Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somehow, it was still possible to breathe in the air of the bleached earth. 

The scans run by the Shadow Border had revealed that the air was just the same as it had been before the bleaching. The ground might have been a chalky white, the horizon a blank canvas, the sky devoid of any cloud cover, all life gone from sight and detection, but the air was breathable. And if the air was breathable, the residents of the Shadow Border could scavenge for supplies.

Or, at least, the Servants of the Shadow Border could scavenge. Gordolf had no intention to risk Gudako and Mash any more than necessary.

CasCu leaned back on his heals and sighed, shading his eyes with his arm. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with the Gordolf - the man was probably right. They didn’t know what this bleached world was like, or if it held any dangers. But it did mean that those with the best scavenging abilities were sent out in small teams, CasCu among them.

And with the earth bleached, scavenging didn’t mean finding supplies. Scavenging meant creating them. 

Sanzang stood on top of the Shadow Border, leaning on her staff. The vehicle was parked to conserve energy, and she was using it as a watchtower, using her traveler’s knowledge to figure out where to go from here. On the other side of the Shadow Border, Geronimo worked, digging at the white soil. 

Sanzang looked for water and good growing spots. Geronimo and CasCu encouraged plant growth, and harvested whatever crops they could from the bleached earth. Inside, Tawara used his Noble Phantasm to create rice, rice, and more rice. 

The Shadow Border was running on fumes at the moment. It could only support four Servants when one of them was constantly setting off a Noble Phantasm. A skeleton crew, compared to what CasCu had grown used to in Chaldea. But he had grown used to that, and he would grow used to this. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he was fully alone, even when the air around him was so painfully still. A shadow still clung close to him in Spirit Form.

“Oi, artifact. Your mind’s drifting again. Focus on your damn task so we can get a move on.”

CasCu’s lips curled up in a smile. Kage’s voice in his mind was a welcome presence, the abrasiveness worn and familiar. CasCu had long since learned how to tell when Kage’s grumpiness was actual anger, and this was far from that. “We can’t get a proper move on until Sanzang spots water, hellion.”

“You’d think,” Kage groused, “That with all the damn snow we just left behind, we’d have plenty of goddamned water.” 

“We were more worried about the surviving the Lostbelt as a whole, I think,” CasCu said. 

He pressed his fingers into the chalky earth and wiggled them down a couple inches. The dirt was completely devoid of nutrients. There were no microorganisms here, no bugs, no worms, no seeds. Any plants CasCu forced to grow here would be paltry things at best. Like the last three sites they had been too. 

It made his chest ache. He knew Geronimo had to be feeling it worse. This was no longer a place for life.

“I’d call that the fault of our esteemed director and the damn detective,” Kage said. “Will you be able to push through for a couple more fucking weeds, or will you need another mana transfer, artifact?” 

“I’ll be good for this one, hellion.” CasCu promised, “but thanks for checking up on me.” 

CasCu pulled his fingers out of the ground to the tune of Kage’s grumbles. He tugged off the pouch attached to his belt, and poured some of its contents into his hands. They were bean seeds, small and pebbled. One of the staff members had managed to grab some seeds during Chaldea’s evacuation. A stroke of luck. These were beans, and beans were hardy. They replenished the soil, and oh, were the bounties they provided plentiful. 

CasCu tipped his hands, so the seeds fell into the holes in the soil, and then gently covered them up. He brushed his fingers over the dirt, drawing out his rune circle. Berkanan, to fertilize the soil. Naudiz, to show their need for these to grow. Jeran for a plentiful harvest. Iwaz, to encourage resilience and longevity within these plants. It was his hope that, by sewing these small patches of growth, that someone else might be able to use them. 

“Ready?” CasCu asked, soft.

“You’re the one fueling it,” Kage retorted. CasCu aimed a look at the area he figured Kage would be in. He heard a mental sigh. “Fine, artifact. Yeah, I’m ready.”

CasCu pressed his hand against the dirt and shoved his mana into the runes. They lit up instantly, burning brilliant blue against the white. For a moment, they were the only thing CasCu could see, light streaming up into his eyes. Then, bits of green began to push through the soil. In starts and bursts, the beans grew, covering the place that had previously been nothing but white. CasCu pushed his mana until they were done growing, until the pods on their stalks had swelled, and then let it cut out. 

“Nice job, artifact,” Kage murmured, “those fuckers are better looking than what we had at the last location.” 

“Just about,” CasCu grunted. They were still pathetically small, scrawny looking things. There were no nutrients in this soil, and it hadn’t rained as far as he could tell. They would only last as long as his runes lasted. With a sigh, he reached out and began to pick the bean pods from their stalks. 

“Oh! That looks like a good harvest! Need any help?”

As always, Sanzang didn’t wait for an answer. She hopped down from the Shadow Border and bounded over to CasCu’s side, peering curiously over his shoulder. CasCu could feel Kage’s bristling, the annoyance brushing against the corner of his mind. CasCu’s lips tugged into an amused smirk. 

“I think I have this,” he said, straightening a tad to look at her. “How's Geronimo doing?” 

“Not as good of a bean harvest,” she said, “but he’s moved onto corn! And it’s grown this high!” She raised her hand to her chest, beaming wide. “I think he’ll be onto squash next. Do you want me to ask him to come help you out here?” 

“I think I’ll be alright,” CasCu said dryly. “How’s the search for water going?” 

“Nothing yet!” Sanzang bounced slightly, her eyes scanning the horizon, before her hand shot out to point. “But I saw something flashing in that direction! It’s a bit of a ways away, though. I bet its water! I’m great at finding water. There’s always a river or a mountain trying to obstruct my path.” She said the words with a delighted laugh.

“Let’s hope it’s the former, then.” CasCu said, ignoring Kage’s growl. He picked up his small sack of beans, passed it to her. “Mind taking these in for me?” 

“Not at all!” Sanzang beamed, before darting off. 

Her energy was catching. CasCu snorted to himself as he turned back to his little bean patch, fingers brushing away leaves until he could poke a couple more holes into the dirt. It was time for the corn. 

“You know,” he said as he worked, “her cheerfulness is nice. You don’t have to shy away from it like it’ll burn you.” 

“Oh fuck off, artifact,” Kage groused, “Do you need mana or not?” 

“I could use a pick me up.” 

“Needy,” Kage groused. But he appeared, briefly, his form blocking out the sun. His fingers brushed CasCu’s chin and tipping his head up. Then his lips were there, pressing against CasCu’s own. CasCu reached up to hold him there. Closed his eyes to taste the mana as it flowed between them. 

He let go when he was finished, pulling back to gently bump his forehead against Kage’s. “Thanks, hellion.”

Kage grumbled something under his breath. His cheeks were touched with red - a familiar sight by now. CasCu brushed his thumb over the arch of Kage’s cheek, and Kage sunk into the touch briefly. Finally, barely louder than a breath, “You’re welcome, artifact.”

Then he was gone, back to Spirit Form, and CasCu was left staring at the sun again. 

The Shadow Border rolled along the surface of the bleached earth, headed towards the glimmer Sanzang had spotted on the horizon. Like she’d said, it was probably water. Sanzang’s extraordinary luck had struck proverbial gold more than once before … but it also had a way of gouging up the worst of bad luck. Monsters and demons. Gods and spirits. They were all drawn into Sanzang’s aura. She was a beacon of luck, good and bad, as interchangeable as the tides. So everyone was expecting something to happen as they headed towards that possible glimmer of water.

It was why CasCu wasn’t surprised when the Shadow Border briefly rocked on its axis, the shudder rolling through the halls. The emergency alert sang through the air, lights placed high on the walls dashing blocks of color onto the floor. Another impact shuddered through the Border, hard. 

CasCu raced towards the bridge. It wasn’t likely that he’d be called upon for battle, not since he’d just been out and harvesting, but he wanted to know what was going on. 

He wasn’t the only one who had that idea. Even in Spirit Form, the whole bridge looked like it was underwater, wavering for the amount of insubstantial Servants packed into it. The distortion warped Gudako’s and Mash’s proportions. Gordolf looked wetter, and more desperate than normal. Sherlock seemed a bit paler, eyes darker and hidden in shadow.

“-and our armor is perfectly intact,” Sherlock was saying, “Normal weapons can’t scratch the Shadow Border, so we shouldn’t need to do more than wipe off a scorch mark.”

One of the staff members - short guy in glasses, CasCu didn’t know the name of this one - said, “That’s not what these readings are saying! That blast took off one of our main armor plates. Another hit like that, and we’ll be in deep shit!”

Holmes blinked. “Really? How intriguing.” 

Gudako cursed briefly. It was good to see her more lively, her voice risen to a screech of righteous frustration. “Are you kidding me, Holmes?! Don’t say it like that! Who’s shooting at us? We need a name!”

Surprisingly, it was Gordolf who answered. “It has to be Koyanskaya! It’s the same sort of explosion that targeted the Shadow Border while we were making our escape from Chaldea.” He bit the tip of his thumb, face twisting up. “She’s back to finish the job. God - Holmes, we need a strategy!

“My apologies,” Holmes said, after a moment, “I’m not used to eating crow. Evacuate all staff in the port-side hallway to the engine room immediately. Gudako, I trust you have already selected your Servants?” 

She nodded sharply. “Mash will defend the Border from follow-up missiles. I want Arjuna and Sanzang up top. Tawara will stay solidified inside to keep the rice he summoned from disappearing. He’ll protect the staff of members if something goes wrong. The final slot will remain empty until I get a good bead on our opponent. Everyone, out now!” 

A rush of figures in Spirit Form. Mash and Gudako started towards the Bridge door.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Gordolf said, grabbing Gudako’s shoulder. “You are staying right here! We can’t have everyone running out of the Bridge. Your life is the most precious resource Chaldea has right now, so you will stay put!”

Gudako opened her mouth. “But -”

“Don’t worry, Senpai,” Mash said. She squeezed Gudako’s hand gently. “You can still issue orders from here. Meunière will pull up the screen for you to watch.” Then she was off, racing through the door to join the people up top.

CasCu watched her go. He let out a breath between his teeth, sharp and slight. These two … they had grown up since the first time he’d seen them. Gudako into a fine Master, Mash into a fine Demi-Servant. But these were not the type of circumstances he wanted to see them growing further in. 

“I’m putting up a visual now!” Called the staff member that had to have been Meunière. “There’s a hostile object approaching rapidly. We should be able to see them soon!”

Gordolf let go of Gudako, and leaned over Grand Cavello’s computer podium, ignoring her grumbled protests. His eyes were narrowed at the screen. “Their vehicle must have impressive suspension if they’re headed straight towards us. I didn’t think Russia had any racecars like that -” His eyes bugged out. His jaw swung down, gaping wide.

Mash’s voice crackled through the communicator. “That’s not a vehicle, Director. It’s a person. They are approaching on foot. Their silhouette -” She too cut off. It didn’t matter. They could all see the silhouette on the screen now.

CasCu had no personal experiences with this man. A tall man, in clergy vestments, with shaggy brown hair down to his shoulders. A hardened face. A liar’s face. Cu and Emiya knew him, the bastard priest Kotomine Kirei, one who had orchestrated one of their Wars and committed atrocities in the name of spilling the corrupted Grail’s mud. Kage knew him, from the growl that rumbled through him, breaking against the corners of CasCu’s mind. Gudako knew him, her eyes going wide, a noise caught tight between her teeth. 

For this was the man who had killed Da Vinci. Who had shoved his hand through her heart in an attempt to retrieve the Spiritron Graph. One of the two who had destroyed Chaldea. One of the ones that had manipulated the strings of the Russian Lostbelt.

And currently, he carried a very large bazooka in his arms. Plastered onto the side was the NFF Services symbol. A gun of Koyanskaya’s make. 

“Well now,” Holmes said, straightening, “I believe it to be Metropolitan Macarius. Mash, patch me through. I would like to speak to him, if possible.”

“Not - possible - at the moment -” Mash gritted out. A boom sounded, crackling the speakers. 

Gudako’s face paled. “Mash,” she shouted into her comm link. “The situation, what’s the situation?!”

“She just blocked one of those shots,” Grand Cavello said. “And -” another boom “- there goes another. He’s brought a lot of ammo, hasn’t he?” 

On screen, the priest brought up his bazooka again. A burst of fire, another boom. They couldn’t see Mash’s defense, but they could see Arjuna’s counter-attack, a series of blue arrows striking through the sky towards him. The priest showed no issue in dodging around them, briefly falling back, before setting off in pursuit again. His legs ate up the distance. He lifted the bazooka once more.

“He won’t penetrate Mash’s shield,” Gordolf said. His tone was nearly a shade calmer than before, and for all he didn’t look at Gudako while saying it, CasCu knew where those words were directed. “The only one who could properly handle a modern mage craft weapon like that is Koyanskaya herself.”

“Unfortunately, we have a bigger problem,” Grand Cavello said. The computers whirred. One of the camera’s blew to huge proportion, so it showed the whole Bridge the empty room that had been holding Kadoc Zemlupus. “The hatch is open,” Grand Cavello said, in her best ‘whoops I’ve made a mistake’ voice, “It seems like our prisoner is making an escape.”

Gordolf’s calm shattered. “WHAT?!”

“There!” Gudako pointed at one of the screens. “He’s on the starboard ramp! Sanzang, move to intercept him. I’m headed up.”

“Me too,” Gordolf snarled. “I haven’t finished asking him questions.”

CasCu watched the two rush towards the hatch. Well, there went Gordolf’s determination to keep someone inside the bridge. CasCu debated following after them. Even if he did, there would be no guarantee he’d be called upon to help - but it wasn’t like he could help either. Besides, he wouldn’t take up space outside. And he needed to know. The computer screens couldn’t give them the full picture, only parts. 

And the parts it showed weren’t good.

“That fucking priest is closing in,” Kage muttered. “Think he’s going to try to rescue Kadoc?”

“Maybe,” CasCu murmured, “He could also be here to eliminate him. We don’t know enough about how they operate.”

“We’re going out there, aren’t we,” Kage said. He sighed with the words, heavy, like he couldn’t fully believe that he was being dragged along in this scheme.

The dramatics tugged at CasCu’s lips, even as he turned to follow after Gudako and the Director. “You don’t have to, hellion.” CasCu was well aware of how standing around and doing nothing hurt his brat. It wasn’t something he was going to force Kage to do.

“You don’t have to either, artifact.” Kage shot back. Beyond the sharpness, there was warmth there, affection threaded beneath the rough edges of his voice. “Can’t stop looking after people, can you? Who the fuck is going to look after you if you continue?” 

“I can hazard a guess,” CasCu said, smiling. 

On top of the Shadow Border, the wind whipped dizzyingly through the air. There were no clouds, but CasCu could see the way it tugged and twisted at everyone’s clothes, yanking people off balance. Mash stood stalwart despite it, blocking another missile with a grunt. In comparison, Arjuna’s flow of arrows was uninterrupted. Only his barrage prevented Kotomine from closing the gap between himself and the Border.

On the back end of the Border stood Kadoc Zemlupus, Sanzang gripping his arms tight together, preventing escape. The man wasn’t fighting. He hung limp in Sanzang’s arms, shadow ringed eyes focused on the Shadow Border’s roof. 

“You don’t have to threaten me,” he mumbled, not meeting their gaze. “Getting out here was a huge pain in the ass, but it looks like it was all for nothing. Not even a life boat … I might have jumped off once but -” He laughed, something tight and a bit broken. Sad. He looked up at them, and CasCu was struck by the spark there. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the spark in Gudako’s eyes. The one that always pushed her forwards. “I made a promise,” Kadoc said, “I can’t keep throwing my life away. You want to interrogate me? Fine. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, as long as I stay alive through it -”

“MASTER LOOK OUT!”

Two voices, mental and physical, raised high in the air. Arjuna, Mash. Gudako yelped and stumbled back, dragging the Director away from Kadoc with her. Sanzang pushed Kadoc away from her and turned, raising her staff - too late. 

