveness came through as she scooted over closer to hell, placing a palm on her hip.
Without overtly responding, Hel leaned down to the sitting Matriarch for a kiss. It was brief and pleasant, and Hel quipped, “Mighty bold of you.”
Matriarch shrugged. “Figured I’d give it a try.”
“I don’t mind, but just know that I don’t have any memory of being with a woman. Is it… any different?”
“I wouldn’t know, my dear Hel. I have had no interest in being with a man so I have no basis of comparison.”
The Matriarch snuggled with her briefly, but she wanted to keep it classy enough. Throughout the conversation, Hel did pipe up some more information about possible allies. So their course was set, and The Matriarch was driven to see Matthias fall. The knowledge that he could be defeated gave her a drive she had not felt before. Something to work towards, and it was a wonderful feeling. As well as absolutely terrifying.