Seraphiel nodded . "Rest for now. Violet will be your your guide during your time here. But we'll be expecting a definitive answer from you soon."
Violet led me out of the grand hall and into one of the castle's many corridors, a small brick room, like the rest of the castle lit by dull fire sconces, a small elevation used as bed. Very different from my comfortable human life or my royal status in Asgard.
"Well, this is it," Violet said with a shrug." I know its not much but you did end up in Hel, so... manage your expectations. Try to get some sleep, I'll grab you some proper clothes tomorrow. We don't have stars down here, so we've got people maintaining the time cycle with a gigantic bell, don't worry I will get everything for you. You good?"
"Yeah....yeah, thank you, for your help and everything. I've got a lot to think about, so I'm going to get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow. Yeah?"
"Sure sure....sleep tight," she said, lingering and then turning to leave. I know I was being rude to the only person who helped me but I was too damned exhausted and hurt to care about.
I shut the door and dropped onto the hard stone bed. Lying there, I tried to process the absolute madness of my day — from getting lost to dying, to apparently being captured, by a group of Angels of all people.
I mean, I know Angels. At least, my human side does.
Back during the early conquests of Asgard, there were ten realms of Yggdrasil and Odin was still bulldozing his way through the realms, the Angels of Heven were known mercenaries, after defeating the Vanir of Vanaheim he secured an alliance with them through marriage with their princess Frigga. The Dwarfs of Nidavellir, and the Light elves of Alfheim came next and joined the alliance with Odin as King. The remaining realms being the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, Fire Giants of Muspelheim and the Dark elves of Svartalfheim band together as the opposing force for a massive celestial war. They hired the Angels to hit Asgard from the rear while Odin's forces were stuck at the front. The attack though slightly successful managed to hold Odin's forces but Odin lost his firstborn Aldrif and in rage Odin banished the dead Angels present in Valhalla to Hel and cut off Heven from the world tree, sealing the dimension itself.
But dwelling on history wasn't going to help me right now. I had bigger problems, opening my Necro Magic skill page I focused on Decay Touch spell. I'd had this theory for a while now — the decay in my arm is caused by a foreign entity and was a foreign presence. In my current situation loss of a single hand wasn't ideal, I know a Uru Winter Soldier arm may look dope but neither am I getting it here nor do I have the skills required to create such an artifact.
My current theory was based on personal magic — the kind that's born from within — shouldn't hurt its own source. If this decay was an outside infection, my magic might have been able to target it, take control from it.
So, I unwrapped the cloth around my arm, staring down at the blackened, crackling skin laced with violet veins. Then, with no better option in sight and no backup plan, I cast Decay Touch on my own arm. Instantly, green energy flared through the cracks, and a bolt of pain screamed up my shoulder and into my brain. I bit down on a strip of fabric, barely managing to hold the spell.
Having a pathetic magical reserve was bad enough and the pain did not help, but the spell worked and the blacked skin started clearing — not to its normal color, but to a pale, bloodless white. With my theory working, I pushed harder, pouring every drop of strength I had into the spell. The pain was unbearable — sharp, constant, like my entire arm was being crushed and peeled from the inside. But it was working. Bit by bit, the black shell gave way to pale, almost vampiric skin. Finally, with the last trace of rot burned away and my mana totally drained, I dropped the spell, my body slumping against the stone wall. My jaw hurt from clenching, and tears blurred my vision. Then, everything went dark again. Unconscious. Third time today.
Necro Magic Spell gained: Mortis Anchor
[POV Change]
The council chamber had emptied, save for the council members themselves.
"She lied." said Celion, her voice still but powerful.
She stood tall and broad-shouldered, bronze-skinned, her brown curls tied back in a warrior's knot. Every inch the general who once led the charge against Asgard.
Thamiel, slouched in her seat and absently flipping a coin between her fingers, smirked. "We could always sell her to that walking pile of bones. He's been itching for something fresh, and mortals fetch a decent trade."
"Short-sighted," said Valis, adjusting her white robes, the cuffs embroidered with runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. She was the only mage among them. "She's a mortal, yes. But a mortal who found her way to Hel. Either through forbidden magic, or... by besting that dog. Either way, she holds knowledge. Knowledge we don't have."
"I agree, not as strong as one of us, but there's something in her, I can feel it" said Breenelle, leaning forward slightly.
"But she is a mortal, she can't even regenerate, she is living on magic now but she is not durable enough. The cost of keeping her going might outweigh the value she brings," argued Kaelis, steward of their miniscule vaults.
"Azuriah?" asked Seraphiel, turning toward the quietest among them. Carved like a statue from starlight, her gaze was ancient and her expression unreadable, the strongest Angel in Hel.
"Let her stay," she said at last. "Let's see what she does with the rope we give her. She wouldn't still be here if she could escape. And if she tries… we'll be ready."
"Then she stays. But let's make sure she earns it." said Seraphiel