The black keys were fast. Faster than the voice of the one who wielded them. They plunged through Sanzang’s chest and curved out of her back. The middle one - the longest of them - caught Kadoc across the back. Blood sprayed through the air and splattered across the Shadow Border’s roof. Kadoc’s fell with a thump. For a moment, the black keys held Sanzang up. They were dismissed, and Sanzang collapsed. Blood spread rapidly across the surface of the Shadow Border. 

“Excellent. That makes this insurance trip worth it,” Kotomine said. He held the bazooka in one hand, balanced against his shoulder. The other he wiped lightly against his vestments, as if to wipe off the blood.

Gudako made a noise in her throat. Mash and Arjuna made to move, but Kotomine simply raised his bazooka and pointed it at Gudako. “Hello again,” he said, “I’m certain everyone here knows that any movement will sign away your Master’s life. I can pull the trigger before you can kill me. And these missiles are fast enough to get to her before you can.”

“Are you certain of that?” Gudako asked. Her hands shook, then balled into fists. Gordolf made a noise between his teeth, gripping her shoulder tight. 

“I’m positive,” Kotomine said, “Besides, I’m not here to kill you today.” He smiled, the smile of a liar. “Allow me to offer my congratulations on successfully taking down the Russia Lostbelt.”

Gordolf made another noise between his teeth. Gudako’s eyes flickered between Kadoc and Sanzang. Her face shifted again, to stone. “What do you want?” 

“Well,” Kotomine said, with a low, husky laugh, “My job was to oversee Kadoc’s role as a Crypter, but his role has come to an end. I believed that it would be best to give him a merciful send-off.” He stepped over Sanzang’s body, and picked up Kadoc in one hand. Kotomine threw Kadoc over his shoulder with ease. Kadoc didn’t move. The priest's vestments were stained with red.

“Not to worry,” Kotomine said, keeping the bazooka aimed. “Russia was my sole jurisdiction. Once you pass this area, I cannot follow after. I lack Koyanskaya’s ability to travel between Lostbelts, and require the Foreign God’s permission. As such, I must make my leave.” He half turned, bent his knees.

“Hold up!” Gudako called. She took a step forwards despite Gordolf’s restraining hand. “Is that all you have to say for yourself, Kotominie Kirei!” 

Kotomine blinked, once. Then he began to laugh. It was a low laugh, growing louder, full of cold amusement. “Well now, it seems like some of your Servants have been babbling! Let me clear up some confusion. Kotomine Kirie is a dead man’s name. I simply happen to be borrowing his body for a bit. My true name,” he smiled, this sharp slasher of a thing, “is Rasputin. Gregori Rasputin.” 

He leapt off the Storm Border, bazooka and Kadoc in hand. Arjuna swung up his bow, a blue arrow lighting in his fingers. “Don’t!” Gudako shouted. She bolted towards Sanzang and pressed her fingers against the Caster’s neck. “She’s alive, but barely. Arjuna, you’re dismissed! Nightingale, I need you here now!”  

Arjuna made a soft noise between his teeth, then disappeared. Nightingale appeared in a wash of sparks. Her eyes were already lit with the familiar glow of madness. And in the distance, the form of Gregori Rasputin was rapidly shrinking, leaving behind a trail of blood across the bleached earth.

“Of course the fucker would be possessed by goddamned Rasputin of all people,” Cu groused, words grating. CasCu could feel his speech against the corners of his own mind, the sharp, hot points of Cu’s rage.

“It would have stood out to me,” CasCu said, “But I didn’t know the man like you did.”  He didn’t know the man at all. CasCu’s own Holy Grail War had enough issues that he supposed the Kotomine Kirei from his time had no reason to rush it. Not when the corrupted Grail had been able to manifest by itself without help or nurturing.

“No, you didn’t,” Cu growled. He let out a sound between his teeth, audible for a brief moment. “The fucker was always too smug, too fucking smarmy. He liked … pleasure, in the way that suggested he didn’t actually like it, but enjoyed taking the steps of it. More like how his pleasures made other people feel worse. Bastard was a good liar too. Fucking asshole. I hope his flesh falls off his bones, and he has to watch it rot.”

For a moment, CasCu said nothing. There wasn’t much he could say. His interactions with Kotomine - this Rasputin, had been confined to Chaldea’s destruction and their paths through the Lostbelts. He hated the man for killing Da Vinci. He despised the bastard for what he’d done to Kadoc, a supposed ally. Even with Nightingale’s attention, it was unlikely that Sanzang would survive the Black Keys that had been shoved through her body.

But CasCu’s rage was nothing compared to Cu’s own. It trembled, just briefly, on the edge of a warp spasm. But in their current forms, they couldn’t enter that monstrous state. That ability had been taken along with half their divinity from Mórrígan. 

Well, Cu’s ability to warp, at least. Which was what mattered right now.

CasCu sent warmth down the mental connection between them, letting it soothe over the jagged spikes of Cu’s rage. “You’ll be there to watch it rot too,” he promised. “Gudako said you could participate in taking him down, didn’t she? Our time will come, Cu. We just have to wait a bit longer for it.” 

Cu was silent for a moment. “I guess so,” he muttered finally. “But I’m sick and tired of being patient for that bastard.”

“And what would Scáthach say about that?” That voice belonged to Proto, a sudden interruption to their conversation. If he was angry, he hid it well. All his voice and mental touch held was gentle teasing. “She’d kick your ass and send you back to hunting 101.”

“Her hunting 101 was having us fight phantasmal beasts,” Cu grunted, a bit more sullen. “There was no patience in that.”

“I think we’re remembering hunting 101 differently,” Proto said, “I remember her lecturing about patience. A lot.” 

“I’m certain,” rumbled a different voice altogether, “that was one of her normal lectures. You two would need that lecture repeated.” 

Alter’s accusation got twin squawks of disapproval. CasCu smiled slightly. Proto whined, “Oh come on! You’re us too. You’d need the same damn lecture on patience as us! Multiple times even.” 

“Would I?” Alter asked dryly.

It was a good question. Alter wasn’t really … like them, in a way. He was a twisted version, a wish made true. In many senses, he shouldn’t have even existed. He didn’t have a proper history, not like the rest of them. Therefore, complaints about Scáthach’s lectures, their past with her, meant nothing to him beyond what fragments of memory that wish had given them. 

“Alter’s patient,” CasCu said, “He’d only need to hear the lecture once before getting it. We could ask Scáthach now if you want proof.”

“I think it’s called dissociating,” Cu grumbled. 

They couldn’t see Alter’s shrug, but CasCu could easily imagine it. “Call it what you want.” Alter said.

“I will,” Cu sniffed. He paused a moment, as if debating on chewing this old bone, before letting out a soft curse. “Did Sanzang spot water?” 

Ah, this topic. CasCu settled back against the side of the Shadow Border. “She spotted something she thought was water. We’re going to have a hard time collecting it, though, if only two Heroic Spirits can go out.” 

“She could use A Hundred Personas',” Proto pointed out, “Or ask Fuuma. His noble phantasm makes clones too, just … not as variable as A Hundred Personas?” 

“Or long-lasting,” CasCu said dryly. He could feel the force of Proto’s pout, and smiled. “Hundred Personas will probably be on the team. If they’ve got those spells cast on Tawata’s rice so it lasts past him, he might be sent out to fetch water too. Someone in their Summer Spirit Origin, maybe. Who of them had water controlling abilities?”

A pause. Proto groaned. “Meltryllis does.” 

“Good luck to Gudako, then,” CasCu said, “I hope that they have enough QP stored to pay off her fee.” 

Alter didn’t even bother saying anything. He just scoffed, this harsh, disbelieving sound. CasCu didn’t blame him. They were short of too many resources, and they could no longer reliably gather some of them. Gudako’s QP stores were probably low. Too low to pay off Meltryllis’ fees in her summer form.

“Meltryllis likes Gudako,” Cu said, “She’ll be fine.” 

“I hope,” Proto muttered. Personally, CasCu agreed.

It took nearly two days to reach the glimmer Sanzang had spotted. During that time, her recovery period was … rocky. CasCu had heard that Irisviel had to come out of Spirit Form to spam her Noble Phantasm. But right now, she seemed stable. Stable enough that Nightingale felt comfortable leaving her post by the Caster’s side and giving Gudako a report on Sanzang’s condition.

What Sanzang had seen was not water. They were buildings.

Gudako stepped out of the Shadow Border, Mash beside her. Heroic Spirits followed after, an invisible cloak in their wake. CasCu had planned to plant more crops at whatever water Sanzang had spotted, but this took precedence. It was the first remnant of civilization they had seen since leaving Chaldea behind. If they could even call it a remnant.

“It looks like even the buildings have been bleached,” Gudako breathed. She gripped Mash’s hand, squeezed it tight.

The Demi-Servant made a small, protesting noise between her teeth. “Those are buildings, right? They don’t …” 

They didn’t look like buildings. The structures had been warped and twisted out of true, all color bleached from them so only the occasional metallic flash remained. Parts of them had been wiped away, as if erased or swatted by a large hand. Other’s looked like they’d been disassembled and stacked all wrong.

“It looks like surrealist art,” Grand Cavallo said over the comm link. “Or possibly post-modern art. It’s quite beautiful, in its own way.”

Gudako said nothing for a moment. Her grip on Mash’s hand was white knuckled. “Is there any water nearby, Grand Cavallo?”

“Yes, there is,” she said. “A river to the right side of these buildings. It doesn’t have much water flow, but it should give us enough to bolster our supplies.” 

“Good,” Gudako said. “Meltryllis, switch to your summer Spirit Origin, you’re on water collecting duty. Send word to Irisviel, that she’s to step back into Spirit Form unless absolutely necessary. CasCu, go back to growing and collecting plants. Mash, let’s go.” 

Mash started. “Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to look for survivors,” Gudako said. She took a step forwards, then another. Mash squeezed her hand back, then followed after. The two made their way to the bleached buildings, so utterly devoid of color. 

CasCu didn’t think they’d find anything. 

“They found something,” Kage said.

CasCu’s focus on his runecraft faltered. The growth of the squash slowed to a crawl. His head jerked up, but it didn’t matter. Kage was solidly in Spirit Form, impossible to see, especially in this whiteness. And yet - “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” Kage retorted. But his voice was very careful, neutral. “Evidence that a group had been living here for a while. Bottles and canned food mostly. Abandoned communications device. And a journal.”

CasCu swallowed hard. It was more than expected, more than anyone expected. He pressed his fingers against the chalky soil and asked, soft. “How is Gudako and Mash taking it?” 

“About as well as expected,” Kage said. “It gives them a bit of hope. There are still a lot of mysteries - according to the journal people were just fucking disappearing, but if one group survived, there could be more survivors out there. It means we’re not alone out here, not the only survivors.”

“It means we’re not fighting for an empty world,” CasCu finished. He knew how much that would mean to Gudako, to Mash. That they were not fighting for idle dreams and a foolish hope. That they were fighting for people still living. That there was a chance humanity could survive this. 

Kage made a noise between his teeth, tight. “Yeah, that,” he said. “How close are you done to being finished? Meltryllis is about done with water collection, and the higher ups want to leave as soon as possible. We’re almost to the next Lostbelt.”

CasCu nodded. He turned back to his squash, closed his eyes, and pushed a bit more mana into his rooms. The squash began to grow again, swiftly cycling through their cycle of life. Flowers began to burst across the vines, and just as quickly began to fall, squash swelling in their place. “With any luck, it will be better than the first one.”

“Scandinavia is as bad as Russia, temperature wise,” Kage retorted, just the barest touch of humor in his voice. “It’ll be like Boudica’s damn storm all over again.” 

“You can hide within the Shadow Border, hellion,” CasCu returned, but the words took a moment to say. Scandinavia. It felt like something in CasCu had been plucked, sharp and sudden, with that word. Scandinavia. Norse Country.

Scáthach had connections to the Norse countries, at least in the most roundabout ways. Although her Land of Shadows was technically based in Scotland, it was also disjointed from time and space. From there, objects, souls, people of all sorts and all times tended to wash up, although that was rare and far between. At some point, something Norse had made its way there. Norse enough for her to learn their runes and use them in battle. 

The same runes that she had taught CasCu. That currently laid beneath his fingers, his mana powering their growth. Scandinavia. One of the many places those runes had come from. One of those many places those gods had come from. Those gods …

“Oi, artifact, you alright? Or is your old age kicking in and your memory failing?” 

CasCu jerked out of his thoughts, and shook himself sharply. “Thanks, hellion, but it’s doing fine,” he retorted. The squash had finished growing, any more power and they’d be too ripe. CasCu withdrew his fingers from those runes, and shook the soil from his skin. “Tell Gudako I’ll be in with the last of the produce, will ya?” 

“God, you’ve discovered my favorite thing. Being a fucking errand dog.” A pause, brief. “Are you sure you’re okay, artifact?”

CasCu scoffed. “Of course I’m okay. Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” 

“You got a funky look in your eyes, a second there. Better not be drifting off on me, ya hear? Otherwise, I’ll have to drag you back, and you won’t appreciate the way I do it.” There was a brief tap against CasCu’s head, like a hand coming solid for a second, then Kage was off. CasCu was left there to collect the squash, alone.

Gods, maybe the hellion was right and there was something off. For some reason, CasCu didn’t quite like the sensation of being alone right now. It felt too hollow, too empty. His movement’s slightly disjointed from his bodies commands. Fucking weird. 

He shook himself, got back to collecting the squash. The Shadow Border was probably running low on mana. Best to get this back as soon as possible, so he didn’t have to stay out here in this bleached hellscape.

From the view screens, the outside of the Scandinavian Lostbelt looked like nothing but a big half dome of light. It was white against white, nearly blending in with the horizon. One could only tell it apart from the surroundings by the way it broke the uniform mountain ranges and carved into the sky. A burning pillar of light sung within the middle of it, reaching out past the top of the dome and towards the atmosphere.

To enter the Lostbelt, they would have to enter Zero Sail once more. 

CasCu remembered their first entrance to Void Space. How the act of transitioning had cut off every one of his senses, how they hadn’t been allowed to take Spirit Form through it. The first couple times had been different. They’d been on the run. This was done willingly, without hesitation. A path forwards instead of a way to run away. 

It felt good to move forwards. 

All around the Shadow Border, people strapped themselves in, preparing for the entrance into Zero Sail. All around the Shadow Border, Heroic Spirit’s left Spirit Form, just for these two minutes of travel. CasCu found a good room, blessedly empty of Chaldea staff members. He coalesced with a sigh; flexed his fingers to get the tingles out of them. 

Kage came into being beside him. He was a sight for sore eyes, white hair tousled as ever, his golden eyes bright and warm. In the dim lights of this room, the traces of his curse pulsed softly over his cheek and arm.

“You’re staring,” Kage said, crossing his arms with a scowl. 

Bluster, through and through. CasCu grinned wide. “What can I say? It’s been a bit since I’ve seen your face, hellion. I miss it.” 

Predictably, heat spread across Kage’s cheeks. He scowled harder. “Goddamned sap, artifact,” he grumbled.

“Not that much of a sap,” CasCu protested. He closed the space between them, wrapped an arm around Kage’s waist, and set his forehead on his shoulder. 

“And here you go doing shit like this,” Kage snarked. But he wrapped his arm around CasCu in turn, and sighed. “Are you ready?” 

“Are you?” CasCu retorted. 

“Ain’t that a fucking question,” Kage muttered. He fell silent for a moment. CasCu felt a face press against his hair, heard the intake of breath beside his ear. Then Kage stiffened, awkward. His arm dropped. “Someone’s coming.” 

CasCu snorted. “It wouldn’t kill you for someone to see you be soft for once.” 

