Though The First Will Not Be The Last

Tusenfryd Nekropolis, 1118 A.C.

There was blood everywhere.

The earth was bathed in it.

The air smelled of blood, not air.

The most amount of what she could see was a vivid red — bright, ostentatious maroon like the shade of a red rose, glowing under the stark sunlight and reflecting on the metal armor and weapons lay forgotten on the ground. Every time she drew breath, the coppery smell of it nauseated her. It lacked the subtle fragrance of honey that all Higher Ones' blood carried, as it did the sulfuric scent of the beasts' sál and, by that fact alone, along with the color, she knew the thousands of bodies laid in blood ahead of her belonged to Children of Clay.

An army.

Dead. Murdered.

Slaughtered.

Her eyes tracked the land before her.

She'd seen blood before, as any child born around the time of her birth. The sight of the blood itself wasn't what disturbed her. She was old enough to have seen battlegrounds before — just like any sentient being would in their long existence —, and she was no fool to think for a second that such a place would not reek of blood after the battle had ended.

No.

She knew war quite well. The worlds, for too advanced they might be, lived and breathed in conflict. Such quarrels drew the path of any civilization she'd ever known or been told about, for it was in any being's nature to fight for something, whether it was striving for a better life and the hopes of a more honorable living or simply selfishly destroying the possessions of another. What struck her about this sight, in particular, was the deeply indented knowledge that came from it.

What it meant.

Blood. Corpses. Death. Suffering.

It was a massacre.

No eyes were needed to see what'd happened here. No ears to hear the screams and the crunching of metal. No heart to feel the agony and blood spilled upon these grounds. She hadn't seen any of it, but just as she stood there, at the top of the hill overlooking the lands underneath, it all became incredibly clear to her.

For what she needed no eyes to see, she'd already seen a thousand times before.

The steel-clad army of Children of Clay had walked out of the city, knowing not in their minds but in their hearts that they'd never see it again. Their own king, a man of great and honorable wisdom, had lost his life in this battle, seeking to protect his people and safeguard Midgard from the beasts that plagued it. If she closed her eyes, she could see his face as he'd been before his head had been severed from his body, tall, fair-haired, and with iridescent blue eyes identical to all those of his lineage. He'd known all along the fate that awaited him and his army. And no lie had he told to his men, either, for he had always said their goal was fraught with a danger that would certainly only gain their death. Still, despite knowing their odds, none showed weakness, marching head-long into death's arms, dripping blood onto the ground before the first edge of a blade had even been drawn.

Come the next morning, not a soul returned, but neither did the beasts.

In its stead, now, lays a garden.

A garden of rusted and beat metal. A warriors' garden. The last stand of an entire kingdom.

They may have died, but they did not lose the war for she was here to bear witness to their glory. It was nothing if not a soldiers' graveyard. The last resting place of thousands of men who gave their lives to protect their kingdom and their world.

And with their sacrifice, the world was safe, for years to come.

"Such destruction here…" Her voice died out, fading out like a cough in a dying person. "Gods, I never hoped for it to come to this." The woman's glinting dark eyes deviated to the battlefield, where bodies lay on the ground as if flowers over gravestones. She moved her hands to the side and the soft rustling of moving, tall blades of grass graced her ears. "The world will never know what happened here. No one bore witness to what happened here and this secret shall die unknown to all those except the perished." She took in a breath, her heart squeezing at the destruction before her. One of her trembling hands reached her chest, closing over the pumping organ beating through her skin. "Such a tragedy… the loss of thousands of lives."

"We won the battle, Calamnai."

She turned on her heel, heart racing in her chest at the voice.

Gods in the Heavens, he's alive.

Behind her stood a young man.

He was still in his twenty winters — despite his much older age —, with shoulder-length, bright, sun-colored hair and the most beautiful amethyst eyes she'd ever seen. When she'd first seen him, they'd been far bluer than purple, but time and the power running through his blood had made him the mighty deity that now stood before her. At birth, he'd inherited his father's hair and build almost to perfection, but his eyes were unique in the exact same amount as his story was.

As was the path that'd brought him here.

He was tall and broad, but not spacious. If anything, it was his aura that took up the most space, instead of his frame. With the weary sunlight shining behind him over his shoulders, he appeared as ethereal as Calamnai had ever seen a God look before.

Transcendent.

So much so that Calamnai found herself wondering if the vibrant golden-blue aura around him was an effect of the light or something uniquely and purely his. She'd seen a few Gods who carried auras before, but she'd never seen one as bright as his. Or as noticeable. It was a perfect mix between the deepest gold and the brightest blue, like lightning crashing through pure rays of sunshine.

She blinked —

It was gone.

Calamnai wondered if she'd imagined it. If he was aware of what he'd done. If he'd even done it purposefully. Or, truthfully, if it'd even happened at all.

She lowered her gaze to his body.

His armor was covered in gore, entrails, and blood — most of it black, some of it red, and barely any of it gold. She knew he'd fought in the battle. As the wyrd had foretold, he was the reason this battle had happened. Cuts and bruises mirrored his skin, but he moved as if none of them bothered him, and right before her eyes, they began to stitch close as if they'd never been there, erasing all signs of the battle he'd bathed himself in.

Still only healing.

She was suddenly reminded of the Yggdrasill's own words, centuries before.

'It is not by the will of fate itself that he will be born, but it is by fate's will that he will battle the darkness ahead. It is he, who despite being so much lesser than a King, will be so well-placed in the balance that fate itself shall, at the very end, when all blades have been dropped and all shields have been broken, offer him the choice, this being of a greater purpose, to decide with either his heart or his soul, whether the chaos will be the beginning… or the end.'

Calamnai's heart pinched.

Thor.

This was the beginning of his wyrd. The beginning of his doom. Today had been the first day of the wyrd the Seid had written all those centuries ago. Before he'd even been born. Before the kingdom and the Cosmos that would one day be his even existed.

"Thor…"

"You sound surprised." His lips morphed in a lopsided grin. "I never thought I'd ever see you look surprised about anything."

She chuckled, tight and stiff.

Calamnai's eyes took greater care inspecting the parts of his body she could see.

There were a few bruises — on his jaw, cheekbone, and temple —, along with a few cuts that traced the line of his neck and mandible. But the most worrisome of his wounds seemed to be the sharp sword that'd slit across his abdomen, leaving a wound that'd bled profusely. She could see that the blade had pierced more than just his skin and it was obvious that the gravity of the wound, despite not looking like it bothered him now, had slowed him down at some point. She could now see that the cut was mending itself, although at a quite slower rate than the others, leaving only rose skin behind until eventually, even that mark disappeared.

