Lost in a deep and peaceful slumber, Arylos drifted through a dark and endless ocean with stars scattered through the expanse. Like diamonds scattered across a velvet dress. He felt the gravity, the endless dance and churn of reality, the deep song that reality sang in tones only he could hear. A song beyond hearing, below feeling, out of sight.

Was he reminiscing? Did he miss his formless nature? Trapped in a vessel of flesh and bone, he could only experience this in his meditation. But now that he has replaced meditation with sleep, he experiences this beauty only in his dreams; adrift through the torrent of reality without control.

He had questions, but he could find no answer but to admire this beauty. He eventually turned his attention to a large blue star orbited closely by a grey and dead planet while the others were shattered, reducing to dust. He felt the star was lonely as even the gas giants around it were falling apart. This middle aged star only had one planet, and it was barren and stripped of atmosphere.

Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the star, shining brilliantly without a care. Giving its light and energy to the planets around it that did not care for it. Its energy was wild, burning with intense fire and humming a song that shook Arylos’s chest. He felt the pull of its gravity, gentle yet stern, and could not help but to wonder if he could lose himself in it.

It was beautiful. He took in the light and the energy, wanting it for himself. He reached out, wanting to take a piece of it with him, to feel its atmosphere, its heat. He felt such intense warmth that it almost burned him and its light so great it nearly blinded him.

But he couldn’t look away.

Suddenly, Arylos felt a pull away from the star, his formless nature being compressed. He was waking up. He reached out one more time for the star before it faded from view and was replaced by the void.

He opened his eyes and found himself back at home, leaning against the sofa with his torso under the torotsu with a small box sitting on the table. He stretched his old bones and looked to his side and saw Iris, watching him with intense and curious eyes.

“You were dreaming pretty intensely,” She remarked with a wide smile.

“You could tell?” Arylos asked, rubbing his eyes.

“You kept mumbling and you kept reaching out for something,” Iris answered while shifting to a more comfortable position. “What was all of that about?”

Arylos shook the drowsiness from him, trying to form words to help Iris understand but not finding them. “Have you ever beheld something beautiful?”

Iris thought for a moment before answering. “I’ve admired the sky before, and I’ve seen some beautiful art.”

Arylos shook his head. “I mean truly beautiful; something that would burn your soul just to see. And not just with sight, but it felt and sounded beautiful. The whole experience was something that would fill you and take away everything you are. Like you felt a part of something else, who you were dissolving away as you became one with a greater whole.”

Iris contemplated Arylos’s words and shook her head. “It sounds like your dream was really deep,” she remarked while unable to understand him.

“Tell me something,” Arylos continued. “Have you ever looked at your own sun and admired it as beautiful?”

Iris was puzzled by his question. “I mean, it hurts to look at and can make you blind if you look too long.”

“But what if you could go past the pain,” Arylos continued. “What if the pain was part of the experience, the pleasure. To admire something so beautiful it blinded you, made you cry, filled you with pain that you could not get enough of.”

“I don’t think humans think that way, Arylos,” Iris returned, unable to form her own answer. “We usually run away from pain. Pain means that something is wrong; that something is hurt or we should avoid something like a hot pan.”

Arylos thought about what he was saying for a moment but shook it off. “Sorry to confuse you,” he told her while sitting up straight. “I guess we really are too different.”

Iris felt a wave of sadness come over her. He was feeling something she couldn’t understand and it hurt her deep down. She wanted to understand, but he was right; he was too different. Maybe one day, but who knows if that day is within her life span.

But there was one thing on her mind right now.

“Strip,” Iris ordered Arylos in a stern voice.

Arylos paused for a moment and turned to face Iris to see her stern and serious face. “What?” he asked after a long pause.

“Strip,” she repeated herself. “Take off your shirt.”

Arylos thought for a moment but complied, removing his shirt, showing his scarred, tattooed, and broken body that was still healing from the previous fight.

Iris examined his wounds and nodded as she reached for the box on the torotsu and opened it, revealing bandages and other medical supplies. She then began treating his wounds, applying ointments and bandages to the cuts and scars.

“What are you doing?” Arylos asked with heavy confusion.

“I’m helping you,” Iris replied, focusing on his wounds.

“You know I’m healing on my own, right?” Arylos’s confusion rose. “You really don’t need to do this.”

“I want to do this,” she replied, not taking her eyes off of his skin.

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Arylos raised his voice, but decided to say nothing. He simply sat where he was and let the girl work on him, unable to fight her off. He wanted to tell her not to worry, to let him go, but with each bandage she put on him, each time she wrapped gauze around his arm, each time she felt pain when she found new wounds, he lost the ability to say no. He couldn’t tell her not to worry because she was already worrying about him.

He wasn’t worthy of it, but saying so would only make things worse.

Iris continued her work, looking for new wounds but found herself following the spiralling tattoos along his body, bordered by ancient scars along the way. She wanted to know what they meant, what their otherworldly writings read. She couldn’t help but admire the markings on him.

“Turn around,” she instructed.

“I didn’t get that hurt on my back,” Arylos responded.

“I don’t care, let me see,” Iris pushed forward.

Arylos sighed and turned his back to Iris. She ran her hands along his shoulders and back, feeling for anything out of place. As her hands went along, she felt all of his old scars and admired the tattoos on his back, admiring the spiralling dragon and the spear, the black flames that ran along the design, the hypnotic runes that danced along his body.