“I’m not fucking testing that, artifact,” Kage retorted, poking CasCu’s side with a finger. “Come on, let go.” 

“The things I do for you, a ghra,” CasCu sighed. He let go of Kage, then moved to his side. There. Close enough that the touch was comforting, but not enough for the blatant physical affection to come through. Kage relaxed for it with a mumbled thank you. CasCu hummed his ‘welcome’ and settled his head on Kage’s shoulder.

They waited. They waited for the room to fill up with Heroic Spirits. They waited for Grand Cavallo’s countdown to start. And then everything shut off. Light, sound, heat, and the sensation of Kage’s body beside him. CasCu drifted in the abyss, and then too was gone.

They came too later, when the Shadow Border came to a jerking stop. CasCu groaned between his teeth. His head felt like it’d been smacked with something, his whole mind spinning. He leaned harder against Kage, fingers gripping the armor of his wrist. For a moment, the entire room was disjointed, a double image superimposed in perfect detail. Then CasCu’s vision snapped back to what it should be. 

“Apologies, everyone!” Sang the P.A. system, in Grand Cavello’s voice. “The Director ordered an emergency exit from void space thanks to an - interesting organism we encountered. Nausea and dizziness is to be expected, but it seems like the Storm Border’s capabilities haven’t been damaged too badly! We’re going to give everyone some time to recuperate before we start forwards again. Heroic Spirits, if you could please return to Spirit Form once you have recovered, that would be appreciated!” 

The P.A. buzzed out. Kage grunted. “What the fuck did she mean by interesting organism?” 

He didn’t sound too good, voice thick and slurring. CasCu took a moment to steady himself, then turned to look at Kage. His face was pale and drawn, lips pressed tight together. CasCu reached up to touch his forehead. “How do you feel?” 

“Fucked,” Kage grunted, “Without all the fun.”

CasCu let out a breath of a laugh. “Once we get to that Wandering Sea, we might be able to change that. Hold still.” He pressed his finger against Kage’s forehead, and drew a couple runes. Gebo, Sowilo. The gift of the sun onto Kage, to bolster his health. 

Under the soft blue glow of the runes, color returned to Kage’s face. He let out a breath. “Thanks, artifact.” 

“You’re welcome, hellion.” CasCu murmured. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Kage’s. Kage didn’t argue. They stood there, holding each other, letting their breaths stabilize. Behind them, one by one, fellow Heroic Spirits’ took to Spirit Form. Slowly, the room emptied, until it was just them.

Kage made a small face. “You ready?” 

“Almost,” CasCu murmured. “Give me a few seconds longer.” 

Kage grumbled at that, but he settled his arms around CasCu, let loose a long sigh. “Needy old man,” he murmured. 

CasCu’s lips twitched. “As if you don’t cling as well,” he returned, this soft tease. He glanced at Kage.

The bastard was smiling. It was that particular smile that Kage reserved for only a few things, small, awkward, but utterly warm. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” CasCu grinned back. 

“Am not,” Kage protested, with no heat.

“So are,” CasCu murmured. He leaned up, just a tad, pressing his lips to Kage’s. For a moment they both lingered there, soaking in the touch. Then CasCu took to Spirit Form, and Kage followed after. It was time to see what sort of world was on the monitors.

Gudako and Mash must not have been hit too hard by the impromptu escape from Void Space. By the time CasCu and Kage made their way to the Bridge, Gudako had already chosen her team and was off exploring the surrounding area. 

CasCu was almost miffed. He would have liked to see who she’d selected to explore, to see what the surrounding area looked like first hand. A part of him, deep, buried, ached for it. But the monitor screens would have to do, for all it was a second rate showing in Spirit Form. But what it showed - oh, even second rate, it made CasCu’s breath catch. 

Russia had been snowy, yes, but it was an endless blizzard sort of snow. There was no softness too it, no kindness. Instead, it had been hard edged, a place where only the best adapted or the best prepared could survive. Though snowy, the Scandinavian Lostbelt was not that place. Instead, the picture on the monitor was quite peaceful. No blizzard, with rolling hills of snow and conifers made of crystal. The sky showed only the faintest wisps of clouds, and that sun - 

CasCu didn’t like that sun. 

It was too large, nearly swallowing up the sky. A silver orb that didn’t seem to give out as much light as a sun that size should have had. Perhaps it had been a moon, reflecting the light of something else, but the area was too bright for that. It was clearly day, and that bright disk hung over it all. Too big. Too bright. 

It made something in CasCu’s stomach twist. His fingers flexed; he ached for his spear.

“Fucking great,” Kage breathed beside him. “It’s goddamned snow again.”

“You knew it’d be snow, hellion.” CasCu murmured back, soft. The touch of Kage’s mind against his was grounding. He relaxed slightly, fingers uncurling.

“Yeah,” Kage muttered, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Disgusting.” 

CasCu’s lips twitched slightly. “I’ll keep you warm if we have to go out, a ghra.”

A touch of embarrassment, warm, brushing along CasCu’s mind. Kage’s voice dipped to something softer, awkward but happy. “Thanks, artifact.”

“You’re welcome.”

They fell silent. The comm links from Gudako and Mash’s end were silent as well. The two were experienced with enemy territory. They knew that - no matter how pretty their surroundings were - dropping their guard and drawing unnecessary attention to themselves would only be painful in the long run. It took a while before the comm links finally crackled, and Gudako’s voice filtered into the room. 

“We’ve found a hill that gives us a good vantage point,” she said, “From here we can see a mountain range and a river, and this conifer forest continues for a while. Everything’s covered in ice and snow, but … the mountain range also appears to be on fire? There’s a blue haze where the trees aren’t, and it sure looks like flames, but the snow isn’t melting at all.”

“There’s another thing,” Mash said, leaning in close. “I can’t see a tree of emptiness anywhere. It was clearly visible outside the Lostbelt, and I don’t think it can disappear on its own, so I think it must be hidden by mage craft of some kind.”

“An excellent deduction, Ms. Krielight,” Holmes said. “However, it is too early to make any proper deductions yet.”

“Of course,” Mash said. 

“It seems like you’re about five hundred meters away,” Holmes continued, “That’s about a perfect distance, since we’re still unable to detect any hostiles entities. Thankfully, our emergency exit didn’t strain the Border as much as we anticipated, but I am afraid we’re not going to be moving for a while.”

“Would you like us to continue the patrol?” Gudako asked, “There’s not much else to see from here.” 

Sherlock hummed. His voice was distant. “A land of ice and fire … it seems like this Lostbelt will present its own challenges. I do have a few things to note on the sun, which I’m sure you both noticed. It would take billions of years for our sun to reach this size, which would make it a red giant. However, the presence of a red giant would certainly melt all this snow and leave a desert in its wake.”

“Which means … it can’t be our sun?” Mash guessed.

“Exactly,” Sherlock said, “it might look like our sun, but it is not. I don’t recall anything along those lines within Scandinavian and Germanic folklore, but I’ll have Grand Cavallo to run through stories just in case.” 

“And what about the fire?” Gudako asked. “That’s pretty odd.”

“Take a closer look,” Sherlock said, “If nothing is burning or melting, then the flames must be separate and floating above the mountain, which makes it a byproduct of magecraft. For it to be existing here, it must have been made by a Crypter or a Lostbelt Servant. That I can say for certain.”

“Great,” Gudako said. “Can you ask Grand Cavallo to look for Servants that might have been able to cause something like this? The quicker we can find who it is, the better for us.”

“Certainly, she’s already on the ca -”

Lights blared on in the Bridge. CasCu jerked back out of listening, his hand reaching automatically for his spear, his staff. Nothing came, not like this, in Spirit Form. One of the Chaldea Staff had hit the alarm. They looked up, eyes wild. “We’ve got hostiles incoming! Mash, Gudako, prepare for battle!” 

Gordolf, who’d been muttering to himself, lunged forwards. He near shouted into the comm link, this desperate thing. “Mash! Gudako! Get back, I say, get back! There’s no use in engaging with something right now. Retreat to the Storm Border, but cover your tracks! We don’t want to be followed.”

“Too late for that,” Gudako breathed. “It’s not like we could escape something as large as that! Director, we have giants. I repeat, we have giants!”

Giants.

The word sank through CasCu like a stone cast from a well. He froze, breath caught in the back of his throat. Giants. He’d fought giants in life, the Formarions of Ireland. Perhaps these were similar. Then again, with the location, they were probably different. He listened numbly as orders were shouted, keys were typed. The Shadow Border’s cameras were pushed to their greatest extent, forced to view the battle in grainy detail. 

Giants indeed.

They were huge. Disproportionately long arms gripped a giant spear, the tip like a solid wedge of frozen metal. It was clothed in fur and leather, and its face was hidden by an icy mask, two tusks jutting out past it’s jaw in jagged curves. It roared something, and CasCu swore for a second - for a split second - that the sounds made sense.

Then battle broke out.

It was always nerve wracking, watching Gudako’s battles and being unable to participate. CasCu drew in a sharp breath past constrained lungs, his fingers flexing painfully by his side. But it didn’t matter. New enemy or no, Gudako was too experienced to be overrun by a lone creature. In the end, the giant hit the snow with a loud thump. The communicator was filled with the sound of Mash’s panting breaths.

“I am alright,” she said, “All my vital signs are alright. I’m still good to fight.”

“Of course you are!” Gordolf blustered, “Now, come back here this instant! This drastically changes our approach to this Lostbelt!”

“We’ll make our way back,” Gudako promised. “Did we get a proper reading on our enemy? Our detection was a bit late.” 

“At this point, there are a few things we can say,” Sherlock said. “What you just fought was neither Heroic Spirit nor Phantasmal Beast. Farfetched as it might sound, he was simply an inhabitant of this Lostbelt. One that could not have existed in the twenty-first century. What do you know of giants, Ms Kyrielight?”

One could practically imagine Mash straightening up, eager to report. “I read that a number of powerful giants used to live in Scandinavia. But in the modern area, giant sightings in Sweden, Denmark, or Norway have ceased. I believe most of them existed in the Age of Gods.” 

“You are correct,” Gordolf stated. He pushed Sherlock away from the console, taking his place with a tight expression. “A encounter like this should have been impossible! And yet you met one! The way it roared - did it sound like it was speaking in a language you couldn’t understand? We don’t have any records of giantish, but myth says they had their own language.”

“It did sound like a language,” Mash said, “but its eyes - the glimpse I caught was filled with bloodlust.” 

For a moment, everyone fell silent. The comm link, and therefore the Bridge, was filled with the crunch of Gudako’s and Mash’s feet against the snow. There was a pit in CasCu’s stomach that he couldn’t fully push away. There was no name to it. It just stuck there, heavy in his stomach. Giantish. Something he had nearly understood. Which wasn’t possible. By Lugh, perhaps Kage was right, and his mind was leaving him. 

Then again, none of this was fucking possible, and here they were.

The console buzzed briefly. “Anyway,” Grand Cavallo said, “We have a reason as to why we couldn’t detect the giant until too late. The ice and snow on the ground is imbued with faint magical energy. It’s interfering with our sensors. However! With my expert genius, I’ve already made a way to account for this! I’m sending the update to Ortinax now, so even if we’re late on detecting enemies, you should be able to!”

“Oh, that’s going to be helpful!” Gudako said, after a beat. “Thanks, D- Grand Cavallo!”

“You’re welcome~” The AI sang, in that particular beat that made CasCu’s chest ache. He knew it was an ache familiar to many. Grand Cavallo was not Da Vinci, but she had many of Da Vinci’s habits. Each one was a painful reminder of Da Vinci’s lost, but what could they do? Tell Grand Cavallo to stop? No one was that heartless. 

“Um, Master?” Mash asked.

“Yeah?” Gudako said.

“Ortinax is picking up new hostiles. One is a giant. The others are new, but they’re rapidly approaching. I think we should pick up our pace.” 

“Alright,” Gudako said. “Director, Sherlock, Grand Cavallo, we’re cutting off the comm link. We need to focus on running and fighting, alright?” She didn’t wait for an answer. With a crackle, the feed went dead. 

“Damn it,” Gordolf growled. He pulled back from the console, biting the edge of his gloved thumb. “Barely two hours in and we’ve already had two encounters with enemies. How long until the Shadow Border is finished recharging, technical advisor?”

“Fifty two minutes left!” Grand Cavallo said. “Depending on how fast Gudako and Mash are, they might make before we’re done.” 

Gordolf nodded. He started to pace, hands working together. “So creatures from the Age of Gods still exist here - did the Age of Gods just never stop? And this is only the Second Lostbelt! This is too soon! Do these damn Crypters have no sense of restraint? What if these Giants are our humanity. We still haven’t seen any trace of humans in this Lostbelt -”

“Director,” Sherlock said, “you’re panicking. I think you should sit down for a few moments.”

“Of course I-” Gordolf cut himself off. He took in a deep breath, then smoothed his hand over his hair. “Of course, he said,” and for a moment he was a picture of calm, expression blankly forced, “A rest would be a good idea. I’m afraid that emergency exit took more out of me than I expected, to suffer such a nervous breakdown. I’m going to take a little rest.”

“Of course. We’ll hold down the fort until you’re back and feeling better,” Sherlock murmured, tipping his head.

Gordolf nodded shakily, then started away. CasCu felt Kage’s mind touch his own again, this short ‘tch’ of disgust. “Worried himself so much about the damn situation he had to retreat? I still don’t think this fucker’s much of a leader.”

“I’m not exactly fond of him myself,” CasCu murmured, “But being worried isn’t a bad thing. He shows some qualities a leader needs. He snaps too in a dangerous situation, and when things get too dicey he pulls out. Most higher ups don’t tend to think like that, but Gordolf is decently good at it. That means the people of Chaldea are certainly safer.” 

Kage was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, before he grumbled, “I guess you’re right there. But there’s still a line between ‘snapping to attention’ and ‘having a panic attack over every little thing’. Bastards, solidly in category two.”

“I think it’s a better category than our Master is in right now. Perhaps in that way, they can balance each other out.”

Kage had no reply to that. CasCu didn’t blame him. But it was true, as much as they both might have hated it. Gudako was becoming too accustomed to fighting. Too accustomed to seeing new and dangerous things. They rarely had an effect on her anymore. One prone to panic attacks wouldn’t make a good Master, but a part of CasCu wished that she wasn’t so … accepting of her situation. Wasn’t able to roll with the punches so well.

It showed, far too easily, just how much she had been through.

Too much for any one human.

“They were ice beasts,” Gudako said, once she and Mash had returned. “Those things that we faced, the ones flanking the giants, were ice beasts. I guess they could have been Phantasmals, but it was certainly weird. Especially since the giant looked like it was using them like people used hunting dogs.”

“You two really had a rough time of it, huh?” Grand Cavallo asked.

Mash nodded. She’d changed out of Ortinax, back in her normal clothes. She looked tired, hugging one arm to her side. The fingers of her free hand were tied with Gudako’s. “Yes, we did.” 

“Luckily for you,” Grand Cavallo continued, “Sherlock’s got an idea where those giants came from. It might clear up some confusion. Then again, knowing Sherlock, it might not!”

Sherlock tapped his fingers lightly against the console. His voice was very dry. “Thank you for that, Grand Cavallo. I’ll endeavor to make this as clear as possible. I believe those giants you encountered were Jötnar, members of the Jötunn race of giants. Do you know the mythos those came from?”

“Norse, right?” Gudako asked, voicing the words on CasCu’s lips. He felt a bit frozen, listening to Sherlock. A bit off. That odd feeling of not fully belonging to his body was back.

“Correct,” Sherlock said. “The Norse world was composed of nine realms. One of those was Muspelheim, the land of flame. Another was Niflheim, the land of ice, through which an icy river of poison flowed. When these two realms collided, the poisonous frost melted. Then, when it was exposed to Muspelheim's heat, grew into a tremendous giant, Ymir. The race of giants that went on to spring forth from Ymir's body were called Jötunn, the frost giants. It's said that the surviving Jötnar eventually fell out of mythology and went on to become trolls, but what you two saw today were no trolls. They were most definitely Jötnar.”

