The unsettling silence left by Shamrock's departure was shattered by a high-pitched, spectral squeal. Marya snapped her head towards the amber gem pedestal. Young Freyja flickered desperately, her form dissolving into shimmering motes of light. "My Champion!" she cried, her voice thin and distorted, eyes wide with a final, pleading look before she vanished completely, leaving only the faint scent of petrichor and ozone.
Marya's gaze swept the chamber, the analytical part of her mind kicking in despite the whirlwind of questions Shamrock had left. The damage from their brief, intense clash was stark. The two inert octagonal gems weren't just dull; they were shattered. Fractured crystalline shards, dark as volcanic glass, littered the bases of their pedestals like spilled obsidian tears. The pedestals themselves hadn't escaped – great chunks were sheared away, stone edges sharp and raw, reducing them to half their original imposing height. Only the third gem remained, its amber pulse growing fainter, weaker, like a dying heartbeat.
As she watched, that final ember of light within the gemstone sputtered… and faded. Darkness deepened instantly.
BOOM.
An ominous, synthesized voice, deeper and more resonant than the one that had challenged her earlier, echoed through the chamber, vibrating the stone beneath her feet:
"Core reserves critical. Algorithmic Oracle disengaged. Final cycle initiated. Descent into stasis… imminent."
The ambient light from the walls and ceiling, already dimmed, plunged further. Deep shadows stretched like grasping fingers across the rune-carved floor, swallowing the intricate details of the murals. The omnipresent hum dropped in pitch, becoming a labored, grinding groan that resonated in Marya's bones. Fine dust sifted down from the ceiling. The chamber wasn't just dark; it was dying.
Marya sighed, a soft exhalation that held more weariness than frustration. Her eyes flicked between the shattered gems and the murals depicting Freyja – specifically, the radiant goddess adorned with the Brisingamen, her legendary necklace always shown with three prominent, glowing gems. The connection was undeniable. These pedestals, these gems… they weren't just power sources. They were the gems, or representations of their essence, anchoring Freyja's power within this sanctum. And now, two were destroyed, the third depleted.
Time was collapsing along with the chamber's systems. She turned on her heel, striding back through the doorway into the Chamber of Celestial Weaving. The sight was hauntingly beautiful in its decay. The holographic star charts on the ceiling flickered erratically, constellations distorting like melting wax. The magic pentagon circle on the floor pulsed weakly, its molten gold lines flowing sluggishly, patterns breaking apart into incoherent swirls of light. The hum here was a death rattle.
Her objective remained clear. High above, nestled in its intricate cradle, the Celestial Tideglass fragment pulsed with a faint, insistent light – the only vibrant thing left in the failing room. Marya didn't hesitate. Channeling Haki into her legs, she leapt with impossible grace, scaling the smooth wall beside a flickering ore pillar in two bounds. Her gloved hand closed around the cool Moonsteel prism. With a sharp twist, she pulled it free from its golden matrix.
SNAP-HISS.
The effect was instantaneous. The holographic star charts overhead winked out like snuffed candles. The flowing gold lines of the pentagon circle froze mid-pattern, then faded into inert etchings on the dark stone floor. The grinding hum ceased abruptly, replaced by an absolute, suffocating silence. Total darkness descended, thick and profound, broken only by the faint, internal glow of the Tideglass fragment in Marya's hand and the dying sparks from the exposed circuitry in the ceiling cradle.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The sound was distant, muffled, but jarringly loud in the new silence. Heavy impacts against metallic stone, followed by a familiar, gravelly voice roaring with desperate urgency: "MARYA! MARYA! ANSWER ME, LASS!"
Gaban. Relief, cold and pragmatic, washed over her. He'd followed Shamrock.
She dropped lightly back to the floor, the Tideglass fragment secure. Moving unerringly through the pitch black, guided by memory and the faint resonance of the fragment itself, she retraced her steps to the doorway leading to the Valkyrie hall. The pounding and shouting grew louder, coming from the main entrance archway.
As she approached the massive, sealed door within the arch, a sensor activated in the darkness. The warm golden scan-light washed over her briefly. HISSSSS… CLUNK. The door slid open smoothly.
Scopper Gaban stood framed in the opening, Sea Breaker and Sky Cleaver held ready in white-knuckled grips, his face etched with deep lines of worry and battle-grime. His spiked hair was matted with sweat and frost, his clothes torn in places. He scanned the impenetrable darkness behind Marya, then snapped his gaze back to her, his eyes widening in profound shock. "Marya! By the stormy seas…" He surged forward, pushing past her into the dark chamber, his head whipping left and right, axes raised defensively. "Are you hurt? Where is he? Are you here alone?!" His voice was tight, vibrating with protective fury and the adrenaline of his chase.
