Thor stands complete, a newly-realised profundity to his entirety as he comes into his full station, an addition to his self, the child of Elder and All-Father. Hearthlight, more than armour or armament, dons over his godly flesh in small motions, forming to his frame and adjusting, shoring up his defences. It sits perfectly, radiating out formless domain, a breeze of soft morning wind over meadowland, waving stems and breathing life.
Its existence gently emanates in my perception, its breadth and depth near-overwhelming yet welcoming, a hold of protection wrapping all within its scope. The realm of its Chi more than any I've ever felt before, greater than many gods, I close my eyes and exhale out, resting in its air whilst I can. A tension, birthed by the compiling of time and action, of stress and suspense, starts to come loose inside me, a lessening to its bind on my mind.
Its power cycles in time with my own Chi, dancing through and over, soothing the strain accumulated in this second timeline, events, both recent and past, piling up and crushing. It twirls and swirls, brushing across skin and stroking soul, slipping inside in tender streams and circulating through blood.
I feel its attempt to guide my mind, to reset caution and lower guard, its intention without malice or malevolence, but push it away all the same. I know as to its reasoning, its want to bring comfort and settle nerves, reducing the fluctuations of a worried mentality, yet its aid isn't needed here. An accepting sigh against my thoughts sees it retreat without haste, simple acknowledgement of my own judgement given over.
The breath of my lungs operating smoother, my muscles relaxing slightly, stance not so taut and ready, I open my eyes. My sight is greeted by the figure of Thor, his solo eye clear and divine, a new clarity to his gaze as he looks to me, a light of knowledge inside. He smiles, his cape of leaves stirring in gentle ripples, moved by its own nature, outside force unneeded.
I stare past him to watch its motion, peering into its undulations and getting drawn inside, part of myself lost in the language of its song, the rustle of blown forest sounding in my ears. The shade of the canopy coats me, its differing darkness swimming across me in repeating waves, dancing over the green-grass ground.
A soft, hidden sun above breaks through the coverage, its rays falling on reaching, wide-leafed plants. They dot the earthen floor in gatherings, small flowers and lying twigs blanketing around them, sharing in their advantage. Shafts of broken sunbeams warm my face, their heat absorbing inside and touching my soul, telling of their source's constant sentinel over its children, over Earth and its siblings.
A small clearing sits between towering trunks, a circle of blossomed, sun-facing flowers, the colourings of the white narcissi and lilac croci soft and inviting. Centred position by the flowerbed sits a wheatish-skinned woman atop mossy rock, her green-dressed back facing my vision, the head of a baby peeking over her shoulder to stare.
Beside the rock, pressing in the parting of the growth, lies a chestnut foal, its front legs tucked under its chest. Its dark eyes regard me through the manifest mental realm, a white stripe down the centre of its face, before its lays its head down, falling into slumber. Its exhale moves the bed, its visage veiled by petals and oddly blending, when a blur of excitement races through the foliage towards it.
It jumps atop the foals back, hopping to get its attention and diving its paws into its spine, when it notices me. A puppy, brown and fluffy, stands on all fours upon larger broad, its tongue hanging from the side of its mouth as it pants, its sight turned towards me. Its head tilts, its short, soft ears flopping, before it whips it to the woman with eager speed, issuing a single, high bark to her.
The woman, her loose, long hair the hue of home and land, lifts her green-nail tipped hand to the pup and softly pets its fur, stroking her fingers through its length. As its tail wags in response, the woman, continuing to look away, speaks in whispered notes, her voice a caress, "The call soon summons."
Her unclear prophecy issued, she begins to blur, her frame and form gradually covered by winding, overlapping grass and adorning flowers, a flora figure of vague human appearance taking her place. Her attendants, baby, foal, and pup, each turn away from me inwards to the depths of the forest, beginning to move off at pace; crawling, trotting, and padding in step.
Left alone under canopy, the entities of nature wandering off, I withdraw from my peer inside, the augury of Mother Nature etched onto my thoughts. Finding Thor watching with a knowing eye, I look away from him with a smile and turn to stare at Neith, the goddess returning my gaze. She nods to me, conveying awareness of what I've seen, of the abilities and authority of Hearthlight, her connection to fate operating at a level of Divination beyond my current self.
She then speaks, her eyes lingering momentarily before sliding to Thor, "The ascension into full mandate has concluded, the decision has been made, the choice chosen by will and temper of triad-child." Her hand rises, palm held skywards, a large, orange-furred spider, blue hairs in stripes on its abdomen and appendages, crawling up her arm.