"You still heal?"

He tipped his head, moving forward with steps as silent as the wind itself and Calamnai had to rub her arms to dissipate the chill that ran down her spine. "Again… you sound surprised, Calamnai."

Her knowledge of godhood wasn't extensive, but she could tell with fair certainty that Gods didn't bleed. None that she'd met, at least. And none before or after. Not in the same manner that Thor was bleeding, from mortal wounds such as a mortal blade or a man-made arrow. Much like her, Gods were only susceptible to wounds made by artifacts. There was, of course, the possibility that Thor's maturity as a god hadn't yet reached its peak since he'd been born and not made, but to assume that he would, at this stage, still heal mortal wounds fairly the same way a mortal would was concerning.

Would he ever truly maturate completely?

Would a part of him forever remain mortal?

Because if that was the case…

Her brows furrowed as she flipped locks of hair over her shoulder, her gaze meeting the soulless eyes of a fallen soldier whose bludgeoned chest still faintly dripped russet blood. "I'd never seen you bleed before."

"Why does it matter?"

Calamnai looked away, wondering how one could be so wise beyond his years while still being so innocent. To hide her mixture of concern and alarm, she crouched by the dead soldier, longing to see to it that this brave man found peace in his afterlife. His eyes were a warm brown, with specks of almond and his pupils were dilated by the sun's glow on the sky. When she touched his eyelids, her hand trembled at the contact with warm skin, and the faintly beating heart within his ribcage gave its last beat, though no breath left his lips for quite some time.

Her own heart grew heavier like this man's soul weighed her own.

Truly, some eyes touch more than hands ever could.

Lifting her fingers, she shifted her gaze to Thor, his eyes now bluer than before, glowing almost an azure against the blue sky. "I can't quite explain why it matters, only that it does, Thor."

He ran a hand through his hair, moving his eyes to the dead soldier and back to her with gravity etching his features. "You're not the only one to say that."

She could only assume what other person had mentioned such a concern.

Calamnai couldn't bring herself to explain the reason his healing mattered, not when doing so would uncover so much more of what lay ahead of him in his path. Still, not pursuing also sat heavily with her, making her feel like she was failing her duty as… what? As a friend? An ally? A protector? A mother? Like so much in Thor's life, explaining her relationship with him was truly much like a science, particularly even more so when no part of his life had barely anything scientific at all.

"Why are you still here?" She found herself asking, rising to her feet. "The battle's over. Did you know I'd come?"

He looked away, into the horizon where Calamnai was sure the ocean rattled the coastline. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away, knowing how it could end." He concentrated his gaze on a particular spot further ahead, where the plane field met the rocks that rose the Hvitstein Mountain. "And I wanted to…" He cleared his throat, emotion clear as he swallowed. "Pay my respects, I guess."

"You mean you wanted to say goodbye."

He said nothing.

Which was confirmation enough.

"And have you?"

His lashes lowered as he dragged in a breath. "I believe so."

Her lips thinned. "I knew you'd survive this, Thor, but I feared what it might do to you."

One of the corners of his plump lips — now with no signs of any split skin — turned up in a half-smile and a shine glinted in his eyes, a mix between bemusement and dry cockiness, though the glint of sadness shone pure. "How could you ever doubt me, wise Keeper?"

She hated it when he acted like this.

She remembered him as the boy she'd met, so many winters ago, young, fragile, and so very innocent. When he yearned for nothing if not the care of someone who would call him his and tell him he belonged. Someone who would promise to love him beyond the ways he was different, most basically. He carried not one single scar of those times, now — apart from the runes his skin glowed when he tapped into his Godhood — but he was far more scarred than anyone she'd ever met before, forever changed by the things he'd seen and had been through.

Though he was good at covering them.

And time had only made him even better at it.

And with the power he held… it was a good thing he was on the right side of this war. It'd be hard enough with him on their side, she didn't want to think how it would be without him.

"The same way you doubted yourself at that last moment, leading your blade to shatter apart."

The God's face blanched.

Calamnai realized he hadn't guessed she knew what'd happened, and as it'd happened moments ago, she could understand why he'd think she didn't yet know.

Although, in truth, she'd known for far longer than she was allowed yet to tell him.

"We haven't won the war."

It wasn't a question.

Still, she shook her head, agreeing despite feeling heavily the consequence of such knowledge. "We have not."

Thor's jaw hardened as a muscle ticked in his mandible. "The Helborn will return, won't he?"

"He will return," she confirmed sadly, turning her gaze to the battlefield ahead of them with nothing but sorrow for the lives that'd been lost. Her legs moved without her consent, and she found herself stepping through the cemetery of metal, iron, and rusted steel, her unblinking eyes seeing it all and letting all the horror these grounds had witnessed wash over her like a storm over land. She heard the young man track after her, following her silently, his footsteps almost ghostly. "You must face your truth, Thor. If you are to succeed when he returns, you will have to meet your truth within."

He said nothing for a few seconds.

Calamnai stopped, giving him a wintry stare over her shoulder. "You know what I am speaking of."

His gaze held hers and despite the winters he'd had to cover the ghosts haunting them, she still saw them — just as clearly as she used to see them when he was only a boy. "If I say no, you'll just accuse me of lying, won't you?"

A dry smile brightened her lips. "I am much too old to believe any form of deceit, my young man."

"Look, Calamnai…" He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the delicate mess of waves that shook in the breeze. A heavy breath left his lungs just as a cloud crossed over the sun, dipping the world in gray. "The Bloodsoul Sword is lost. When I stabbed it through the Helborn, both disappeared."

Calamnai deviated from the path of a fallen soldier's corpse, stepping around it.

She didn't know exactly where she was going, but something was pulling at her chest as she moved, seeking to reach her subconscious and guide her where she must go.

She kept silent.

"Did you hear me?"

Calamnai wasn't supposed to intervene.

She knew that, obviously. Just as she knew she wasn't supposed to use the knowledge she had to interfere with the events in the lands of men. She'd always been told her role as the Keeper was to safeguard the tree and its purpose, for the tree's life was what kept the Nine Worlds alive. She wasn't supposed to meddle in the affairs of the worlds, particularly the one of the Children Of Clay, whose fate had been sealed for so long. But she also knew that their wyrd was deeply tied to the future of all the realms, and she wondered if that meant that she needed to let the prophecies come to life exactly the way the Seid had written them. If she couldn't help most slightly, then what was the purpose of her knowing ahead of time? If she wasn't meant to help?