“You sound certain,” Mash said. She frowned slightly, gripped Gudako’s hand harder.

Sherlock gave a little laugh. “Of course I am. But there are still many questions to be answered. Is this simply a Norse Lostbelt where a once-lost race of giants still runs amok? No, I very much doubt that is all there is to it. Based on what we know from Russia, we can assume there is a being here who rules over this Lostbelt, and a Crypter who tends to the Tree of Emptiness. While our primary concern is with the latter, there remains a strong possibility that we will come into conflict with the former as well. That said, our goal this time does not include engaging them in battle. Our intent is to cross Scandinavia without them ever knowing we were here.”

“But we can’t do that quite yet,” Grand Cavallo beeped. “There’s a lot of magical energy gathered here, so we’re going to take a little more time to recharge and stock up on mana. You two should get some -”

Lights flashed, nearly blinding the cockpit. The Shadow Border’s emergency alert sounded through the cockpit, painfully loud. All across the Bridge, people flinched back, covering their ears. One of the staff members - CasCu thought it was Meunière - pounded on the dashboard as if to reset it. “Gudako! Holmes! A freakin' enormous magical energy signal just popped out of nowhere! It’s like a magical reactor core! This monster’s on par with the Angrboda powered by the Greater Grail we saw in London!”

Sherlock spun around, his cape flapping. “It’s most likely a Servant. They must have been using their Spirit Form. Mash, I advise preparing for combat.”

Mash stuttered. “Hai!” Then she was off, racing to go out on her Ortinax. 

Gudako stayed right where she was, eyes focused on the monitor. “Is it a Lostbelt Servant?” 

“Well, their Spirit Origin matches one of our Sabers - but it’s also? Wrong? Like the wrong color somehow,” Meunière said, peering at the monitors, “I don’t know! But I know they’re hostile! Their magic energy is going all over the place!”

Sherlock hummed, unconcerned. “The Border's spirit radar is one of the most sensitive in the world. If it failed to detect this Servant until now, then they are probably getting some help with their Presence Concealment. Had they wished to do so, I have no doubt they could have gotten much, much closer. They must be incredibly confident…or perhaps incredibly cruel. Mr. Meunière, can you put them up on the monitor?”

“I can’t!” Meunière said, “They're right in our blind spot! Shouldn’t we be leaving by now?”

“No,” Gudako said. She sounded too calm. “We’re still in camouflage mode. But it won’t last long if he keeps on looking around. Saber, you said?”

“Y-yeah,” Meunière said, “Why?” 

“We shouldn’t let them into the Border,” Gudako continued. “With our current resources, we wouldn’t be able to keep him from hurting people inside. Has he moved at all?” 

“N-no,” Meunière said, “they haven't moved a muscle since they showed up… But I still can't see anything on the monitor. They're right in the middle of our blind spot.”

“Then it would seem they're waiting to see how we react,” Sherlock said, “Bold, yet with a touch of caution. Grand Cavallo, I'd like you to start up the Border's engine the moment we step outside. Make sure it is ready to depart at any time.”

“You got it,” Grand Cavallo said, “But make sure you buy us enough time for it to warm up, okay?”

“We will,” Gudako said. She turned - Mash was already there, hurrying forwards with her Ortinax equipped.

On her heals, imposing, eyes burning, was Gordolf. The man had pulled himself up, chest puffed up in fury. “We make an emergency dive!” He shouted, into the stunned shell of the Bridge. “I will not have you going out to face an unknown and extremely powerful foe. I absolutely forbid it! An emergency dive is the only option!”

“Sorry senpai,” Mash said, “he caught me as I was coming back.”

Gudako smiled, strained. “It’s alright, Mash.”

Gordolf strode forwards, shoulder back, eyes glaring. “A situation like this calls for a retreat, not meeting the enemy on their own terms. Traversing this Lostbelt to make a getaway is out of the question as well. If the enemy has found us out, then our first order of business is to hide again. And that means a Zero Sail! Once we’re within Void space, we can make a clean get away.”

“That is true,” Grand Cavallo said, beeping softly, “We'd have to figure out how to get back to reality once we set sail, but it would give us a secure way out of this particular predicament. That said, are you sure about this? We still haven't finished reapplying the Logic Formula. There's a nonzero chance that our armor just comes off in Void Space, and we end up adrift there forever. Let's see, I'd say the odds of that happening are maybe 0.003 percent?”

“That’s nothing!” Gordolf snapped. With each word, his voice rose a little louder, until it rebounded off the Shadow Border’s walls. “I've never even come close to winning a race in my own vehicle with odds like that. At any rate, given we’d only have three Servants available, fighting on this powerful is out of the question. Need I remind you of the sort of enemies we faced back in Russia!? These Lostbelt Servants are tremendously powerful. Just because the girls are able to fight now doesn't mean you should run to battle at every chance you get. As your commander, and your director, I will support whatever option I feel offers the best chance of survival, no matter how slight the difference. No, in fact, this is an order! As my advisors, it's your job to justify my decisions, not mine!”

For a moment, the Bridge was resoundingly silent. Everyone stared at Gordolf. Gudako and Mash did it with round, startled eyes, as if they’d been hit across the face without warning. For once, they looked their age. It came to CasCu, then, just how long it had been since someone prioritized retreat and fighting another day instead of moving forwards and fighting, no matter the odds or questions.

“Shit,” he breathed to Kage, “I think this bastard is growing on me.”

Kage made a noise between his teeth, tight and disguised. “Like a fucking fungus.” But he didn’t argue. Gordolf’s explosion had made an impression.

“Well,” Grand Cavallo said, “Sorry Sherlock, sorry Gudako, but there’s been a change of plans. Everyone, buckle up!” Her voice broke, crackled, and then came through the P.A. system. “Heroic Spirits, please exit Spirit Form for an emergency Zero Sail.” She started to go through the countdown, the preparations. 

CasCu came to existence, Kage pressed right against him. With the Heroic Spirits all suddenly there, the Bridge was absolutely packed. Sherlock had to push through people to take the wheel. CasCu glanced to Kage, who stood tight, shoulders bunched. “Hallway?” he asked.

Kage nodded. “Hallway.”

They pushed their way into the hallway. It was still packed, but it wasn’t nearly to the level of sardines. CasCu nodded to the few who nodded to him, then settled against the wall, pressing his hand against Kage’s. Kage took it, cheeks a tad red, then gave it a squeeze. “This fucking thing again,” he muttered.

“It’ll pass,” CasCu said. 

Kage nodded. He shifted, once. “If - is we do end up having to engage that Servant, Gudako said she wanted me on the team. Thought I should let you know.” 

Ah. That made sense. Kage was a skilled Archer, and his stores of Independent Action made him more preferable to fight in a setting like this. CasCu squeezed Kage’s hand tight, then nodded sharply. “Alright,” he said, his voice soft. “Be safe.” 

“I will,” Kage promised.

CasCu nearly called out the lie. But at that moment, everything blacked out, sensation, touch - and then it turned on again. CasCu blinked. He stared at the hallway, the Servants within it. “That wasn’t nearly long enough,” he murmured. 

Kage was already pushing off the wall. “Did Zero Sail fail?”

Grand Cavallo’s voice crackled over the speakers. There was just enough panic in there that made CasCu freeze. “They got us good! Whoever’s out there sensed our spells going off and caught us in a split second. They’re physically holding us back. I’m impressed. Their physical strength exceeds the Border’s maximum output!”

“Physical?” Someone breathed.

CasCu blinked. “They grabbed hold of the border,” he realized, the words falling heavily into the air. They grabbed onto the border, and through that alone, stopped their Zero Sail. It shouldn’t have been possible. The pit of dread in CasCu’s stomach expanded.

“All hands, prepare to crash!” Grand Cavallo shouted, speakers screeching. “Heroic Spirits, return to Spirit Form!” 

CasCu had just enough time to blip out of experience before he felt it. The roll and shake of something being thrown, of being caught within an object and rolled around like a marble in a tin can. The spells on the Shadow Border made it harder to feel, but CasCu saw the way the walls tilted, and went flying with it. His Spirit Form phased through the wall. He landed in the bridge, amongst groans of pain and confusion.

Mash was already up, Gudako moving up with her. She sounded confused, holding her head. “Did we just barrel roll and crash?”

“Hai,” Mash said, “I felt the same thing.”

“That is precisely what happened,” Holmes said. He was the only one who didn’t look dizzy, his hands resting on the wheel of the Shadow Border. “That hostile Servant stopped our Zero Sail in its tracks before simply tossing us like a baseball. That is truly incredible strength. Perhaps -”

“Attention!” Grand Cavallo interrupted, “I'm afraid that crash completely shut down all our navigation systems. I can try to bypass the damaged systems, but even that's going to take some time. And then there's all the damage to the suspension. Luckily, we didn’t end up completely upside down, but we’re still not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m sorry, everyone, we can’t drive or run away on land anymore.”

Gordolf struggled to his feet. His face was too pale. “This is bad. Really bad.”

As if that wasn’t obvious. CasCu struggled to his feet, as Menurie frantically gestured at their sensors, “The magical signals are coming at us. One hundred meters, fifty meters - they’ve collided with the exterior! It’s melting our external armor!”

“Do they not realize how long was spent reinforcing this armor?” Grand Cavallo screeched, P.A. breaking with her voice, “There's no way anything should be able to break through it this easily… I mean, Da Vinci spent a ton of time making sure of that! What kind of weapon or Noble Phantasm do they have that could possibly do this!?”

Mash glanced at Gudako, her face pale. “Senpai -”

Gudako nodded sharply. “Let’s go. Kage, Hercules, Arjuna - come.” 

They appeared, minus Hercules, who was too big for the Shadow Border. Kage stood next to Arjuna, shoulders back, face a mask. CasCu hated to see it. He wanted to reach out to smooth out the harness in that gaze, the stiffness in his shoulders. Gods, Kage hated fighting. Hated killing, in part because it made his curse, the remnants of the twisted thing he had been in Fuyuki, stronger.

“Three Servants isn’t going to be enough,” Grand Cavallo said. “That person’s Spirit Origin is on par with Ivan’s. You need to take everyone you can.”

“Nightingale’s still treating Sanzang. I’ll call her if we need it,” Gudako said.

“Still not enough,” Sherlock said. “I believe that, for this one, I need to come with you. We can hold nothing back, and at the very least, I can keep you safe if your Servants and Ms. Kryielight fall.”

Mash started, “But-”

Gudako held her shoulder, then nodded to Sherlock. “Glad to have you. Come on, let’s go.” They started off towards the hatch. CasCu watched them go, his fingers curling tightly into his hand. He could barely breathe. This was wrong, this felt wrong. He watched Kage leave the bridge, the tattered ends of his butt cape flickering after him. 

“I’m following after you,” CasCu sent. “If needed, I can help out.”

“Alright,” Kage murmured. His voice was silent, near curt. It was a familiar shortness. CasCu wanted to flinch.

Outside, the winter wonderland stretched out. And at the Border’s port side - the Servant. He was a tall man, well-built, covered in silver and black armor. His face was completely hidden by a black mask, almost reminiscent of the Jontunn’s masks. And glowing from it - red eyes. Two, burning red eyes.

CasCu’s feet froze to the top of the border. His breath cut out. Even in Spirit Form, these eyes were red. Burning, painful, hateful red. And CasCu couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe-

“Step away from there,” Gudako said, her voice utterly calm.

“Well now,” the Heroic Spirit said, his voice deep, “A human and five Heroic Spirits. No - three Heroic Spirits. Two of you have something else mixed in. Hybrids, then. Interesting.” He chuckled, a low grinding sound. He took a step forwards.

Mash slammed her shield down. Gudako raised her hand before anyone else could move. “I assume you want to talk to him?”

“I do,” Sherlock said. He stepped forwards, stared at the Servant. “The Border’s external armor is one thing, but you managed to cut to the multilayered Bounded Fields surrounding the inner hull. Back at Chaldea, Da Vinci, Nitocris, and Paracelsus worked to ensure those Bounded Fields would be as strong as any from the Age of Gods. They were as strong as any fortress made of divine iron, yet you cut through them like so much better, without even revealing your True Name. Utterly fascinating. Tell me, how did such a powerful demonic sword come to be?”

The Servant said nothing. Just watched them with those coldly burning eyes.

CasCu wanted to shout at them, but the words were trapped between his teeth. He didn’t know why, but he knew. He knew they couldn’t fight this thing. It wasn’t possible. They had to run, had to leave-

“Ah, I was right. It is a demonic sword, then. I thought it seemed far too dark to be a sacred sword,” Sherlock said.

The Servant finally spoke again, in that same voice of gravel, “I don’t talk to humans.”

He moved. None of them saw it, only knew after the sharp clang of metal against metal. Mash cried out, stumbled back, then caught her ground again. She planted her shield into the Border’s surface and grit her teeth.

The Servant held a short sword in hand, his glowing red sword out to the side, unused. His head tipped to the side, slight. “Have you lost your mind, girl? You should be running for all your worth. You don’t look like enough of an idiot to fail to see how outmatched you are.” 

“She’s not outmatched,” Gudako said. “We’re not stopping on this journey, and you aren’t going to get in our way.”

Those eyes flashed up, burning. Then he looked back at Mash. “A journey, huh. I don’t care where you’re going, I have my own destination in mind. Now die, so I may take your precious treasure.” 

“NOW!”

Arjuna’s blue arrow blazed forwards, cutting off the next swing of that Servant’s short sword. Kage lunged forwards, his twin blades in hand, a black and red blur across the roof of the Shadow Border. Hercules was right after him, appearing in mid-stride, lunging forwards with an overhead swing.

Useless. CasCu knew it was useless, and he couldn’t name why.

That demonic blade swung up and batted away Hercules’ blade as if it was a gnat. That short sword split into two, and each one blocked Kage’s strings of attacks. That Servant stood there, his blades moving in concert, keeping both Hercules and Kage busy. Their attacks barely made him budge. 

A flash of movement, too fast for CasCu to track, and Kage went flying across the Storm Border’s roof. He hit the ground and rolled, hard, got to his feet with a gasp and a spatter of blood from his lips. The Servant spun around Arjuna’s shot arrow, planted his short-sword in Hercules’ chest before he could dodge, then kicked him off the Shadow Border. He spun around right after, two swords striking out towards Arjuna.

They clanged hard against Mash’s shield. She slid back with the impact, panting for breath. The Heroic Spirit was there in her face, short-sword flying towards her. Kage was there again, sudden and abrupt, blocking that blow and sending his own barrage of attacks. They did nothing, merely scrapping his armor. When Kage was shoved away, Arjuna shot again.

This time they hit, one blue arrow after another. The Servant was driven back, his demonic sword lashing out to block, block, block - a roar, Hercules leapt on top of the Shadow Border and lunged forwards, swinging wildly. He was moving quicker than before, eyes glowing with mana. That short sword through his chest had to have burned through a life.

Just one strike, and Hercules was down a life. CasCu wanted to leap forwards and shake Gudako. This wasn’t right. He was too strong, too swift. They were barely hurting him. Everything about this was wrong, couldn’t she see that?

She could. Of course, she could. She took a single step back, bunching her fists tight. “Sherlock, what do you have for me?” 

“Well, for one - he’s pulling his punches,” Sherlock said, his cool, calm voice carrying over the battlefield. 

“Shit,” Gudako breathed.

One of Kage’s swords fractured, scattering metal across the roof. The short sword bit into his arm before the Servant was shoved away by Mash’s shield bash. He took a couple step back, only to bit hit three more times by blue arrows. He batted them away, blocked an incoming strike from Hercules. The air boomed at the contact. 

