CHPT 364: The Longest Night, The Greatest Risk...

With the battle over and Claude's anger stuffed back down into the dark cauldron of his inactive conscious, he sat in the forest in silence. Watching the Berserker who was so adept at the change to being a Lupine it was almost laughable when compared to how he fared. She hadn't done anything insane-- or even fully witnessed the horrors he had to, but still. Even the simplest act of joking about something he'd thought over with great seriousness was enough to make him smile on the inside even with the sadness of what such a day had brought.

A welcomed contrast if you will.

"[What a natural.]" Arne commented as they watched her run through the forest beside Blackbeak who rode the hulking Phantom Legion like a feathered knight on his shadowy mare of doom.

"Oh...you're talking again?" Claude asked, finally hearing his guides crisp accented voice after hours of radio silence.

"[Nope-- fuck off.]"

"Arne....we can't have beef. You literally can't get away from me." Claude said.

Arne sighed, "[That's such an irrefutable point. Oh! maybe I'll find a way to transfer my sentience into one of your spears and roll away...or maybe your cloak? Or a tree branch...or a wol--]"

"Arne!"

"[YOU!.....You stole from a bloody god! You emotionally charged FERAL HEADED TWAT!]" Arne exploded.

Claude started walking to catch up with Ursula. He was in for quite the talking to, he could feel it. Like a storm brewing at the base of his skull.

"[You don't know-- you haven't witnessed the wrath of a god, Claude. They may be naturally disconnected from our realm-- but they often get what they desire.]"

"I know that." Claude replied in a quieted voice.

"[No. You don't. Not really or else you wouldn't have done this.]"

Claude stayed silent this time, leaving Arne no choice but to fully engage him in his thoughts.

"[Let me give you an example-- a lesson of sorts. In my time, Necromancers were a distant possibility spoken of in whispers all over. Something my father and his advisors often spoke of alongside Dark-Elf Nightlords and such, ripping through the foggy plains of Arthuria. A boogeyman with no face in many ways. Until many....with many faces emerged where they could. They just needed leaders. People who had the resources and funds to back their experiments.]"

"Vampires..." Claude remembered Arne's last lesson on Vampires, on how they kept small groups of Necromancers to pilot the mindless BloodStarved and other Undead entities to empower their covens. They were valuable assets to the supernatural underworld.

"[Yes. Such a allied structure was quite common all over. The Necromancers in the Isle's of Indus were no exception in that regard. Flourishing until they had grown too large, even taking over entire Vampire covens to freely play with death to their hearts desire and experiment with Vampirism on themselves. Vampiric Necromancers. They were quickly labeled the Vetala-- and they were deadly-- deadly enough to take out a few of our own. So deadly, that a certain god took offense to their slowly growing lordship over death and change. Who do you think I'm referring to? She often chooses her disciples from the Isle's of Indus...and she has a propensity for destruction.]"

Claude wasn't exactly a genius or even well read when it came to the gods and their mythos-- but there were some that permeated their zones of education. Some who's names were spoken everywhere simply because of their fame-- or infamy called for it. Such as the one Arne was referring to. He would've called it faster if the direction of the story had taken such a violent turn.

"Kali...."

"[Goddess of Death and Destruction. She was angered by their hold on what she claimed godhood over-- angered by their unapologetic rise to power with no signs of ever showing respect. Gods are often drunk with pride, and she was no different. She wanted people to remember, and she wanted the Vetala gone.]"

"What did she do?" Claude asked while walking through the forest.

"[She overstepped the slowly growing process a god and their disciple embark on. The journey isn't simply a powersharing adventure-- it's a lesson as I've learned from you, it's an attempt to make sure their name lives on through their disciple who they attempt to grow in their image. A second coming of sorts. From what I read and heard-- she ignored all that, pouring giant portions of her power into her chosen, scorching them with her destructive and deadly magics until....a god walked the earth for a matter of weeks. A Human turned godly. They couldn't hold the power, Claude. godly human beings were on a power high for weeks, slaying every vampire they could find before exploding and taking out cities in a flash.]"

"Kali was abusing her ability to seek chosen....She'd pick someone, fill them with power until they exploded from not being able to contain it, and then move on."

"[She killed hundreds of thousands of innocents just the remove a few hundred Vampiric Necromancers that got too cocky. Why do you think the Isle's of Indus only recently became islands? How did India get broken and split up in such a way?]"

Claude felt like his heart dropped into his pants, "The people exploding...."

"[She busted that place to bits in search of those Vampires. And that was just because they were too cocky. Imagine if they stole from her.]"

Well, it was safe to say Claude got the message.

"Arne.....I get what you're saying." He could hear Rollan in the distance.

"[Do you?]"

"Yes. You don't want me pissing off Fenrir and bringing about Ragnarok prematurely because of my own blind thirst for power that may fuck up everything."

"[Hmm....maybe you do get it.]"

"But..."

"[Fucks sake!]"

"Chillout. You also said something else that I got. These gods-- they aren't born here....where they are actively being praised and prayed to. This is the land of their believers. And they don't want to lose them. It's a large source of their pride, Right? So, they pick their chosen, and try to reimagine themselves in a warrior born on earth. They teach and guide.....some more forcefully than others.."

"[You got that right...]"

"Ok. And one of Fenrir's lessons is for me to fight for everything. Monstrous individuals aren't civil-- usually, they're ferocious and powerful....because survival demands it. I think Fenrir's ok with what I did because it was a grab for power-- for survival. I mean....I don't think he's like most gods. He's training me to fight him-- to try and kill him someday. He's so confident in his power that he's sharing it with me.....to catch up with him. I think he wanted me to do this....why else would he bring up Frosty..." Claude said, speaking more to himself by the end of it.