How could she carry the weight of her knowledge knowing she'd done nothing to help?

She knew she wouldn't be able to prevent any of it, but she could help them succeed.

Couldn't she?

Her eyes closed as her hands fisted at her sides, the decision morphing into a stone in her chest. "It didn't disappear. It broke," she corrected, voice gruff, eyes calmly trekking the ground, searching. "When you pierced it through Helborn's chest, it shattered his soul into pieces, but it shattered the sword, as well."

"Wait." A hand landed on her arm, rolling her on her heels gently. Coming face to face with the God Calamnai met his soulful eyes, flooded with questions. "What do you mean? It shattered his soul into pieces?"

"I do not need to teach you the basic knowledge of artifact-wielding, do I?"

His hand fell away from her arm. "No." He stepped back and the glue of his eyes grew darker, shadowed as the ghosts of his past thundered through. "Artifacts are ancient weapons of immense power which can be only be handled by Gods because they are not simply items of a great manufacture, but carriers of power and an essence of their own which grants them qualities and abilities above those of an earthly object."

Calamnai's brow rose. "And that means what?"

"That not everyone can wield them."

Calamnai nodded. "In your case, it was meant for you and you alone, but you were not yet strong enough to use it for the intent you thought it was meant for."

He crossed his hands over his chest. "What is that supposed to mean? Not being strong enough?" Thor questioned, though there was no pride or vanity in his voice, but simply curiosity and concern. His brows furrowed in thought. "It was offered to me. If I wasn't strong enough to wield it, why was it given to me?"

Calamnai stared.

He'd been given the Bloodsoul Sword specifically to fight the Helborn.

He hadn't been aware there had ever been any weapon capable of defeating such a monster, but when it'd been placed in his hands, he'd felt the power that had radiated off it. He'd known it'd been created for the sole purpose of fighting him, to vanquish the world of its most deadly being — one that had been born from pure evil, with the lone ambition of destroying all there was. He had felt the sword's power. Its drive. Its reason for existing. It had hummed in his hands with the need to trudge into battle and protect the world.

He'd felt that had been the goal it'd been made for.

So, how had he been mistaken?

"You mean that I wasn't meant to use it to kill him? Is that what you mean?"

She didn't move, letting the breeze carry her hair frantically around her head as she watched his golden locks whip around his shoulders as well. "Was that what you wanted to do?"

"Calamnai…" He dragged a hand through his face. "I… don't give me more questions. Just answer me, please."

"I cannot give you an answer to a question you haven't yet made, Thor."

"Haven't I?"

"You ask if the sword was meant to kill the Helborn, and it was. But it was also meant to be used for that purpose by a God," she replied.

"A God?"

A breeze blew Calamnai's hair back. "Your path is not yet done, Guddommelig," she answered, closing her eyes as the whispers of the Ancients spoke in her ears. She heard the young man take a deep breath, confusion so clear inside of him like a cloud hanging above his head. "It was the wyrd that chose you, Thor. Not the Yggdrasill or your father, or even myself. Fate itself chose you, but your truth lingers in your own way, and that is the only reason why the sword broke."

His truth had always hindered him from being who he'd been born to be.

First, as a human.

Now, as a God.

Until he was willing to face it fully and accept it, it would always stand in his way. It would always be unfinished business, a past that slithered behind him, out of reach but ever-present in his very soul and the fabric of his being.

"And what exactly does that mean? My truth?"

"I think you know exactly what that means, Thor," she answered severely, voice bitter because she knew that the young God kept more secrets than even she or the Yggdrasill did, though he kept denying them, almost as if he was afraid, now that they'd been buried for so long, to let them be dug up. "Face your truth, Thor, or the next time you fight the Helborn, you'll lose."

By the small widening of the man's eyes, she knew he understood what she meant.

There was no room for doubt in her words. No speculation. No possibility. Only definitive truth. And the strength of that certainty felt like a crushing weight sitting atop his chest, for, in truth, he knew exactly what she meant by 'facing his truth' and he was terrified of doing it. Of what it meant. Of all that it would change. Either he faced his own truth, or he'd lose the next time he fought the Helborn.

And losing meant death, in this case.

But how could he do that?

Calamnai closed her eyes briefly, hearing the murmurs of the Ancients rise in protest of what she was about to say. "Thor, you must return to the Steðji."

"The Steðji?"

"Yes. That's where the weapon carved of blood and soul was first crafted. It was meant to be the beginning to the end of it all, but even shattered, it can be reforged once more by the very same hands that once held it while it still cooled down in its mold," Calamnai's voice sounded raspy but oddly smooth as she spoke, her eyes restlessly searching the grounds. She turned abruptly, forcing the God to a quick stop in front of her, his chest inches from hers. She lifted a hand to his heart, placing it above the barely-beating organ. "You must return there. It's where you'll face your truth, at last."

His lip twitched. "Calamnai, you know facing my truth means —"

"Many things will change, indeed, Thor," she cut off, agreeing with the unspoken words. Her face tilted as her eyes narrowed and she patted her hand on his chest. "But don't you think it's time they do?"

His head tilted. "Is it?"

"Enough time has passed."

"It will never be enough."

"But the time has come for the truth to come out."

His lips twitched as a muscle jumped on his jaw. "What's the point of unveiling everything that happened so long ago? What good will it do to give the world my truth?"

"I think you'll have to take the risk to see."

"Calamnai —"

"Thor," she interrupted, voice smooth. "You know there is a reason why this must happen."

A tilt of his head. "Do I?"

Calamnai's hand clapped his chest once lightly. "I know you can see as clearly as I do why it has any relevance."

"I don't want the truth, Calamnai," his voice sounded pained and heavy, as much as she'd ever heard it. "I was the one who made sure it stayed buried all this time. I worked very hard to keep it hidden. I don't want the world to know."

She offered him a bleak smile, seeing the tragedy in his eyes and pitying it. "You might not want it, Thor, but you deserve it, my darling boy."

"Why?" Desperation exuded from his voice, his eyes glowing bluer at the frustration of seeing his efforts and his past crumble at his feet.

"It's yours by birthright."

"I don't want it."

