On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

A blinding light filled the sky, an indigo so deep it was almost white, as paradoxical as that was. First came a glowing orb, like a miniature sun, swallowing the surrounding landscape, dirt, dust and the struggling tide of battling beings below dragged up into the brilliant yet terrible maelstrom. Then came silence, a silence so deafening that it made Ortlinde’s ears ring, as if she suffered with tinnitus, a mortal complaint.

Then came the aftershock. The glowing orb collapsed, wind and debris rushing outward with a roaring gale, buffeting her and her sisters as they rode the winds above the battlefield on this frontier world, the border between the World Tree Pantheon and the unclaimed reaches of the Astral. This land had been penetrated once more by the vile creatures of void and hunger, which had no names, and seemingly no purpose but mindless destruction. By Tyr’s noble right hand, which appeased the great and terrible Fenrir, just how many perished here?

The beam of light which was launched from the second line of Hel-vegr faded away, as did the mighty explosion, and for a moment Ortlinde thought it beautiful, beads of vivid indigo light existing like sparkling motes, only to dissipate, the huge amount of aether and adherence spent. Seeing that, it seemed so… so wasteful.

I can hardly help but wonder just what Akio could do with those resources upon his ether-starved world. Though it seems…

“Snap out of it, hey?” Siegrune, her blue-haired companion and older sister giggled wickedly. She had spun her broad-bladed battleaxe, carved with Dvergr runes, blocking dust and debris from striking them. “Mind on the task at hand, Lin. You’re the one who dragged us out here…” She cracked a smile, showing she meant no criticism. “Still… that was one impressive strike. I can see they’ve retuned the Hel-vegr to increase the destructive force by an order of magnitude, if not more…”

Siegrune then turned to another of their sisters, the tall, imposing and militant Grimgerde.  “What say you, Grim? Fancy tanking a hit from that?”

“Tanking?” Grimgerde frowned, her violet eyes narrowing, yellow hair, shorter than many of her sisters’, fluttering in the aftermath of the explosive breeze. “A curious expression.”

“Blame Rose. She’s full of new words nowadays.” Siegrune was cheerful, despite the terrible spectacle. “It seems to fit though. And you get what I mean, I imagine?”

“I do.” Grimgerde rumbled, her massive war maul the very image of Mjölnir, though of course it lacked the majesty, held in one meaty hand, ready to be thrown or swung at their colossal opponents. “I fear even Rossweisse, with her Runes, would be annihilated by that blast, just as…” She pointed with the massive metal head of the maul, to the distance. “…that thing was.”

“Don’t sell me short.” Rossweisse… Rose… chuckled, already dismissing her Runes, which left her the only one of the sisters apart from Gerhilde, their eldest, who had avoided the debris with her speed and grace, to remain unspoiled by the aftermath of the detonation. With her long, light pink hair, shining, pearlescent eyes which occasionally flickered with a rainbow of colour, and her golden armour, which was adorned with cloth skirt and sleeves, she was the very image of a Valkyrie ready for a great ball or dance. “I’ve grown stronger, much stronger.” One of her eyes was glowing a different colour than usual, amber light seeping out. “Though I fear our dear sisters are right, Lin. There’s no holding off the light of Hel-vegr at our level.” She tapped under her eye, the rich glow fading. “Yggdrasil declares that the invested energy in that beam and the subsequent detonation was enormous. I pity the poor Dvergr and Svartálfar, the Black Elves, who have to maintain the aetheric machinery. It must have melted some of the Runic circuits, that level of throughput.”

“I feel sorry for the state of our coffers…” Schwertliete grumbled. With her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her blue eyes had taken on a darker, almost green hue, like a stormy sea, as she surveyed the scene before them all. “Already every spare Etherite, every treasure, is being donated to the cause. Proud Sigrún herself gave away a precious necklace, and that had not one, but two Violet jewels! The Silos run dry, and still the tide is barely stemmed.”

Ortlinde, and her sisters, all followed her tempestuous gaze, to where the remains of the void creature that had broken the lines still stood. If you can call it… standing… in such a state. The towering creature had been cut down to a third of its former towering size, upper torso completely annihilated by the Hel-vegr. All that remained were legs, five of them, but they were not arranged nearly, as one would expect, but were an aberrant, scattered set of appendages, with no rhyme, reason or aesthetic purpose behind their placement. Thick, inky blood, a vile black ooze, was dripping down to the devastated earth below, and the few Einherjar caught up in the blast who had survived rapidly faded away, turning to black ash and dust.

“Yes, the tide remains.” Gerhilde agreed, black hair fluttering in the breeze. Pointing with her great two-handed sword, her crimson eyes shone with dignity. “But the blast was mighty, and the Einherjar who fell within the inferno… they are the fortunate ones. May they see Valhalla’s golden halls!”

