Bonds of the Fallen

Bat jolted upright in bed, her heart pounding as beads of sweat trickled down her face. Her breaths were quick and shallow as she tried to shake off the remnants of her nightmarish slumber.

“Bat?” a voice whispered from the shadows.

Bat sighed and flopped back onto her pillow, pulling the sheet to her chin. “What are you doing here, Val? Shouldn’t you be off celebrating your engagement?”

Val stepped out from the shadows, bathed in the pale, silvery light streaming through the window. His tall frame and angular features cast long shadows across the room. As he approached, the subtle hints of stubble along his jawline and the sparkle in his dark eyes became visible.

“I need to explain,” he pleaded.

Bat scoffed. “It seems every man in my life has a lot of explaining to do lately.”

Val sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. She sat up, the sheets crinkling around her as she wrapped them tighter around her chest.

His eyes, deep pools of sorrow, met hers. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“That’s the common theme these days,” Bat replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Val’s jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate the turmoil within. “When you disappeared, I was desperate to find you. I used Odin’s compulsion, but it only fueled my rage and thirst for vengeance. If I couldn’t bind myself to you, Odin would bind me through my bloodlust. I’m not proud of the path I took.”

His shoulders slumped, defeated, as he looked away. The weight of his guilt and shame hung around him like a heavy cloak, dragging him down into an abyss of self-loathing. Bat could see the black tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and the depth of his despair laid bare for her to see. She leaned back against the headboard, her heart aching for the pain they both carried within them.

“Compulsion,” she echoed softly.

“He referred to it as a gift,” Val explained, his voice thick with emotion. “This gift, the power to make anyone do anything, was something I utilized to reach out to you in the hopes that it would bring you back to me. You see, while two years might not seem like much to a being like me, they felt like an eternity of torment without you. When I saw you again, it was like being roused from a deep and endless sleep. In that moment, nothing else mattered.”

Bat’s gaze dropped to her hands. “I heard you calling for me,” she admitted quietly.

Val’s eyes widened. “You did?”

“In the darkness,” she said, her voice becoming distant. “I thought I heard someone calling out to me.”

“Where were you?” Val’s voice was urgent.

“I...I’m not entirely sure. It felt like I was only there for a few hours, maybe a day at most. But it was just darkness all around. The Norns referred to it as ‘the void.’ They seemed frightened when I mentioned it.”

“Our people, and even the gods, once spoke of a prophecy that foretold the destruction of all realms,” Val said, his voice heavy with meaning. “It’s a tale that has been largely forgotten by most. When you disappeared, I confronted Odin, half-convinced he had a hand in your vanishing. I had never seen him look scared before, but I could swear I saw fear in his eyes when I spoke. Skuld’s return is said to be the harbinger of chaos, marking the beginning of the end for all realms.”

“They think I’m going to cause the end of everything?” Bat’s voice was small, filled with disbelief.

“What matters most is that you’re here now and safe,” Val said softly, placing a gentle hand on her leg.

Bat instinctively pulled her leg away from his touch. “But you’re getting married,” she pointed out, her voice cracking.

“I don’t love her,” Val stated fiercely, his voice a low growl that resonated in the small space. “I love you. You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.” He moved closer, his hand reaching out to gently caress her cheek. “When you were gone, and after a year and a half had passed, I had to decide- a right decision for my people. The Vanir were growing concerned about my allegiance to Odin. I didn’t have a choice. I had to protect my people and prevent a war. If I could, I would change it all.”

“There’s no hope for us,” Bat’s voice cracked, fading to a whisper. “You have to go.”

Val stood up, striding towards the door. As he reached it, he paused and looked over his shoulder at her, his silhouette cast in shadows by the light from the hallway. “I will fix this,” he vowed, his voice full of determination. Then, he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

In the morning, Bat made her way to the dungeons, turning her notebook over in her hands, her mind racing with questions that needed answers. As she neared the entrance, she noticed a Harii warrior standing guard, his tall frame and broad shoulders imposing as he regarded her sternly.

“State your business,” he ordered, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.

Bat hesitated momentarily, a flicker of fear igniting in the pit of her stomach. Pushing the fear aside, she stood up straighter and met the Harii’s gaze.

“I need to speak with one of the prisoners,” she asserted, sounding confident.

The Harii studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Name and purpose?”

“I’m Bat. I have questions about something that happened in the past,” she replied, hoping she sounded convincing.

The Harii weighed her words before stepping aside. “Very well. But be warned, these prisoners are dangerous. Do not let your guard down.”

The Harii’s hand shot out, blocking her path. “No objects in the dungeon.” He warned, gesturing to the notebook she held in her hands.

A voice called out from behind her. “Let her pass.”

Bat turned to see Einar standing there, commanding the Harii to step aside. She flashed a triumphant smile as the guard moved out of her way, allowing her to enter the dungeons.

“I knew I would find you here,” Einar stated, his voice echoing through the quiet corridors of the dungeon. “The moment you started heading in this direction, I was informed. May I share something with you?”

“Please,” Bat replied, her voice weary. “A change of pace would be welcome.”

“For decades, I’ve hoped for something to shift the balance, to bring about change. And then you appeared. You’ve touched the lives of our people and made an indelible mark on everyone you’ve met. The path you choose now will define your impact on our world. You’re a good person, Bat, and that in itself is a powerful thing. Those who love you are doing their best to adapt to your world, to become better people in your orbit.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I have faith that you’ll know when the time comes,” Einar replied, his smile gentle and sincere.