It comes to a rest atop her palm, its two rows of dark eyes making me uncomfortable, its eight legs balancing on her fingers, as Neith looks back to me and reveals, "I know your hold on the dwarven magic slips away." She shifts her hand to face it in my direction, her other lifting to stroke the arachnid, "Your part in this day has come to a close, Sarah Worthington. Release yourself as anchor and take rest, Brother Kwaku here will unravel this small Web of Life in your place."
The spider, Kwaku, rises from her on golden web, its limbs lifting in sequence as it climbs, ascending on stable string until it disappears into the turning dome. I slightly bow to Neith in thanks as I feel my lessening control over the magic fade further, the spider acquiring charge from me. The pull on Revelation decreases once it does, the swirling gold of my eyes slowing to a stop as my Dao ceases operation, freeing up parts of my attention.
I move away in the direction of the gazing Thor, his sight on the spirits of his parents, and go to pass him, but stop beside, glancing up slightly and telling, "Make the most of the time you've been gifted, Thor." He starts somewhat in response, his mind not present fully as he thinks, before he returns my stare with his lone eye.
He gives a small nod, his horned helm pulling back in a crawl of retreating wood, hiding itself from view and showing his full face, then walks away without a word. I watch him join his parents, wrapping his arms around his present mother and holding her in a tight hug, his head buried in the crook of her shoulder.
She returns his clutch, sliding her arms over his back and stroking in comfort, her gaze over her son shifting to look to me, her calm, maternal eyes expressing her gratitude. I smile at her in reply, happy to play any small part in their reunion, the channel of greater magic than myself capable, a spell of sacrifice bordering the divine.
Their soft words reach my ears, greetings and goodbyes spoken in equal measure, a promise of one-day reunion, but I limit my hearing, allowing them their privacy. I lower to the ground, slowly settling into a cross-legged seat, and place my hands up on my knees, examining the branching, new cracks running their surface.
My appearance has never bothered me, nor has any alterations to my body been something that scares or disturbs me. So I treat the additions to my form collected through the years, changing eyes, growing cracks, the odd tattoo over my arm, as marks of adventure to be quietly cherished. My history is displayed upon me, available for all to see and discern, my time observable to any who wish to look; a map of mistake and acceptance.
The artificial atmosphere of the station, maintained and designed by precise dwarven engineering, gently circulates over the golden lines. A small sigh leaves me as I turn my hands over through the foreign air, the only downside leaving me with small regret, the feedback of my touch fragmented into sections.
My Chi moves through me at stable pace, flowing through my meridians and constantly increasing in increments with each revolution. The warmth of its existence, its very aspect as the breath of the Tao pervading life, keeps me calm and centred, acting as a balance of my mentality. I project it around my fingers in slow whirls, enjoying the display of my learning and training, when the figure of Neith takes a seat to my left.
No words are spoken, her presence substantial in my perception, as she joins me in watching my manipulation of vital energy. I practice the control made available by my current stage with every spare moment, training my emission and working to shape the gift of Arishem. I wrap it over one hand, laying it out around and shifting its depth into a single layer, the coat changing as it gathers into thin lines and revolving symbols.
The faint voice of Neith sounds, a note of something in her words as she says, "...We will not meet for a time after today, Dao Child." I turn to her, keeping the Chi active as my focus falls on her, seeing the orange spider descend onto her shoulder, its eyes looking to me with a sense of curiosity. She continues, still quiet, "Once your own trial passes, there is much awaiting ahead of you, your life soon beginning true, no? A few years gone by, an eternity yet to come, yes?"
I say nothing, a silence passing between us, a future friendship unspoken, when Kwaku speaks in place, his deep, African-accented voice issuing from small body, "Your story is fascinating, Light-Shaper." I look to him, his striped front limbs waving at me, "You smell of unrealised light and potential creation, the domains of a Skymother, and yet you sit before me in insignificant, mortal shell."
He starts to creep down Neith's arm, saying all the while, "Why has the regard of Mother fallen on you so, girl? Does your being contain some great secret? Are you a changeling child taking form of spawn born?" He reaches her hand, going to lay claw on floor, nigh-demanding, "Tell me your tale, Taoist; share your saga and gift your grandeur to this serving Story-Lord."