"But before you decided you didn't want it, it was robbed from you, and the balance demands that it be given back to you, as it was written to be."

Thor shook his head and his Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow. "But it was my choice."

"Yes. All those winters ago, you chose a path, my dear boy," Calamnai sighed. "A path that you could have avoided, had you decided differently. You can't change that decision, now, but it's the wyrd's will to right it. It is finally giving you the chance to make the past right and walk the path meant for you."

He knew what she meant.

He had made choices. Many of them. All of which had led him to where he was today — and who he was, today, above all. He'd made them of his own free will. And he'd been aware of the full consequences of them. But what she spoke of was a chance to put all his secrets out in the open — things he'd wished and had worked very hard to bury seven feet deep all this time — and right the past.

Did he want that?

No, he did not.

Some secrets were better off left buried.

His lashes lowered lazily with a sigh. "I won't do it."

Calamnai turned away to the battlefield once more, where the sun glinted off the bloodied armor pieces littering the ground. "If you don't do it of your own free will, I'm afraid the wyrd will take the decision from your hands and right the mistakes of the past by its own hand," Calamnai warned, eyes striking the heart-wrenching sight of the graveyard of lives before her. "You won't ever find me betting against the wyrd's will, Thor, and neither should you since you're living proof that all it writes eventually comes to be, against whatever odds."

He swallowed, not answering.

How could he? She was right, of course. Against all odds, here he was, transformed into all the wyrd had written him to one day become.

"You speak of it like an entity. A being."

"It might not feel so to you," she countered bleakly just as a wave of wind skated over her, lifting her hair with whispers of long-forgotten pasts and even-longer-written futures she'd already been told about. "But that's because you don't hear it. It merely touches you and guides you in your path. To those such as myself, it speaks with voices we can hear and words we can put to paper."

Thor shrugged. "It's still profoundly weird."

"Thor." Her hand closed around his. "Most will never understand this, but let me tell you the truth of how the designs of the world work. Everyone's wyrd is set. In your case, it's been set since long before you were born. But while it decides the main outline of your future, it decides not the path you will take. For most people, this means only that they get to choose how they arrive at their final destination. For you, it means the wyrd wants you to specifically take the road it's guiding you to, because your actions will shape thousands of lives and all the Cosmos. There's a word in the ancient languages for when this happens. It's called a kaðl fate."

He'd heard of something similar, a long time ago, in the words of his own mother.

Such wyrds are dipped in what the gods call the 'kaðl', which essentially means 'cord'. It was given that name because those wyrds can change everything around them. The world. Their existence touches lives, changes futures, rearranges fates, molds minds, and alters paths that the universe crafted long ago to perfection. It's like these people have a cord tied to them and their every action tangles it with everyone else.

They come to bring change.

Chaos, actually, most of the time.

He'd just never believed for one second he'd be one of those people.

"What?!"

"Why do you think you're here today, to battle the Helborn?"

"Because I was asked to come here," he answered honestly. "I was called to the aid of the Children of Clay."

Calamnai remembered the day she'd gone for the first time to the Yggdrasill when they'd told her the fate that lay ahead and spoke of the world yet to be born. The Ancients had told her she could not feel the birth of something yet to be. She'd felt so ignorant then. So ashamed. And she remembered wondering how the voices could be so sure that she would be a good servant of the will of the wyrd and protector of the Yggdrasill. At the time, she'd very much doubted such a wondrous future awaited her. After all, she had never exceeded expectations in anything in her life. She'd done everything exactly right to get where she'd gotten.

She'd never overachieved.

They'd told her not to be ashamed, for she was still young and the responsibilities which had been handed to her were yet much too recent. But she'd learned. She'd learned to understand as well as she listened back then. They'd warned her that her reign would be long and wise, lined with threats and a wyrd long-ago predicted that would affect all things. They'd told her not to fear her own youth and ingenuity, for it would be the shield with which the times still to come would not destroy the Cosmos at the first touch of its darkness.

Calamnai now understood what they'd meant.

She shook her head. "No, Thor," she said. "You are here because you were chosen to be here. It's your wyrd." He opened his mouth, but she rushed to stop whatever words he was about to say. "Not for your deeds. Nor for your looks or skills."

The God changed his weight, uncomfortable, scratching at his chest. "If not by my deeds, then why was I chosen?"

"For your heart and soul." Calamnai sighed in a sound that curled itself against the man's cheeks almost as if her hands were cupping them, to bring some form of motherly comfort he lacked. "Because not the heart, nor the soul seed lies, Thor. In a being's heart and soul, no deceit takes room. You've learned this, have you not?"

He had, but he'd never believed it to be completely true.

Calamnai's people were taught from the crib the sacred scriptures. Not because they were the ones designed to uphold them, but because their purpose was to protect the Yggdrasill and the wyrd itself. The only way to do so was by following the laws the Great Gods had given them to grant order and peace to the Cosmos throughout time. As warriors vested by the Gods themselves with the power and responsibility to protect the sacred tree and all the Nine Worlds, they were taught as children all the history of the creation of the First World down to the Ninth, as well as all the rules by which all balance should be governed. She'd also been taught quite early how all living beings were owners of a heart and soul through which the scriptures dictated that their final judgment at the moment of their death would be given. The scriptures also spoke of how all beings were meant to reach Valhalla, provided that those who'd reached their wyrd would immediately meet such ending, while those who had not found themselves delivered to Helheim until they earned their place in Valhalla.

Thor had been taught the same things.

However, he'd never fully understood or agreed with that particular part of the scriptures. Because not everyone deserves to reach Valhalla. Not everyone deserves the sacred rest. Some people deserved to remain in the dark, torturous Helheim for eternity, so they'd realize that their deeds had been wrong.

Eternal punishment should be their final judgment.

Thor turned around, eyes tracking the battleground around him littered with the corpses of the very same Children of Clay he'd come to aid, running a hand over her face, sighing in frustration. "I can't very well believe any person's actions aren't a mirror of their intentions."

"But will you blindly trust that they are a reflection of their core?"

His chin lifted. "So, you're saying no one can be judged by their evil actions if their heart and soul are pure?"

"No, child," she answered, watching the wind caress the hair framing his face as it carried her touch upon his skin. She remembered quite clearly having this same conversation with the Ancients and how confused she'd been, although many winters had passed since then and she now understood perfectly. "I am merely trying to teach you that while actions are of great importance, indeed, there is much more to beings than what they do to determine what they are capable of."

Thor snorted.