Marya walked past him, out into the slightly less oppressive gloom of the Valkyrie hall. The blue emergency lights along the floor were still faintly glowing. "Yes," she stated flatly, her voice calm in stark contrast to his intensity. She held up the Tideglass fragment, its Moonsteel facets catching the dim light. "I am now. And I have what I came for."
Gaban spun, lowering his axes slightly but not sheathing them, his eyes still darting suspiciously into the shadows. "There was someone else. Did they—"
Marya was already walking away, towards the colossal staircase leading down. "He left," she interrupted, her tone dismissive, offering no further explanation. The encounter with Shamrock, his words, his face, the shattering of Freyja's gems – it was a tangled knot she had no desire to unravel for Gaban right now, standing in the corpse of a dying god's sanctuary. Her mission was complete. The Tideglass fragment pulsed coolly in her hand, a tangible victory overshadowed by unsettling mysteries. She needed space, quiet, to process the storm Shamrock had unleashed.
Gaban stared after her retreating back, then into the dark, silent chamber where ancient power had just breathed its last. He shook his head, a low growl escaping him, before hefting his axes and hurrying after her, leaving the fading echoes of Freyja's legacy behind.
The frozen air of the Underworld tore at their faces as Marya and Gaban sprinted back across the obsidian plains. Ahead, the cacophony of battle erupted anew – the earth-shaking THUD of Saul wrestling a frost-bear, the SHING-CRUNCH of Valgard's axes shearing through chitin, Bjorn's bellowing roar as he drove his horned helmet into an ice-wolf's flank, Einar's arrows whistling through the gloom to find glowing eyes, Sigrun's shield CLANGING against freezing venom sprays, and Brenna's fierce cry as she darted in to hamstring a towering cassowary. Steam rose from shattered carapaces and hot, iridescent blood that reeked of copper and spoiled honey, mingling with the sharp tang of unleashed Haki.
"FALL BACK!" Gaban's voice boomed over the din, raw and commanding. He slammed Sea Breaker and Sky Cleaver together, unleashing a concussive CLANG! that momentarily stunned the nearest beasts. "TO THE ASCENT! NOW!"
Saul, heaving the dazed frost-bear aside, echoed the order, his voice a thunderclap. "YOU HEARD HIM! DISENGAGE! COVERING RETREAT! MOVE!"
The giants fought with renewed ferocity, creating a brutal buffer. Bjorn lowered his head for a final, ground-shaking charge. Einar fired a rapid volley, forcing reptilian horrors back. Sigrun braced, shield held high. Valgard became a whirlwind of steel. Brenna darted behind Saul as the giant vice-admiral unleashed a wave of Conqueror's Haki that rippled outwards, making lesser beasts falter and whimper. Seizing the moment, the warriors turned and ran, their massive strides shaking the permafrost as they followed Marya and Gaban's path back towards Adam's colossal root and the fissure leading up.
They passed the chained titan. Loki's head snapped up as he sensed their retreat, the linens covering his eyes doing nothing to mask the fury twisting his features beneath the horned helmet. The massive Seastone chains SCREECHED in protest as he threw his weight against them, muscles straining like volcanic rock. "Fools!" his voice boomed, thick with impotent rage, shaking ice from nearby petrified trees. "You've doomed Elbaph! You shattered the anchors! The Ward falters! The Maw stirs! YOU'VE KILLED US ALL!"
Marya, sprinting past, paused mid-stride. She glanced over her shoulder, her golden eyes cold and assessing in the gloom, meeting the direction of his hidden gaze. Not with fear, but with detached curiosity.
Loki snarled, the sound like grinding boulders. "Mark my words, Mist-Walker! When I am free of these chains… we shall meet again!"
A faint, icy smirk touched Marya's lips. "I will be waiting," she called back, her voice calm, cutting through his roar. "Great 'God,' bound to the Underworld by… simple chains. I look forward to the day you demonstrate your divine prowess." The sarcasm was glacial.
"MARYA!" Gaban bellowed, already yards ahead, skidding to a halt. His face was a mask of exasperation and urgency. "Less sass, more speed! MOVE!"
Loki's response was a guttural, wordless roar of pure fury, shaking the very air as he strained against the unyielding chains, the skull belt buckle gleaming dully.
