Capítulo 3: A POWER AWAKENS
Prince Bruno brought in… what the Emblian nobles called… a concubine – even when it didn't look like that at all. For Princess Veronica – her older brother brought in a new toy for her to play with, and she seems to be enjoying her new toy.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched his sister have a nice tea party with her new companion, as he would like to call it. Emblian nobles would call it as they want – he didn't care. For him, she will be his salvation. She will grant him and his sister freedom.
She would give Veronica a more… normal childhood, a brighter future than what Embla would have offered. But something about Freyj—Eclat, bothered him. She smiled so often but the smile never reaches her eyes. The Heroes who chose to be with Embla were rather fond of her, and her curiosity was obvious – as Xander put it, it was obvious that she was somewhat sheltered.
Bruno never thought about that until he recalled what he read – the god who refused to leave the golden Valhalla halls. He wanted to ask what happened to her sister, why they didn't take that golden sword with them, perhaps clues about Frey's whereabouts could be found here on Zineth. As the god of love told him that her sister was once friends with the first King of Askr and the first Emperor of Embla.
He was often left alone with her in the evening, as it was the only time when they were given proper privacy. "The Eternal Sanctum?"
Eclat nodded. "Yes. The Eternal Sanctum is where the powers of my sister sleep… but no one knows what has become of her soul. Not even Alfaðör. So perhaps if that power is set free…"
"It could directly lead us to her?" Eclat nodded with a gentle smile. She was seated on the bed with her legs crossed and her hands properly folded on her lap. She had perfect posture – the expected manners of a lady – Bruno couldn't help but wonder what life was like for a god up in the golden halls of Alfaðör.
"A stone slab will be at the bottom of the sanctum," the goddess continued, "The pathfinders should be able to transcribe the ancient writings but…" nothing good ever comes after but.
"But?"
"Do your pathfinder friends know ancient Vanir?" Eclat tilted her head as she asked the question. The runes would be difficult to read if no one taught them, and the previous Summoner never fully found the time to teach Alfonse – or Sharena who didn't have an interest in it. There are no books in the order's library that could help either, or in that secret study under the castle. His silence was all the answer she needed. "I see the great pathfinders aren't as great as they used to be, such a shame…"
"I know how to read ancient Vanir but…"
"Yes, I know prince. You do not wish your friends' harm." She knew it but never quite understood why mortals would always want to keep their loved ones safe. Ironic on how the god of love herself – believed that anywhere in all the realms people were bound to die, suffer, filled with hate and ungratefulness… mortals were always so pitiful in her eyes, always so… hateful. "What is this Summoner like?"
"What?"
"The Summoner," the god repeated in curiosity, "the wielder of my sister's Breidablik."
"Your sister created the divine weapon?" Bruno raised his brow behind the mask. She's a talkative one, this god.
"My sister creates a lot of weapons." Eclat continued to speak as she laid down on the bed. Her gaze up in the ceiling, the interior, and the infostructure were nothing like the halls of the gods. They were nothing like Vanir – not that she could remember what her home looked like. It has been thousands of years since the war, perhaps a lot of things changed while she kept herself in silence. "The god of peace, Alfaðör called her… even though she outsmarted him once or twice on the battlefield during the war."
"She's the god of peace and yet she makes weapons?" It was odd to hear such a thing. A god who is a patriot of peace and yet created weapons as powerful as Breidablik – a weapon that could control worlds if the Summoner was even evil, to begin with.
"It's always two sides of the same coin… my sister always said." Eclat sighed. No matter how hard she tries – due to time, even she couldn't remember much – how it all looked like, how it shined, how it was all made. All she could remember was the feeling of pain, the feeling of loss, the feeling of fleeting love. "She used to say: 'Everything is two sides of the same coin – weapons can create destruction but they also protect, how magic can enslave or serve. Even destiny is a coin.' But I never believed that."
