Chapter 18
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Somewhere in an undisclosed location deep within the forest, Aada was bound in chains enchanted with runes and seated on a chair inside a pitch-black room, with only a single candle providing a meagre light source. The young Oracle trembled in terror as she gazed at the man standing before her. What horrible things would he do to her? What tortures would he inflict to make her talk?
"All I ask of you is to help me get into Asgard," the man said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Is that really so difficult to understand?"
Aada spat at his face.
She seethed with rage at the absurdity of his words. First, he and his undead army had attacked her village, killed her father and friends, kidnapped her—and now he stood before her, demanding entrance into Asgard as if asking for a free meal. After all he had done, he had the audacity to speak such nonsense.
"I will never let you enter the dwelling place of the Gods," she growled. "I am Aada of Fredilig, Oracle of the Norse Gods. I would rather die than let a monster like you into Asgard."
"Monster?" the man repeated as he wiped her spit from his face. "Is that what people call me now?" He chuckled, amused by how the title she has just called him. "You know, back then, people called me the Scholar—a very prestigious title, mind you. Then I married my beautiful wife, and was called a husband. Later, my wife gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and I was proud to earn the title 'Father.' Everything was going just fine."
He spoke as he stared into the dark abyss of the room. His expression turned nostalgic—but it quickly vanished as his cold, rage-filled eyes bore deep into Aada's soul.
"Then my daughter was taken from us by a disease. My wife and I did everything we could to bring her back, but your FUCKING GODS AND THOSE FUCKING CHRISTIANS!" he roared. "They branded me a madman—and my wife, a witch! Your gods ignored my pleas. They abandoned me! And the fucking Christians? They burned my wife to ashes! I begged Odin to hear my cries!"
He tried to calm himself, and eventually succeeded. But Aada's heart pounded so violently, she could hear it echoing in her chest. Just who are you...?
"Your gods—well, they were once my gods too," he said, chuckling darkly as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His face was deathly pale—almost corpse-like—thin and gaunt, as though he hadn't eaten in days.
"Let me tell you something, Aada... Just like me, the gods have abandoned you too. You will never leave this place—and they will never come for you."
"Keep telling yourself that," she snarled. "They will come for you. And when they do, you'll feel Odin's wrath!"
The man smirked at her threat. "Odin's wrath, my ass." He cackled like a lunatic, sending a chill down Aada's spine and making her hair stand on end.
"That old bastard will die by my hands—I'll squeeze the very soul from his body and make him part of my undead army. And when I'm done, I'm setting my sights on the Christians. Funny, isn't it? That I the man you called a monster... That I'll be the one to start Ragnarok."
He leaned in closer, voice dropping low.
"But I need your help to do that. You're one of the only people in Midgard who can create a gateway to Asgard. So do as I say—or die a painful death. And when I'm finished, there'll be nothing left of your body. Do you understand?"
Aada didn't answer.
This didn't anger him. Instead, he chuckled and let go of her chin.
"It's kinda pleasant having you here, Aada. You've been a very good listener so far. Since you're so patient, I'll return the favor."
He picked up the candle and moved toward the exit. With his back to her, the flickering light cast a shadowy silhouette—thin, frail, and limping. Just before leaving, he turned to her with a grin plastered on his face.
"I'll give you two days to consider. I'm feeling generous today. But after that, I'll take drastic measures to get what I want."
"See you later, Aada."
With that, he blew out the candle. Darkness devoured the room.
---
Back at the village, things were grim. First, the Oracle had been kidnapped. Then, one of their finest Valkyries was missing—possibly dead. The four Valkyries who had assisted Rossweisse retold the events of that night to Eir and Erik, both of whom sensed that something wasn't right.
"I believe a summoner is responsible for this mess," Erik declared.
Eir nodded. "Your reasoning is sound. Based on the testimony and the evidence, I agree. It has to be a summoner."
