A worn rune stone sat forlorn under an ancient ash tree. Once delicate lines were now rough and gritty, beaten by nature and left dull. Vény walked slowly over to the ancient stone and sat next to it. The gentle spring breeze tussled her braids.
“There is a sadness upon you, ancestor…” Vény whispered.
Meticulously, Vény pulled the vines latched onto the stone. Ripping up weeds and tall grass from the base of the rune stone, she cleared the area. Satisfied with her work, she studied the lined face carved upon the ancient rock. Vény bit her bottom lip in excitement. This was the correct ancestor.
Vény closed her eyes as she softly hummed herself. Lightly placing her cupped hands on top of one another, Vény gently pressed her thumbs together. Her mind stilled and her body settled, grounded to the soil. Flashes of bright pieces appeared in the darkness behind her closed eyes. Carefully selecting the right piece, Vény changed the tone of her song. Floating in the darkness, the fragment she had selected came closer. A bubble grew and took shape. Warmth flowed through her body and the power tickled against her bare skin giving her gooseflesh. Despite the heat from the magic, she shivered.
Vény opened her eyes. Blinking a few times to correct her vision to the new light that filtered around her, Vény smiled and stopped her chant. She loved viewing the world when channeling önd. Vény watched as tiny, weightless lights danced along the breeze. Wind, Nature’s breathe of life, moved in motion as the planet inhaled and exhaled. It brought a cooling sensation to her burning skin. The color of nature was alive, showing movement of light and heartbeats of simple plants.
Tilting her head, Vény adjusted her eyes as she caught the faint shimmer of the filmy barrier. It flickered between where she sat, the Middle World, and the astral plane. Cautiously, she reached out a yellow tinted hand and tapped it. Her breath caught as translucent ripples spread throughout the barrier. The ripples grew wider towards the sky then expanded in all directions.
Vény placed her other hand upon the cold rune stone and a once invisible thread gleamed, extending from the stone towards the barrier. The silk thread disappeared beyond the shimmering border. Searing pain ran down her black hued hand. Vény swallowed the bile down her throat. She tugged on the delicate thread with her index and thumb. Her breath became labored. It was harder to hold onto her önd and stay between the two planes. Silently, she cursed herself. There would never be enough training that could prepare her body with this type of magic. Using both the önd and godi aspects of her soul was having an adverse reactions. Her left hand methodically knocked on the barrier in a fluid motion sending more ripples.
Wisps of light swirled around rune stone. Her grip on her godi was slipping. She was struggling to keep a firm hold on both soul fragments. Nearly losing her focus, she drew a shaky breath. Vény could see a form approaching the barrier as her black hand quivered in fatigue. With one good tug, she quickly placed her hand back against the rune stone before she lost contact with her soul fragments. The shadow absorbed into the stone. Vény’s head snapped back and her eyes rolled white. Gasping for breath, she broke her önd connection. Her body shook violently, her back arching in pain.
Without removing her right hand from the stone, she waited until her world stopped spinning before glancing at it. The rune stone was absorbing the light swirls around it. Ancient lines smoothed out and shone with blue light. The eyes of the rune stone’s face grew brighter. The groaning earth beneath the stone shook. Vény removed her burnt hand. Wincing in pain, her blistered flesh tore from the broken contact. Edges of her vision blurred. She was slowly losing consciousness.
A rush of wind burst from the stone with a loud sigh. The earth beneath them shuddered and stilled. Light erupted in all possibly colors and a human form hovered. A deep chuckled echoed along the breeze.
“Ancestor.” Vény hoarsely whispered.
The air was heavy and humid but her breathing evened. The ancestor smiled warmly as he folded his arms together. Vény smiled up at him. She was able to return him to his stone. Revive his soul and retie it to the land.
“Well child, your ability over the eight soul fragments has exceeded our deepest hopes,” he said with an excited snort. Vény did not trust herself to reply. Simply she pressed her unharmed hand against his rune stone. “Rest. I will still be here when you awake,” he spoke softly.
The hazy form of the ancient ancestor hummed a soft song. He swayed with the wind. As Vény drifted to sleep, her hand slipped from the stone into the grass.
