There were rapid flashes. Each of them, horrifying. Each of them, she bore witness.

The only thing each sight shared was suffering. What she saw were sights of clashes and war. Cries and shouts. The clanging of steel against steel, weapon against weapon. And blood. Far too much blood.

The last sight she saw was the sudden vision of a man and a white horse.

Arnhild burst up from her bed, letting out a shriek of horror and cry for help. She tightly gripped her white bedsheets as she swallowed her saliva, struggling to calm her nerves and steady her breathing.

She stared at her room. Nothing had changed. The chairs and tables and bookshelves remained perfectly still. Nothing had fallen or broken.

Even so, the pain deep in her soul felt nothing but real.

She stood up, her bare feet on the cold, marble floor as she walked over to the large mirror off to the side of the room.

"Madam Arnhild?" a voice called.

She turned to the door.

A maid stood in the doorway. She held a glass of water as she approached Arnhild. "Are you alright?" she asked. "I brought you water, just in case," she said, handing her the glass.

"Ah, thank you," Anrhild responded, wiping her tears with her thumb before she took the cup. She drank the entire cup, gulping down the water, entire ounces in seconds. "Thank you," she repeated, setting down the glass on a wooden table beside her.

"But, Madam, are you sure you're alright?"

Arnhild stared at herself in her mirror. Another tear dripped from her glassy eyes. She appeared to be young, no more than her mid-twenties for human age. But she was Asgardian. Her life was longer, her aging was slower. She was some 80 years old, with much of her life left.

Arnhild was a beautiful woman, with soft features, and linear hair. Even so, her face was blank and expressionless, her golden eyes, vacant.

"Madam?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I'm alright. I was simply parched. Thank you," she mumbled, turning to her maid. Her eyes glanced over back to her mirror.

"Wait, what day is it?" she asked, still fixated on her pale face.

"The tenth," she responded. "You have an appointment with the Viceroy today."

"Ah," she muttered. "I'll- I'll get ready for that. But you- But you should take the day off. Get some rest."

"Madam Arnhild, are you sure? If you-"

"No, please. Get some rest. I can take care of myself, you know," she said with a smile.

Aesir Calendar: 10th Day of Einmanudr, 3089

Midgard Gregorian Calendar: April 7th, 2022

- - - - -

Arnhild arrived at the region's capitol building. It was built with white marble bricks, reaching five floors. Tall, ornate columns surrounded the cement walkway that led to the entrance. And at the center of the building's roof sat a golden spire.

She had always been amused by it. She thought it was nothing more than a person's attempt to reach the sky. A mortal's attempt to reach the heavens. It was precisely this that had sparked many, many conversations with her father, and mother, and brother.

"Surely in all the heavens, there is beauty that exceeds the pains and stress of mortal life."

Arnhild had forgotten who said that to her. She thought it was her father or maybe her brother, but she wasn't sure. Or perhaps she said it to herself. She smiled as she recalled all these familial memories, walking around the building.

And so, she followed the intricate halls and passageways until she arrived at a door labeled: Viceroy Norr. Arnhild smiled, gently tracing her fingers across the golden plaque. As she took in a sharp breath, she opened the door.

There sat chairs and couches beside the entrance. And beyond that was another wooden door. Both walls to the side were replaced with bookshelves, filled from top to bottom, side to side, with books tightly packed together, barely any room for air between them.

And in the corner sat a desk with a receptionist. Arnhild quickly walked over to her. "Good morning, I have an appointment with the Viceroy at this exact minute," she said, leaving no time for greetings or interactions.

"Ah," she said. "Well, uh, yes. Yes, you can enter."

Arnhild smiled and opened the wooden door.

Rather surprisingly, the room she entered was larger than the room she had left. It was massive and lavish, filled with trinkets and items in every corner.

Two armchairs sat before a grand wooden desk. The desk was covered in piles of paper, some neat and organized, and others, messy and crumpled. And past that desk and its chair stood a man, standing by a large window that covered most of the wall. He stood, peering down at the people walking below.

His hair was pale white, just like Arnhild's.

"By the gods, Arnold," Arnhild said. "You're a Viceroy now. You can't just have your hair unkempt like that all the time. You actually have to look presentable now."

He turned to her with a smile on his face. Arnold Norr looked only a few years older than his sister. He wore a white suit and a grey shirt. His tie was black, just like his pants, and what's more, his eyes bore the same golden glisten as Arnhild.

"What, being from the House of Arn is enough anymore?" he said, laughing as he sat himself down. "How have you been, dear sister?"

Arnhild sat down in the chair in front of his desk, letting out a heavy sigh. She unclipped her hair, letting her pale white locks cascade over her shoulders. "Dark have been my dreams of late," she muttered.

"What do you mean?" her brother asked. "Are you alright?"

