The Realm of Frost and Flame

Chapter 8: The Realm of Frost and Flame

Darkness engulfed him. One moment, the icy stone cell and insanity of war; the next, a tearing torrent ripped through his body. Agony blazed through every muscle as Khaelos's dark energy wrapped around him. He was feeling his bones shattering and reforming, a ghastly reshaping that broke him and made him stronger somehow.

And then the emptiness shifted. Asher was no longer in prison when he opened his eyes.

He laid on a bed of soft frost beneath a pale, eternally shifting sky. The ground was a smooth mixture of black rock and shining ice. Stretching out before him was an enormous tract of country that appeared to be built up from the imaginings of the vanquished gods a land of ancient dignity and hidden peril built up from the myth of the old Norse.

Valkyries and Vikings walked around carrying out their daily activities. One of them Sigrun, with dark hair loose in braids and wearing flowing, plain clothes in soft blues and silvers knelt beside him. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her body lean and curvy, each curve highlighted by the soft fabric. She smiled warmly and playfully, and as she pushed a stray lock of hair back from his face.

"Easy now," Sigrun whispered, her tone a soothing contrast to the violent energies that had just assailed him. "You are safe here, even if you are badly injured. Rest, and let the magic of this place mend you."

Asher's body pulsed beneath thick bandages shielding his wounds. He tried to sit up, still seeing black spots, when he noticed movement beyond Sigrun. Looking out into a window near him, he saw a sight that took his breath away a crystal lake in which some Valkyries, naked and free, bathed under the frosty glow of a full, silver moon. Their lithe bodies shone as water rained over sculpted shoulders and flowing limbs. Then Asher's brain, coming back from the black rush, was flooded with a raw, illicit hunger and with wonder. One Valkyrie, her shape curvy and flexible, chuckled softly as she splashed water, and her friends' laughter mingled with the sound of lapping water.

The air was sensual and untamed a far cry from the cold ruthlessness of the Order. Asher's eyes traced involuntarily each line: the gentle curve of a Valkyrie's neck, the subtle lift of her hips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He bathed in the beauty of their naked forms in that chill bath stirred something primeval in him, a reminder that even amidst a world of brutality, desire and tenderness could thrive. Asher forced himself to keep a clear head about his purpose. Lena's betrayal still scorched his brain, an acid flame that fueled his quest for revenge. He was here to rebuild himself, to master the black power Khaelos had hurled into him even if it meant stealing glances with the body of beings far beyond the bounds of human.

Sigrun helped him into sitting against a wall that was rune-covered. "You have survived a great test resisting the temptation of a Valkyrie body," she told him, and her voice softened now, as she wrapped herself in a plain, silken tunic nothing at all like the fight-wear of her sisters. "What the fuck?, that was a test" Asher thought to himself and he felt greatful for Lena betrayal "Our realm is not wholly war. We live, we love, and we care tenderly. Even in darkest moments, there is beauty."

Asher immediately produced a misery smile as he awakened the professor in him. "I remember nothing but pain and betrayal until now. But here. I feel something else." He reached out to touch his bandaged arm, still feeling the lingering dark power. "I want to learn to control it, to use it to bring down the Order. And Lena she will pay."

Sigrun's eyes softened in pity as she caressed his cheek with a light touch. "Your fury is a double-edged blade, Asher. It can shape you into an instrument, or destroy you. You will master it in time as you will. For now, you must rest and heal."

Within the sanctuary's hushed buzz, other Valkyries and some battle-hardened Viking warriors moved about.

They chatted in hushed, husky voices—of old myths, lost fights, and the bitter and sweet truths of their own existence. A big Viking with a thick beard and battle-scarred face placed a hand on Sigrun's shoulder and uttered something which made her look wistfully back. Hours had passed before Asher awoke again, this time on a wood frame bed in a warm, softly lit room.

His body still pulsed, and his bandages were damp with sweat and cold from the plane. Sigrun and a few of her other Valkyries strolled through the room, their steps peaceful and reassuring. Mara, his prison Escape friend, sat in a small corner, quietly. She had little to give, but her peaceful attention and the slight inclination of her head spoke volumes: she was with him on this, every step of the way. In the privacy of the moment, Sigrun sat beside Asher.

"Rest," she breathed, leaning in close so that her warm breath against his ear. "We will begin your training when you are recovered. I hope you didn't belong we will heal you for frer." Her hand lay for an instant on his arm a surprising, soft touch that sent shivers through him. Asher closed his eyes, and amidst the quietness of that proximit. The sanctuary became their world for the next couple of days.