“May they see Valhalla’s golden halls!” Everyone echoed piously, though Ortlinde felt unbearably guilty. Glancing over at Rose, who shrugged, a slight smile on her face, Ortlinde bowed her head, as her sisters readied themselves to Choose the Slain. A task Rose and I relinquished. Oh Noble Sigrún, I pray you can forgive us…

“Cheer up.” Siegrune clapped her on the armoured pauldron. “It was a good death. And perhaps we can even save a few…”

“The blast wiped out dozens of Hunger-class enemies too.” Rose pointed out. The smaller, house-sized brutes were vapourised until nothing was left, the same fate befalling those Einherjar unfortunate enough to be entangled in battle with them. “Now then…” Her eye began to shine again, and even Ortlinde could see what she was observing with her Valkyrie nature. Spirit lights, rising on threads of adherence and soullight, ready to discorporate from their slain selves. Though sadly…

Too few. Far, far too few. And many of them are… deformed, degraded. These vile filth… even fighting the other Pantheons… Even the Angels of the Ninth Heaven do not pervert the spirits of the slain so. And worse…

“Cover us!” Gerhilde demanded, taking charge, and the Valkyrie sisters descended on wings of adherence. There were others, of course, and fortunately, no Valkyries had perished so far in this terrible battle, largely because of the presence of the nine of them. Our presence, aid unasked for…

“Pertho! To call upon mystery and aether!” Rose cried, drawing a rune, and Ortlinde felt a most unbecoming sensation, one no Valkyrie should feel. Envy. Jealousy. Rose… Rose is so close to him. But I… I am the one who chose him. I… am the one who set this path in motion. She knew it was wrong, unfair, but Rose, unbothered, merely gave her a sunny smile as she traced the second Rune, her eyes knowing, which made Ortlinde’s face burn as hot and crimson as her hair.

“Raido! Let our journey be finished in glory and let the earth bear witness! Uruz! Strength, through courage and bonds!”

Other Valkyries were engaging, and brilliant bolts of lightning, blasts of light, flame, wind… everything was striking the towering remains of the terrible beast, and it shivered and shuddered, beginning to break apart. The surviving Einherjar were retreating, no, not retreating, regrouping, as the incursion was not over. It is as Schwertliete says. The tide cannot be halted, only… diminished, for now…

“Nauthiz! Though we know hardship, let that hardship be passed to our enemies!” Rose intoned, and the brilliant Runes she drew blazed bright, though their radiance seemed somewhat diminished by the memory of the second sun momentarily conjured by the overclocked Hel-vegr. Overlocked. Another strange word, yet again so apt. Rose, you…

“Ehwaz! In partnership, like the Path I walk! Our enemies shall be destroyed. Prune them, mighty earth!”

The five runes formed a pentagon, and then flashed, adherence and a deeper, more fundamental energy, surging to life, manifesting as a tide of ruby luminescence. The ground absorbed it, and then it erupted, stakes of solid rock, the ends hardened to diamond-like tips, skewering the remaining bulk of the mostly-dead, yet still dangerous creature. Even as it was pierced, flesh, blood and ichor eroded the stone, but Rose’s Runecraft kept them functional, and after a brief, frenzied struggle, the creature sagged, abominable legs giving out, and it disintegrated into a rain of foul poison, which quickly turned to a vicious, venomous steam.

“Careful!” Ortlinde called out, worried for her sisters, but calm Helmwige merely raised one hand, signalling she understood, and beautiful music was carried on a gusting wind, blowing back the toxic haze.

“That was… troublesome.” Rose flew beside Ortlinde. “And I’m talking about your jealousy, dear youngest.” She winked cheekily, puffing out her ample chest proudly. “And before you deny it…”

Ortlinde swallowed what she had been about to say, her expression sullen, but Rose merely surprised her by giving her a hug, their armour clanging. “…I know why you are grumpy. You feel as though I’ve stolen what should be yours. But… he’s not just yours. He’s all our hopes now, isn’t he? After all…” Her Eye shone, peering into the distance, a pensive frown wrinkling her brows. “…even one more Astral Emperor, another world, no matter how potent, will not stop this endless pressure. Yes, we would be vindicated, but… I want more, and I know you do too.”

“I do.” Ortlinde watched her sisters saving what spirit lights they could. It was strange that the Faerie, another one of her fellow brúðr, she supposed, had such a similar ability as the Valkyries, able to Choose the Slain, though… only those she found to be her kin, rather than the worthy.

A gift we gave up, for once a Valkyrie retires and becomes a Brúðr to a Verr… no, I shall not dwell on it. The choice was made, and I will never regret it. For all the Slain we could not choose, on worlds destroyed, or lost to the Throne and others… why should we escape sacrifice while they endlessly pay and pay for our hubris and failures?

“But it is hard, Rose. So very hard, to know what is right.”

“Is it?” Rose disagreed, and as she released her hug, she straightened the cloth parts of her armour fussily. That caught Ortlinde by surprise, as Rose had always been scholarly, and not overly vain. Seeing her confusion, Rose tittered wickedly. “Oh, my dearest youngest sister, you have much to learn. We are married women now, even if the ceremony will be far distant. Appearances are important. But less distractions… you know what is right. Why else would you have brought us here, sending your sisters into this maelstrom of battle, despite us being between rotations? Noble Sigrún is very strict on maintaining resting discipline. Tired Valkyries make mistakes and get killed. It is another scolding we are no doubt going to suffer from.”