“His swordsmanship is exquisite, surely the finest in the Norse lands,” Sherlock said, “He is also immensely strong, and have both the knowledge and reflexes to stop all attacks coming at him, no matter the direction. His wisdom alone is a force to be reckoned with. Which means,” this was louder, directed at the Servant in the midst of the melee, “you must be the one who slew the evil dragon and consumed his knowledge. Am I wrong?”

“Oh?” The Servant said, his voice even rougher. There was an explosion of mana. Briefly, within the light, CasCu caught the flicker of red runes. Mash, Kage, and Hercules were tossed off the Shadow Border. Arjuna was blown off his feet. 

Gudako stumbled back, but Sherlock caught her. The magnifying glasses begin to rise from beneath his coat. “You are the child of Sigmund, king of Francia, and Hjördís, daughter of King Eylimi. Even among other peerless heroes who stand head and shoulders above ordinary people in strength, intelligence, and all other aspects. You were hailed as the greatest warrior-king of them all. A phenomenal swordsman who reforged your father's demonic sword - the one he earned after overcoming Odin's trial of Barnstokkr.”

No, something in CasCu whispered, that isn’t who he is at all.

“You are the fearsome warrior who defeated King Hunding's army, thereby avenging King Sigmund,” Sherlock continued, “You are the brave hero who single-handedly slew Fafnir, the evil dragon, consumed by greed, who horded his riches in the caves of Gnitaheiðar. You are the one who made a loyal friend out of Sleipnir's foal, Grani, who would gladly carry you to the ends of the earth. You are the great hero who ate the dragon's heart, gaining unimaginable power and the wisdom of the gods! Your True Name is Sigurd! You stand alongside Siegfried as one of the most powerful heroes of all Norse myth!”

Wrong. But the word didn’t push past CasCu’s lip. It was as if his body wasn’t his own, anymore, and he could do nothing but watch.

“However,” Sherlock finished, “that raises a number of questions. A true legend you may be, but that doesn't explain where your Monstrous Strength comes from. More importantly, why do your eyes glow red?”

The figure, the thing being called Sigurd, laughed. It was that same laugh of rock and gravel, the same thing of fire and destruction. “So you're a clever one on the side of Proper Human History, hm? Now what, then? Now that you know who you're up against, how do you intend to fight him?”

“We know Siegfried,” Gudako said. “We know your myth. And you haven’t used Gram yet, which means -”

“Means what?” Finally, those eyes met Gudako’s. “That I can’t use it? How wrong.” 

He moved. He moved, in a burst of mana like fire. Other things did too. Hercules, leaping onto the edge of the Shadow Border, so far away. The burst of Arjuna’s blue arrows, brilliant blue and battered away by that red blade as if they were nothing. Sherlock, his cane sweeping up to block. And a blur of black and red, hitting Gudako in the center of her torso, knocking her across the roof of the Shadow Border and towards Arjuna.

A black flash. The sick sound of metal hitting flesh.

“HOLMES-” Gudako cried out.

CasCu couldn’t look at Holmes. Not how his body had collapsed. Not the arm that had been flown from Holmes’ body, nor the splatter of blood across the Shadow Border’s. 

His eyes were on Kage. 

Kage, who had tossed Gudako out of the way. 

Kage, who had taken the rest of the blow, a large cleaving cut across his ribs and into his waist, spilling scarlet across silver metal.

Chapter Text

“You so-called Heroic Spirits are more fragile than I thought,” Sigurd said. “For two to be felled by one blow. How useless.”

The words faded out to nothing. CasCu couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t hear. It wasn’t just sound, but the whole world beyond Kage’s body had faded out into nothing. CasCu thought he must have slid into solid form because Kage was all color. The blaze of his white hair, the warm brown of his skin and the red flash of curses on his arms and cheeks. The sooty armor, spread out beneath him. The growing pool of blood, and the slowly rising vapor that came from the injury. 

Kage wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t moving.

CasCu was. He jolted across the Shadow Border’s roof to collapse beside Kage. Blood soaked into CasCu’s robes, staining the blue purple. CasCu swore and placed his hands over the massive cut in Kage’s side. It was too large, so large. Not nearly a bisection, but gods, if Sherlock hadn’t absorbed the first half of that blow - 

CasCu whined, high between his teeth. Frantically, he began to lay runes against Kage’s skin. Behind him, there was the murmur of voices. Sherlock. A different cadence. Nightingale? Irisviel? He hoped so. His runes were doing nothing. They flickered against Kage’s side, bright blue, in and out like a faulty light. On off. On off. Gone. CasCu wanted to scream.

Footsteps, running away. Gudako and Mash were leaving. The heavy presence from Sigurd was gone - had he left too? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but stitching Kage back together. CasCu did his best to focus. Kage’s shoulders were rising and falling, the short jerky movements of swallowed breaths. His finger’s flexed. Alive, but for how long? CasCu didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know.

“You idiot,” he sobbed, around a throatful of fear and anger and worry. He laid down another set of runes, shoved more mana into them. Distantly, he could hear Nightingale’s chant. Felt the wash of her mana over him. Kage’s wounds struggled to close, then gave up and remained open. “Why isn’t it fucking closing?!” 

“There were death runes along that blade,” Sherlock said. 

CasCu’s head whipped up so fast his he felt the whiplash reverberate in his skull. “No.” 

Sherlock nodded. The man didn’t look so good, all his famous calm shattered. His hair fell half across his face, his eyes glazed over with pain. Irisviel was in the process of bandaging his coat tightly over the stump of his arm. Nightingale left her to it, pushing CasCu gently to the side so she had access to Kage’s wound. The energy of her Noble Phantasm washed over them again, again. 

“I suspect I am only living because the blade didn’t hit anything vital,” Sherlock said. “Kage’s wound is more grievous. Luckily, his magic resistance is working against the curse.”

“But - most runes can’t kill heroic spirits,” CasCu breathed. 

“Primordial runes,” Sherlock said. He wavered a second, caught himself. “The ones Odin created that served as a mage craft foundation in the Age of Gods. Sigurd learned them from the Allfather’s daughter. It all - comes down to - Kage’s magic resistance…”

Sherlock fell forwards, eyes shut. Irisviel caught him and set him down gently. CasCu sat there, gutted. Primordial runes. Odin. Kage’s magic resistance. It was shit. Repeated exposure to Grail mud had eroded his resistance to curses. Primordial runes, capable of killing Servants. Odin.

“I’m loosing him,” Nightingale said. “I can no longer continue utilizing my Noble Phantasm. Irisviel.”

“Of course,” Irisviel said. She stood, holding her arms out. Golden light began to glow around her fingers, her form. “O white grail, sing …” She lifted off the ground, golden light spilling off her white robes. The golden light coalesced into a cup, a grail, overpouring with mana. The mana splashed down, bathing both Kage and Sherlock in brilliant light. 

Sherlock’s chest inflated. Kage made a sound, tight, pained between his teeth. But his shoulders were moving, breathing again. CasCu made a noise in the back of his throat, broken. Somewhere else, there was the sound of combat. 

“Come,” Nightingale said, “we must get them both to the infirmary.” 

CasCu nodded, throat tight. He picked Kage carefully up in his arms. The bandages Nightingale had placed were already starting to bleed through. His eyes fluttered, a hint of gold and amber beneath his white lashes.

“You better not die on me,” he rasped out, holding Kage tighter to his chest. “You better not fucking die on me, alright?” 

Kage made a noise between his teeth. He leaned a bit against CasCu. The small motion made CasCu’s blood boil. He gripped Kage a bit tighter, glanced to Irisviel and Sherlock. Sherlock was being held by Irirsviel. It was an awkward look, but Servant strength made it manageable.

Nightingale’s eyes were glowing painfully bright, the Madness in her gaze painful present. “It sounds like there’s fighting on the deck,” she said, “I will go join them. Irisviel, CasCu, you are in charge of keeping these two alive. Irisviel, you will have to continue to use your Noble Phantasm until you can find a way to reverse the runes.” 

Irisviel nodded. “We’ll do our best.”

“I might be able to reverse the runes,” CasCu rasped out. “Or suspend them. But there’s not much I can use against Primordial Runes. Best I can do is weaken them.”
“Weakening will be sufficient,” Nightingale said. “Now move.”

They moved. Nightingale bolted to the side deck, leapt off the roof of the Shadow Border with a cry of her Noble Phantasm’s name. CasCu and Irisviel bolted the opposite direction, towards the hatch. Irisviel slipped inside first, with CasCu right after her. The innards of the Shadow Border were in chaos. CasCu barely gave them a glance, focused on making his way to the Infirmary instead.

Sanzang was still there. She looked up, opened her mouth - Irisviel steam rolled over her. “Please, dismiss yourself, Sanzang. We have two critically injured patients and need to focus on their health.” 

Sanzang nodded, and disappeared without argument. CasCu laid Kage out on one of the bed’s, hands shaking. He pressed his fingers against Kage’s neck, felt the sluggish beat of his pulse. Panic twisted tighter in the center of his chest. He shoved it down. “We need your Noble Phantasm again. I’ll get started on the runes.”

“Alright.” Irisviel spread her hands out. Once more, she started to glow.

CasCu couldn’t look. Couldn’t think about the cup forming, couldn’t think about the gift of Guts being placed on Kage, again and again. As many times as it took. As many times as it had too, until the two were stable. CasCu scrambled through his runic knowledge, desperate patterns on the sheets. It was like his hand belonged to someone else. He felt disjointed from it, the movements. His mind kept snagging on Kage’s failing breaths.

Uruz: endurance.

Fehu: luck.

Thurisaz: strength, protection.

Naudiz: survival.

Iwaz: tree of life, eternity, resilience, longevity.

Algiz: divine protection.

Sowilo: Health.

Too many options, too many combinations. CasCu wanted to cry. Kage was breathing stronger again, but how long would that last? Too long. Not long enough. CasCu’s panic was a living thing, stealing his breath, his mind - but his hands didn’t shake. They knew what to do. He pressed one hand against Kage’s bandages, felt the rough texture of them under his palm, how soaked they were. The other began to write.

Naudiz, for survival. Sowilo, for renewed health. Iwaz, for the tree of life, for resilience and longevity. Algiz, for divine protection against the strength of this death rune. Ansuz, Odin, to tie it all together. 

CasCu waited with bated breath. Kage’s body seemed to relax into the bed. A bit of color returned to his cheeks. His breathing stabilized. Still bleeding, still injured, and CasCu knew he wasn’t strong enough to keep the runes at bay forever, but this would keep him for a bit. At least until they wore off. 

“Got it?” Irisviel asked. There was strain in her voice, tight.

“Yeah,” CasCu breathed, pulling his hand away from the hanging blue runes. He retreated to Sherlock’s side and repeated the rune circle. Like Kage, Sherlock eased. His skin regained some of it’s color.

Irisviel let out a breath. Repeated use of her Noble Phantasm had made her haggard, shadows under her eyes and nestled in her cheeks. She pushed a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear, and gave CasCu a tight, encouraging smile. “We need to redo the bandages. The wounds might need to be cauterized to stop the bleeding, but I’ll wait until Nightingale comes back before making that call. But we need to slow the blood flow first, and fast. Do you think you can help me with that?”

CasCu stared out over Sherlock's body, at Kage’s unconscious form. He swallowed hard, then pushed himself up. “Of course,” he said, and blinked back the hot burn of tears.

Nightingale came back, furious. 

There was no talking to her in that state, when the Madness near poured off her in waves. Arjuna was in her grip, unconscious. Mash followed after her, looking pale and sick. Gudako was nowhere to be seen, but CasCu could hear the distant sound of yelling. Possibly from the director. He didn’t have the energy to care. Nightingale ordered him around, and he followed, numb. 

When Nightingale told him to use his flames to cauterize both Kage and Sherlock to staunch the bleeding, he did it. He did it and did his best to ignore the stench of burning flesh. Didn’t look at the reflexive pain on Kage’s face as he seared shut that massive cut. Kept the gorge down as he pulled away and let Nightingale get started on treating the wound.

He went to Arjuna next, and used his runes to help the process of healing. He had no death runes, was just severely beat up. He’d recover in a couple of hours. 

Mash was heavily fatigued and out of magical energy. Irisviel soothed away her wounds with gentle touches, before pushing Mash’s hair out of her face and guiding her to lay down on the bed. “Do you feel well enough to tell us what happened?” She asked, her voice softer than snow cover.

Mash gave a shaky nod. Her fingers twitched on the blankets, her face screwed up faintly. She looked like a normal girl, like this. Young, worried. Afraid. Her voice was fractured and tight. “That Heroic Spirit - Sigurd, he went after the Paper Moon. The thing that guides us in and out of Void Space. The Director was just going to give it to him -”

“I’m sure the Director had his reasons,” Irisviel murmured, her voice soft. She thumbed over Mash’s forehead again, gentle, careful. “For one, Sigurd seemed very powerful. I’m certain the Directer wanted to keep injuries to a minimum by giving away Paper Moon.”

Mash’s face twisted up. “Senpai nearly died!” She said, in a hoarse, whispery shout. “He nearly cut off her head! I don’t know how he didn’t - why he didn’t. He was so close - and I couldn’t stop it -” her shoulders shook. A sob burst from her, broken. 

Irisviel shushed her, fingers wiping away at her tears, thumbing over her forehead. Mash curled into the gentle touch, her face twisted up in pain. CasCu watched this, fingers flexing. He felt numb. He knew he should help Mash - gods, he’d been guiding the girl since the start of this mess, of course he cared about her pain - but Kage still laid on his cot, the runes CasCu had woven barely enough to keep him from dying. CasCu could feel the stream of mana connecting the two of them. 

He understood what Mash was going through. Gods, he understood what Mash was going through all too well. He just had no energy to do anything about it.

Slowly, Mash’s tired sobs finished. She leaned into Irisviel’s eyes, blinking back a sheen of tears. “It was useless,” she mumbled, “he managed to retrieve Paper Moon anyway. We’re stuck here, with no way to get out.”

Irisveil pressed her lips together, slight. But her voice was soft still. “We’ll figure a way out, Mash. I promise you that. We always will.” 

CasCu couldn’t listen to them anymore. The hope in Irisviel’s voice was fragile and weak. The beginning notes to a warbled song. CasCu could barely hear it, and Nightingale was done fussing with Kage’s wounds. CasCu moved over and sat on the side of Kage’s bed. “If I sleep,” he said numbly, “Then I’ll take up less mana. May I stay?”

Nightingale glanced at him. Her eyes were brilliant red. “I will move you if I need to tend to the patient.” She turned to Mash, asked, “You said Gudako had been attacked? Is she hurt?”

CasCu didn’t listen. He slid into the bed, carefully beside Kage. The cot was narrow, and Kage was flat on his back, taking up space. CasCu curled up, and pressed himself against Kage’s uninjured side. He found his hand and twined their fingers between his. Kage’s skin was frightfully cold to the touch. But CasCu could feel his pulse, watch the intake of his breath. Slow and steady. In and out. CasCu let his eyes half close, and watched Kage breathe each fragile breath.

The magecraft they had right now could reduce the effects of a Primordial Rune. But they could not stop it. The only way to remove the Primordial Rune fully was to kill the one who had placed. Even then, if there had been enough mana forced into the rune - they would have to outlast it. Kage would have to outlast it.

CasCu closed his eyes, and squeezed Kage’s hand. Tight. 

He saw a well. Rough stone, fit together haphazardly, with moss blooming across it’s sides. The sides were wet. It glimmered with reflected starlight, winking softly at him. Encouraging. Promising. 

“The lost Norse Runes are one of the foundations of magecraft. Mages have partially reproduced them, but they pale in comparison to the originals from the Age of Gods.”

The well had water. It was silver, like the stars, and the sky danced within it’s circle. Within that skylit reflection was a rope.

“According to Norse Myth, Odin created the world from the remains of Ymir. Except for the runes.” 