Asher recuperated slowly, his body healing under the Valkyries' gentle care. The ancient runes decorating the walls, the soft breathing of the wind across the engravings on the halls, and the light touch of Sigrun all worked together to heal the ache Khaelos's dark power had wrought. In all of this, Sigrun taught him the basics of mastering his dark power in this world based on her knowledge. They taught him to focus his energy so that it no longer overwhelmed him, but was under his control whenever he wanted it. One morning, pale light through tall windows seeping through misty dawn, Asher sat cross-legged on a highly polished stone floor. Sigrun approached him slowly, her quiet voice mingling with the slow thrum of old magic. "Close your eyes," she told him, "and take deep breaths. Let this world's chill calm your smoldering fire. With each breath, allow the darkness to gradually transform into raw, pent-up power."

Asher obeyed, his breathing evened out. In that moment, he could sense the black power within him calm into a low, rhythmic throb a sign that he was learning to master it. The sensation was strange and familiar.

But even as he grew more powerful within this haven, the reality of his purpose loomed over him. His freedom from the prison was only the start. He had to return and he had to kill them all. Lena, the one who had betrayed him, would be the first on his list of revenge.

One afternoon, when Asher was training to control his dark energy, he heard whispering in the hall way outside of his doorway.

Curious, Asher took a step toward the door and peered out. There, among a contingent of Valkyries and hard Viking warriors, was Sigrun, laughing. It was a silken sound, one almost ethereal, with a subtle sensuality that made Asher's heart thud. He stepped back, but his eyes could not help but take in the sight: a few Valkyries, dressed in plain but telling garb, standing in a pale, crystalline lake that shone beneath a twilight sky. Their bare, slender bodies glowed with a light from within in the white water. One of them—her hair flowing down her shoulders—turned and saw him for a moment, a wicked grin playing on her mouth. The vision stirred something primal in Asher. For a moment, the pain of his wounds, the ruthlessness of his training, and the weight of his foul power wavered away into a flood of illicit desire. The smooth curves of their bodies, the way the water played over their skin, and the whisper of obscene laughter on the wind spoke to him of a truth he had forgotten: even gods and fighters could know passion. For one fleeting pirated instant, Asher's thoughts stuttered caught between the desire for revenge and the raw, untainted beauty of it all. A Viking immediately slammed his head to the wall, "Take you eyes of them" The Viking said and Asher was almost in tears and he then shook his head "What a waste of beauty" He whispered to himself and he saw Mara glare at him before she walked away.

THE NEXT MORNING

"That was. something," Mara whispered, her voice little more than a breath. "The way they move. it makes me forget, even if only for a moment, the pain of this place."

"Then we should begin planning our next step. The Order's prison is behind us, but thy still want our heads."

Asher nodded, his eyes hardening with resolve. "We must use this world to train and prepare. In this world, the old gods' magic is strong. We will learn its secrets, unlock our potential, and then we will return. When we do, I will tear down every wall the Order has built. And Lena. she will pay in full."

Asher was in training for the next few days.

With Sigrun's gentle but strict guidance, he learned to shape the black energy that ran through his system.

He was taught to funnel that energy into intense blasts, to control it so that it obeyed him rather than destroyed him. His body, though still carrying the frenzied surge that had destroyed him, slowly healed, each scar a reminder of his journey and his oath of vengeance. Amidst the ancient halls of the Valkyrie sanctuary, between meditation breaks and healing of the body, Sigrun and the Valkyries conversed of myth, of the way the defeated gods had first ruled this world, and of the power which still adhered to every stone and every gust of wind. Their voices, at times gentle and seductive, at times harsh and imperious, wove a tapestry of myth and fantasy that thrilled and unnerved Asher. One evening, during a soft late-night hour, when a twilight of magic had colored the sanctuary blue and silver, Asher and Mara were seated by a small fire beside a stone bench carved into an intricate shape.

"I've learned so much here," Asher stated, his deep voice full of conviction. "The energy inside me is a blessing and a curse. But I'm beginning to get it. I feel. stronger every day." He gazed at her, his eyes becoming thoughtful. "I know you need it as much as I do."

Mara gripped Asher's hand in hers, squeezing it tight and reassuringly. "We'll be free, Asher. And once we are, we'll get our revenge on all of them. I've lived here all my life, and I'm tired of existing in bondage."

Asher's eyes darkened with determination and a hint of something . "One day," he breathed, "I will return. I will burn every last remnant of the Order. And Lena. she will pay for all the tears I've wept."

"And get more women" Khaelos whispered in his head before giving an old man laugh "Fuck off"

The promise in his voice was unbreakable.

As the holy twilight deepened, Asher rose to his feet. The worn runes glowed faintly upon the walls, and the soft warbling of a Valkyrie's song haunting and sweet and bitter filled the air. He took Mara's hand firmly, and the two of them strayed from the firelight towards the very heart of the sanctuary, where the secrets of the fallen gods were hidden.

"This is only the beginning," Asher breathed, his voice filled with promise and menace. "I will master my power. I will break every chain, and I will see the Order fall. And someday, I will return and finish what was started."