"I've had some terrible nightmares recently. And today's was worse. Infernal darkness. Chaos, simply put. And now, a man... with a white horse. I was hoping if you had some knowledge of that."

Arnold sat still, ruffling and scratching his short white hair, pondering for a moment. He began to smirk, before saying, "Arnhild…" He continued. "What you saw was the first Horseman. The White Horseman of the Apocalypse."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Arnhild sat in silence. "So then-"

"Yes!" he affirmed, shooting up from his seat. "This means it worked! What we're doing... What you're doing... Fate has smiled upon you. On us, the Golden Dawn! It's your... destiny," he said placing his hand on her cheek.

"So... So, you mean..." Tears began to well up within Arnhild's eyes, as the corners of her mouth began to arch upward. "We really broke the Seal?"

"Exactly right, my dear sister. We broke the Seal of Tribulation and now... Now Ragnarok has started. And its aftermath is nothing short of the perfect world we wished for. The new beginning we wished for! You have been chosen by the gods themselves!"

Arnhild blinked her tears away, before saying, "It's begun. It's really begun." Her face lit up, her grin widening. She covered her mouth with her hand, beginning to cackle. "The new beginning..." She let out a hearty sigh, saying, "Thank you, brother. Truly, thank you, for being on this journey with me."

Arnold smiled, sitting back down on his grand leather chair. "It's all for a perfect universe," he muttered.

- - - - -

Arnhild wore flowing white robes as she walked in a near pitch-black corridor. Golden additions sat over her shoulders and sleeves. Her robes and hood obscured her face. Even so, her smile was clearer than ever.

Each of her footsteps were elegant, her feet barely touching the ground.

And as she emerged from the darkness onto a stage, the ground below her lit up. From there, she laid witness to what was before her.

Hundreds, no, thousands of others, all wearing those same white robes. Some of them were seated, some were standing. But all were waiting in anticipation. All were waiting for their Supreme Commander and her message.

"Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, Titans and soldiers. It's begun."

These simple words echoed throughout the grand hall. And all that followed were cheers and shouts and cries.

Arnhild smiled as she continued. "We will set creation ablaze and create it anew. And at the end of it all... At the new beginning... There will be us. There will be a Golden Dawn."

From outside the massive fortress adorned with gold and stone, Arnold stood alone staring at the near-endless landscape of the forest. The forest itself took up most of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, it seemed that no one had been there for ages.

He leaned forward on the railing, resting his arms as he spat out a heavy sigh.

To his left was a massive body of water. A lake. Streams of water spread from all its sides, and a mountain stood behind it. To his right, a grand garden with trees, bushes, shrubs, foliage, and flowers for hundreds of meters on each side.

Arnold let out another sigh, turning at the castle. He could still hear the seemingly endless mass of noise and cheers coming from the grand hall. As annoying as those shouts were, a thin smile crept upon Arnold's face as he stared at the castle. The Eagle's Fortress.

It has been the home of the Arn family for a thousand years, and it will be for a thousand more. It was beautiful. Yet, in that beauty, it was nauseating. Arnold's eyes scanned over the castle. Its walls, garden, entrance, all of it has been the same since the day of his birth and it will be the same long after his death.

White marble statues surrounded the gardens while they bloomed with roses and tulips of all colors. Nearly a dozen spires surrounded the edges of the fortress. The central entrance was paved with white stone and decorated with fountains and gilded columns. And the tiled roofs and golden domes above the turrets on each side.

All of it, gleaming under the golden sun.

With a flash of light, Arnhild suddenly appeared behind him. "Brother," she said.

A soft gasp left his lips as he turned around. "You certainly moved quickly. I thought you were in the grand-"

"I've talked to many others,"Arnhild interrupted. "All nine realms. We now have total confirmation. It's started. You were right, Arnold," she told him, her eyes wide like puppy's. "It's finally starting," she repeated, beginning to smile.

Arnold smiled in return. "I knew we could do it."

"Our work is finally done. Our purpose... It's-"

"No, sister," he said as he shook his head. " We're not done. We're just getting started." Arnold smiled and continued. "Midgard was the first. It always is. This means it must have started some seven months ago, right when we finally obtained it all. Tomorrow... Tomorrow, we'll be capable of summoning the first Prince of Hell. Just like your plan."

They simultaneously spat out heavy sighs adorned with their smiles.

"This is perfect," Arnhild muttered, hugging her brother. "My dream... Our dream- It's finally coming into reality."

"All for a perfect world," Arnold told her as she let go of him.

A man began to approach Arnold and Arnhild. His hair was black and unkempt, just like robes, dark and rugged. That cloak of his wasn't like any of the others in the Golden Dawn. It wasn't that shade of pale white, but rather a deep obsidian.

The only thing that proved his affiliation was the emblem on his shoulder. The golden circle with rays of light protruding from each side. A rising sun. A golden dawn.