Marya gave the chained prince one last, unreadable look, then turned and sprinted after Gaban, her raven hair whipping behind her like a cloak. Saul, Bjorn, Einar, Sigrun, Valgard, and Brenna pounded after them, the thunder of their footsteps and the fading roars of the pursuing beasts echoing in the vast, dying cavern. They reached the fissure – the path upwards, towards light and air.
Gaban led the charge, leaping onto the steep, rocky incline. "UP! DON'T STOP!" The giants scrambled, hauling their massive forms upwards with grim determination. Marya moved with silent, effortless grace, scaling the rocks like a shadow. Below, the primordial shrieks grew fainter, swallowed by the deep, resonant groan of the World Tree and the fading, desperate curses of the Accursed Prince.
They climbed, leaving the frigid darkness, the scent of decay and ozone giving way to the mineral tang of volcanic rock, then the faint, sweet smell of earth and pine. The oppressive weight lifted. Light, faint at first, then brighter, filtered down. With a final heave, they burst out of the fissure and into the Sun World of Elbaph.
Warm, late afternoon sunlight bathed them. The sounds of battle were replaced by the distant cries of seabirds, the rustle of wind through the massive leaves of Adam, and the comforting thump-thump of giant life from the settlements beyond. The air was clean, sharp, filled with the scent of salt, pine, and living wood. They stood on the rugged slope overlooking the fjord, breathing hard, steam rising from their bodies in the cool air. The vibrant green of Elbaph's surface, the impossibly blue sky, the sheer life of it was a stark, almost jarring contrast to the frozen hell they'd just escaped. Behind them, the fissure leading down to the Underworld yawned like a dark, silent wound in the sunlit world. Loki's final roar, though unheard now, seemed to echo in the sudden, blessed quiet. Marya touched the cool shape of the Tideglass fragment hidden within her pocket, her expression unreadable, the encounter with Shamrock and Loki's dire warnings a dark undercurrent beneath the victory.
*****
The vibrant green of Elbaph's surface felt like a physical embrace after the frozen hell beneath. Sunlight, thick and golden, soaked into Marya's battle-stiffened clothes as she walked beside Scopper Gaban. The air hummed with life – the distant thump-thump of giant drums from the village below, the salty tang of the fjord mingling with the rich scent of pine sap bleeding from Adam's colossal bark, the rustle of leaves larger than galleon sails high above. Behind them, the fissure was a dark, silent maw, a stark reminder of the dying realm and Loki's impotent fury. Marya's fingers brushed the cool, multifaceted shape of the Tideglass fragment hidden in her pocket. Shamrock's unsettling revelations and the shattered gems felt like shadows clinging to her, even in the sun.
They followed a wide, packed-earth path winding through massive roots that formed natural archways, heading towards Gaban's dwelling – a sturdy log structure seamlessly fused into the living wood of Adam itself, high on a broad branch overlooking the bustling West Village and the sparkling fjord beyond. The rhythmic clank of Gaban's axes, Sea Breaker and Sky Cleaver, secured back in their harnesses across his broad back, was a familiar counterpoint to their silence. Sweat, grime, and the faint, metallic reek of iridescent beast blood still clung to them.
Suddenly, the ground vibrated with approaching thuds, rapid and heavy. Around a bend formed by a gnarled Adam root, figures burst into view.
"DAD! MARYA!" The high, excited voice belonged to Colon. Despite his giant size, he barrelled forward with the unrestrained energy of youth. His shaggy pink hair peeked out from under a slightly-too-big horned helmet crafted from pale driftwood. He wore a miniature tunic of tough hide and leggings, a wooden practice sword clutched in one hand, thumping against his thigh as he ran. Beside him, matching his bouncing gait with gelatinous enthusiasm, was Jelly Squish. The translucent blue jellyfish-human hybrid shimmered in the sunlight, his starry eyes wide, a permanent grin splitting his face. He emitted soft, happy bloop sounds with each wobbling step, leaving faint, glittery trails on the packed earth.
Just behind them, moving with powerful strides that covered ground effortlessly despite her concern, was Ripley. Gaban's giant wife stood easily twice Marya's height, her kind face etched with worry that softened instantly upon seeing them. She wore practical homespun dyed forest-green, her braided hair catching the light. Her relief was palpable, a warmth radiating from her that contrasted the lingering chill of the Underworld.
"Your back!" Ripley's voice washed over them like a wave of relief. She scanned them quickly, her sharp eyes noting the tears in Gaban's jacket, the frost still melting in Marya's raven hair, the general aura of hard-fought exhaustion. "We heard the tremors... saw the beasts near the fissure stirring..."
