Three Days After the Collapse
They fled northeast, leaving behind the shattered remnants of Anteiku, the smoldering trust of old friends, and the frozen wreckage of Eiríkur's barely-held humanity.
Their new shelter was a crumbling Shintō shrine deep in the Okutama mountains — one of the few places Eiríkur's blood didn't stain with frost.
For now.
The first night there, Akira dreamed.
It wasn't a normal dream — not even a memory.
She stood in a grey field of ash, snow falling sideways, soundless.
From the mist, a voice echoed.
"He loves you."
She turned. A massive figure loomed — not Eiríkur. Hjalgrím.
His body towered like a grave marker. Runed skin flaking. Hollow helm fixed on her.
"He gave me space to live. And now I give you this."
"He will choose you. Or he will become me."
Akira's throat was tight. "Why are you in my head?"
"You've touched his soul. That makes you mine, too."
She awoke sweating, shaking.
Eiríkur stirred beside her.
"You saw him," he murmured. Not a question.
She nodded once. "He's in me now, too."
Their days were survival. Eiríkur trained in silence — testing his frost powers now fractured by spiritual instability. Fimbulbrand no longer obeyed him perfectly. At times it activated on its own.
Akira studied the Vættir-Memory patterns he involuntarily described in his sleep — trying to map a cycle to the possession episodes.
They didn't touch often. But when they did — it was with need, not comfort.
They never spoke about what came after.
Elsewhere: CCG High Command
Amon stood before Director Washuu, jaw tight.
"You're sending me."
"To execute her, yes," the Director replied. "She's compromised. Emotionally entangled. Traitorous. As her former partner, your judgment is ideal."
Amon remained silent for too long.
Finally: "Understood."
Later That Night – Amon's Search
He didn't bring a team.
Didn't bring authorization.
Only one bag, and a question in his chest that gnawed at him more than the thought of disobedience ever had.
Why her? Why him?
He found their trail after two days. A subtle wake of half-melted snow, disrupted forest life, and a whisper from an old man who'd seen two ghosts passing.
And a single piece of evidence:
A shrine gate iced with unnatural runes.
When Amon stepped through the brush and found the shrine, Akira was already waiting.
She held her pistol loosely. Didn't raise it.
"I wondered how long it would take."
Amon didn't raise his either.
"I didn't come to kill you."
"I didn't come to run."
Behind her, Eiríkur emerged from the shrine shadows, frost clinging to his shoulders, gaze hollow but alert.
Amon's breath hitched at the sight of him — not with fear, but the recognition of something not human anymore.
"You still think he's in control?" Amon asked quietly.
Akira glanced at Eiríkur, then back. "I think he's still fighting."
"Even if you lose everything for him?"
"I already have."
Eiríkur Steps Forward
His voice was soft. Tired. Cold.
"She sees something left in me. Something you don't."
Amon looked at him.
"I want to."
Silence.
Then Amon holstered his weapon.
"I need to know how this ends. Before I'm told what to believe."