“Yes, but… compared to our crimes, no matter how well-intentioned, it is a small sin.” Ortlinde sighed, clutching her golden spear.

“So, you didn’t fancy the big one then?” Rose asked, seemingly a subject change, but not.

“No. It did not call to me. Besides, not even the flame I have inherited shall consume that, I fear.” Ortlinde felt it within her body, a hungry flame, a dangerous flame, and wondered how it could exist on such an isolated world. Though it has been fed well and nurtured. Yet it has a hunger not dissimilar to these dreadful creatures which plague us…

“A shame. Well…” Rose tapped her, where the Seed had returned to her from Akio, carrying with it a Connection, allowing this Foehn to flow. It was not a mutated flame, but a truly unique one, and thus it could only be wielded by one being, yet… through the Path, through the Seed, she could draw upon it and also nurture it with her own flames. Ortlinde clenched her fist, feeling a need to use it, to prove their Path was the one to walk on, despite the ire and punishment they would surely receive.

“…you worry too much, littlest sister. Be more relaxed, like Run.”

“I do not think I can ever be that carefree.” Ortlinde shook her head, though the quip did monetarily dispel her gloom, and Rose’s next words blew it away.

“We were all there, facing Divine Skuld and her older sisters, the Wise Urðr, the Benevolent Verðandi, though… in wisdom is also secrecy, and in benevolence… comes pragmatism. Even Skuld, the one who severs, has both finality and mercy. But they did not turn aside our Path and even promised to keep our secrets for a short while. It does not mean our Path is the right one, for just as the thread is woven, it is eventually snipped, and few see the shears closing. But it does mean we can weave our own decisions boldly, and face what comes with pride in our hearts.”

“I am not smaller than you.” Ortlinde managed, as once more Rose bent her back, displaying her figure teasingly.

“Oh?” Rose raised one pink eyebrow, and once more Ortlinde flushed, knowing she had not been feeling herself since the recent events and… and her marriage.

“Never mind that. I… wish to find a suitable target, but… even you, strong as you are, would have struggled to do much to the abominable monstrosity, without the Hel-vegr.” Ortlinde chided, and Rose agreed.

“Oh, I know. My Runic Arts have advanced to heights I could only dream of, but a Skill needs practice to be used to its fullest, and if my own spiritual strength lags, even my enhanced understanding and knowledge will be held back, hampered. But… hush now. They return. With company.”

Ortlinde nodded, composing herself. Several Valkyries were organising the surviving Einherjar below, trying to prepare a battle line for the next wave of beasts. But one was coming towards them along with her returning sisters. With pale copper hair and golden eyes, the slender Valkyrie was wearing bronze armour, inlaid with rubies and sapphires, forming the Runes Eihwaz, Sowulo and Uruz in an interlocking pattern. She halted, her hair fluttering, before clenching her fist against her breastplate in a salute.

“Well met, youngest nine.” Her voice was far deeper than her charming features would lead one to believe, and her tone was dynamic, powerful. “I greet you, as Thrima, she who fights until the end.”

“Hail, Thrima!” Gerhilde spoke for them all as eldest. “A fierce battle it was, but you and your sisters acquitted yourself well.”

“For Noble Sigrún and the Allfather!” she replied confidently. “And for the Einherjar, who deserve their ascent to the golden halls of Valhalla. Yet…” She paused, and Ortlinde willed herself to remain calm. “Your aid, though welcome, was unlooked for. I know Noble Sigrún is at a more beleaguered front, but… you are not scheduled to respond to such an urgency.”

“If I may speak.” Rose stepped in. “I have heard of you, valorous Thrima. Though I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Sadly there are many elder sisters we have yet to meet…”

“And some you never shall. Though we die hard, we still perish.” Thrima scowled fiercely. The long, wickedly barbed trident she wielded, tipped with metal of crimson and aqua, was raised to the sky, pointing towards distant Asgard.

“A tragedy. And one we are disinclined to allow to continue.” Rose smiled winningly, as she traced a Rune. “Fehu! May fortune be with you!” Golden light shone, and Thrima frowned, her fatigue visibly receding.

“A Runecaster? At your tender age? Impressive.”

“Oh, you do me too much honour, elder sister.” Rose demurred. “I was simply a student, a hobbyist, yet… a breakthrough came to me fortuitously, and… we are seeking another. Yet how could we, even at the cost of disobeying our orders, leave you all to fend for yourselves? And potentially allow more sisters to fall?”

“It was your work then, the rock spikes?” she asked, and Rose agreed.

“It was. But as I advised, that is not my goal. This is…” Rose traced Kenaz, the Rune of revelation and inspiration. “We seek one amongst the beasts, and it must be slain by my youngest sister’s own spear.” Rose slapped Ortlinde’s back, gauntlet ringing on her plate armour. “I sense the hand of Verðandi upon the loom of our destiny, spinning the threads. Perhaps lives saved now will be important in the future and should not be snipped untimely. We will of course accept chastisement from Noble Sigrún when she returns from her valorous labours, when you speak to her of our transgressions. But for that to happen, you must live, to fight until and beyond the end, sister Thrima.”