Groaning, she sat up and wiped drool off her cheek. Blood was seeping out of angry blisters on her palm. Trying to move her fingers, she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Manna was not going to be pleased. Placing the bottom of her shirt in her mouth, she ripped off a piece and calmly wrapped the wounds. As something swept past her shoulder, Vény froze. Eyes wide, she quickly turned around.
“Do not gawk. It is unbecoming,” came a grumble. Despite the throbbing pain in her hand Vény smiled brightly.
“Ancestor,” she whispered inclining her head towards him.
The misty figure that sat upon the ancient stone returned the gesture with a smile. They did not speak for a few moments. Vény had so much to ask him. Bright blue leaves dancing in the sunlight flashed in her mind. She lowered her head in defeat and stared at the grass.
“May I-“ she began.
“Ah,” the ancestor interrupted softly. Vény did not look up. “While you were recovering, I had a chance to speak with the flowers in the grove. There are certain events that cannot be undone or prevented. Blæingr is immortal. He was never bound to this world forever.”
Vény clenched her jaw tightly. Her braids tumbled before her face, shielding her hot tears. Her body was weak. Bringing the ancestor across the astral plane was more taxing than she had anticipated. There was nothing more to be said. Vény had her answer.
“Tell me of your flygjia,” he said after some time. Vény shot her head up in confusion.
“I have not yet accessed my flygjia ancestor. It has been-” she paused, rolling the word over her tongue before speaking it, “Difficult to connect to that soul fragment.”
“Good luck with that one, my dear. He will forever be difficult,” scoffed the ancestor. “Always been odd that one…” his voice drifted.
He hovered away from his stone and watched clouds drift idly. Vény blinked, mouth open to ask more. Too often she had feared she would never master that soul fragment. Hours always passing and deepening into the night, she had attempted to connect with her flygjia. Excitement took over her body. For a moment she was able to push the pain that spread down her arm.
Her breath caught when her gaze fell upon the ancestor. His hollow form loomed solitary against the sky. Hands folded behind his back and head tilted upwards, he appeared lost in thought. There was no solid matter to his stature. The silver substance that formed his body blew away as tiny glitter fragments when the wind glided through him. Wisps floated below where feet should stand.
“It will be tonight.” He stated in a serious voice.
Vény’s chest tightened, her thoughts draining in dismay. Tonight was too soon. She did not press the ancestor for more information. Standing up on shaking legs, Vény bowed before the ancient rune stone and began her journey back to the holy grounds. Vény stumbled through the gate onto the sacred soil of her temple.
The household buzzed with activity. Servants rushed down the halls and through the corridors with haste. There was not enough time. It was divined that Blæingr was to ascend in a few short days. Vény sat at the base of Blæingr with her legs crossed and tense palms placed together. Azure leaves danced around her and swept away by the gentle breeze. Wrinkling her nose, Vény could taste the inert tang that grew heavy around the ancient tree. Blæingr’s pulse was frail. He was fading rapidly. Inhaling slowly to calm herself, Vény continued her silent prayer to the gods.
Her pure white hair drifted over her face tickling her lips and eyelashes. Tree branches swung in the wind as though singing a soft mournful song. Vény smiled as she relaxed her body and broke the connection of her two hands. She placed her black tinted hand against the cool bark at the base of Blæingr’s trunk. Wincing, a substance seep beyond the fabric she had tightly wrapped around her palm. Her right hand gently rolled azure beads between her fingers. Closing her eyes, images flashed before her in the darkness.
A five year old with stark white hair ran circles around its trunk squealing in delight. A hot bright flash and another image flooded her vision. An older woman whose image was fuzzy along the edges and held no face hummed a lullaby with a striking melody that Vény couldn’t place. In her arms, folded securely in bright blue cloth, a small babe with a tuff of snow upon her head. Another flash and heat poured from the trunk onto her open palm. Absorbing its warmth, Vény laughed softly. Blæingr was sharing His memories with her. There were more flashes chronicling her throughout her two hundred and forty four years. Vény had belonged to Him from the second she came into this world. A soft rumble omitted from the great tree.
Vény snapped open her violet eyes. He was singing the same lullaby. Through their connection, she was the only one on the entire planet that could hear His words. Perhaps the ancestor could now hear him too. A wild breeze whipped around them. Leaves buzzed and branches hummed. Tall grass chanted in unison to create a breathtaking base. The two suns, Ijotr and Rauör, brimmed over with their bright yellow and crimson rays.