That was the same as saying a man who'd traveled in the darkness all their life but carried a heart and soul capable of thriving in the light shouldn't be condemned or judged for the deeds he'd done, for where he'd done wrong, he'd meant to do right by his heart and soul.

That was as much biased as it was flawed.

"I'm sorry to speak this so bluntly —," he hesitated. "But that is…" His voice died as he feared he'd upset Calamnai or offend her.

"Speak your mind, young Thor."

"But that's fallacious. It's like saying we must forgive a man for stealing simply because he says he meant not to take what was someone else's but because he yearned to feed his family."

"And isn't that a much fairer trial?"

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "It's unfair to others put in the same place who followed the rules. The scriptures are clear. The laws exist for a reason. If all choices can be justified, how can we ever be sure that there is a line that separates good from evil?"

Calamnai stared at the God, so powerful and so wise, but still so unaware of the true inner workings of the fabric of the Cosmos he'd one day command and protect.

Thor licked his lips, running a hand over his stubble impatiently as he waited.

"Thus, it appears you see my point."

No.

He did not.

"No." His lips twitched. "I don't."

"Thor, the wyrd sees not actions. It sees not words. It sees not mistakes. It only sees hearts and souls." There was a brief pause and she heard a second's worth of risen whispers before they settled back down into the quiet whispering they always were when she was away from the Yggdrasill. "That is the sole reason for my existence and that of the Amazons. We are the protectors of the Yggdrasill. Of the wyrd of the Cosmos. If any or all beings were ever reckoned solely by the deeds of their time alive alone, then no being would be judged with fairness, and that is not our purpose. We serve the wyrd and while actions matter, what is meant to be will be, independently of actions or choices. For one's fate is determined by one's heart and soul, not the actions he'll take to get there."

"So, what you're saying is that if I hadn't done any of the things I've done to get here, I still would have been chosen to be here, today?" He questioned, fearing the question but feeling even more terrified of living without the answer. "I still would've been on this battlefield and I still would've fought against the Helborn, only to fail in my task?"

"You would have made other choices that would have carried you to this same place and moment. But to answer your question… yes, you ultimately would have."

"And this is the will of the Yggdrasill?"

"Thor…" Calamnai sighed his name with baited patience. "It is the will of the wyrd."

The quick reply left Thor's mind reeling, though it didn't dissuade him from the perception he had of the matter, which he had debated over almost every day of his life.

Still, he shook his head, denying the idea that fate was set in such a way that no person could alter it by the deeds he took upon his life. "That's even more fallacious."

"That is the definition of destiny, young Guddommelig. That you seek not a defined future, but slowly make your path towards it. It's the end of the path that's preset. How a being chooses to get there is not," the words were whispered not as a reprimand or a lesson, but as a lenient reminder, gentle and yet callous in their meaning, so he wouldn't understand them as a warning or a sermon but so he wouldn't ever forget them again. "And that is the place where good or bad deeds lie. They are the in-between." Another small pause, this one more purposeful and deliberate to give the young God time to rationalize the spoken words. "Do you begin to understand?"

"I —"

He did not understand.

But he could, at the very least, make sense of the reason behind that particular part of the scriptures. Because if what Calamnai said was true, then it meant that all people were owners of their own paths. Entitled to their own choices. Burdened by their own mistakes. Carriers of their own experiences. Each person created his own self, certain that fate had written they'd reach a certain purpose, though the way they did it was arbitrary, left to the chances, decisions, missteps, and ventures they took. Which, in return, meant they were judged precisely for that, when the time came, and not whether they'd done good or evil throughout their journey.

He could conceive an existence where such order made sense.

Where higher judgment came not from the actions of the living being — whether they were good or bad —, but from the path he'd taken to deliver himself to the fate he'd been born to achieve.

He inhaled clean air into her lungs. "I understand that all beings are given life with the purpose of fulfilling their wyrd and while the path they take to reach it might not be the preferred one, that does not prohibit them from gaining access to eternal rest."

Calamnai smiled sweetly. "Indeed, that is what I mean to teach you. Fate does not determine who one is. It simply defines his purpose in the balance. Once one reaches such purpose, his trial has ended and the remainder of his existence is solely his own. As are his choices, deeds, mistakes, feats, and regrets."

"So, what you're saying is that my wyrd isn't like other people's, though?

Calamnai nodded. "Your wyrd had been carved in stone for as long as the Cosmos has existed. It's been there through the creation of every world to ever exist and it will live on long before it all has ended. It was the very first thing the Yggdrasill showed me, centuries ago, when I was chosen as Keeper."

He rolled his eyes. "Quite dramatic, don't you think?"

"Thor."

He shrugged, unapologetic. "I'm sorry. I just…"

"What?"

"It's too much."

"Was there really ever a time when it wasn't?"

She had a fair point.

"Your existence has always been hard."

He ran a hand through his face. "And yet, I never had the weight of a world's entire fate in my hands, which is what you're telling me I was destined for since before I was born."

"Then…" Calamnai smiled, making a glow ignite her soft brown eyes. "I think you'll agree you're more than ready for the responsibility."

He closed his eyes, sighing. "I can't believe this." He pinched the bridge of his nose almost as if to see if he was dreaming and forcing himself to wake up.

"But you need to know it."

"Why? Why do I need to know this?" An edge of revolt and anger sang in his voice, now. "Why is this so important?"

"Because the battle is here and you need to understand your role in it."

He crossed his arms above his chest, changing his weight as he scoffed. "What role would that be?" He gesticulated furiously. "Aside from the one I just played in vaporizing the Helborn?"

Calamnai wiped her palms on her robes. "You didn't kill him."

"I know."

"You disintegrated him. He still lives."

"I know." His voice sounded hoarse and low. "I literally vaporized him into pieces."

Calamnai lowered to touch her fingers to a lonely daisy flower on the ground, intact despite the bodies around it and the arrows and fallen weapons. "So beautiful…"

Her interest in the flower stopped Thor. "Earth is quite possibly one of the most beautiful of all the Nine Worlds," he agreed.

"How could it have survived this mayhem?"

"What makes you think it wouldn't?"

Calamnai knelt by the flower, gently running her fingers through its white petals. "After I was born and we traveled to this world for the first time, my mother fell in love with Earth's flowers. She used to speak of how daisies were the strongest of all. They usually sprout in the wilderness, where there is a lack of water and minerals, subjected to the changes of winds and seasons, but they remain through adversity. Stronger and every day more beautiful, through harsh winters and long droughts."