For seven years, they had theorized that the undead were spawning from the forest due to the Russo-Finnish War of 1939. Over 300,000 corpses had been left behind—more than enough to become undead. While the presence of orcs and draugr remained unexplained, it was the best theory they had.
The undead typically attacked in small groups—rarely more than twenty. These attacks were considered minor threats, too low-paying and easy for seasoned Valkyries or Einherjars to bother with. So the task fell to the Valhalla Institute, where it was used as live combat training for students in their eleventh and twelfth semesters. One supervising Valkyrie and one Einherjar were enough to keep order.
It benefitted both sides—strengthening the faith of their followers and providing practical experience for the young warriors.
"Just who could this summoner be?" Erik asked aloud, though he already had a hunch.
"I hope it's not who I think it is," Eir replied, instantly realizing who he meant. "That man caused enough problems with his stunt thirty years ago."
"Ragnar Olsen," Erik said bitterly. "That son of a bitch should have been executed, not exiled."
More than thirty years ago, Ragnar Olsen was a man once praised as Midgard's greatest Rune Master, Ragnar's legacy fell into controversy when he married a known witch. But even that paled in comparison to what he did next.
Years later he and his wife attempted to experiment with rune magic that was banned by Odin and Mimir, it was rightfully banned as it was used for tampering with corpses and souls. The result? The Undead Attack of 1988—an atrocity in the territory of the Biblical faction in Norway.
The Biblical faction and their exorcists had to clean up his mess, using memory erasing magic on the surviving civilans, making the whole traumatic event nothing more than just a pandemic outbreak.
The Biblical then demanded the people responsible to be judged and punished.
At his trial, Ragnar and his wife was ordered to cease his experiments. He refused. As punishment, he was stripped of every title and honor he'd ever earned. A dwarven rune was etched into him and his wife, preventing them from ever using magic again. They were then expelled from the Nordic lands.
Since then, Ragnar Olsen had vanished.
Now, with the Oracle kidnapped, the signs were clear. There could only be one motive—he wanted to reach Asgard.
---
HAH!
At the woodcutter's shed, a Valkyrie brought an axe down on a log, splitting it clean in one powerful swing.
The local woodcutters stood in awe—and fear—as they watched a young woman, no older than twenty, hack away at the logs with a furious scowl. Her strength was terrifying, her fury even more so.
This Valkyrie was Sigrun.
With the Oracle gone, they were stuck in the village. Eir had ordered the Valkyries to assist the locals however they could. Some helped the hunters, some went fishing, and others worked with Erik to strengthen the village's defenses.
Sigrun chose to work at the woodcutter's shed—taking out her frustration on defenseless logs.
"Sigrun?" came a voice behind her. One of the Valkyries who had accompanied Rossweisse stepped forward, accompanied by three others. Their heads hung low, eyes avoiding hers.
"Yeah, what?" she growled, not in the mood for company. The mission was a disaster. Their only way home was gone. Rossweisse—her best friend—was missing. 'Was she even still alive? What if she's dead? How will I tell her parents?' such thoughts occupied her mind.
"I'm sorry," the Valkyrie said, shame thick in her voice. "We couldn't save her. We know she was like a sister to you. The pain of losing her must be unbearable."
"Hey—guys, I'm not mad at you!" Sigrun waved her hands in panic. "Maybe at first I was, but I understand. I know what you were up against."
Relief washed over the group. Seeing Sigrun's usual smile return, they couldn't help but smile too.
"I just wish I could search for Rossweisse and bring her back," Sigrun admitted.
Her companions looked uneasy. "We don't want to sound pessimistic... but what if she's... you know... dead?"
Sigrun burst out laughing.
"No way. She's alive. She might be clumsy—but she's smart. I believe she's out there right now, trying to contact us."
Just then, a sound came from Sigrun's Oracle phone. Someone was calling her.
ROSSWEISSE CALLING
"Hello!? Rose, can you hear me?"
Sigrun sighed with relief as she heard her friend's voice on the other end.