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She did not move until the song was finished. Tears burned her eyes and she blinked up at the magnificent tree that guarded over their lands for a millennia. Leaving with a small kiss upon her yellow palm, she placed it onto the bark and walked away.
Entering the large hut, Vény strode towards an older man holding a long parchment. He was barking orders at servants and other priestesses as they rushed past him. Shaken by her appearance, the old man inclined his head in a small bow and addressed her as völva. From before birth, it was prophesied that she would become Blæingr’s priestess. The moment she was born with her hands holding the black and yellow hues, she had lost her freedom. Tied forever as a slave to the mountains, to Blæingr, and to the eight-soul fragment magic.
“There were faint whispers in the wind,” the old man said. “Blæingr’s gift to you was his galdr?”
A sad smile spread across her face, “Yes. How are the preparations coming along?” She gently diverted the conversation. A smirk crossed his lips as he caught onto her attempt.
“He has always favored you more than any of His previous priestesses.”
Vény shifted uncomfortably and held back a blush. She hid her hand from his view. There was always a strong connection between her and Blæingr. Stories were told about when she first started to walk, Manna would find her napping under the safety of his leaves. Falki was protector of the völva for centuries and had watched her grow. She was still very young by their standards and he was like her father. He was overprotective and stern but could also be gentle with her. Vény loved him dearly but still sometimes felt smothered by him. She often wondered why he never had children of his own.
“The preparations?” Vény pushed.
“Ah yes, coming along. Coming along,” he said absentmindedly.
“When is everyone set to arrive?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I fear Blæingr will not last much longer,” she bit her lip. She glanced out the hut’s door flap at the distant field where the tree in question stood.
“How long?” Falki said in a hushed tone.
“Tonight.” Vény whispered.
She opened her mouth to say something more but was interrupted. A loud voice boomed the hall. Vény groaned.
“Child! Do you have any idea what time it is?” came the loud voice of her Manna. Rushing towards her, the slender, red headed woman angrily pointed a finger towards Blæingr. “He knows better than to keep you preoccupied all the time. I swear, He never changes.”
Guilt flushed over Vény. She would not tell her of the rune stone and ancestor. Vény suppressed the urge to correct her as memories of the numerous times Manna had reprimanded Blæingr Himself. Manna would rant to Him about not keeping her precious Vény from the rest of the world. Pain pierced Vény’s soul. Tears filled her eyes and she desperately willed them away. Manna softened and she gently drew Vény into an embrace.
“It is His time to rejoin the Gods, my dear. Rejoice, do not fear,” Manna whispered the comforting words into her ear.
Vény tightly wrapped her arms around her grandmother and hid her face. Manna went rigid. Vény grimaced and quickly pulled her injured hand away to hide it. Manna grabbed her wrist. Squeezing, her eyes widened in shock as she glared at the blood soaked cloth. Vény yelped and panic set in.
“I am going to sit with Him while the suns sets,” Vény firmly announced, tearing her arm free of Manna’s grip.
Worry glazed Manna’s face. However, she simply nodded in concession and let her granddaughter go.
“Do not fret. Vény will be strong,” Falki comforted, patting Manna on the back.
“That is not what I worry about, Falki.” Manna murmured. She watched Vény run towards the tree, her pale hair lustrous in the suns’ light. Her yellow and black hands left a glowing trail behind them.
Vény cocooned in the swaying grass beneath Blæingr’s branches. His bright blue leaves were in dazzling contrast to the setting sky. The large yellow sun, Ijotr, had set. When Rauör was alone in the sky, it changed the world for a brief moment. The sky turned crimson and clouds took different forms as Rauör’s power shaped them. Sparks of glitter that released from the deep red orb danced in the wind, creating swirling stars. Only the Gifted could see them. Vény pitied all who did not contain the Gift. The daily wonder never waned. The azure leaves against a scarlet sky took Vény’s breath away. Never in her dreams could she imagine such a sight.
Vény ignored the servants as they paced around her setting the paper lanterns in place. As her treasured Rauör set in the distance, her yellow hand took on a golden hue. All the crimson particles faded away. Slowly raising her hand towards the darkening sky, power pulsed under her skin as she barely touched the önd fragment. A familiar burn ran down her arm and she lit the lanterns set around the grounds. Their soft blue glow shifted the darkness away.