He looked up. 

“Those Odin discovered after offering up his own life. Their shape contains the depth of the world itself.”

Beside him stood an ashe tree. It was a large thing, spanning the sky and breaking apart the ground at his feet. From the branches hung a gently swinging rope, spun from threads of starlight.

“Runes are the pathways to truth Odin discovered.”

The rope had been fixed and hung as a noose.

“If you inscribe the rune for death, then there’s no escaping it …”

He reached up -

“... if you’re made of flesh and blood.”

-and his fingers brushed against the noose of stars. Beneath his touch, the light flared. It twisted, turning, and he caught the shapes of runes within their flickering periods of darkness and light.

“We’re not flesh and blood.”

Ansuz.

“We can beat the Primordial Rune.”

Odin.

CasCu’s eyes flew open. He sucked a ragged breath between his teeth, chest billowing with the effort. A body laid pressed against his. Kage’s. His head had fallen to the side, tangled white hair brushing over his brow. CasCu stared for a long moment until the sight made sense. Kage’s skin was pale. But there was a pulse beneath CasCu’s fingers, and he could hear the faint sound of Kage’s breathing. Alive. Still alive.

CasCu pressed his forehead against Kage’s. “Fight it for a little longer,” he breathed, his voice soft. “You’ve got this, a ghra. Just fight it for me. There’s no way you can lose, stubborn brat that you are.” 

Kage said nothing. CasCu swallowed down a curse, a sob, and pushed himself up. Sherlock was still, like Kage, unconscious. Arjuna had disappeared, probably cleared and within Spirit Form. Irisviel was gone as well, most likely resting. Mash was gone too, which meant she had to be in the bridge. They would be discussing their next step. CasCu’s fingers flexed briefly, tight on Kage’s hand. “Hey, Nightingale?” 

Unlike the others, Nightingale was still here. She was redoing Sherlock’s bandages, setting the bloodied ones aside and putting fresh ones in their place. There was less blood than CasCu remembered. A good sign. “Yes?” She asked, her voice sharp. 

“Are they discussing what they’re doing next?” He asked. His voice felt rough. His throat hurt. He flexed his fingers again, ingraining the sensation of Kage’s skin against his own.

Nightingale narrowed her eyes briefly. “They just started discussing their next moves.” 

“Good,” CasCu said. He squeezed Kage’s hand once more, then leaned down. Pressed his lips against Kage’s forehead. Finally, there was a reaction, the faintest shift, a slight groan. CasCu bit back his relief, and forced himself to pull away. “You’ll keep him alive, right?”

It was a rhetorical question. Nightingale answered anyway. “I’ll save him even if it kills him.” 

Normally, CasCu would have been worried. Would have hesitated at leaving Kage within the insane nurse's hands … but this was a Primordial Rune. Nightingale and Irisviel were their best hope for survival, at the moment. Keeping Kage alive, even if it meant killing him, was their best bet. Gods, he hated that it had come to this.

CasCu slid off the bed. He held Kage’s hand for a longer moment, breathing in, then out. He could feel Nightingale’s eyes on him. He couldn’t muster a smile. Not even a fake one. “I’ll be back. And hopefully I’ll have those goddamned runes removed when I do.” 

“We’ll keep him stable until then,” she said. 

It was the only promise she could make. CasCu wasn’t going to try to extract another one from her. He left, leaving Kage’s unconscious body behind him.

“Are you okay?” Cu’s voice, a gentle touch in his mind. It was a questioning thing, worried. “I couldn’t reach you before.”

“I was sleeping,” CasCu mumbled. Two more touches, Proto and Alter. They were silent for now, but their touch was gentle still, careful. CasCu relaxed for it. The care implicit in the check-up. “But thanks for checking, I’m … alright. Angry, right now. I want the fucker who did that to him dead-” the words ended in a growl, rattling in the back of his throat.

“Going out with Gudako?” Alter asked.

“I’m sure as well going to try,” CasCu gritted. “She’ll need someone on her team that understand rune craft. That leaves me and Scáthach. You dumbasses don’t know anything beyond the basics.”

“Ow, rude,” Proto whined. “And here I thought we were helping out!”

The protest made CasCu’s lips twitch. “You guys know enough rune craft to feed the runes I laid down while I’m gone. Think you can manage that much, brat?”

The grumble he got for that was predictable. Proto whined, loud, but Cu was the one who agreed. “Yeah, we will. Besides, good news for you! Alter’s out on the group with you, so you won’t be alone.” With your grief, he didn’t fill in.

CasCu almost wanted to punch him. But he knew that it was the right call. He let out a long breath between his teeth, this angry sigh, before he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Glad to have ya, big guy.”

“No problem,” Alter said. 

CasCu nodded, even if Alter couldn’t see it. He slid into the command room, taking note of everyone inside. Mash and Gudako were standing beside the director and the command computer. Grand Cavallo was speaking, her voice tinny. “This mission has three main objectives: recovering the Paper Moon, cutting down the Tree of Emptiness, and finding a path to the North Sea.”

Mash bit the corner of her lip. She looked a bit uncertain, worried. Her confidence in her own abilities shaken. “Um … I understand why we need to get the Paper Moon back, since we can't continue our journey without it … but why is cutting down the Tree of Emptiness part of this mission too?”

“An excellent question. As you'll recall, Sigurd didn't come here to kill us; he came to steal the Paper Moon,” Grand Cavallo said. There was something in the cadence of her speech, like she was trying to emulate Sherlock, and be comforting at the same time. “Why would he do that if he belonged to this Lostbelt? Simply put, he wouldn't. Never in a million years. The only ones who would consider the Paper Moon a threat are the Crypters, especially now that they've lost Russia. In which case, it makes sense to assume that he is one of the Crypters' Servants.”

Gudako looked up, sharp. Despite her close brush with death, her face was hard, set. CasCu didn’t know the spark in her eyes. It was wrong. Duller. It lacked the gleam that had carried her through Singularity after Singularity. Her voice showed it. “This Lostbelt’s Crypter already knows we’re here. So if we have to deal with them, then we might as well deal with the Tree of Emptiness as well?”

“Correct,” Gordolf said. He leaned against the Grand Cavello’s computer, fingers fiddling with his cuff sleeves. But his voice was assured, much calmer than CasCu had expected from him. “Once the Crypter realizes the Tree of Emptiness is in danger, we can be certain they will have some sort of response. And when they do, that will be the perfect chance for us to take the Paper Moon back. Maybe I'm being a little overly optimistic here, but I'd say this plan is absolutely foolproof!”

“But there’s a bunch of work we have to do before that,” Grand Cavallo said. “First order of business: we need to conduct a thorough investigation of this Lostbelt. And since we have to stay here and repair the Border, that will require both of you to head out and investigate the area. Are you alright with that?”

“What if the Border’s attacked again?” Mash asked.

“We’ll do what we did in the first Lostbelt,” Gordolf said. “If we’re attacked, then we’ll deploy Servants to counteract the attack. We’ll also set up a watch as people work on fixing the border. But with two in the infirmary, we’ll have to deploy fewer people.”

“I’ll figure a good setup for you,” Gudako said. She relaxed a tad, her shoulders shifting downwards.

“Before you go,” Grand Cavallo said, “we need to catch you up on what you might be facing. First things first: the Norse mythology we know from Proper Human History. Scandinavia used to be home to all sorts of gods, giants, and other Mystics, just like the Age of Gods in other areas. But then in 1000 B.C., about three thousand years ago, Mt. Katla erupted…and Ragnarök began. The end of the Norse Age of Gods.”

Gordolf nodded. His voice took on a lecturing tone, sharp, like a teacher’s. “Loki's mischief eventually begat all sorts of disasters, culminating with Muspel fire giants invading from Muspelheim, the land of flame. It's said that during Ragnarök, Odin was eaten by Fenrir, the great wolf of ruin, and that many gods died in a fearsome clash with the giants … before Surtr, the Fiery King of Giants and ruler of Muspelheim, laid waste to all the land with his flaming sword.” 

“It was after that the Age of Humanity began,” Grand Cavallo finished.

Gordolf continued to speak. CasCu found his attention wavering. His old scars were burning, the ones caused by the bite of Chulainn’s hound. Despite the lack of physical body, despite the memory being so distant, CasCu could still feel its teeth in his flesh. Digging, digging, deeper, deeper. Ripping meat from bone and sinew -

“It’s likely the Age of Gods in this Scandinavia never ended.”

CasCu snapped out of the memory, head jerking up. That was - it felt wrong. The memory felt wrong, but that didn’t matter. Focus. This was important information. He couldn’t let his mind drift.

“One of the big questions we need to answer is, when did this Lostbelt diverge from Proper Human History?” Grand Cavallo said. “We can determine that this Lostbelt is before the A.D. era, and that Age of Gods-level Mystics still exist, but we also need to figure out why that is. Our big questions are when and why. At this point, I think it would have diverged around three thousand years ago, around the time of Ragnarök in Proper Human History's Scandinavian Age of Gods … but as to why that happened, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Why does this Lostbelt look like this? What are those flames you saw on the northern mountains? And based on what we've been able to observe from the Border, why does it look like there aren't any towns or cities, like there were in Proper Human History? Are there even any other humans here? If so, did they change into something else, like the Yaga? There are too many unanswered questions, but we can start with those first two.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. It was a lot of questions, so many. CasCu was nearly dizzy with them. It wasn’t like this was the first time they had walked into something with no knowledge. They had probably done it too many times in the past. But with Sherlock and Kage fighting Death Runes, with the Paper Moon stolen and Gudako nearly killed herself by Sigurd’s strike - it was too much. CasCu’s breathing felt a bit pained. A world that diverged around the time of Ragnarök ….

Ragnarök.

CasCu’s head hurt.

“Finally,” Grand Cavallo said, “There’s the Tree of Emptiness. Since neither you nor Mash could see it, Gudako, and the Border has been unable to sense it, we must assume that the Tree of Emptiness has been concealed.”

“This is why your mission objectives include finding it,” Gordolf said. He smiled, once. It was an odd smile, something that was obviously meant to be encouraging, yet too tight around the eyes. Fragile. Like he didn’t like throwing them out to the wolves, but was trying to comfort them anyway. “Good luck, we’ll be counting on you.”

The words made Gudako relax. She looked away from the monitors. Her eyes had a bit of that spark back in them, a determination that burned like a covered flame. “And if we locate the Tree of Emptiness, Director?”

“Then no need to wait on my orders,” Gordolf said, “Go ahead and chop it down.”

“Alright,” Gudako said. She straightened, gave both him and the computer a nod. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“One last thing before you go,” Grand Cavallo beeped. “It’s not going to be possible to Summon new Servants here.”

Mash blinked sharply. “It’s not?”

“Are there no leylines nearby?” Gudako asked, frowning faintly.

Grand Cavallo made an agreeing hum. “The Border is running way low on power thanks to all the damage, but the biggest issue is the fact that we couldn't detect any leylines. I bet it's because of all the magical energy here is intertwined with the ice and snow at a molecular level. I'm afraid it's also going to interfere with our long-range comms. Another thought is that the ice and snow’s magical energy could be completely controlling both this Lostbelt’s mana and history, which makes it hard for us to hijack it.”

Gudako’s head jerked towards the computer. She stared at for a moment, then grit her teeth tightly. “If someone’s manipulating all the ice and snow within this Lostbelt, it would make them incredibly powerful.”

“It might be the Lostbelt King,” Mash filled in, her voice very small.

“But at present, there’s nothing we can do about it, so there’s no use worrying about it.” Gordolf said. “Our sensors located a group of life forms one hundred and fifty kilometers northwest from here. That will be your first destination.” His face grew sterner, shoulders drawn back. “And do your best not to be discovered. As of right now, with our current power levels, it’s best to make as little impact as possible. Otherwise, that damn Sigurd might come back and finish the job.”

“Yes, director!” Gudako said. She snapped off a sharp salute, gave a tight smile. “We’ll do our best to be careful.” 

“Good,” Grand Cavallo said. “Mash, Ortinax is back up and running. You shouldn't have to worry about it acting up after getting hit with a demonic sword again.” 

Mash started. She stared at the computer, wide-eyed, before she gave a swift bow. “H-hai! Thank you, Grand Cavallo.” 

“Of course! Are there any further questions?” 

Mash and Gudako glanced at each other. It was an odd sort of glance, deep, searching. The type of look traded between people who knew each other’s mind like the back of their head. Mash hesitated, then shook her head. Gudako nodded once, then turned back to the Director and Grand Cavallo’s computer. “No further questions.” 

“Very well then,” Goredolf said, “we begin tomorrow morning at zero nine hundred! Until then, you two get all the rest you possibly can!” 

He didn’t have to say why. Everyone knew the two would need it. CasCu knew the two would need it. Gudako would be supporting at most five Heroic Spirits, plus Mash, and any Servants she managed to contract within the Lostbelt. The strain on her mana resources would be high. She’d need all the energy that she could possibly gather for this mission.

CasCu didn’t like taking that break time away from her. But his request wouldn’t take long. He just hoped she listened. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing while Kage rested within the infirmary, like - like that.

He waited until after Gudako and Mash exited the Bridge room. He couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped from Spirit Form, and pushed his hood down. “Gudako? Can I take a moment to speak to you?” 

Gudako didn’t jump. Of course, she didn’t. She was too in tune to her Servants, and it would have been impossible for her to not sense his approach. “Of course,” she said, “How are you feeling? How is Kage doing?” 

Of course. After everything, even after her own feelings, her first response was for her people. CasCu huffed and reached out, ruffling her hair gently. “Those are things I be should asking of you,” he replied, his voice tighter than he wanted. “Kage is- he’s stable for now. He got a worse dose of those damn death runes than Sherlock did.” 

Gudako’s face fell. “I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault, kid,” CasCu breathed. “You had no way of knowing.” 

“I still should have -” 

“Should have what?” CasCu asked, interrupting the burst before it could begin. “You took everyone up you could, and had Nightingale waiting in the wings in case of the worst. Arjuna is a damned powerful Archer, and Hercules is an immensely powerful force. Kage ain’t - he isn’t no slacker skill wise either. Sherlock and Mash were there helping out. But our opponent took everyone by surprise. There’s not much you can do against that.” 

Gudako nodded, but didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry anyway,” she muttered. “After last time, I was too confident. It won’t happen again.” She lifted her gaze again, and there it was. That flare in her eyes. Determination and fire, shining bright without restraint. CasCu was glad to see it back on her face.

“Good to hear,” He said, pulling his hand back. “Gudako, I want to be on your team when you go out again.” 

Gudako opened her mouth, then closed it. CasCu waited patiently for her to ask him to explain. If she needed him too, he would. But that was the good thing about Gudako. She knew. She knew people, probably so well, it was a weapon. And when she looked up, there was understanding on her face, but a hardness CasCu knew he required. “I won’t tolerate anything stupid, CasCu. If we meet Sigurd without preparation, we’re going to do our best to get the hell out of dodge. You being reckless to save Kage will only get yourself killed.” 

CasCu grit the back of his teeth. But she was right. He knew that. So he swallowed hard, pushed that anger down, and met her gaze. “I know. But you’ll need someone with my knowledge of runes on this trip. And I’m the only Caster you have that uses them consistently.”

“You are,” she agreed. She considered this, before settling on her heals. “Scáthach and Alter are on the team. You going to be okay with that?” 

He’d known Alter was going to be on the team. But Scáthach? No- that made sense. CasCu let out a breath, and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be okay with that. Anyone else I should know about?”

“I want to take an Archer,” Gudako said. She bit her lip, eyes narrowed as she considered her options, “I’m thinking of taking Tesla. It will be difficult to balance the mana requirements between him, Scáthach, and Alter, but his Noble Phantasm would be useful against the type of enemies we might face.”

“I think that might be a good idea,” Mash murmured, nodding slightly. “It will balance out the parties Noble Phantasm’s as well … hai?”