Gaban chuckled, the sound rough but warm, easing the lines of tension on Ripley's face. He reached up, his hand easily engulfing her forearm in a brief, reassuring squeeze. "Took a detour, love. Nothing the old axes couldn't handle." He gestured vaguely behind him with a thumb. "Bit messier than planned, is all."
Ripley's gaze shifted to Marya, her expression shifting from relief to gentle, probing concern. "Marya... are you...?" She hesitated, searching the younger woman's impassive golden eyes. "What did you...? Down there...?"
Marya felt the weight of the Tideglass fragment in her pocket, a cool counterpoint to the sudden, unwelcome scrutiny. Ripley's kindness was genuine, and her concern was warranted after her abrupt departure at the mural. How to encapsulate finding a dying deity's essence, shattering celestial anchors, facing Shamrock's cryptic warnings, and stealing a fragment of cosmic power? The words tangled, feeling cumbersome, and revealing. She saw Shamrock's face again, heard Loki's roars echoing in the sudden quiet. Distractions. She settled on the tangible truth, her voice calm, flat, offering no opening for further emotional inquiry. "I found what I was looking for."
Ripley's smile bloomed then, warm and relieved, chasing away the last vestiges of worry. "Oh, good! I was concerned when you disappeared like that into the dark." She gestured towards the fissure. "One moment we were looking at the mural, the next... gone."
Marya gave a single, curt nod, acknowledging the sentiment without embracing it. "My apologies. I was... impulsive." The admission felt strange on her tongue, an understatement laced with the lingering thrill of the hunt and the chill of what she'd witnessed.
"Did you fight monsters?!" Colon piped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his wooden sword waving excitedly. "Big ones? With claws? Did you use your misty powers? Did Dad use Sea Breaker and Sky Cleaver? Did they go CLANG?" Each question tumbled out faster than the last, his pink hair bouncing under his helmet.
Beside him, Jelly mirrored his enthusiasm, his wobbling form jiggling violently. "Bloop! Fight monsters! Bloop! Big claws! Bloop! Misty powers! Did they go squish?" He morphed one gelatinous hand into a crude, wobbly fist and punched the air. "Like that?"
Gaban chuckled again, the sound deeper this time, laced with genuine amusement and bone-deep tiredness. He ruffled Colon's pink hair, making the helmet tilt precariously. "Okay, firebrand, okay! Stories aplenty, I promise. But first..." He gestured pointedly at their filthy, blood-spattered, frost-rimed clothes. "...we need a hot soak and about a barrel of your mother's stew. Can't tell tales smelling like a frost-bear's den, eh?"
Ripley clapped her large hands together once, the sound sharp and decisive. "Exactly! I know just what to make." Her eyes sparkled with domestic purpose. "Something hearty. Something warm. Something to chase the Underworld chill right out of your bones." She turned, already planning, her gaze sweeping over Marya. "A good soak in the spring first, Marya. It'll do wonders." It wasn't a request, but an expectation that Marya welcomed.
Colon puffed out his cheeks, momentarily disappointed, but the promise of food and future stories quickly revived him. "Okay! But after stew! Tell everything!" He brandished his wooden sword again, pretending to duel an imaginary beast.
Jelly bounced in place, his bioluminescence pulsing faintly with excitement. "Bloop! Stew! Bloop! Soak! Bloop! Stories!" He wobbled after Ripley, who had already started striding purposefully back towards the log house, its familiar silhouette welcoming against the immense backdrop of Adam's bark. The scent of woodsmoke from its stone hearth began to mingle with the pine and salt, a promise of warmth and temporary sanctuary.
Marya watched them go, Colon chattering excitedly to Jelly, Ripley's broad back radiating comforting domesticity, Gaban falling into step beside his wife. The Tideglass fragment pulsed faintly against her thigh, a key to ancient riddles and the Eclipse Gate. The deity's fading light, Shamrock's unsettling presence, Loki's roars – they were the echoes of the deep dark. Here, bathed in Elbaph's life-giving sun, smelling stew and woodsmoke, confronted by Colon's innocent demands and Jelly's absurd bloops, the shadows receded, just a little. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Marya's lips as Jelly attempted to mimic Colon's sword thrust and wobbled dangerously off-balance. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the void felt less absolute. She followed them towards the house, the deck's promise of steaming hot water suddenly like a necessary grounding before plunging back into the labyrinth of celestial riddles.