"This is a daisy?"

Calamnai brushed her thumb across the yellow center of the flower. "Yes."

"Then, look."

At Calamnai's questioning stare, Thor pointed out into the field.

Spread in between the bodies, lonely daisies danced with the slow breeze, the white of their petals glowing under the bright sun. They couldn't be counted, as despite the bodies and the trampling of the decapitated horses and bloodied weapons forgotten on the battlefield, a field of daisies emerged, sunny and beautiful under the blue sky.

Thor hadn't noticed when he'd arrived, but now he understood why he'd heard the Children of Clay speaking of a large field of daisies as the chosen spot for the battle.

As he pushed in a breath, he decided he had, now, a more appropriate name for the place.

"A graveyard of daisies," Calamnai whispered.

Thor nodded.

The Tusenfryd Necropolis.

He'd make sure this place would forever be known as such and he would protect and safeguard it until the end of times, to make sure no one would ever find it and learn of what had happened on its grounds.

"It's beautiful…" Calamnai sighed.

"Yes… it is."

Calamnai rose to her feet.

A shiver tiptoed down her back as she realized what the daisies meant. The Yggdrasill had shown her the image of Thor in this very exact field, covered in blooming daisies under the warm season, blood covering his hands.

Oh, Gods.

Just like the Yggdrasill —

"This land has been soaked with enough blood, Calamnai."

Her eyes ran through the daisies peaking from the chaos as her muscles froze solid. "It will make them stronger." A gust of wind sped through, pulling her beige dress around her legs with the smell of blood thick in the air. "They will be here, on the final day, when the war will be ended, and they shall bear witness to the last drop of blood to ever be shed and as the last of their petals will fall, chaos will be rid of this world."

Thor stared at the ethereal woman. "What do you mean?"

Whispers rose in her ears. "Your fate ends in blood and daisies, Thor."

Blood and daisies?

He shook his head. "I don't get it, Calamnai."

She trembled. "How much do you know about the birth of this world, Thor?"

"Calamnai —" At her icy stare, he decided to answer instead of pushing for clarification. "I know enough."

"Out of all the Eight Worlds, this world is starkly different from all others. After having raised eight worlds of intelligent beings who resembled their creators in many more ways than one, all of them having been born in their utmost perfect forms like their founding fathers, the Holy Ones decided to create a world where the race would be given the freedom and the choice to become whatever they wished of themselves. A world where its ruling creatures would be born frail and weak, grow old, die, and ultimately evolve to become the version of themselves the Old Ones had envisioned them to be, one day. The Old Ones intended, with this, to give the power of maturation and growth and therefore attempt to right their wrongs of past worlds in creating this last world of the realm."

Thor had already heard all of this.

Although he couldn't understand how the Gods had come to this decision and why they thought that to be wise. Nevertheless, he was sure that many would argue it was a harsh form of creation, but knowing the Eight Worlds, he guessed only time would be able to tell if it wouldn't make those who arose from it stronger.

The God, restless, started pacing back and forth in a patch of land cleared of any corpses or arrows or weapons, avoiding eye contact with the Keeper. "So, basically, give them the gift of free will and self-evolution?"

"Precisely, child," she agreed. "Before you ask, no one knows the reason for that choice, only that it was made."

Thor swallowed.

Why, then, he wondered?

"Thus, unlike all other worlds, the Ancient Ones decided not to birth the first of their kind, but instead to let the world itself form its first being, giving it whatever shape, size, form, and traits best suited for the world they lived in." The tall grass whistled as a warm breeze carried through. "So, one day, it rained so much that both it and the earth joined to become one, and the very first being of this world was born in the vastness of its empty world, taken by the elements in constant change. It stood watch as the storms terraformed the land, the waters claimed the shorelines and the sun burned the acrid atmosphere. Through the adversity alone, amidst the unsteady climate and birthing threats, it watched as the world created more of its own, molding them from the very same clay it'd been birthed from, to fight the threats that, much like him, had found life within the world's elements."

"They were born from clay. Water and soil. It's why they were called 'Clayborn' in the beginning."

"Yes."

Thor narrowed his eyes, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words. "But why clay?"

"I can't say for sure. Like all things, the wyrd is left to chance. It happened so because it was meant to be so," Calamnai explained patiently, though Thor saw no real explanation for his question, but rather more questions. "As the winters went by and their numbers grew, the Old Ones watched as they strongly and steadily evolved. Not without their tragedies and tribulations, they were awarded the love of their fathers, who guided the new kind with gentle patience and care, protecting them from the threats within their world by teaching them how to defend themselves against them with tools far more powerful than they could ever have guessed. Later on, they became known to all the Cosmos as the 'Children of Clay', and though they won't know it for millennia to come, this was their birth story."

"If they will be loved by the Gods, aided and protected throughout their development, why would they be doomed before they were even born?"

"Precisely because of that." There was a hint of humor in the words, but no real emotion behind them because there was no joy or amusement in an entire species' death. "Unbeknownst to them, by offering such a beginning to this fragile, still-new world where the Clayborn had emerged, the Old Ones placed upon them a fortune that would be the end of their existence. For they should have realized that all existence is met with a balance and ruled by it, and where the Ones Above were lenient, the wyrd itself was twice as cruel to maintain the equilibrium of the Cosmos."

Of course.

Thor understood, now.

It was obvious.

"The Helborn and the beasts."

"Both they and you are the balance. It's the reason you were all born. Because no balance can be without the existence of two weights, one on each end, lest those on the skies above forget it," she quoted the last part absent-mindedly from the sacred scriptures. "This war that started here today has been written for millennia." She pointed at the fallen bodies around them and Thor stopped pacing, interest spiked.

"This war, you say?"

She nodded and looked at him from under her hooded lashes, eyes glowing with something close to pride. "The Seid shows not who fights this war. However, it's always been quite clear that a being of great power and even braver spirit would pick the first sword and, alone, cross the battleground to offer his wyrd to this war. It's that singular action that will bring life to the aftermath, and it's, perhaps, his weakness along with his strength, that will drive the entirety of the foreboding fate Children of Clay have ahead." Calamnai's gaze tipped pointedly to the God.

He froze, his blood running cold in his veins. "And you think —"

She nodded. "It's you."

He swallowed harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You knew this would happen."

"It's been written for as long as time has existed." She linked her hands together, eyeing him. "I couldn't be sure it would be you, but I waited. I hoped."