“Yeah,” Gudako said, giving a bit more of a grin. “Yeah, I think that’ll work out well.” She straightened up and met CasCu in the eye. “We’ll see you in the morning, then?” 

“Yeah,” CasCu said, letting out a slight breath. “Do you want me in Spirit Form, or may I stay with Kage?”

Her expression softened, just a tad. “Go ahead,” she said. “The Director might complain about the mana drain, but I’ll just say you’re helping Nightingale out for the time being, alright?” 

“Yeah - yeah.” CasCu let out another breath of relief, gave her a tight grin. “Thanks, kid. You two take care.”

“Hai!” Mash said.

“We will,” Gudako promised. “Now go on. He’s waiting for you.”

CasCu didn’t even think about disobeying. He headed right back towards the infirmary, where Kage waited for him. 

The Scandinavian Lostbelt would have been, under any other situation, gorgeous. Light bounced off the crystal trees. The sky was a perfect shade of soft blue. The snow that decorated the ground was gentle, not harsh, and gleamed like silver.

CasCu stepped out of the Shadow Border, Alter by his side, and his feet crunched into the snow. Unlike normal snow, it didn’t melt at his touch. He could feel the low level hum of mana against the toes. Somehow, it felt familiar. Like he’d touched it in another dream. He would have suspected a Holy Grail war, if the only one he’d ever been through hadn’t been the one that created Singularity F. 

The giant sun still made some tight part of him twist up, even if he didn’t understand why.

Perhaps it was the mana underfoot, the silence of the snowy Singularity. Perhaps it was their circumstances. No Summonings to get help. No communication with the Border until they got back. There had been times in previous deployments that comms had been cut, but this was different. Somehow more final, as long as they were separated from the Shadow Border and it’s supplies. 

Not that getting back to the Shadow Border should take too long … CasCu eyed the set of skis attached to Gudao’s and Mash’s feet. “Are you sure those will work like Grand Cavallo said they would?” 

Gudao shook out one foot. “Even normal skis would make us move faster.”

“Besides,” Tesla said, “I followed Grand Cavallo’s instructions to the letter - besides adding my own additions of course. They will be swift, efficient, and should reduce the amount of energy required by travel. It significantly decreases the danger as well.”

“A shame,” Scáthach said. She stood loosely, arms crossed. CasCu wasn’t fooled by the posture. Her eyes told the real story, sharp, flicking around the landscape, evaluating. Constantly aware of danger.

“Not for me,” Gudao said, “I’d like to save as much mana as possible without any emergency donations. Alright everyone,” he clapped his hands together, this sharp snap that echoed through the landscape, “back to Spirit Form. Mash and I are going to get started on moving before the Director starts having second thoughts. He was way too worked up this morning.”

Alter grunted his affirmative, then took to Spirit Form. Everyone else followed suit. The colors of the Lostbelt were wiped away before CasCas eyes. Gudao and Mash gave each other a nod, then started off on their skis. Tesla had not lied. The things were extremely fast, propelling Gudao and Mash up inclines and around obstacles without issue, and with seemingly little effort on their parts. CasCu followed after, swift in Spirit Form. The snowy landscape flashed past them, one blurred tree after another.

The sun in the sky never changed. It continued to watch them, unblinking.

A few hours into their run, Gudao and Mash slowed down their progress for a break at the top of one of this Lostbelt’s many hills. It was the first time CasCu had gotten a proper look, grayed out as it was, as the scene Gudao and Mash had described before Sigurd’s attack. Massive, monstrous hills in the distance. The burning licks of fire reached towards the sky, but CasCu could still see the layer of ice beneath them. 

It was -

No. Not familiar. CasCu had never seen anything like this.

“It would require high level mystics to cause something like this,” Scáthach remarked, “something god-level.” Her voice was lower, huskier. Hungry. 

CasCu scoffed. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Of course I would,” she retorted, “So should you. We have a plethora of god-killers in Chaldea. We will be well-prepared should this Lostbelt King be one of those.”

Well, it wasn’t like CasCu could argue with that. And it was never good to argue with Scáthach. CasCu kept his mouth shut.

“Gudao?” Mash asked, her voice a bit tight with something that might have been awe, “These trees - they’re not covered in ice. They’re ice all the way through.”

What?

CasCu blinked and turned around. Mash was standing by one of the trees, her hand resting upon the crystalline trunk. Gudao pushed to his feet, thermos between his hands. He didn’t ask, knew better than to second guess Mash’s observations.. Instead, he looked around, frowning. “Hey, CasCu? Can you do a brief check for any plant life close by?”

CasCu stepped out of Spirit Form. Once more, his toes crunched against the snow. “Not a problem, Gudao.” He gave Gudao a smile, too tight around his eyes, then knelt into the glimering powder. This was easy stuff. Druid craft at the very base of its form. CasCu drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a long, slow rush. He plunged his fingers into the snow, and sent off a short pulse of mana.

It didn’t return. He frowned, then pushed himself to his feet, brushing the snow off his fingers. “Nothing. There’s no plant-life close enough for me to sense.”

“But there have to be plants,” Gudao said, frowning. “Maybe not in the forests, but in any villages? Animals need plants to live …”

“Maybe it means there’s a different force at work here?” Mash suggested. She pulled her hand from the bark and fiddled with the edge of her coat. “Something very different from what caused Russia’s ice age. Lostbelts are alternate, hypothetical versions of history. What must have this world’s history been like to have this sort of -”

A bird call cut her off. This cawing croak. Crows? CasCu looked up at that painfully blue sky, blinking back spots from the influx of light. Two birds circled them. They looked like crows at this distance, these cut out shapes. But now, that was wrong. They were too large. They were -

Ravens.

Mash and Gudao’s voices faded out into a low drone. The around him, the landscape blurred to just white, the sky to a simple haze of blue. Touch receded. He could not feel the snow against his feet, the wind against his hair, his clothes against his skin. He stood in nothingness, with the two ravens circling above his head.

“Huginn,” CasCu’s lips shaped, though the words weren’t audible to his ears. “Muninn”

Thought. Memory.

Something in CasCu stirred. It felt like a plant pushing out from a pile of compacted dirt. The seed beginning to break, soil loosening just enough that that initial tendril could start pushing its way out. CasCu was rooted to the spot, dizzy. The ravens were circling him. Thought and memory. Huginn and Muninn. The plant in his chest, in his mind, wiggled a bit further through the dirt, searching for air and sunlight so it could spread out and cover everything -

“CasCu.” 

He blinked. The world reinstated itself. His clothing against his skin, wind in his hair, feet on the snow. The sky was still a burning, blazing blue that hurt to look at. The icy landscape around him was unchanged. The ravens were gone. 

He glanced over. Gudao and Mash were on their skis again. Gudao was sending him a concerned look. “Are you okay? You spaced out there for a moment.” 

CasCu shook himself. “I’m fine,” he said, “just lost in thought. Thanks for checking in, though,” he smiled at Gudao and Mash, put a touch more warmth, appreciation in it.
Gudao did not look assuaged. “Alright. But if you need anything, just say so.”

“I will,” CasCu promised, before taking to Spirit Form. There, he let his smile drop. He pressed his hand against his head. It was aching, this low thud at the base of his skull, like something was pounding repeatedly at a barrier. Like it was trying to break through. Those ravens … gods, had they been that odd? No - just normal birds. Didn’t - what? Didn’t even have what? The whole moment was a blur.

“Are you okay?” Alter grunted.

CasCu recoiled at the sudden touch in his mind, not quite painful but certainly too present. But the wariness receded as fast as it came. Just Alter. He let out a breath. “I’m fine. Just a bit rattled. Thought I remembered something, but it’s gone now. But I think I’ll keep an eye on the sky from now on.”

“Worried about those ravens?” Alter asked.

No. No, he wasn’t worried about the ravens. The ravens felt … right in a way he couldn’t name, which was wrong. They’d just been birds. And at the same time - it felt like he was missing something. His head was hurting worse. “No,” he said, slowly, “No, I’m not worried about the ravens.”

Alter hummed. It was a low thing, suspicious, but Alter knew boundaries. He didn’t push. CasCu was grateful. He closed his eyes, and took a moment to recalibrate himself. Slowly, the pounding in the back of his head begin to ease up.

Chapter Text

The ravens didn’t follow them.

A part of CasCu was relieved about that. There was something wrong - or right - about those ravens. Something that prickled at the back of his brain, itching there. But no one else seemed to have noticed anything amiss about them. He resolved to watch the sky by himself, occasionally sending glances towards the blue dome above them.

Through the haze of crystal branches and leaves, that large sun watched him back.

CasCu fought a shudder.

Gudao and Mash had set them on a course through the forest of crystal trees. The two had put up their ski sets, and were going on foot. The snow crunched beneath their feet. It was a sound too loud in the comparative silence, echoing sharply between trunks and branches. It made sneaking around impossible.

Not that Guda and Mash’s conversation helped that either. Their sounds carried, in this place of ice and snow, for all they kept their voices soft, lowered.

“Gudao,” Mash murmured, soft, “can I ask you about something?” 

“Of course,” Gudao responded. And then, because he knew her, “is it about Sigurd?” 

CasCu blinked sharply. He drew his gaze away from the sky and sun, and focused on Gudao and Mash’s conversation about the not-Sigurd. It felt important in a way he couldn’t fully name, bone deep and instinctual. 

“Hai,” Mash hesitated, then forged ahead. “Sigurd,” she said slowly, “is one of the greatest heroes in all of Scandinavia. He reforged King Sigmund’s demonic sword, Gram, after the divine spear Gungir shattered it, then went on to defeat the dragon Fafnir and gain its wisdom. Later, he and Brynhildr the Valkyrie fell in love, but their relationship was poisoned by hate, and ended with his death. He has many of the same roots as Siegfried, but -”

“He and Siegfried couldn’t be more different,” Gudao finished. He scowled, faintly. “And when he spared my life, do you remember what he said? That -” 

Someone screamed. 

It was a high-pitched scream, a child-like thing filled with fear and terror. CasCu’s head jerked away from Gudao and Mash. He, Scáthach, Alter, and Tesla all appeared at once, weapons ready. The staff in CasCu’s hand felt wrong. The wood, despite being worn away with use, was rough. He expected a smoother feeling, something more like metal, more like -

“That came north-west of us,” Gudao called. “Scáthach, Alter, Tesla, go run interference! CasCu, get whoever was screaming out of there as quick as possible. Mash and I will be right behind you all!”

They moved, swift. Scáthach was as quick as ever, running through the snow with nary a footstep left behind. Alter was larger than life, monstrous chitin and teeth bared, a blazing hacksaw of sharpened white gleaming against his skin. Tesla was a bit slower, and after a moment, took to Spirit Form again. 

This motley crew would terrify any kid they came across. CasCu cast raido to bolster his speed, to make himself travel quicker. He bolted past Scáthach and Alter, feet skimming over the snow drifts. It didn’t take him long to crest over a hill, slide down the embankment, and see the cause of the scream. 

The scream had been from a child. A girl, in particular, who was dressed for the cold in a massive green cloak decorated in thick brown fur. The hood had fallen down, and her golden hair tumbled out, streaming and snarling as she ran and scrambled through the snow, away from the giants that chased her. 

CasCu growled, low in the back of his throat. He lunged forwards, catching the girl around her midriff, tucking her against his chest as he rolled across the snow. The hiss of air. The blurred movement of a weapon. CasCu’s fingers flicked up. Algiz. The shield was a paltry thing, only one rune hastily cast to its name. It shattered upon impact, sending CasCu and the girl flying - but they were uninjured, and the giants had other things to focus on. 

Namely, Scáthach and Alter cresting the ridge, weapons bared. Scáthach leapt up, and copies of her spear blazed into existence, rocketed down towards her chosen giant. Alter didn’t do anything so fancy. He just lunged off the ridge, hit one of his giant with enough force to send it crashing to earth. Thunder boomed. Tesla appeared midair, lighting raining down from his fingertips.

They had that well in hand. CasCu slowly unrolled, and set the girl gently down on her feet. He left his hand on her shoulder, crooning softly. “Are you alright?”

She stared at him with wide green eyes. “What are you doing?! Any child found by the Bergrisar is doomed!” 

CasCu kept crooning, even if a frown threatened to tug at his face. “Not as long as we have a say in it, kid.” 

It wasn’t an answer she appreciated. Her face twisted up, as if fighting an onslaught of tears. “You - you have to run away if you see a child being attacked by one of them! So go! Get out of here! You can’t be here!”

Bergrisar. Jotunn. They were the same damn thing, and CasCu felt fury rise in him like the beginnings of fire. Who the fuck told a kid that they wouldn’t be saved if the Bergisar caught them? CasCu could see it in this girl’s eyes. Despair. Terror. She didn’t believe they would stay. She thought they would just turn their back and leave her to be ripped apart. 

Lugh no. 

Never.

“No can do kid,” CasCu said. He gave her shoulder a rub through the thick layers of clothes, and projected his croon a little louder. “We’re not leaving you to fend for yourself out here, especially with those nasties out. Not when we can do something about them.”

“H-huh?” She blinked at him, then tried to look around him. CasCu shifted to block her view. She didn’t need to see the sight his friends were making. 

Not that the sight lasted much longer. The three were just finishing up by the time Mash and Gudao caught up. The two slid down the slope. Gudao’s voice rose high. “Is anyone injured? Come here if you are.” 

“Sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Mash murmured, “it was farther than we thought.” 

The girl’s face flexed, blinked. A couple of her held back tears escaped, and she scrubbed at him hard. “Who are you?” She asked, small.

“You’ll learn in a second,” CasCu promised. He crooned once more, then stood, leaving his hand on her shoulder to keep her stable. “Gudao, Mash, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet. I can finish up healing, if you’d like.” 

Gudao glanced over from where he was healing Alter. He blinked at the sight of the girl, then brightened. “Sounds like a plan to me!” 

The girl looked at him nervously. “And whose that?” 

“My Master,” CasCu said. He gave her shoulder a small, encouraging nudge forwards. “Go ahead and say hello. He’ll clear up some of the air, I promise.” 

She bit her lip, then nodded. Step by step they made their way over. Gudao beamed at her, held out his hand. After a second, the girl took it, shaking it shyly. CasCu smiled faintly to himself, then walked the rest of the way to Alter. His smile fell.

Bergrisar. Mountain giants. Friends to the Jotunn, frost giants.

“Are you alright?” Grunted Alter. The man was a mess, covered in weeping wounds and bruise marks. CasCu shook himself, and knelt by Alter’s side, placing the first of many runes upon his skin.

“I’m alright,” he murmured. “This place just rubs me the wrong way.” He hesitated, then asked, a bit quieter. “Are any of these words… ringing weird bells with you?”

“No,” Alter said. He eyed CasCu for a long moment, before letting out a growl between his teeth. “That’s a better question for Cu, or Proto.” 

“I suppose so,” CasCu breathed. He traced the last rune, and watched as the final wound on Alter’s skin stitched itself back together, the discolored bruises smearing away until they could no longer be seen.

Alter took to Spirit Form right after they were finished healing. CasCu hesitated a second longer, glancing back at Gudao, Mash, and the girl. They were just finishing their introductions, smiles on their faces. The kid’s fear seemed to have been smoothed away, at least. He let out a sigh, then took to Spirit Form himself. 

“Your friends are incredible,” the girl was saying, “I can’t believe they saved me! And none of them are squished!” She gave a small look around, then squeaked. “They disappeared!” 

“Don’t worry, Gerda,” Gudao said with a chuckle, “They’re still here. They’ve just gone invisible for a moment. I’m afraid it costs them a lot of energy to be seen, so most of the time they rest in Spirit Form.” 

The girl, Gerda, considered this for a moment. “Like ghosts?” She asked, hesitantly.

“A bit like them, yes,” Gudao said. 