Ortlinde exchanged a glance with Siegrune, who shrugged, orange eyes twinkling with mirth. Yes, Rose has developed a silver tongue indeed. Even I am moved by her words, and I know it is all bluster…

“I see. It is indeed hard to resist a battle. We Valkyrie are not built that way. But the foe we face is not the Pantheons. There is no quarter given, no respite, no prisoner exchanges, no time to recover the spirit lights of the Einherjar and guide them to Valhalla…” She narrowed her burnished eyes of gold. “…I noticed you two did not ride the winds and Choose, sisters…”

Ortlinde’s face was impassive, and she glanced down, sorrowfully. “I fear… under the auspices of Rossweisse’s divining, we must remain aloof, for we cannot miss the opportunity to take down this wretched beast.”

“Indeed, it pained me, but… I am tracking it via the inspiration of Kenaz.” Rose agreed. “Fortunately, you and your sisters were here, as were ours. Who could be saved were saved. All too few, I fear…”

At her sympathetic tone, Thrima clenched her fists hard enough to allow blood to scatter, droplets coming from her pierced flesh where her nails dug in. “Yes. These beasts are vile indeed. None know from what Hel these wretched beings come from, only where they penetrate our borders… the spirit, no matter how strong, cannot withstand their cruel touch. Even… even the truth of us, our eternal Truesouls, are but morsels for their wicked jaws…”

As Gerhilde spoke, agreeing, commiserating over the losses, Ortlinde frowned, feeling ashamed. I despise lying, especially to a sister Valkyrie, but… I cannot be stymied here. Rose’s words are lies, yet… I think perhaps she has grasped onto a thread of truth, loose from the great tapestry… there surely is a beast out there which the flames thirst for… and I shall quench their furious hunger, now, and in the future, until even Muspelheim’s fires seem cold in contrast…

“It seems the enemy will soon be upon us again. I wish you luck in your hunt…” Thrima declared at last. “I shall rejoin my sisters, and pray the incursion contains no such fiends as requires the Hel-vegr to exert itself so. Many Dvergr shall have hands seared to the bone replacing molten components and bloody from shattered mirrors. For the Allfather and for Noble Sigrún!”

They all saluted, and as their elder sister flew off, Gerhilde frowned, and Ortlinde was shocked to see sweat beading on her brow.

“That was… unpleasant.” Gerhilde sighed bitterly. “But not as unpleasant as defeat. Though I am afraid your flaws are obvious upon the battlefield, my younger sisters.”

Ortlinde nodded sourly. “Indeed, we cannot Choose the Slain.”

“Oh, I have an idea on that.” Rose promised. “I am, after all, First Adherent. Make use of what exists and strengthen it.” She chuckled wickedly, and Ortlinde, suppressing a brief flash of jealousy at her confidence, did feel a little reassured. 

“Don’t worry, my sisters. If my plan succeeds, we shall be able to Choose the Slain in a different manner, without shaming our Verr, nor breaking our vows as both Valkyrie and brúðr.”

“A welcome prospect…” Brunnhilde, the matronly, soft-spoken second eldest of them spoke, her golden hair fluttering, her silver eyes calm, yet there was a hardness there. She carried a trident, similar to the departed Thrima, though to those who knew her well, it seemed almost inconceivable for her to be seen amongst the violence of battle.

Yet despite her motherly, caring nature, she is Valkyrie, and her trident has seen blood and woe in equal measure and reaped many lives.

“…however, my dearest sisters, be wary of the threads you tie around yourselves. Too many, and you might be choked by the consequences of your decisions, and tangled up too deeply to untie, without severing the knots and your flesh with them.”

“You do like to lecture.” Rose chuckled, unbothered by her stern counsel. “Besides, you chose to step on the Path too, as did all of you. We are all in this together, aren’t we?” She smiled teasingly at Ortlinde. “The moment we listened to you, Verðandi pulled on our threads and began to weave them into a new pattern. Whether that pattern is beautiful or terrible, perhaps not even Skuld knows, though she will snip us just the same should the time come. But I for one regret nothing. Nor do any of you, do you?”

At her harsh words everyone shook their heads, even Brunnhilde, and Ortlinde felt she had to speak up. “If we are to be unorthodox and follow our consciences… then let us do it until the end. No half measures. It is as elder Thrima declared, we have lost sisters and will lose more. Perhaps even some of us might perish. The danger grows, and even the Hel-vegr will not stave off ruin forever. Should the final lines be breached, and the inner worlds of Midgard be ravaged, there will be more slain than even all we sisters together could Choose. Think of those lost in just this breach? I shall entangle myself in every thread I can grasp…” Foehn bubbled and boiled within her, demanding release, demanding it had its due. “…and I trust Rose. When it comes to this.” I cannot believe I am being so petty, over a man… I felt myself to be cool-headed… I do suppose we never know ourselves as well as we think. After all, they are right, it was I who begged, pleaded and cajoled for all to follow me down this path, to Asgard or Hel, glory or ruin…

“How magnanimous of you.” Rose chuckled, and Ortlinde shook her head, crimson locks falling around her face, momentarily dyeing her vision red.