"How come?" Bruno watched the god as she remained silent, slowly sitting down with her gaze looking down. As if she was trying to recall why she didn't believe in it. He heard that dragon-gods would live a long time but that was just it, they weren't immortal. Eclat, or rather, Freya seemed to have lived as long as the realms itself.
Who knows how long she felt suffering, how long she lost love? Perhaps even a mortal heart could never understand the centuries of pain she endured just to live this long. "Vanir found itself at war because the opposition was not in favor of our… ways with magic." She spoke in a hushed, careful tone – as if the topic was forbidden. "As siblings, we were the ones called upon for good harvests, sun, rain, and good winds – favorable weather conditions by seafarers and farmers. But Frey… Frey was so much more…"
Eclat smiled, in complete awe as she told him the forbidden tale that was lost from mortal history. "My sister was every definition of what a Vanir god should be – a practitioner of seidr… a kind of magic that could determine fate itself and even change it whenever she wishes to whomever she wishes. She determines destiny with a ritual distaff in hand and can interact with those in the world of spirit. Something that… only Hel and Alfaðör could do. Any god could give a blessing, cast a curse… but only a few could prophesize… and she was one of them."
"What… happened to her?"
With that, Eclat's smile died. "My sister was a victim of fate." She answered quietly. "A god of her stature should have been able to save herself… but she refused, telling me that fate is something that even gods shouldn't be tampered with. She fell in love with a mortal you see… she loved him so much she gave up her godhood and became mortal. Alfaðör urged her to think about it but without hesitation, she insisted."
The loneliness in her eyes – was similar to his sister. And as an older brother, he can't truly imagine the feelings this god had. He remained silent and listened. That was all he needed to do. "And with a heavy heart, Alfaðör granted her wish. All of her… seidr magic was gone – but that ungrateful mortal… he didn't know how much of a blessing it was to be loved by her. By a god. He forsook her and married another. My sister died alone. She died for nothing… and Alfaðör refused to bring her back to us… to me. Telling me that Frey wouldn't want to be alive to feel the pain he left behind every single day – so I went down there. To Hel."
Eclat closed her eyes for a moment, regaining composure as she could feel every ounce of anger and hatred, she had for mortals all because of one. "Hel… told me my sister wasn't there. Not in her realm. Alfaðör believed that Frey did something before she died – why her soul wouldn't go down to the realm of the dead. For thousands of years it has been like that, not once she came home, not once she let us knew where she was… but we know she's alive and Alfaðör wants his daughter back. This sanctum… is the first step… for everything."
Love isn't something humans invented – it's observable and powerful, it meant something for everyone and anyone. Even the gods feel love, even the gods feel pain, and even the gods suffer. Freya was proof of that in his eyes.
The Order of Heroes was buzzing with its members going around with their training, scouting, missions, and a couple of personal errands – Kiran found herself in her study. Looking through reports from various scouts, a very particular one from Zacharias who had been giving her information over the past few months since their last encounter. Even though he couldn't join them – she knew he wanted to do whatever he could to help them.
'…I would appreciate that you wouldn't utter a word to Alfonse or Sharena. Commander Anna would understand and I wish to solve this on my own.' The Summoner quietly read Zacharias's clean handwriting. 'The Eternal Sanctum is located at the western part of Askr, the ruin has a stone slab at the very bottom but it's written in ancient Vanir. There's a power sleeping there that could assist us—' 'in the upcoming war' Kiran blinked a few times, rereading the words.
It was completely different from what she just saw. '—soon if you are in need. I pray that day won't come. Your obedient servant, Zacharias.'
It wasn't the first time when Kiran would read a different phrase or see something else… sometimes she even hears something else compared to what's being said. She first thought stress was getting to her – sometimes she wondered if they were visions of the futures or memories, she longed forgotten.
She investigated the ruins herself.