"Yes, I can—but.. reception... terrible," Rossweisse voice came through her phone.
"Same here," Sigrun said, glancing at her screen. One bar.
Their devices—Oracle Phones—were marvels of the supernatural world. A blend of Nordic magic and Midgardian tech.
They allowed long-distance communication using magic-infused towers which came in the form temples, the bigger the temple the better is the signal strength. One good thing about the Oracle phone is that it came with security systems so advanced that only a user's fingerprint and unique magic signature could unlock them.
To call someone, their magical signature must be recorded in the phone as contacts. When calling a person, the phone sends a magic signal that is received by an Oracle tower located at the village temple. The temple reads the signal and directs it to the person you want to communicate with. However, since the temple in this village is small, the reception is limited.
" I don't think it will get any better soon. " Rosseweisse sighed, " But don't worry I'm safe and sound, just a little injured while fighting a giant Draug. "
" What you're injured?! " Sigrun exclaimed, but no response came from Rossweisse.
" Hey why are you quiet? Hello! " She checked her phone and found that there was no service.
---
Rosseweisse clicked her tongue in annoyance as she stared at the glowing screen. On the corner of her cracked screen, she saw it... No service.
"At least she knows I'm safe," she muttered to herself, trying to remain optimistic. Sigrun was like an older sister to her, and by now, she'd no doubt be worrying about her well-being. That thought made her stomach twist.
Before she could open her mouth to voice anything aloud, a curious voice interrupted her thoughts.
"What is that rectangular object, Rosseweisse?" Igor asked, tilting his head and pointing at the phone in her hand.
Before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps approached from the treeline. Nikolai emerged from the forest, a massive deer slung over his broad shoulder. His clothes were stained with fresh blood, and yet he walked with the casual ease of someone returning from a simple errand.
...
[Six Hours Earlier]
As soon as breakfast ended, Nikolai looked at her and said, "Want to get some fresh air? You've been cooped up in bed too long."
Rosseweisse hesitated. The pain in her back had faded enough that movement didn't send fire down her spine anymore. Still, she knew she wasn't at full strength yet. Before she could respond, Nikolai waved over Artom and Igor.
"You two, grab the rocking chair and some pillows. We're moving your mama outside for some sun."
She blinked. "I can walk, you know."
"Not while I'm around," he said matter-of-factly. Then, without waiting for permission, he scooped her into his arms like a bride on her wedding night.
"Put me down!" she shouted, cheeks flaring scarlet.
He laughed as he carried her, undeterred by her squirming. "Nope. You'll hurt yourself. You're not doing that on my watch."
Though she protested, her arms instinctively looped around his neck. She turned her face away, too flustered to look him in the eye. Instead, she covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat spreading down to her neck.
When she finally peeked between her fingers, she saw his face — calm, confident, and smiling gently down at her.
Why is my heart beating so fast? she wondered, her throat tightening.
It wasn't a mystery. She knew this feeling. She'd read enough romance novels to recognize it. As much as she tried to deny it, it was there — an unmistakable flutter that settled in her chest whenever he was close.
Why now, of all times? she groaned inwardly. It's his fault. All of this is his fault.
What woman wouldn't fall for a man like this? Kind, strong, gentle — the kind of man who carried her outside just so she could enjoy the breeze. And to top it all off, he could cook — though admittedly, his idea of cuisine revolved almost exclusively around meat and potatoes.
And then there was that moment. The one that haunted her most of all.
He'd promised to marry her — just to take responsibility for undressing her without consent when she was injured.
Why would he even say something like that? she thought, flustered again. What kind of man does that?
A ridiculous, frustrating, strangely endearing one.
Once on the porch, he placed her gently into the rocking chair, which had been arranged with plush pillows to support her back.
"There. All set," he said, hands on his hips with a proud grin. "I'm heading out to hunt. I'll probably be back by two. Lunch is cooked already — just needs reheating. Artom or Igor can help with that. Just relax and enjoy the fresh air, alright?"