“Hardly. I still feel you took liberties, Rose, but… I know you did it for wise reasons. Regardless of my own feelings, we have a Path, one that is to be trodden through fresh, untrammelled lands. Are we can walk it together with one our daring, desperate folly has aided, perhaps even created. I will tie myself to this chance, to him, with every string, even if it is a noose, nail myself to him with every spike, even if it is a spear, just as the Allfather clung to our World Tree and found Wisdom and his own Path.”

“I agree. And there is no turning back. The winners write the sagas, my dear sisters.” Rose chuckled. “If we succeed, yes, punishment will still come, but at least Lin and I will have our dear Verr to console us and wipe away our tears…” she enjoyed teasing Siegrune. “…if we lose, most likely we will be amongst our fallen sisters, and if not… I believe there is a suitable expression from Akio’s world, though let me change it a little to be more familiar to us, better to be hung for a kid than a ram…”

“We have come too far to back down now.” Grimgerde rumbled. “I for one have no issues risking my life for victory.”

“In that case…” Gerhilde, their eldest, asked the most important question. “Do we fight again, or retreat? Skirt the battlefield, or…”

“You know, I think it was Verðandi tugging on my thread, sisters.” Rose’s grin was wicked. “To turn my lie to sister Thrima into truth. After all… if we are tied with strings of our own making, then the Divine Norns too, have willingly tangled themselves together with us, with him. You know…” She smirked suddenly, her pearly eyes glinting with wicked humour. “…when we receive our punishment from Sigrún, how will she punish the Norns? It will drag in the Allfather, and the Great and Noble of both Asgard and Vanaheim, perhaps even Jotunheim. There are only two choices for us, my dear sisters…” At her words, Ortlinde understood, and the weight in her chest loosened, if not the hunger.

“Yes.” Ortlinde agreed, hands tight on her spear. “We live on as pinnacles of victory, or as objects of great infamy…”

***

“Sowulo! guided by the sun to success…” Rose was tracing her Runes again, though even with her improved talents, Ortlinde could see she was enduring fatigue and spiritual stress. “Kenaz! The sun is a touch that guides us to revelation and what we seek! Raido! A journey is not complete without a destination! Eihwaz! Enlightenment is the ending! Scry! Show us what we seek and may flames feast on our destined enemy!”

 The surge of energies as the four Runes combined into a Runic Word was immense, and Rose shook a little, her face as pale as her eyes. Despite that, the distant sun above, peeking through the murk of the ravaged border realm below, seemed almost to blink for a moment, and a faint sunbeam pierced the clouds, growing in intensity.

“Divine Sól’s stairway…” Helmwige murmured reverently, the reflected light catching on her grey eyes. “It seems the blessing of the Sun is with us.”

“I hope so. By the Great Mother, I’m exhausted…” Rose pouted. “So, you’re up, Lin. Time to show us your resolve.”

“I shall!” Ortlinde declared, no doubt in her voice. I am resolved. Come what may, I shall not fail.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Rose. We’ve got your back, littlest sister Lin!” Siegrune giggled, swinging her axe, which also reflected the sunlight. “So let’s hunt the beast down. It’ll be one more our brave elder sister Thrima won’t have to fight until the end.”

With Ortlinde at their head, the nine sisters flow on their wings of adherence. Below, the land was tortured, traces of the passing of the void abominations clear, bare, jagged streaks of eroded rocks, devoid of life. Seeing that, Ortlinde frowned, fury rising. It is one thing to face a rival Pantheon. And it would be a lie to say none of our elder sisters have not flown into battle on our behalf against others before. Yet… there lies reason. Some might question it, but… decisions are made, gains and losses weighed up. Even vengeance, ill-fated a cause as it is, we can comprehend. But these beasts… even great Dragons and other fell monsters whose strength rivals the Divine, when they feast, they know to think of tomorrow. But these vile fiends leave nothing… they simply rage until they are eliminated, not a trace remaining…

“I see them…” keen-eyed Schwertliete cried, stormy blue eyes narrowed against the light of the sun. “…by Njörðr’s stormy seas, that’s another big bastard, though thank the Allfather there’s not another colossal nightmare…” she cursed.

“You’re right. There’s four of them. I think we’re in trouble.” Rose laughed nervously. “None of them are Hunger-class weaklings… this is going to be a brawl.”

“Consuming… no, Devouring-class…” Gerhilde growled, her mighty two-handed blade held aloft. “The Einherjar would die in their thousands, tens of thousands against these beasts. Our sisters behind us are already exhausted, so let us do them the service of handling our foes…”

“Wait, that fourth one…” The sunlight from the gap in the cloud cover formed a puddle on the charred, dead ground, and one of the four creatures passed through it.