"So, how does it end?"

"Some might say they are doomed to failure. I don't believe that."

Thor narrowed his eyes. "Then, what do you believe?"

"That the Gods left them gifts with which to fight this war. All of which will have the right time to be used."

Silence reigned for a few seconds.

"So, chaos will come."

"It will."

"How do I know when that happens?"

"It already has." She reminded leniently. "Today was the start. What you did here, today, began the war that will either destroy it all or save it."

Thor ran a hand through his hair again, disheveling it. "And you say it will end here? Where it began?"

"In blood and daisies."

"That's —"

"It is fate. Knitted into words."

"Will they survive? In the end?"

Calamnai bit her lip, curious. "Don't you want to know if you succeed?"

He scratched his chest again, blinking as he fell back a step. "Calamnai, answer the question."

"I cannot tell you they will definitely succeed, but I can tell you that this wyrd will unite all the Cosmos, and such odds are hard to beat. So, to answer your question, yes, there is a definite chance of them surviving this war."

Thor stood frozen in place. "What of me, then? Will I succeed?"

Calamnai wanted to tell him what awaited him, but she didn't find the heart to do it. She never had. For centuries. She'd failed time and time again to warn him of what awaited him down the line. Of the atrocities that were in store for his future despite all the horrible ones that he'd already been through. She didn't know the full extent of everything meant to be, but she knew enough to be able to tell the man standing before her would suffer greatly before he had the chance to truly succeed against the Helborn and his army of beasts.

Like him, they'd been born of balance.

And as much as his wyrd was to be a force for good, there was a part of it that was buried in darkness, for he'd feel good and evil alike. Just as it'd happened with the Children of Clay, because he had been born of the goodwill of his father, a curse would follow him and plague him until the day of his demise.

Calamnai's eyes fell to the ground. "One is always wise to never forget that while the wyrd lives in soul, in at the end of it all, it shall be the blood spilled that will determine the fate of the Cosmos."

"What?!"

Calamnai stopped as her eyes finally found what she was looking for.

She hadn't known what she'd been searching for, but the second she saw the dark smears on the ground, the trail of ashes on the ground, and the dead circle of soil and grass and daisies, she knew that's what she'd been combing for.

Thor gaped. "What do you —"

"Is this where it happened?"

"I —" The God blinked. "Yes."

Walking briskly, she lowered herself to the ground, where a wave of black ashes widened out perfectly evenly from a spot on the ground, where a single shard of crystal remained, darkened to a charcoal black by the piece of soul trapped within — it oddly resembled obsidian, except, when she turned it, it reflected her own face. Her hand touched it and at the slightest brush of her skin, its center glowed a bright topaz like melted gold.

Her breath caught.

"What is it?"

Calamnai grabbed hold of the small crystal. It was no bigger than the palm of her hand and only as wide as two of her fingers, but she could feel the power within. It was close to nothing she'd ever felt before. In her mind's eye, shouts and screams rose, as the trapped soul cried out in suffering for being torn apart into pieces.

If this was a Shard of the Helborn's soul, then where was the rest of it?

How many pieces were there?

"Can you feel it?"

Thor approached her, leaning down in order to stare at the crystal in Calamnai's hand, and even though she knew he irked to touch it just as she had, he didn't move, his eyes gazing at the reflecting crystal with his brows furrowed. "Yes. It's a piece of his soul."

"But it's something else, as well, is it not?"

Thor lowered his lashes, tilting his head to the side. Inhaling deeply, he then brushed his eyes open, focusing them on the Keeper. "And a piece of the sword," he said. After he'd spoken the words, the same button of golden emerged at the center of the crystal, proving his words true. "It's a piece of the Bloodsoul Sword."

Calamnai's mouth dropped open. "Is that possible?"

He righted himself to his full height. "Any other time, I would have said no, but staring at that crystal, now, I don't think anything is impossible."

"Of course," she whispered, rising as well, the Shard still in her hands. "When the sword shattered, it bonded with the pieces of his soul, so they wouldn't scatter across the world. It trapped a piece of his soul inside this Shard, to keep it from becoming whole once more." Bewilderment sounded very clear in her voice. "Even broken, the sword is protecting this world."

Thor nodded. "Does that mean that each piece individually is harmless?"

Calamnai winced. "I wouldn't go as far as to say that, but it will be less potentially harmful, most likely."

His eyes narrowed. "Does that give us time to find a way to contain him?"

Calamnai smiled for the first time since she'd teleported in. "It gives us time to find a way to destroy him. As long as they're held apart, he won't be able to return."

Thor smirked, eyes twinkling. "Then, let's find the rest of the Shards and make sure when he becomes whole again, we have a way to destroy him once and for all. Do you have somewhere you can keep the Shard safe?"

Calamnai pulled hair out from her face. "Yes," she answered, thinking of the Yggdrasill, where the Shard would be perfectly protected, both by the tree, the Amazons, and the Stone Circle. "Find the other Shards, Thor, and we'll finally destroy him."

He squeezed her shoulder firmly. "We will, Calamnai."

"I've always known what would happen. How blood would flood the soil until it soaked the land red. How rains of arrows would fall from the skies. And how iron swords would lay forgotten in between the glades of grass," her voice failed her from the emotion threatening to swallow her words altogether. "How did I fail to prevent this?"

She'd failed to prevent it all.

She'd tried her best. She knew that. To some extent, that served as some form of comfort, although not much. Not when faced with the destruction before her.

The blood, the gore, the death, the smell, and the bodies.

"I shall be the one to always remember what's become of the fate I foresaw and of the future I've always known was inevitable."

The sky turned gray, all of a sudden. Clouds gathered in the heavens and lightning struck in the distance just as the rain started to pour, soaking the two figures in the middle of the battleground, washing away the blood and smashing raindrops against armor and weapons alike.

His hand tightened in support. "We both will, Calamnai. It was my mistake, too, that killed them all," he corrected, voice soft and so very sorrowful, for the thousands of lives lost today carried shame for him, as well, for his part in it all. "We will both carry this loss on our hearts for all eternity and we will see to it that the world these men fought for will come to be. We will battle to see the world they gave their lives for, fight for its survival. They will never be forgotten, nor their sacrifice," the God vowed solemnly, his voice now lighter, as if he'd come to terms with what he was seeing and was willing to accept his responsibility in it just as well as beyond it. "They will live through us. With us. By us. Now and forever."