"[I can't say for sure, Claude. But there's one thing I can remind you of. Fenrir is a suspected Dark God.....he'd probably be one if he'd chosen more Heroes before you. Be careful, don't forget where you both stand on the plain of morality.]"

"Can't forget." Claude replied flatly before entering the field of Rollan's home with his hand in his pocket, letting his fingers brush over the leafskin wrapping. He could still feel the vibrations of power emanating from beneath the wraps. All from a bundle of fur.

"I need to speak to Rollan before I do anything anyway.."

***

After another bit of walking and stretching after the battle, Claude came to a stop at his Ancient Oak. The tree had grown since he'd first planted the seed and had the ritual initiated by Rollan to be awakened as a Moon Druid. The bark had retained it's dark complexion with beautifully vibrant leaves sprouting from the branches that had stretched out-- seven feet off the ground, scratching out in all directions like the clawed hands of a thousand beasts. He could feel the natural energy emanating from it with it's own glaring individuality and otherworldly edge.

As if Rollan knew he needed to be spoken too, Claude's torn ear flinched in response to the sounds of liquids sloshing in a bottle behind him, followed by an inspecting sniff.

"Snakes.....seem to have a thing for you, Monsieur. No?"

"That's how it's starting to feel." Claude replied, distantly listening to Ursula checking on Frosty.

Rollan slowly came and sat beside him, cursing his knee's on the way down. "What new pain plagues your mind today?"

"What the f--....can you read minds?" Claude asked, stunned by the shockingly forward question.

"No. I can smell your anger."

"Really??"

Rollan took another drink, "No, Beast who reeks of goatpiss. The Berserker told me if I'm thinking of sending you all on an adventure slaying mythical Monsters again that I should wait....because you're in a funk....a sad funk, hm?"

"Sometimes you make my head hurt." Claude said with a sigh while running his hands through his hair.

Rollan shrugged as if it was a fair statement before gaining an edge of seriousness. Claude internally flinched, half expecting the sober hardbody to be fully returned, but nothing came. Nothing hostile at least.

"Talk to me, Monsieur. Talk to somebody. It is ehhh....better to let it out....than to hold it in until explosion. But, I think you know that, don't you?"

Claude knew what he was referring to. "It's nothing really.....nothing new. It's just that I'm faced with the reality again. No more celebrations with my father.....not on holidays....not on his days off..not even on birthdays. Not ever. It's oddly hard to grasp..."

"A topic not many can understand unless they've experienced it. But then again...response to traumas....it is a spectrum, hm? And it's a response that will lessen over the years. Scars are not only found physically, Monsieur. We all heal, as we are all natural."

"I'll heal when I right their wrong." Claude replied flatly.

They sat in silence for a few seconds until Rollan spoke again after leading him to the garden behind his Ancient Oak where dozens of plants bloomed from the earth that was caked in the grinded up bones of all the enemies Claude and his pack had killed.

"So.....December twenty first? The day the beast was born? How fittingly ominous." Rollan said as he tended to the plants, snipping away leaves and bulbs that had succumbed to the cold of winter.

"How so?" Claude asked.

"Monsieur. Your day of birth is the same day as the winter solstice. The longest and coldest night. A night of change.....a night of prolonged dark. Some religions also praise this day as the day of the suns rebirth...the day that is a precursor to the sun reigning supreme over the skies once more.....I wonder what this means for your future. Longest night...or brightest day...."

Claude shook off the chill running down his spine and jumped at the use of one word, "Speaking of religion. What do you know about gods and their ability to empower people..or animals?"

Rollan straightened for a moment, "Well. That's direct. What has birthed this question, Monsieur?"

"Nothing....curiosity." Claude lied.

"Hm....well. Gods empower their chosen all the time....but only through completing trials and tribulations. They have to be ready to hold that fraction of the gods power.....or essence. It often seems very personal...the act of sharing power, no?"

Claude lurched at the memory of Fenrir pissing on him, "You have no idea..."

"What?"

"Nothing. Continue."

Rollan shrugged and went onward, "That is more or less the extent of my knowledge. The power is one you have to be ready for....conditioned to handle. A god can't just imbue all their powers into a child of recent Rebirth."

"That checks out." Claude thought, remembering Arne's story of how India became a collection of islands.

"Do you know of any instances where a gods power has been shared with someone who isn't their chosen?" Claude asked while pouring his nature energy into the ground to repair a dying plant.

"Mjolnir." Rollan said.

"Thor's Hammer... I never even considered that to be his power....Isn't it a Hallowed Weapon?"

"It is...both. Something happened that caused it to be separated from Thor, after a time when he was gone for decades....after being so active for so long before in empowering his chosen. Many think he died....I would agree."

Claude's insides shriveled. If another Aesir God had fallen....that would mean Ragnarok is getting closer....but if that happened before even he was born. Who else could have died? Why wouldn't Fenrir tell him that?

"As a result....Mjolnir was left behind. Left to fall into the hands of brave warriors willing to take on the bombarding thunders it brought....those who weren't strong enough, spoke of conditioning themselves to the burn. Like most god given abilities, you have to be strong enough to wield it. An unusual quirk for a Hallowed Weapon, No?"

Claude stood up from the garden, an idea forming in his mind.

"Conditioning yourself to hold a gods power...a fraction of it."

He took off, reaching into his pocket as he moved to find Frosty in the midst of his evolutionary slumber.

"OH! Monsieur!" Rollan called out to him.

"Yea?"

"I believe that process you're trying to understand is called Divine Tampering."

Claude looked back down at the fur wrapped in leaf-skin bindings. "I wonder how that will affect an evolution..."

"[Sounds like we'll be stopping at a Library tomorrow.]"