"Excuse me, Commander," he said to Arnhild. "Would you-"

"Of course," she said with a smile. "I was taking my leave anyway."

The man smiled in return. He spat out a sigh and walked up to Arnold as Arnhild walked away. "How the hell is the sun setting?" he asked. "You would think that there would still be a few more hours of sunlight with where the sun was at a while ago. And now, it's almost gone."

"That's winter on Asgard."

Atlas leaned on the railing. "I'll never get used to this place. I guess the fact that this used to a realm for gods means that it's disgusting overall."

"Why are you here, Atlas?"

Atlas simply raised a finger to his lips. He remained silent until Arnhild was more than 50 meters away. He smiled. "Alright, Arnold," he finally spoke. "What's the plan?"

"It's Vice-Commander Arnold to you."

"No, it's not," he smiled, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "We're friends, aren't we? So… what's the plan?

Arnold sighed, ruffling his silver-white hair. He knocked off Atlas' arm from his shoulder. "What do you mean, plan?"

"Well, it's no secret to us that, I don't know, about half of the New Genesis Vanguard, doesn't share the Golden Dawn's ideals. We saw that with the…" he snapped his fingers. "How would you call it? I know you know what I'm talking about."

"The Mystic Liberation Incident," he muttered.

"There it is," Atlas said with a smile, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He ignited the cigarette as he placed it in his mouth. "So because of the Liberation Incident...We all know that half of the New Genesis Vanguard, or rather, nearly a third of the Golden Dawn overall, is like us. Pieces of garbage that want to destroy, rather than those righteous bastards that are going to change the universe. Truthfully... They're nothing more than cowards."

"Cowards that I can use."

Atlas laughed. "Of course. To them, to us, you're the real commander. You want it darker, we kill the flame."

"Well," Arnold said before he spat out a sigh. "The 'plan' is already in motion. The Seal of Ragnarok has been broken. It's a simple matter of time. In short, all will be destroyed."

Atlas spat out an exasperated sigh. "Really, dude? You just keep on saying that. All will be destroyed," he mocked.

"If we didn't share a common goal, I'm sure I would've killed you by now," Arnold sighed, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Atlas chuckled. "Of course, you would. But the question remains... How foolproof is your plan? As far as I'm concerned, the Magecraft Association already knows about us."

"Magecraft Association?"

"Ah, you wouldn't know. They're on Midgard. They just oversee pretty much everything magic related. So, the Magecraft Association, they're is trying to find us. Our bases, allies, leaders, which include you and Arnhild. Apparently, Charles Archibald himself is looking for us."

"Who?"

"Aren't you like our chief strategist? I thought you would know about things like this. He's the strongest human. Defense, speed, attack power, everything. He's the strongest. From what I've seen him do, I don't think you would stand a chance."

Arnold sighed. "You're exaggerating. Like you always do."

"Nope. Pure honesty. He's an unstoppable force."

The Asgardian stared at Atlas. "Unstoppable, huh? If that’s the case, I’ll probably use his friends and family as leverage over him and get someone else to finish him off. Arngrim will probably enjoy doing stuff like that, anyway."

"Yeah, that guy freaks me out sometimes," Atlas said as he chuckled. Another puff of smoke left his lips.

Arnold stared outward at the setting sun. "I'm thinking. I need to be alone."

Atlas paused. "...You can do that by leaving."

Arnold remained still.

"Or I could leave. Got it," he said, patting Arnold's back. "See you around."

As the scarlet sun began to roll underneath the tree-covered hilltop, he smiled. "That shade of red is such a nice color." He reached into his coat, pulling a sheathed dagger.

Its scabbard was made of nearly pitch-black leather, bound together with strands of gold. He unsheathed it, marveling at the golden blade. In the blade itself, he could his own reflection. It was almost a perfect mirror, astounding for a blade. His messy white hair, flowing in the wind, and his eyes, glowing like a golden sun, all of it. All of it was reflected.

He slashed the dagger against the palm of his hand.

Arnold raised his hand towards the sky, comparing the crimson glow to his blood. "I knew it," he muttered to himself. "The same damn color." His grin widened.

He spun around. "Atlas!" he yelled, his stark white coat flapping in the wind as he walked toward Atlas. "Get me to Midgard!"

"Huh? Why? Where are you going?" Atlas asked.

Arnold only smiled. "The labor we delight in physics pain."

Atlas furrowed his eyebrows. "...Wait, what?"

"….It's Shakespeare," Arnold said as he paused. "The human. He was a writer."

"Y’know what? Doesn’t matter," Atlas said, following Arnold as he moved. "What’s going on?"

Arnold's grin widened. His voice was soft, his eyes gleaming with zeal.

"I'm going to kill Charles Archibald."