Concerned by his approach and speech, I shuffle sideways out of his way, feeling the dome around start to slow concurrently. The Chi over my hand settles, taking shape and readied, when the grip of Neith picks up Kwaku's prowling anatomy. His legs twitch in protest as she chastises, bringing him to her lap and holding him prisoner, "Rein yourself in, Nanzi. Today is not one that tolerates your play, not while under purview of Mother."
He fights her capture, his fangs biting into her flesh and limbs pushing against, complaining, "The favourite child as always, Sister." His fangs leave her, his limbs curling in as he tips over onto his back, feigning death, "We're both Weavers of the Web; must I forever play second fiddle? Be the suffering Spider?"
Neith taps at his underside in rebuke, soothing his worries with a silent whisper of Godtongue, then speaks to me in turn, "I apologise for his behaviour; he's been suffering in service of his father for an age."
I dismiss my emitted Chi, its structure collapsing and flowing back into me, and accept her words with thought, saying, "...The games of gods are not something I wish to be too drawn into; though I'll always accept good intention."
Neith softly laughs, her bob shaking along in her mirth, her humour gradually quieting as she goes to reply, when a glimmering, rainbow light radiates over us. We both look to it, knowing its source and meaning, a radiance around king and queen as they stand before their son, the couple holding each others hand.
The steadily spinning dome of golden strings over and around, under the guidance of Kwaku, begins to destabilise, strands moving out of place and buckling. Others break fully, separating into parts and falling outside and in, landing on the metal in final, gentle pulses, more buckling from their path. They wind around others, pulling into shared escape, upsetting the whirling wall of the magic as practised master guides its unravelling.
The make of Nidavellir, kneeling dwarves departed of soul and silent stations left unmanned and abandoned, shows once more. The open, blazing star sits distant between the fading gods, its light offering farewell, as Odin voices, his form increasingly translucent, "The soul of Asgard lives on because of you, son." He smiles, a genuine display of pride showing on his bearded face, and declares, "You are a worthy king."
His back to us, his expression hidden, I still feel a fraction of Thor's emotion through the language of his body, when Frigga adds, "Make sure you eat well, child. And take care of yourself; don't be afraid to seek the help in your peers." Her face full of care, of love and more, she tenderly advises, "Fate does not fall entirely on you, Thor. You have found yourself company in well allies and friends; they will aid when you need it most."
She turns to Odin, a soft expression given, and asks, "Should we return now, husband?"
He matches her gaze, his eye equally affectionate, "Where you go, I follow." He looks away as she laughs, his sight on Thor, his awareness further out on us, telling, "This is farewell for now, but not for all time." Their light tightens over them, the dispersing of the spirits commencing, two clouds of golden particles, a final parting left behind, "We love you, our son."
Thor replies with choked voice, longing filling his voice, "...Goodbye."
Their glimmers rise from the ground in small gatherings, floating to Thor and circling him, their golden light surrounding him and illuminating his features. They revolve around, touching upon him in heated falls and brushing, then flow out and spread to orbit, gathering speed as they loop us.
I watch with subtle emotion, a longing of my own coming to heart, when the voice of Odin sounds in my ears, "We shall meet again, Sorceress, though not as we are, I see." They spiral in, weaving through the other, as they fly off and out, beyond the open of the realm and out into the cosmos, fading in return from where they came.
The magic dispelled, not a strand in sight, the silent dark of the station lit by flickering star, I stand from my sitting. Pushing off with my feet, I brush down my behind, then look down to Neith, intending to ask a question. My brows furrow in annoyance as I find her missing, her previously occupied space empty of her presence, the constant, enigmatic nature of the gods starting to get on my nerves.
Sighing at this established tendency of hers, disappearing when no being is looking her way, I walk over to Thor to comfort. Stopping beside him, his sight staring out, Stormbreaker in hand, I open my mouth to speak, then hesitate. Not knowing what to say in the moment, a storm of thoughts troubled to decide, I make a simple choice, "You alright?"
He looks to me after a moment passes, a smile on his face, and tells, "I do not know." He lifts Stormbreaker before him, its metal glinting, its Bifrost shaft shimmering, "I gained much, yet paid an equal price. I defeated my sister, yet Asgard was destroyed. My weapon was forged, yet Eitri died. My armour was crafted, yet I lost choice." A crackle of electricity arcs over the axehead, "The fates play their games, weaving their tapestry and finding the future, yet we're beholding to whim and destiny."
I hold my words, waiting for him to finish, seeing his conflict, then, "...Do you think yourself important, Thor?" He stares at me in surprise, a frown on his face, when I explain, "You are more than me and mortality, a god in body and spirit, yes; but what does that mean? What does it matter? Humanity is under divinity, divinity is under abstract, abstract is under Tribunal, One is Above All."
