It was the cusp of winter. The air biting, the sun gazing at the thin layer of frost marking it's territory. A hesitant trickle of water could be heard coming through the crevice carved through two mountains that speared the skyline. The ground of the mountains desolate. Shades of green clinging to the rough terrain where the ice hadn't invaded.
But if anyone was listening, you'd hear a soft steps, petering up the rocks. Nudging one or two loose off the tilted ground. Sigard the bastard born in a small village of Drukaran was trying his luck at The Severing. He didn’t look remarkable. His face was average, the pale skin and raven hair characteristic of all the Uthereans. However his face was strangely still… As if it had forgotten it could be used to convey emotions.
Small and lithe, no weight to him and the Northern blessing was close to blowing him off the mountain path. The ice giants came in with full force at this time of year and it was enough to rattle you from the cold alone. But dangling off the severance path for dear life was jokingly said to be shivering from fear before the real test.
He gripped for dear life as the winds came unpredictable as the ice giants started their assault or stilled their breaths long enough for him inch forward. The ground was too slippery as he found himself struggling to gain purchase. As he flailed and stumbled forward. The mantra came again, don’t forget. A needle imbedded in his soul and something he couldn’t let go. He had saved nothing for the journey back.
As soon as he came across a boulder to shelter from the wind, he reached inside his drabby clothes- the furlings coming off the seams and edges. Thankfully the stitched up pockets had still held up. The object inside a lifeline in his perilous situation. He didn’t dare take too much and wouldn’t if he had a choice, but as he held the core it immediately spread a spine tingling warmth as his hands felt numb. He felt better already as it replenished his spirit fire, a saphire monstrosity burning in his chest. He grimaced, the blue hue a shameful reminder.
He only sipped at the core, just enough to take away from the cold. But each pulse a painful loss of destiny and it made his heart bleed. He had to persevere without it and as the wind stopped he prepared to head off again. A clatter below took him out of his silent reverie.
“Sigard you fucking son-of-a-whore! You come back here and give me back what is mine!” A powerful voice laced in spiritual force attempted to wrap around Sigard. The core shone bright red as the glyphs exploded outwards.
Sigard felt ice grip his heart as he saw the Jarl fully armoured in silver steel and half-helm in the shape of a dog his cloak billowing lightly. His black plated Valkterra guards following close behind, weapons drawn singing for blood. It was a formidable force. The fear and anger, in a dangerous dance in Sigard’s mind. But rage won for the first time in Sigard’s life and he shouted back, “Haha, Jarl you fucking prick will never get the core even if you kill me! I’ll throw it down the side of the mountain if you take a single step closer!” Sigard took out the core and held it in a position to throw. It was a small thing, barely able to peak out of Sigards hand, but the blue hue it was imbued with shined bright in his hand.
“You-!” The Jarl widened his eyes. He gave the signal for his men to halt with a raised fist.
“Is it bad enough you kill Drenaka with your taint but you would sully my honorgem as well you disgraceful bastard?”
A fury rose within Sigard as he heard the Jarl’s words and he roared with rabid fervor, “I didn’t end her life you fucking monster! You killed her!” Sigard was an average lad, small build and plain face but today all who saw him couldn’t ignore his eyes. The usual pale limpid blue turned into molten azure and the core seemed to burn brighter with his spirt fire, he looked like the god of storm against the barren skyline. The Jarl felt the fear in him become real, the same fear he harboured since that day ignored and buried, the boy was different from before.
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“Hand over the gem boy and I will forgive this matter.” The Jarl softens his voice for the first time towards Sigard in his life, “Hand it over and no blood need be spilled today.”
Sigard felt his will waver. Don’t forget. A jolt. Sigard lowered the core, his eyes dimming. The Jarl smiled at Sigard expectantly and Sigard gave a look of gratitude.
“Thanks for making this easy father.”
“I have been too harsh on you son, I’ve realised, when we get back we’ll make amends.”
The Jarl takes an easy step forward. Confidence growing and fear receding.
Sigard stands still but his mind is his unreadable. He feels detached from his emotions and finally sees this man. How had he ever feared or even felt any twinge of need for his love. A voice speaks quietly in his head, an ancient voice he had never heard before, ‘Kid, you know what to do now. Consume your past. It is the first step on your journey.’ The core in his hand inexplicably starts to melt in his hand and Sigard is vaguely aware. ‘Consume the past Sigard and your great journey shall begin.’ The core melts even faster and it’s now emitting a crimson red light in contrast with the blue before. But where the aura before was pure power, the red feels like desecration to all before it. The Jarl notices and stops his advance, unsure what is happening. ‘You have no more choices now, you are on the severance path. CONSUME THY PAST.’ The core suddenly pools into liquid emitting dark light. Sigard’s mind goes blank.
“Kneel.”
A terrifying aura erupts and the wind funnels in to the gap between two mountains. Sigard this time isn’t blown away as his feet is bedrocked into the pass. The Jarl and his men aren’t don’t have it so easy as they immediately use full power, the earthbound glyph glowing green on their armor and they hunker into the floor with one knee and stab their swords and axes into the ground. The scene is sculpted, the boy stands and the men kneel.
The Jarl is dazed as he can barely lift his head to watch the boy walk towards him and the core nowhere to be found. Behind him a phantom visage of giant eyes- no a monsterous serpent which has wrapped around the side of the mountain. The serpent’s body constantly in forward motion behind as they tear into the mountain like butter and rocks start to fall, but the head is strangely still behind Sigard, watching and it’s tongue smacking against side of it’s face. Terrifying. Sigard reaches for his father’s sword and uncurls the fingers from the handle and grips it in his own. The sword was exquisite, sky-iron, silver and blue ran true along the length seamlessly.
“Since the day I was born the curse is what has saved me. The curse or is it prophecy? I do not know. But I now know what to do. So I thank you father.”
The Jarl lessens the glyphs and desperately tries to stand with the wind nearly knocking him down. The Jarl looks Sigard in the eye desperately blocking the wind as his cloak nearly drags him away, he at last is able to croak, “You are… no son of mine…”
A slash is all that it took for the Jarl to be in two pieces. The Valkterra tremble in fear and cold. The wind still harshly pressing them to the floor.
“Jormungand, eat your fill.”
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Jotunheim
The leader of the Jotun stands in front of all the frost giant on a white podium, nestled into an ice castle which wept and buried in snow so it hardly looked like a castle. However the podium was wrought in lines unaffected. But all the people in this hall were silent. Their pale blue body sculpted powerful and wrapped in tattoos of white scaly markings, ancient, eerie feeling that they were printed from the dawn of time. Their bodies frozen in a array of vicious poses of torture apart from the leader who stands defiant.
But then a silence hits this poetry of pain. A stillness where before was filled with anguish, now feels a stillness like the world has held a breath. A sudden beam breaks through the ceiling of ice. The white markings inexplicably starts to ripple. The ripple leads to a shift, the shift leads to a flow. The thousand eyes and one open their eyes. The leader smiles, his blue face contorted in joy and equal parts menace, “Rejoice my brothers, we are free from our chains! Ragnorak has begun!”