The rain quieted, giving room for the thunder to roll down from the skies as lightning broke apart the battleground.

Calamnai turned, a hand rising to the God's cheek and cupping it with a motherly instinct she never knew she possessed. "Then, go, dear child," she whispered in a hushed voice. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, her hands curling around the Shard. "Find your truth. Find the Shards. End this war."

Find your salvation. Meet your doom.

His eyes glowed a bright purple as his jaw hardened. "I will."

She let her hand fall from his cheek, the warmth evaporating quickly from her skin.

Then, she watched as the God turned around and began walking away from her and she couldn't help at seeing how this burden of knowledge sat on his shoulders, so weighty and large, and yet carried with such grace that his frame never bowed.

He stood straighter, instead.

She stood watch as he kept walking and never stopped. Not until he was far, far away, in unknown lands, where the secrets of his past and the mistakes of his life were hidden from the eyes of others as much as his heart had always been. He never stopped. Not until he could no longer hear the sounds of screams in his ears. Not until the soles of his feet were sore and in blisters, because then he would have reason to say he'd paid his dues to the lives he'd allowed to be taken, and the nightmares he'd been responsible for. He didn't stop, because if he did, the shame and guilt would storm within the shadows of his mind and take a permanent stand within his soul.

So, instead, he kept walking.

Running away.

Until the rainy clouds of thunder embraced him and erased his frame from the horizon.

Though he knew, far better than anyone else, that no one escapes fate.

And Calamnai stood witness to his proud walk, feeling her chest grow warmer with the man she'd watched grow as he shouldered the responsibility of saving a world that was never his. And a people who'd never allowed him to belong. And a land that'd never welcomed him home. And meet a love he'd do everything for, only to see it steal from him the only thing that would save the world and give him back what he'd been robbed of.

Calamnai closed her eyes and teleported herself to the Stone Circle.

***

When she blinked her eyes open, there she was.

The Yggdrasill.

She tilted her gaze up to the tree, blinking at the magnificent bark of ancient wood, where many beings far greater than herself had come for guidance and advice. However, Calamnai doubted anyone had ever come with all the questions she bore, today. It had stood, tall and imposing, for centuries before and centuries to come, right at the center of the just-as-ancient Stone Circle, that protected and safeguarded the entrance of unworthy people into the presence of the Yggdrasill. The six large, beaked stones rose into the sky, not nearly as tall as the Yggdrasill itself, but enough to make anyone who came to face them uneasy.

She'd spent most of her time here after being appointed as the Keeper of the Cosmos.

She'd never stopped being amazed by it, though. The Yggdrasill was a magnificent tree. Massive in height, reaching into the sky above through hundreds of feet, its main bark was three or even four times as large as Calamnai's body and rugged exactly like one would imagine a millennia-old tree should be, with all the husks it'd grown over time. Its first branches were concentrated into three large sections, each one representing a dimension of the Cosmos. Its leaves, once a most beautiful green, now fell to the ground, littering the grounds around the Stone Circle, as brown as the dirt beneath her feet.

The trials were coming.

It would be long before they ended.

They had to the day the last leaf touched the ground.

Calamnai closed her eyes, letting the breeze carry the locks of her hair, a caress so soft and perfectly tender it felt like a kiss on her strands. She could hear the whispers, still, and it amazed her how the air around her seemed peaceful when she could feel quite clearly the surge of true, untainted, and untamed power in her skin.

The wind picked up, then, making her hair wave in the breeze, and as her strands lifted off her shoulders, the whispers around her condensed as if the voices wished all to speak at once and dared not order to speak with. "Velkomin, elsku barnið mitt."

Welcome, my dear child, they'd said in the ancient language of the Gods.

"I'm sorry, I had to go." Calamnai's eyes popped open. "I had… I had to see."

"You've always known it was to be, child. You've always known what was to come."

She was almost afraid to agree. "I still needed to see and help however I could."

"By giving him the sacred knowledge of the future? By interfering with the Shards?"

She knew they'd chastise her.

Calamnai lifted her chin to the tree, stepping back as the voices surrounded her, the chatter erupting around her as loud as she'd ever heard it, stronger than ever before like all voices had begun to shout in unison. "You can reproach me, if you'd like, for telling him, but if telling him and finding the Shard saves the world, I am willing to take the punishment."

"Indeed, you are," the voices answered her, their whispering now completely focused into one voice as if they all spoke the same in unison. The voice she heard was not one alone, but one composed of many, and it was hard to place a gender on the sound. "Just as we wished not to burden you when we told you, we understand that the wisdom you possess must be passed on, for to protect this world, only a chosen few can carry the load of its fate."

She extended the Shard out to the tree. "Will the Yggdrasill protect the Shard?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"The Yggdrasill has not spoken to me in centuries."

"She will, now."

Calamnai placed her hand on the tree's bark and the power she felt radiating from it made a warmth rise inside her like a small furnace being awakened. Her eyes brushed closed. Her muscles relaxed.

The Yggdrasill said nothing but spoke volumes. The whispers dissipated, but a different type of communication happened as their connection united them in one goal.

Protect the Cosmos.

When Calamnai reopened her eyes, the tree's bark had an oval concavity, where Calamnai knew by instinct she was meant to place the Shard so the tree would absorb it and protect it until it was needed.

Hand trembling slightly, she placed the Shard on the space offered.

In the snap of a second, the bark of the tree moved to swallow the Shard, enveloping it within its rings, until only a pulse of black and ember shone through the wood.

Only until it's time, she thought to herself.

Calamnai took a deep breath —

Just as she was lifting her hand from the tree, she heard a whisper of one single, female voice answer her in her mind. It will be safe here until my last leaf touches the ground. Then, I will not be able to hide it from the Helborn. Chaos will reign, my roots will rot from containing the Shard, and he will come seeking it from me. The day he does, I will turn to ashes, and we shall all meet the ending… or the beginning. For, from the ashes, I may be reborn, or my cinders may forever be lost to the breeze.

Calamnai pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned.

"She has warned you, has she not?" The voices questioned.

Calamnai nodded mechanically. "Until the last leaf touches the ground," she repeated, dumbstruck, tipping her eyes up to the tall tree branches, where the leaves still fell, darkened brown, the lowest branch being the fullest, now. "Then, chaos reigns. And once it becomes ashes, the end begins."

"Then, heed her warning. For the trials are coming and when ashes are all she's become, the doom will be near."