I gaze at him, smiling, then offer my outside perspective of this reality, "All of this creation, its rules and makeup, its embodiments of aspects made true, is nothing but the projection of an omnipotence." I chuckle scornfully, a hint of well-buried distaste for this multiverse revealed, "Existence is an illusion, one that believes itself to be real; don't get lost in its lie. Truth is not constant or unchanging, and fact is subject to redesign. Whatever fate you think yourself subject to, know that it itself is woven by those who fancy themselves right."
I place my hand on his back, feeling the wood under palm, and finish, asking, "Do you think yourself unimportant, Thor?"
He shakes his head, his thoughts concealed but concentration clear on his face, replying, "I do not." I lower my hand and dangle it by my side, staring up at him in confusion, and wonder,
"Then what's the point of worrying?"
He doesn't answer, instead turning back to look out, a contemplative expression illuminated by dying star. I join him, regarding it with certain intent, interested as to whether it has its own incarnation, kin to Apalla, when Thor responds, "You are a strange woman, Lady Sarah." I snort, his retort unexpected, as he softly says, "...Thank you all the same."
He lifts an uncovered, strong hand, wooden brace over his wrist, scale markings protecting his muscled arm, and tells, "My Hearthlight has asked me to offer you a gift, one given in thanks for your part in its birth." He turns over his hand, palm up, as the armour shifts, reaching over to form a gauntlet.
From his mitt grows straight, thick wood, twisting up into smooth, long pole, smaller, leafed branches extending from its length. It rises to a meter high, a small crown of green atop its dark bark, and lifts up on four, tiny stilts. Thor grips it round its centre, then twists and pulls, the stilts breaking and releasing the pole.
He holds it out, offering it to me and fulfilling the request of Hearthlight. I reach out and take it from him, curling my fingers around its length and holding in clutch, then bow in thanks, one hand held by my chest. Straightening, I look upon the gift, the gold of my eyes swirling as Revelation divines its information,
[Revelation
Name – Shedding of Life
Species – Branching Domain
Powers –
GrowingEntwiningGrafting
History – A branch of blessed Hearthlight, planted and grown by elder powers, born into multiple domains of nature and fate. Its spirit sired by greatest creation, channelled through Taoist daughter, it emerged from star-fed metal to greet existence. Guided by All-Mother, her wisdom and teachings aiding its ageing, it learned from its mistakes and emerged true.
Its destined wielder standing under its canopy, its sole percher hiding within its foliage, it waited patiently for him to make his choice. His axe raised in indecision, he finally lay his palm upon its trunk, his decision advised by one Mother. Sitting down, his weapon released and lying by his side, the god rested against its bark, the sun on his face.
Ritual complete, path chosen, it reached down and flowed over, forming itself across divine flesh, covering it in superior armour. Its domains joining with its wearer, it now communes and awaits, their destined mission almost upon them.
A shedding gifted to one of its tenders, this branch is not suited for combat, although its powers can be used for such. Capable of limited growth, it can increase its length and the density of its leafage by small amounts, and has the potential to produce a single fruit. The effects and species of the fruit is of a random nature, being either benign or beneficial.
For now, the true purpose of this Branching Domain will remain dormant until the time comes, the Dao Child discovering its use one day.]
I twirl the branch around my hand, the sounds of its leaves in rustling in the wind calming, then store it away in my Ring. Looking back to Thor, I extent out a hand and poke Hearthlight, infusing it with a portion of my Chi in return. The green of my energy runs through its lines, the armour absorbing with haste, its wood shifting and creaking, the vibrancy of its cape deepening.
Thor shivers, an odd look on his face as he says, "...That was weirdly pleasant."
I pull my hand back and smirk up at him, mocking, "Don't be getting any strange fetishes now, Odinson."
He laughs in good humour, chuckling, "I shall try my best."
I turn from him as his laughter dies, looking away from the star and behind to the dead dwarves, my happy mood calming as I sigh. Leaving him for a moment, I walk towards them, moving around the parts of the forge, the furnace and crucibles, and come to a stop below. Their kneeling heights still greater than my standing, I stare at the lifeless face of one, its eyes closed, and remember the final words of their king.
Calling back, "Thor!", I wait until he nears, hearing his unhurried footfalls approach, slowing as he observes the gathered dead, their heads low. As he stops next to me, I question, "I don't know enough about the dwarves; where do you suppose they want to be buried?"