Zacharias claimed that power sleeps there could serve as an aid to the Order of Heroes. Only a fool would go into the ruins alone – but Kiran was a stubborn fool and went with it. She expected the sanctum to be guarded by something. Heroes, ancient beings, mythical creatures, or perhaps even dragons, but to her surprise there was nothing.
In front of her was a large double door built shut, at first glance someone would say this was Askran architecture, but one good look at the door – people like her would know that the doors were built based on Vanir's design. Kiran reached out her hand, touching the stone doors as she could feel the warmness of magic through her gloves.
With that, the doors began to open – it was nothing more than a long dark corridor where torches lit up on their own with blue flames as the summoner entered. She could feel the magic surges of Breidablik as if something or someone was pulling her, the wielder deeper and deeper into the sanctum.
She expected coldness but warmth greeted her like a friend.
Kiran found herself in the presence of another door. Beyond it, she expected cold, crumbling walls but instead – she was greeted with free-flowing fresh air and sunlight that illuminated the trees and a pond filled with water lilies and fireflies roaming around.
In the middle of the pond was a stone slab with writings engraved on it. She hesitated for a moment; it was a bad idea going out here alone but there she was. Breidablik continued to glow – urging her to go into the pond and walk towards the slab.
And she did. Feeling the warmth of the water �� she could hear a waterfall from afar but something was warning her not to go around. Stay on course and have her eyes on what was to come. What was about to be given.
"It is ancient Vanir…" Kiran mumbled to herself as she saw that some of the words were already worn out. Having her fingertips touch the stone, the once faded writings were showing themselves to her. Revealing what was inscribed long ago.
Alfaðör demanded the sword from Frey and she readily gave it. She read. To assume the heavy burden of Vanir – I here inscribe my final wish. The war that awaits me from beyond Askr and Embla, will be my last war. Win or lose.
I leave here, the fragment of my powers. The Rite of Awakening. Only True Vanir blood could call forth the power in the gold dragon's Seal Sacrosanct. Kiran found herself reading the writings out loud. "Whosoever find this seal, if they are worthy, shall possess the power of Vanir's god."
The carvings on the slab began to move, causing the summoner to take a few steps back as she watched the ancient magic at work. As the runes turned into figures of tree branches, it merely slithers to the middle, forming a single, circular motion – revealing goldenseal.
Kiran's eyes widen with the familiar sigil on the seal. It was the sigil of Vanir's royal family.
It was only one of the unknown numbers of sacred seals. The Summoner reached out for the seal, hearing a kind voice, a gentle voice – advising her to take it. And as simple as that, the seal of a god was in her hand. "The Twilight of the Gods would begin with a hard winter of ice and snow." She heard a woman's grieving voice.
Kiran felt a sudden pain on her chest – a pain of grief and anger as she continued to hear the voice. "And then the arrival of Surtr would consume the world in flame at the same time that she breaks free from her death-like chains,"
"No…" Kiran collapsed on her knees, holding the seal close to her heart. Tears fell from her eyes – recalling horrible memories from her world. "Not here… PLEASE!" The voice continued to speak. "The rainbow bridge cracks and falls as the gods are forced to watch the chaos from their golden halls."
Bodies. She recalled hundreds, even thousands of lifeless burnt bodies. A kingdom that was once loved and cherished for its natural care of nature – nothing more but ashes from the flames of Muspel. "Lives will be lost and they know that going into battle, but a handful will survive the final conflict and a new world… and a new god would eventually rise from the ashes of the old."
"PLEASE NO!" Kiran cried, pleading to the gods who once abandoned them. Who abandoned Vanir to the wicked flames of Muspel. "Child of Vanir," the voice called out to the grieving Summoner who wanted Askr to avoid the same faith as Vanir did. "Please…" she continued to beg, "… please… not Askr too…"
"Your destiny lies beyond the Muspell King." The voice continued to warn. "You must prove to Alfaðör that you are worth the name."
How destiny can be so cruel.
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