“It’s strong, gives me chills…” Rose muttered. “A Destruction-class beast? If so…”

“If so, we must give it our all.” Gerhilde declared. “Unlike the lesser beasts, this one cannot be allowed to breach the defensive lines, at least until the Hel-vegr here can fire again. A small mercy though… at least it is surely weaker than the giant beast slain before this…”

“I’d feel happier if we weren’t outside of Hel-vegr support…” Siegrune chuckled. “But… there are nine of us, and four of them. We may not be as wise or as strong as our sisters, but…”

“But we have our resolve, and we have come too far to fail!” Ortlinde roared. “This is praiseworthy, my sisters! This is what we stand for! Here, none but us, our will, our…”

The Destruction-class enemy, which seemed like a slug with dozens of strange horns growing from its back, scaled up to the size of a small hill, gurgled. A jagged gash opened in jet-black, slimy flesh, and it suddenly spewed out a torrent of filth, which then immediately caught fire, flying towards them.

“Rude!” Brunnhilde’s silver eyes flashed, and her trident shone with energy. “By Divine Freyja, Vanadis, I condemn you! Three Spears, þrjú spjót! Pierce and kneel before your Goddess!”

A trio of bolts of sorcerous aether, fortified by adherence, slammed down. One silver spike shattered on the massive slug’s back, barely inflicting a wound,  but two of the others, each resembling a squat, ten-metre tall giant with no head or face, and a dozen tentacles for arms, were struck down, pinned like an impaled victim of seafaring marauders.

“Keep them held!” Rose called out, tracing Runes hurriedly, despite the strain on her reserves. “Sowulo! Tiwaz! Raido! Isa! Kenaz! Ehwaz! Strike!” The six Runes combined into a hexagram, before detonating, and one of the pinned creatures boiled, several tentacles bursting like pus-filled boils. Despite that, Rose was staggered, the backlash of pushing herself terrible. “I didn’t have chance or time to weave them properly, giving each Rune separate meaning. I can do maybe one more, if you can buy me time, and put my heart and spirit into it…” She then grinned wearily as her sisters began bombarding the creatures below, using the advantage of flight to avoid the flailing appendages. “Leave the big one for Lin, since it ruined her shining speech!”

“If this was not life or death, I would take that as an affront…” Ortlinde huffed, but inside she was smiling. “We give out the gifts, the Favours of our Divine mothers and fathers, and those we choose struggle and die. It feels… not unwelcome… to share their trials.”

“It seems our youngest has grown up.” Helmwige declared, as she unbound her ponytail, violet hair streaming behind her. “I sing of revenge, of Einherjar lost, of lands despoiled…” Her tone was beautiful, as befitted she who carried Bragi’s Favours, yet at the end it changed, now a wicked ballad of fury. “Saga hefndar!”

Soundwaves, gathering up the wind, green energies boiling, slammed into the wounded creature. The stake of light holding it shattered, and it surged forwards, remaining tentacles lashing, but Gerhilde severed through one, though some of her black hair burned away, and her armour began to char and smoulder. Despite that, she did not stop. “Heimsrifandi högg! I cut the world and all evil within it!”

Space shivered, and the recovering monster staggered, losing mass as it was cleaved from where a shoulder would have been to its crotch. Still, Ortlinde was worried, as conjuring such a mighty strike was no easy task.

“Don’t worry…” Rose was assessing the situation, even as the slug was spitting endless streams of dark flames, but Schwertliete was calling forth a massive shield of water, as tempestuous as the storm-tossed seas, halting it, though she was rapidly losing ground. “It’s a simple strategy. DPS down the Adds while keeping everything CC’d, then focus all our fury on the Boss, until it’s weak enough for you to get the kill.”

“I wish I knew what any of that meant!” Ortlinde bit her lip, frustrated. “But I can tell it is words from Akio’s memories.”

“If you feel jealous, why not win him over with your gift, littlest sister? Now then… after this, I’ll be helpless, so… buy me some time, everyone! And don’t spare any effort. After this we’re retreating, after all, we’re not supposed to be here on this battlefield this day!”

“þrumafjall!” Grimgerde roared, her war maul growing to a size matching one of the tentacled beasts. Her hammer fell, like the mountain her words invoked, and an explosion of lightning staggered the beast.

“Is it me or… Svikarmanns koss…” Siegrune smirked as her axe disappeared, appearing behind the most wounded beast in a flash of violet, before it severed another pair of tentacles and reappeared in her hand, though the edge was covered in vile filth. “By Loki’s cunning, this is wretched… uh, I mean, don’t we seem stronger?”

“Uruz! The pursuit of ultimate strength has drawn us to this battle. Othala! To defend our home, we pour out our plenty, yet in giving, we receive!” Rose had started drawing her final Runic work, her pale pink hair rising, as though she had survived a strike from the lightning wreathing Grimgerde’s maul.

“How could we not have? We have a Path, and it is of Bonds…” Brunnhilde once more sent down three spears, pinning the smaller beasts, though calling them small was a grave insult to the Jötnar, mighty Giants of the World Tree. “…such Paths are weak, but… there is still strength there, for those who adhere to it…”

“Die! The Allfather commands you to depart this place! Yggdrasil’s roots reach far! Endir!” Gerhilde’s sword slashed, and the first, badly battered beast toppled, exploding. Gerhilde evaded gracefully, but even so, her ankle was smeared in filth.