He looks to me, hefting his axe onto his shoulder, and smiles, "Wherever the earth lays."
I nod, tucking that bit of knowledge away for future reference, as I eye the axe, an idea coming to mind. Summoning Purpose from its dantian, I loosely hold it, tip pointing to the floor, and suggest, "Do you know what'll be a good send off?"
Thor examines my own weapon with open curiosity, this being the first time he's seen me wield a blade, and asks, "What do you propose?"
Release my hold, Purpose topples over and comes to a hover off the ground, point facing forward as it floats under its own power. I step on it, finding my balance with ease, our beings in total sync, and answer, "A display of their king's ultimate creation." I begin to circle him, brows raised as I stare at him and goad, slowly drifting around as his head swivels to follow, a gleam in his eye.
As I complete a second lap, reaching his side, he lowers Stormbreaker from his shoulder and winds his arm back. My lips curl up as small lightning starts to climb over him and arc out, running along the axe and striking the floor, making sure to avoid the dwarves. He looks at me tauntingly, his grip on the shaft tightening, when he swings it forward and leaps up, the metal shaking from the might of his strength.
Smiling, I follow the path of this flight as he shoots away, and inquire, "Are we gonna let that jumped up kid get one over on us, Purpose?" It vibrates underfoot, its spirit communicating its unwillingness. I lean forward and bend my knees in brace, augmenting my body with my Chi, then, "Away!" We shoot off, moving rapidly as we gain speed and race into the air, rising in a curve after his trail.
I rock back slightly, the force of our acceleration pushing against me, then adjust and lean into it. A wide smile dominated my face as my hair whips in the wind, freedom from the bounds of the earth as I chase the rumble of thunder. The green of my robe flaps over me, my body tilting as we follow the continuous turn of the inner ring, rocketing through empty station.
I gradually catch up, approaching at pace, the horizontal figure of Thor lead by Stormbreaker, his head turning back to watch me gain. The dark clouds of my mind start to clear, a lightening of my spirit, a connecting of my recent past and waiting future as I partake in rare joy. I stick my tongue out at him as I slowly pass him, taking the lead, a playful scowl given in response.
His eye crackles with divine power as he calls upon his domain to enhance himself, his speed increasing instantly. He bolts past me, a sonic boom rattling my bones and ringing my ears as I'm pushed back and away, shouting after him in mock outrage, "Cheater!"
I come to a stop and steady myself, enjoying Purpose's indignation as I do, then begin again. Starting off, I hasten to run him down, gaining momentum with every passing moment, my velocity mounting, when I feel him come up behind at an incredibly rate. I whip my head to him, seeing him draw close in a bolt of blinding lightning, tearing by and lapping me with ease.
Sighing in faux annoyance, I don't let his clear dominance dishearten me as I pick up the pace. I put any thought of competition out of mind, any thought of pulling off any form of a win abandoned, and fly at a stable tempo, closing my eyes and relishing in the experience. I focus on the weightless feel of my flight, trusting in Purpose to stop us from crashing into anything, and relax.
The race forgotten, hearing Thor overtake me a fourth time, I expand my perception, casting it out into the local universe. Mindlessly swimming along the currents of ambient, colourless Chi, I flow over all I sense, mapping the area and diving into the empty of space. My eyes snap open as a foreign object suddenly enters my range, its shape streamlined, back-curved wings extending from a hollow, central mass.
I turn towards its direction, a reflective dot lit behind by orange, flickering light as it nears at tremendous speed. Frowning, I focus on it, my sight enhanced little by channelled Chi, and get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Slowing to a stop, Purpose detecting the shift in my mood, I float down intending to land, when the object jolts, its frame nearing rapidly.
It grows in my sight quickly, flying straight to me with no deviation. My eyes widen as it nears faster than I expected, my limited exposure to space travel causing me to misjudge the distance. My heartbeat racing, my limb tingling, I hurriedly pull on the surrounding mystical energy as I attempt to move out the way, a defensive spell on the edge of being cast, when,
"...Oh, fuck."
The spaceship breaches the open bounds of Nidavellir, barrelling at me with no signs of stopping. I catch sight of an enraged, screaming man in the cockpit, his eyes murderous as he glares, a recognisable group seated around him. Storing Purpose away to descend out his path, I barely manage to whip my hands up and conjure my strongest shield, when it smashes into me. The ship instantly breaks through, shattering the magic and clipping my falling body with its moving mass,
Sending me careening out into space.