“Thank you.” Bat wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, feeling him stiffen in surprise before relaxing and returning the gesture, his hand resting gently on her back.

She pulled away, releasing him as she turned and walked past the Harii guards, descending further into the dungeons.

The hallway was illuminated by bioluminescent lights that cast everything in a blue hue, giving the corridor an otherworldly, underwater appearance. The cells were high-tech, automated, and devoid of human presence. The architecture mirrored the world above, though the advanced technology made it clear this was no ancient prison.

She could hear their voices as she reached the cells holding Hedda and Selda. Hedda’s laughter echoed off the walls.

“I told you she would come.”

Bat ignored her, continuing to Selda’s cell at the far end of the corridor. The cell was small, with grey metal walls and a transparent door. Inside, Selda sat on the edge of a cot, her hair a tangled mess and arms wrapped around her knees.

The hum of machinery was the only sound as Bat approached. Selda looked up, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Mother,” Bat said, her voice devoid of warmth.

Bat stood before Selda’s cell, the transparent door standing between them as Selda rushed towards the door, her face contorted with desperation.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I knew you’d come for me! We’ve been stuck in this forsaken place for ages without a soul to plead my case!” She pressed her hands to the smooth surface of the doors, her eyes gleaming with hope. “Please, let me out. This is all a terrible mistake.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Bat responded, her voice steady.

Selda’s smile instantly dropped as she withdrew her hands from the door, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Clever girl. It was worth a shot,” she admitted with a shrug, earning a cackle from Hedda in the neighboring cell.

“Why?” Bat pressed her brow furrowing.

Selda sighed. “Always with the ‘why.’ Some things just are. Shouldn’t you, of all people, know that, Skuld?”

“You knew I was a Norn?” Bat’s voice trembled slightly.

“Of course, I knew. Not at first, but it became clear over time. My child died during birth, and Hedda brought her back, but she was different and changed. I started having visions, terrible visions, and no one believed me. I couldn’t stop trying to warn them, to make them see.”

“Warn them of what?”

“You, of course,” Selda replied, her lips curving into a sinister grin as she tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Bat. “I knew I needed to be turned to survive. After I was transformed, the visions ceased. And then Hedda found me once again.” She motioned towards the cell where the Volva was currently smiling and waving.

“And that’s when you abandoned me,” Bat said, her voice thick with anger.

“Judge not what you do not understand, girl. As we speak, the wheels are already in motion. It’s too late to stop it now,” Selda taunted.

“Stop what?” Bat demanded.

“Let me tell her!” Hedda piped up from her cell.

Selda shot her a dark look. “Don’t spoil my fun.”

“You are a monster,” Bat spat.

Selda threw her head back and laughed, a guttural sound reverberating off the walls.

“Me, a monster?” She cackled. “You, my dear, are the daughter of the Void.”

Selda’s sinister laugh echoed throughout the dungeon, its chilling sound reverberating off the walls and sending shivers down Bat’s spine. The laughter was guttural, almost inhuman, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Time before time,” chanted Hedda, her voice echoing off the walls of her cell. The words slithered through the air like a venomous snake, wrapping around Bat’s mind.

“You’re not making any sense,” Bat said, her voice sharp.

“Pay her no mind. This is her favorite part,” Selda said dismissively, waving a hand at Hedda.

Selda explained with an air of mystery, “Before time itself, when nothing else existed, there was only the Void. From this Void emerged the World Tree and everything within it. And you, Bat, were the first being to arise from the Void, existing before time. While your sisters may be older in the traditional sense of time, you exist outside its boundaries.”

“I would remember something like that,” Bat said, shaking her head as she stepped back.

“In time, you will,” Hedda interjected with a grin. “After all, you grew tired of tending to the threads of fate, cutting and knotting them as you pleased.”

Selda continued, her tone captivating, “The realms will eventually collapse into the Void, into nothingness, only to be unmade and then magically recharged once more. They will emerge again and again in an eternal cycle of chaos and rebirth.”

“And it gets quite boring after a while, to be honest,” Hedda interjected, her expression souring.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Selda said with a cheerful grin as she settled back onto her cot. “That’s why the gods fear you and everyone else does too. I also used to fear you until I embraced the impermanence of all things. It’s quite liberating.”

Bat stood tall, her gaze steady and persistent. “You’re wrong,” she declared, her voice rising with each word. “I am not what you think I am. I will show you who I am, and you will see.”

She inhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders in confidence, then turned on her heel and exited the dungeon, her footsteps resonating in determination.

“I am counting on it!” Selda’s voice echoed after her, melding with Hedda’s malevolent laughter that followed her out of the dungeon.

When Bat re-entered her room, she had already spent countless hours poring over the pages of her small notebook, which she now picked up from its resting place.

The light from the crackling fireplace painted the room in a warm glow, casting shadows that danced upon the walls. The notebook, filled with Bat’s life stories, dreams, and memories, felt heavy in her hands. Her fingers traced the notebook’s worn spine, and she flipped through the pages until she reached the blank ones at the end.

She tore out the filled pages with decisive movements, casting them into the fire. As the pages crackled and succumbed to the flames, Bat felt an overwhelming sense of liberation. The weight of her past disintegrated in the fire, leaving her feeling lighter.

Tears pricked at her eyes, a mixture of the fire’s heat and the emotional release of letting go of her past. She watched as the last page turned to ash and gently placed the now-empty notebook back on the nightstand.