As she felt them, she realised they weren’t just tattoos; they were brands. Markings burnt into his skin by some unknown means and coloured in. These markings must have some real importance to him.

“What do they say?” she asked, implying what she was asking about.

Arylos let out a deep sigh. “They are me; my name, my history, my past, my sins. They define who and what I am.”

“Can anyone read them?” Iris asked, running her hands to his lower back.

“No one alive,” Arylos responded.

Iris lifted her hands and held Arylos in a tight hug from behind. “I want to understand,” she whispered while burying her face in his back. “I want to know what you are, I want to be able to read these.”

“Why?” Arylos asked, his growling voice resonating through his body and booming in Iris’s ears.

“Because no one understands you,” she answered, tightening her hold on him. “I want to be the first. When you talk of a beauty that hurts, I want to know what that’s like for you. When you talk about your pain, I want to feel it so you don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

Arylos smiled softly and rested his hands on hers, enjoying her company. “Thank you,” was the only thing he could tell her. “If we can continue this time of peace, I’ll teach you what I can.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Iris barked.

“Too late,” Arylos responded as his eyes shot open, feeling one of his tripwires being set off; someone was approaching the door but they didn’t knock.

Arylos put his shirt back on loosely and the two approached the door as Arylos signalled Iris to keep quiet as he waited for the person at the door to make any move, but they just stood in silence. Arylos then signalled Iris to get behind him. Once she was behind him, he reached his hand out and the air hummed, followed by a knife flying through the air from the kitchen and into his hand and he kept it behind his back.

Finally, he opened the door.

On his doorstep stood a middle aged woman dressed in purple robes adorned in silver and gold. Her beautiful blonde hair reflected the sunlight, bringing a hint of summer to the winter day. She stood tall and proud, nearly as tall as Arylos himself, yet also stood alone.

“I had hoped we could speak,” the woman said in a soft voice, almost alluring and hypnotic.

“Yeah, I had hoped that as well,” Arylos responded, lowering the knife.

“You don’t need to hide the girl from me,” the woman added, her silver eyes catching Iris’s as if she knew she was there from the start.

“That does not mean I’m letting my guard down,” Arylos growled, almost like a dog protecting its master.

“Please, if I was here for a fight, I would not bother talking with you now,” the woman pleaded, raising her empty hands.

Arylos thought for a moment and glanced towards Iris, mentally calculating the possibilities. Figuring out why the woman was here was simple, but the resolution wasn’t. He calculated how fast Iris could run if she needed, escape paths, chances of survival, response time for guards or Sentarus. All of the numbers in his head pointed to less than satisfactory odds, but still possible.

Arylos opened the door completely and offered the woman in. As she entered, Arylos’s eyes shone a bright orange and the air went heavy, like gravity itself increased. Both Iris and the woman felt it while Arylos remained untouched.

“For our own safety, I hope you can understand,” Arylos added, as if the woman was aware of what was going on.

The woman thought for a moment as her head spun before nodding. “I do understand,” she responded.

Arylos guided the woman to the table in the dining room, both her and Iris struggling to keep their footing under the pull. As everyone sat at the table, Iris couldn’t catch her breath from the effort of trying to walk.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Arylos asked, trying to remain calm and collected.

“You know why I’m here,” the woman responded with a heavy voice, trying her best to keep her composure.

“Baldr, right?” Arylos asked, interlacing his fingers.

The woman nodded. “Where is he?”

“Beats me,” Arylos responded, his tone half sarcastic. “I told him to go back to Asgard.”

“I know,” the woman replied in a heavy voice, resting her arms on the table. Iris couldn’t help but feel lightheaded and swimming. She could have sworn the house itself was bending to conform to this force and the shadows themselves moved and had eyes.

“Then why do you come to me?” Arylos pushed, maintaining his composure.

“Because Odin,” the woman began but could not finish her sentence. “Please Arylos, let me at least speak.”

“You will speak on my terms or you will not speak at all,” Arylos responded.

“I don’t want to fight you,” the woman pleaded.

“And I don’t want to fight you, yet your husband keeps sending people after me,” Arylos responded, his tone rising. “All I want is to be left alone and Odin seems hellbent on bringing about the war he’s trying to stop.”

“Arylos, please, we’re friends,” the woman continued.

“I have half a mind to still believe that,” Arylos responded. Suddenly, the downward force started to become more intense and the air hummed as if compressed. “However, I seem to only be attacked by Asgardians. Care to explain?”

The woman could barely hold her breath and Iris felt like if she hadn’t passed out, she was going to in a moment. This force, this gravity, this power. It was like it was pulling the blood out of her head and draining it into her feet.

“Odin attacked Baldr,” the woman whispered, as if her throat couldn’t open.

“Why?” Arylos responded, his voice getting louder and the orange glow from his eyes turned into a deep and blood red.

The woman closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to fight back against the gravity.

“Tell me what Odin wants from me,” Arylos pushed forward as the gravity increased and Iris wondered how she was still conscious for all of this.

“Arylos please,” the woman mouthed, unable to talk. The power in the air howled louder, ringing in Iris’s ears.

Arylos’s expression softened. His eyes stopped glowing and the air eased off and the gravity dissipated to Iris’s and the woman’s relief, both of them trying to catch their breath.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in that, Iris,” Arylos said softly while resting his hand on her back before turning to face the woman. “And I’m sorry I have to resort to such methods, Frygga.”