She did not move for hours. Vény merely watched Blæingr, never averting her eyes. His power seeped into the ground and foundation of the mountains. The grass felt fuller. The forest gained growth and color. The river’s rapids swelled. Blæingr weaved His last energy into His beloved mountain. Her body trembled at the amount of raw power in the air.
Local villagers gathered in a circle around Blæingr. Her household gathered in the center ring and began the galdr song of farewell. Soft hums floated together. Low bass notes steadying every living being while the higher notes filled their bodies with a sense of sorrow and peace. Wisps emerged from the darkness first gathering around her. The song summoned them to say farewell.
They brushed against her skin as they floated past her towards their old friend. Their soft essence glow lit Blæingr’s branches. Blue flickered from the Wisps against blue branches and leaves. Vény inhaled deeply and rose from the grass, the air growing thick and heavy. Her damp hands were numb. Beneath her bare feet, the ground trembled in protest. The Wisps formed a circle around her. One of Blæingr’s ancient roots came to life.
Loud cracking filled her ears, the sound vibrating to her soul. She winced as the terrain shuddered, the root ripping free from the only place it had known. It continued to tremble, affected by the loss. The plant life on the mountain went silent and froze. Animals emerged from the safety of their homes to gaze upon the sky. The mountain was still.
The villagers loudly continued their song. Vény’s violet eyes pricked with tears as a loud snap echoed against the mountainside. Blæingr moaned loudly as He stretched His roots and tugged them free. Giving one last wrench to His core that grew deep into the planet’s crust, Blæingr broke away from the Earth. The planet shook. Vény fell to her knees under the force of the quake.
Raising her arms high into the air, the Wisps followed them and floated steadily upward with Blæingr. As His massive form ascended, lush leaves decayed and burst into a spray of azure glimmer. The flickers faded as they fell from the stars. The breeze coiled around Blæingr, taking great care to not scatter the remains.
Tears seared Vény’s cheeks as her beautiful Blæingr climbed into the night sky. Stars shone brightly and danced in anticipation of being reunited with their lost brother. Vény’s soul felt their joyful cries. Her body shook with their pleasure. A smile slowly crept onto her face, refusing to take her eyes off him.
Blæingr’s branches ignited into bright blue flames. The flame lit the entire mountain, an eternal azure glow that slowed time to a crawl. The spiral created by the Wisps and breeze brought His shimmering residue upwards even higher before cascading down towards the mountain. Vény held her breath in awe as she watched each shimmer float back towards her. As tiny pieces of Blæingr made contact with her skin, Vény absorbed the dying light. Her golden skin radiated a soft glow. Nothing but Blæingr filled her thoughts and soul. Her mind began to feel fuzzy. Not a single note of the people’s song reached her ears. Vény could hear Blæingr saying goodbye.
A solitary Wisp floated above her shoulder and nudged her cheek. Nothing was left of Blæingr but his enormous trunk and roots.The mountain continued to quiver in sorrow. The Wisps joined in the chant adding an eerie sound to the mix that no human could reproduce. Drifting sparks illuminated in a striking dance.
Vény gave a breathy chuckle, wiping away tears as she felt the last of his consciousness leave her mind. The image of her five-year-old self playing blissfully beneath his branches was Blæingr’s last memory. It warmed her broken heart to know His last thoughts were of her.
Blæingr’s massive trunk continued to rise in the black sky. An azure flame exploded from the heart of His form. A tiny whimper escaped Vény’s lips as she witnessed her Blæingr’s last living mortal moment. The explosion shredded bright pieces of his burning timber, they fell from the sky and faded to nothing before hitting the ground.
Vény squeezed shut her eyes and held open her arms beneath the glowing night sky until every last piece of Him was gone. The chant slowly ended and the villagers rejoiced. They took comfort in the fact their precious Blæingr was at peace with His family. Vény was at a loss. The world around her grew dim and the hot air became too much to breath. Her chest tightened at the absence within her soul. His soft voice was always whispering to her core. Calling to her. Calming her. Whispering to her. Laughing with her. Now there was nothing. It was empty. Panic swelled her being.