Then he leaned over, patting the twins on their heads. "You two, keep your future mama entertained. Got it?"
"Okay!" the boys chorused, bouncing with enthusiasm.
Rosseweisse turned crimson again. "Nikolai!" she hissed, but he was already walking away, chuckling under his breath.
The boys looked up at her with matching aquamarine eyes. "Can we call you Mama?" Igor asked, his tone hopeful.
"Yeah," Artom added, "It's weird calling you Rosseweisse all the time. And since Papa said he's gonna marry you, doesn't that mean you'll be our mama?"
The vulnerability in their voices struck her. They had never known their birth mother — she'd died when they were too young to remember her. Nikolai had raised them alone, and though he never said it, she could tell he'd gone through hell to keep them safe.
Looking into their eager faces, her heart melted. She reached out, pulling them gently into a hug.
"You can call me whatever you like," she said softly.
...
[Present Moment]
"Papa! You're back!" the twins shouted, running to meet him. They leapt into his arms, hugging him tight as he laughed and spun them both in the air.
"Miss me already?" he said, ruffling their hair.
"Look what we made!" Artom shouted, scampering back to the porch.
"You kept Mama entertained, right?" Nikolai called after them with a wink toward Rosseweisse.
Her face turned red again. "Will you stop calling me that?"
"Not a chance," he said with a grin.
The twins returned, each carrying a wooden plank scrawled with drawings made in charcoal.
"I drew you!" Artom said proudly, showing off his masterpiece — a stick figure with messy hair and big round eyes.
Nikolai examined it with exaggerated admiration. "Wow! I didn't know we had such a talented artist in the house!"
Artom beamed.
"Look, I drew all of us!" Igor held out his board next — a stick figure family: a tall one with spiky hair, a stick woman with two comically large circles on her chest, and two small figures holding hands with the others.
Nikolai raised a brow. "I see someone didn't hold back with the details."
"That's you and Mama," Igor said cheerfully as he pointed at the stick figure of him and Rossweisse.
Rosseweisse nearly fell out of her chair. "Mama?!"
"Mama taught us how to draw, you know," Artom said proudly. "Mama's really good at it."
Nikolai turned to her, that same bright grin lighting up his face. "So? What do you think of their work?"
"It's… wonderful," she managed to say, caught between flattery and embarrassment.
He moved closer, then glanced at the device in her hand. "So what is that thing, anyway?"
She smiled, glad for the change of topic. "It's a phone. It lets you talk to people even if they're far away."
"Whoa that's sounds soo cool! How does that work? " Nikolai was amazed by such a high-tech device.
"Well... It's a bit tricky to explain... I don't know if I can explain it in a less complicated way." Rossweisse saw the disappointment in his face as he said, "Oh." It's not really easy to explain the working of a magical device like an Oracle phone to people who have never even seen a phone before.
" Well, you can also take pictures with it."
That piqued the boys' curiosity immediately. They crowded around her, wide-eyed.
"You can trap people's faces in that little box?" Artom asked.
"Well, not trap exactly," she chuckled. "It just captures a memory — like freezing a moment in time."
She looked at the screen for a moment, then had an idea. Her heart warmed as she gazed at the mismatched family standing on that porch — a man with bloodstained hands and a heart of gold, two bright-eyed boys, and an injured Valkyrie who'd somehow found something like peace here.
"Let's take a photo," she said.
She positioned the phone on a ledge with the help of Nikolai as a crutch, using a nearby rock to hold it upright. She set the timer and they quickly returned to the chair. Nikolai stood behind her, resting one strong hand on her shoulder. The boys flanked her on either side, grinning proudly.
Click!
The shutter snapped.
On the cracked screen appeared a heartfelt image: a wounded Valkyrie, a rugged hunter, and two beaming children in the middle of a forest teeming with death.
"It's perfect," Rosseweisse whispered.