“I don’t think so…. Svikarmanns koss…”  Siegrune repeated her prior move, though this time her axe appeared from nowhere to sever Gerhilde’s foot. Blood gouted, but she pressed on. “Best not take chances. We’re not dealing with Hunger-class foes here!”

“My thanks!” their eldest called, even as Rose was weaving more Runes.

“Raido! At the end of our journey, we confront destiny! Tiwaz! Under honour, sullied perhaps, but for the greater justice, we seek authority, power!”

“Wait, Rose, are you…?” Ortlinde, unable to wait any longer, surged into battle, her spear shimmering with adherence, aether, and all her strength except for the Foehn within, which was churning, demanding release, but Rose raised a hand to halt her.

“She says wait, impetuous littlest sister…” Grimgerde’s hammer slammed into the second of the beasts, lightning burning through it, though to reduced effect, as it had a clearly aberrant constitution, like no beast or being they knew. “Let her work…”

“I am spent…” Schwertliete cried, her conjured sea collapsing, flames splattering her, burning into her body. Immediately, Siegrune was there, cutting free the poisoned flesh, leaving Schwertliete almost scalped and with a cheek bare to the bone. The slug-beast barked out more blazing venom, but in a beat of their mystical wings, the pair of them were gone.

“By the Allfather’s balls…” Ortlinde spat a rare curse, hands sweaty on her spear, energies held in check, as she watched the glorious struggle, unable to act. And it was glorious. Valkyries had fallen against such creatures before, to say nothing of the vile slug squirming onwards. It was now leaking a gas from its spines, only for Helmwige to contain it with her strident, wind-aspected song, though her throat, ears and eyes were bleeding from the effort. I hate this. I hate this so much… yet others face what we do and surpass their limitations, or perish trying…

“Ehwaz! Through partnership, through bonds, through our Connections, both here on this battlefield, through the skeins of woven fate, and through… joining hearts and fates, two into one… Algiz! We protect one another, protect our dream, protect our world… and protect our littlest sister’s foolish, yet oh so wonderful dream! Vortex! Bind our foes unto their end!”

The six Runes spun, forming a Runic Word, yet they did not glow merely with brilliance, but seemed to become almost three-dimensional, drawing in strength from elsewhere. Moments later, they exploded, and a single pinprick of vivid violet appeared. Grimgerde was hammered aside, one arm gone, and her maul reduced to charred wreckage, but even as she fell, she stomped the ground, sending waves of earth at the slug-beast.

“That was… a saga told in Runes?” Siegrune asked Rose, as she caught her, and Ortlinde noticed that she was missing both of her legs from the knees down.

“Yes. If the Runes themselves have meaning, and Runes can form a Word, and if forming a Word with Runes with each Rune’s meaning being relevant gives it greater power… what if… from first Rune to last… the meanings form a coherent story…? I think… I am grasping at another breakthrough. But…” Rose threw up blood, and one eye burst, though fortunately not the one she had inherited from Akio. Seeing that, Ortlinde tensed, but Rose waved her hand, heedless of her terrible state.

“Wait. The moment is not now…” Suddenly the mote of vivid violet expanded, to the size of a fist, and the world around was drawn towards it, though Ortlinde and her sisters were unaffected. The two tentacled monstrosities were first, and they were compressed against the howling spatial tear. The slug resisted, but was being dragged ever-so slowly towards its trapped fellows, and the poisonous smog was also drawn in, much to Helmwige’s relief, even as she crashed to the ground, her skin sloughing off, despite only contacting it with her spiritual voice.

“Now!” Full power!” Rose cried, and those who had any strength left, and even those who didn’t, hurled their most powerful attacks towards the three beasts. “It’s a DPS race, we win or we flee, that or perish here!”

“I do not understand, but… Mardöllr logi! Divine Freyja’s sun-scattering flames!” Brunnhilde cried. Gerhilde’s blade split the ground and the skies once more. Grimgerde, Siegrune, Helmwige, who howled out her deathly song with her lungs coughing up flesh and blood, Schwertliete’s bolts of anchor-shaped water… Rose, barely able to conjure a few minor blasts of light… all her sisters were attacking, but…

Wait, where’s Waltraute? I have not seen her since we joined the battle.

“Perfect!” She appeared, stepping out of seemingly nowhere, her green eyes glittering sadistically, as she raised her whip. “A wonderful prison of darkness, Rossweisse. I shall not waste it!” She licked her lips wickedly, before glancing at Ortlinde. Just like her long, wavy green hair, she raised her vicious, barbed whip. “The Two-Faced terror, Mistress of Helheim, is impartial. She shall receive all, and judge all. Know Hel’s fury. þǫgull haugr! Lay silent in your graves!” A tide of darkness energy covered the whip, and it snaked around the three beasts, splitting into wicked tendrils.

“Looks… just like… she’s one of the damn monsters…” Siegrune made a bitter joke, only to flinch as Waltraute smirked at her challengingly. “You’re definitely cuter though, Walte, so it’s all… good…”

“Littlest sister, time to strike!” Rose called, and without hesitation, Ortlinde willed all her might into one final strike. She descended, and screamed out her mantra. “Vinstri hönd Týrs! Left-handed Tyr!”