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Vény cried out as she grabbed at her throat. She gasped frantically, bile roiling up from her belly. The pressure in her head pounded against its walls. Falling to the ground, the image of Blæingr’s final shimmer faded away was the last thing she saw before darkness seized her.
There was pain. Her whole body felt like she was being stabbed by thousands of needles. Vény screamed out before the shadows could took over again. Time passed and she slowly regained some consciousness, thanking the Gods for the small refuge from the terror. Her skin was damp with sweat.
“Why would Blæingr connect them so?” a faint whisper drifted into the darkness. At the sound of His name, her gut dropped.
“Only Blæingr knows,” a sad voice responded.
Licking her cracked lips, she breathed, “Blæingr.” Everyone in the room froze at hearing her soft whimper. Manna rushed to her side.
“Shh child. Rest.” cooed Manna.
But Vény did not want rest. In the shadows there loomed an ominous presence that hunted her soul. Vény feared it would devour her. Resisting the darkness, she attempted to sit up. A cool tingle touched her skin. With fevered eyes, she glanced down to see Wisps collecting and attaching themselves to her body. Their tempering touch washed the rage and fear from her thoughts. Hollow whispers filled her ears. Her eyes drifted closed to find no darkness. Splashes of color filled her dreams.
Next she woke, Vény was coated in Wisps. They lazily hovered around her. Some stuck to her skin, leeched on. Gasping in pain as she slowly stood, the Wisps zoomed around the room in excitement. Vény smiled softly as they gracefully touched her cheeks before drifting through the walls back to the forest. Vény whispered her gratitude as they disappeared. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she threaded her shaky fingers through her hair.
Sharp images of her nightmares raced across her memory. Her body froze. Blæingr was gone, ascended back to the beyond. Vény let her mind expand and search the grounds for His presence but came up empty. There was nothing left of him. She hung her head low and let her hair cover her face.
Softly, the door opened. Manna stood in the doorframe, sorrowfully studying her granddaughter. Vény had lost so much weight during the days she had fought off the fever. The gleam in her bright white locks had faded, leaving it dull and lifeless. Once full cheeks were now sunken. Eyes hollow. The fever had damaged too much or perhaps it was the ascension of Blæingr that was the real culprit.
“Come child. We shall get you bathed and dressed,” Manna spoke softly.
Vény silently allowed Manna to guide her to the bathing room. The space was warmed by a crackling fire, a wooden tub steaming with hot water stood at the center waiting for her. As Manna gingerly washed Vény’s body, she hummed a soft song to the swish of the water. A sweet floral fragrance filled her nose as Manna lathered soap and gently scrubbed her grimy skin. Pulling her hands from the water, she silently inspected them. Their colored hue had spread past her wrist. Intricate lines cascaded down her forearms past her elbows. As Vény examined them closely, she realized were not lines but runes. The Runes of old were etched into her skin. She glanced at her grandmother in shock. Manna nodded her head with a small smile. Gripping her granddaughters left arm, she continued to scrub away the dirt and sweat.
“A final gift from Blæingr, I believe. They appeared after the Wisps aided with your fever,” Manna spoke softly. “The Gods favor you, young völva.”
Vény still did not speak. She studied her arms until she had memorized every rune imprinted on her body.
Weeks since Blæingr’s ascension and still Vény had not spoken a single word. Nightmares plagued her sleep. The hollowness of her soul only grew as time passed. Vény had to be reminded when to eat. She never felt inclined to visit the ancestor in the rune stone either. Instead Vény took to wandering through the massive forest. She often strayed far and became lost, the Wisps having to show her the way home. She could see a tiny thread that dimly drew her to the forest. It puzzled her. Once she was on the right path, the thread would disappear and then reappear when she reached the place where His trunk used to stand tall.
She slowly gained back the weight, but still was too weak to perform any of her normal duties as a priestess. Falki suggested she cease venturing off but couldn't bring himself to stop her. She was searching for something. Vény was unsure how to find it but it was out there. Calling to her. Its soft voice muffled. Vény was positive it was a piece of Him, left only for her to find. She would spend every ounce of energy she had searching for Him. The gods were reborn constantly throughout her people’s history. Perhaps the gods favored her enough to give Blæingr back to her.
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