Her spear exploded, as did her arm. Fortunately it was her left, so the loss was bearable. The vortex Rose had conjured detonated, as did Waltraute’s tentacles, and she was sent flying, coughing up blood. The two Devouring-class enemies burst apart, the dying maelstrom disintegrating them, and even the mighty Destruction-class foe was staggered, bone spikes shattering, flesh dissolving, a river of smoking ichor running free from rents in the flesh.

Such Destruction-class beasts are often dealt with by the Hel-vegr. Yes, Valkyries can and do defeat them, as do our strongest, most worthy Foringi, but casualties are, if not commonplace, often expected. This is about the peak of our might, and… it is still rather meagre. But…

Pulling herself to her feet, Ortlinde’s metallic crimson hair tangled and matted, now crimson with her own blood, silver rivulets dripping down her face and gushing from her missing arm, she raised her remaining hand. “You creature, enemy from not even the Allfather knows where… you shall kill none of our sisters today! No, you shall instead become our strength and aid us in driving back your kind. Foehn! All-consuming Conflagration! Eldrbruni!”

The Seed burned within her, and her skin began to crisp, blood drying and flaking away. Even her gouting stump was seared shut, as vivid flames poured from her intact right hand. The void fiend let out a sound, a bone-chilling, howling dirge, which shook them all to the bones, but Ortlinde was beyond mercy. Her sisters were wounded, battered, but yet unbroken, and she, the youngest, would not be the one to let them down.

“Burn, by the Allfather, the Great Mother, the Thunderer, the One-handed Hero, The Living Flame, by all the Gods and Goddesses of this land… by Gerhilde, Brunnhilde, by Helmwige and by Rossweisse, who thinks she has the upper hand on me…” She began to narrate her sisters’ names now. “by Grimgerde and Schwertliete…” Foehn was growing, as she pulled it into herself from a distance so far away as to be laughable, but the Seed, and the Path, and their Connection… made it possible… drinking deep of all there was, the slug struggled, shrinking, fires devouring it and seeding more flames, ever expanding, ever burning. The flames shone obsidian now, a dark, ominous hue, but Ortlinde did not stop, would not stop… I shall never stop… “Siegrune and Waltraute… for those who fought and those who fell, for brave Thrima and her sisters, for our proud World Tree, and… for me, and for those I Chose, those who have lived, and those who have died…” Grief and resolve warred in her golden eyes, as Foehn began to peter out within her, but she clenched her fist tight, fingers creaking and cracking, and the fires responded. Now the slug had shrunk to the size of an aurochs, a massive bull, but the flames did not relent.

“Most of all… for me, and my regrets, and my sorrows, and my hopes, and my… and my Verr, my husband!” she roared, letting out all her jealousy. Of course I never considered any of my Chosen, not even Akio, as a potential Verr. How could I have? In fact, how could I have foreseen any of this? But… having watched him struggle, having seem him face down the three sisters of the Norns for our sakes, for having him return to Rose and I not just more than we gave, but also hope… that this sad decline can be halted, that a better future will come…

“I pledge Heitstrenging! An exchange of oaths and gifts. I may have no cup, but I have roasted boar…” she sneered, the remaining two bony tusks of the shrinking abomination indeed seeming like a wild pig as it blazed. “For a gift, I answer with a gift. We share this flame, as we share our future. Come swiftly, oh my Verr, for I wish to see you again with my own eyes…”

“She’s getting rather… ahead of herself… worried, Rose?” Ortlinde barely heard Siegrune cough out some words, as she concentrated on feeding Foehn with the beast until naught, not even ashes, remained.

“No, I’m pleased our littlest sister is finally standing up for herself. Jealousy doesn’t become her.” Rose retorted. “Besides, since I stole a march on her, despite my good reason for doing so, she’s felt rather lost and defeated. I’ll let her… take the lead… for a while. I am so… exhausted.”

“I think we all are…” Siegrune managed, and Ortlinde was glad that the blood on her face concealed her flush. The flames burned, and then, finally… it was done.

“Perish, you abomination…” she spat, spittle sizzling. Before her, a black pyre rose, the flames wavering, and then, moments later, like obsidian reflecting the light from a volcano in Muspelheim, the flames shimmered with a myriad array of scintillating colours, red through to violet and beyond. Reflected in her golden eyes, Ortlinde watched the flames burn silently, feeling a strange sense of warmth within. Even with the reserves of Foehn she held being mere dregs, she felt powerful and full of energy, her exhaustion and injuries muted. It’s done. Now… we can rest.

Slumping down, her gaze strayed to her battered sisters, where Rose was peering at her, a slight smile on her face.

“Feeling better? All right then… you certainly got Akio’s attention…” Rose’s Eye shimmered with amber light. “…so then, my dear Lin, how do we explain this? I don’t think he’s going to be happy we nearly died…”

No. Ortlinde agreed, a smile coming unbidden to her lips, despite the lingering pain and adrenaline. No, I am sure he will not be…