“Oh!” Gerda hesitated, then apparently decided it was okay. She grabbed Gudao’s hand, then Mash’s. “Thank you for having your ghost friends help me! What village are you from? You’re not shivering … how can you be so cold with so little layers? I’m only warm because I knew I had to bring my coat when I went out on my own. The grown-ups won’t help because they’re getting everything ready for tomorrow, so I have to treat the children myself!”

CasCu’s lips twitched. It seemed that, with the threat of danger gone, little Gerda was a bit of a babble mouth. Mash and Gudao were obviously thinking the same. Gudao’s shoulders were twitching with repressed chuckles. Mash’s lips were affixed with a small, amused smile.

“Oh!” Gerda let go of their hands, pressing her own over her mouth. “A reward! When someone does something nice for you, you have to repay them. Oh … um … I don’t have anything on me right now, I’d have to go back to the village … But I also still have to find the medicinal herbs … what should I do …”

Village.

Humanity. There were more remnants of humanity than just Gerda out here. CasCu glanced sharply to Gudao and Mash. They were conversing silently. Mash’s face had fallen slightly, her smile more sad. Gudao’s expression was a bit tight. But then he flicked his smile on, a warm - if weak - thing. 

“How about this,” he said to Gerda, “Me and Mash will help you look for your medicinal herbs, and then you can take us to the village. How does that sound?” 

Gerda brightened. “That would be great!”

“We’ll have to be careful about the giants,” Mash warned her voice soft. “There seems to be a lot of them in this area.”

Gerda’s excited face fell, a tad. “We only see them occasionally near the village, but there are lots of giants in the mountains. But I have to find those herbs. The envoy isn’t coming until tomorrow, and she’s the only one who can use runes. Laura probably can’t survive the night - but someone said that there were amazing healing herbs near here! That they can heal anything, but are really good for fevers!”

“Brave kid,” Scáthach murmured, “Given a few years, I would have whipped her into shape. She’s got the determination of a warrior.” 

Alter snorted. CasCu’s own lips twitched, slight. Oddly enough, it was Tesla who responded, “Perhaps, Miss Scáthach. But children should be allowed to be children. It’s not right for them to hold such weight on their shoulders.” 

“Difference in times,” Scáthach said, smoothly, and well - no one was going to argue with Scáthach when she spoke like that.

“I know it’s reckless to be out here,” Gerda said, “And that we’re never supposed to leave the village -”

“Never?” Gudao asked, blinking.

“Well, yes,” Gerda said, staring at them. “Nobody’s ever supposed to leave. Isn’t it like that in your village too? The only ones permitted to go outside are the envoys chosen to be the servants of the gods.”

The look Mash and Gudao exchanged was swift. Easy to miss, if you weren’t in tune with their reactions. But CasCu saw it. CasCu knew. The two had been on too many field missions to let such valuable information slip by. 

“What do you mean by that?” Gudao asked.

Gerda blinked, then burst into giggles. “Nice try! But you won’t trick me so easily. Lady Mash and your ghost friends - well, people have always told me that envoys of the Goddess have swords or spears, but I didn’t know they could use shields too! Or disappear like ghosts!”

Mash and Gudao stood there, stunned. CasCu fought back a groan of his own. No wonder Gerda had taken to the idea of them being ghosts so well. She hadn’t believed it. Instead, she’d thought that they were envoy’s of this Goddess. 

A Goddess … CasCu’s head hurt. He’d known too many troublesome Goddesses in his lifetime. The very thought of another one made a crackle shoot down his spine. It couldn’t be the Mórrígan - she had no part in Norse myths - but the thought of a Goddess here, pulling the strings … for some reason, it twisted the pit of his stomach, made him press his lips together tight. A sense of dread hung heavy on his shoulders, weighing him down. 

Instincts. Like Gudao and Mash, he’d been through too much to just ignore them. Gods, what the fuck had they gotten into now?

Mash and Gudao didn’t refute Gerda’s belief that they were envoys of the Goddess. It was probably better that way. It meant that, even if Gerda found their questions about the Lostbelt odd, she didn’t refuse to answer them. She knew nothing about the Tree of Emptiness, and according to her the Sun had always been the size it was now. It was, as it had been in the last Lostbelt, simply a fact of life and not a new oddity.

She also took their supposed status as envoys as proof of their strength. Because the place she was leading them too - the place where her medicinal herbs grew - was filled with giants.

“They said that long ago,” Gerda had explained on their trek, “there were places outside the villages that had plants and animals. They said it happened way high up between the ice and fire mountains all the time. But the giants like to hang out in those areas, because of all the animal life. I was going to sneak by them and get the herbs that way, but now you’re here if things go wrong!”

CasCu had no doubt things would go wrong. The tales Gerda had heard had not led them astray. In the areas where fire and snow met, there were small patches that had melted, creating areas of green. The air was warm. Water moved swiftly through a small creek, cutting through a meadow of flowers and plunging through a grove of conifers that looked like actual conifers, not tree shaped crystals. There was birdsong, and the hum of insects, and the stomp of feet as giants in and out of the trees. 

A lovely place, but it would only take one wrong step for the giants to notice them. 

Mash, Gerda, and Gudao were crouched on the outer edge of clearing, right where ice and snow gave way to green. Mash was equipping her skis to the bottom of her boots, while Gerda was holding her bag tightly. Gudao brought his wrist to his mouth, and CasCu felt his voice touch his mind, soft. “Alright, CasCu, I need a distraction. Think you can make one for me?” 

“How big of a distraction are you asking for?” CasCu asked. Mentally, he started rolling through his runes. An illusion could probably do it … but there would need to be enough oomph behind it that it’d grab all the giant’s attention. They couldn’t risk loosing one while they were still searching for the herbs.

“Gerda knows what she’s looking for,” Gudao said, “So hopefully it shouldn’t last too long. But it needs to be something that gets them out of the way without being discovered as false.”

That was tricky. CasCu pressed his lips together, slight. “And what if we went to the village without the herb? Both Scáthach and I have runes that we can use instead.”

“I’d rather not reveal everything you can do,” Gudao said, “I know Gerda’s already seen a bit, but if word of you guys gets around to the rest of the village, I don’t know what will happen. So we’ll stick to the herbs as plan A, and your runes will be a backup if this doesn’t work.” 

That was sensible. “Alright,” CasCu said. He stepped into solid form, and pressed his fingers together, frowning faintly.

He knew what would probably be the best distraction to use. An explosion, of some sort. People loved their explosions, and most giants would be drawn in by the sound of a large noise, the promise of a fight. An explosion would the type of distraction Kage’s friends would have chosen. The type of distraction Kage would have chosen. 

Kage … 

No. CasCu bit the corner of his lip, hard. No. He had to focus, damn it. His heart ached, but he was here, right now, and he had to focus. He promised Gudao he’d focus, and gods he wasn’t going to let his Master down. And he wasn’t going to let Kage down, either.

Uruz, for creativity and the endurance of the illusion. Ansuz, for inspiration. Kaunan, revelation, fire, and illumination. Perbo, magic.

The runes burned at his fingertips, bright blue against the air. CasCu fed his mana into them, weaving them tight together. A bit more, a bit more - he held the image of what he wanted in his mind. Watched it take shape within his mind’s eye. A bit more mana into the runes, his intent, pushing and nudging their meanings to his will. He held it there, tight like a bowstring, and then snapped his fingers, released. 

Mana shot out. A boom sounded, loud enough to shake the birds from the trees. CasCu’s eyes snapped open just in time to catch the billow of smoke from the treeline. It was dark, shadowy, and thick. It ballooned out from where trees met crystals, in the opposite direction as where they stood now. All giants in the clearing turned to stare. And giants, being a warrior race, were unlikely to flee from a possible enemy attack. 

One of them roared, in that language that nearly made sense, but just slid by CasCu’s ears. Another stepped forwards, and then they were all at it, moving towards the billowing smoke in a wave of bodies. 

Gudao let out a soft whistle. “Nice job, CasCu. Gerda, we have about until they reach that smoke before they’ll be coming back. Think you can find that plant before than?” 

Gerda startled, yanking her gaze away from CasCu’s display of rune work. “Yes, I can!”

“We’ll help,” Mash promised, giving Gerda a small smile. “What do they look like?” 

Gerda beamed back at her, then began to babble about the herbs. The three split up to search, and CasCu took to Spirit Form. He glanced up at the sky right before he did so, instinctual. It felt … like something was watching. But there were no birds in the sky, just the sun, and the giants in the distance, searching for whatever had caused the explosion. It wouldn’t be too long before they came back here. They would just have to make sure those herbs were found before that happened.

They made their escape on those specially powered skis. They were quite impressive, those things. CasCu had to admit that they were already making the most out of their construction, rocketing Gudao, Gerda, and Mash down the mountain-side before the jotunn that had noticed their presence could catch up. It meant that, with Gerda’s pointed instructions, they wasted nearly no time reaching her village. 

Her village, like the Jotunn’s home, was a spot of green against the ice. There were trees, and grass, with fields and gardens and wooden and stone brick houses. A quaint little village, fitting of any countryside, except for the fence of sharpened wooden spikes that surrounded it. That must have been to keep the giants out, though CasCu had a hard time imagining anything as simple as a wooden fence would have been enough to deter jotunn. Wood hadn’t been enough in …

Enough where? Gods, his head fucking hurt thinking about it. 

CasCu shook himself, hard enough his head rattled, and glanced over at Gudao and Mash. They were putting the skis away. Gerda was skipping ahead of them. She swung her arms out, spreading them to the sky. “Welcome to my village, everyone! Oh, this is so exciting! I’ve never gotten to invite guests in.” She giggled, delighted.

“Have you never had someone outside your village visit before?” Mash asked.

“No, we haven’t,” Gerda said. She let her hands fall. “All the villages keep to themselves … although it might be different in other villages? No one’s ever come over.” She shrugged, turned, and started walking towards the gate. It was the only entrance to the village, and CasCu could feel the weight of the bounded field tied to it, a physical presence that nearly pushed him away. No wonder their fence was only made of wood, if that was the thing that was truly protecting them. 

Gudao and Mash followed after her, exchanging small looks. “What’s the name of your village, Gerda?” Gudao asked.

“Oh, it’s Village 23!” Gerda said, reaching up towards the gate doors. They came open at the softest tug of her hands.

CasCu felt his stomach plummet. Mash and Gudao paused, brief. “Village 23?” Mash asked, but her question fell on deaf ears. It didn’t matter. They all still felt the impact of the words, for all Gerda didn’t seem bothered. Village 23. Like they weren’t actual villages, but simply pens. Pens for livestock. 

The inside near about reflected the suggestion the name gave. Although the area inside was spacious, there weren’t many houses. Maybe fifty. It wasn’t many. Not nearly enough for a village, not by any modern standards. Hell, CasCu was pretty sure the villages in the Russia Lostbelt had more homes then this one. 

“It’s lovely,” Gudao said, his voice small. He didn’t sound like he meant the words. Behind them, the gates closed with a soft thud. CasCu felt the burn of the bounded field as it sprung back to life, full force. Warding. Preventative.

“Isn’t it?” Gerda asked, delighted. “I can’t wait to show you -”

A crackle, a buzz. Gudao’s comm link burst to life with burst of static. Gerda yelped and leapt behind Mash, gripping onto her shield. Both Mash and Gudao stumbled and caught themselves. Another burst of static, then Gordolf’s voice came through, loud and clear. “Oh, I got through! Is this thing on? Can you hear me? This is the Shadow Border, can you hear me field ops?”

Gerda squeaked. “Your wrist is talking!” 

Gudao’s grin was small, his laugh a bit sickly. “So it is. You’re coming through loud and clear, Director, we can hear you perfectly fine.”

“I thought we couldn’t communicate once we got a few kilometers away,” Mash said. She took a step closer to Gudao, and he turned, so the comm link was between them, and both their voices could be easily picked up.

“Yes, well, we’ve been working on that,” Gordolf huffed. “All thanks to our efforts, we’ve been able to deploy a Mystic Code to extend our comm range. I was told that it should help us both observe and communicate over great distances, but I didn’t think it’d start to suddenly work now.”

Gerda tugged at Mash’s arm. “Miss envoy, your wrist is speaking. And you’re speaking to it.” She said it slowly, in the way children did when they thought adults were doing something particularly foolish. “Is this an envoy thing?” 

Mash giggled faintly. “Well - this is a communicator. It’s a tool we use to speak to people far away.”

“Oh,” Gerda breathed, her eyes wide and round. 

“You’ve found a native?” Gordolf asked. The familiar bluster was back, full force. CasCu could practically see the man stroking his hair back. “What a stroke of good luck. Are you in a safe spot right now?” 

“Yes,” Gudao said. “Gerda - she’s a kid from this place - led us to her village. We’d just stepped inside when the comms started working again. I guess the snow can’t interfere with communication links from inside here.”

“A village?” Gordolf asked, “Good job. It seems my supervisory role in Russia has benefited you even after that Lostbelt-” and here, CasCu had to roll his eyes, “-Not bad, making it this far that fast. Now, given that our connection is still unstable, it seems I must take matters into my own hands!” 

Gudao started. “You’re coming here, Director?”

The sound of appalled horror was a rush of breaking static. “What do you think I am? Some adventure-crazed nut like the rest of you? Goodness no! I’m talking about the remote interrogation of a local via the communicator! Gerda?” 

Gerda scurried around Mash and gripped Gudao’s arm. She seemed to have gotten over her fear, her eyes wide and sparkling. “Yes?” 

“Take us to your parents, if you don’t mind. We’ll need to speak to them,” Gordolf commanded.

Gerda blinked. “Parents? What are those?” 

CasCu felt his gut drop. Someone, possibly Tesla, drew in a shocked breath. Gudao and Mash looked stunned, staring at Gerda with shocked eyes. Gordolf’s bluster failed him. “What do you mean you don’t know what parents are? Your mother and father, of course. Your your legal guardian, if you don’t have one of the former.”

“Well, there’s the Goddess,” Gerda said, her voice thoughtful. “But she’s everyone’s guardian. Every human is her responsibility. But the Goddess isn’t here, Mister Director.” 

Mash made a small noise between her teeth. Gudao’s arm was shaking. 

“Is everything alright?” Gerda asked.

“Don’t tell me you have no concept of parents!” Gordolf burst, “I’ve never heard of such a culture. Just fetch me your village elder, or mayor, or your supervisor - oh I don’t know, someone with authority in your village!”

Gerda blinked. Her hand left Gudao’s arm, fingers curling in on themselves. “Um … I don’t …”

“The most amazing person in your village,” Gordolf snapped. “The one you can always count on to help you!”

“Don’t yell, Director,” Gudao said. His voice was a touch too stiff. “You’re scaring her.” 

“Oh-” He huffed, this sharp thing. “Well … my apologies, Gerda. Who's the most amazing person you can trust in your village?”

“Well …” Gerda hesitated, then bit her lip. Her eyes flickered to Mash, then darted around. CasCu realized, with a sinking, numb feeling, that she was searching for them. “Are you talking about the envoys? Lady Mash and the others are certainly more amazing than other people … the only amazing people I can think of are the giants and the envoys, and the envoys aren’t coming until tomorrow.”

“Envoy?” Gordolf asked.

“Gerda calls me and the other Servants envoys,” Mash explained. “I’m afraid I still don’t know what she means by it.”

Gerda giggled. It sounded sharp, a bit forced. She bounded away from Mash and Gudao with a short hop. “Don’t be silly! Anyway, I need to show you around properly, don’t I?” She held her hands before her, clasped, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she looked a bit more composed. 

“Welcome, honored envoys,” she said in a child’s approximation of a mature voice, “Please, let me repay you for saving my life. You can spend the night in my house! I’ll be thirteen soon, after all, so we won’t have to share with anyone. We can have dinner in front of the fireplace, and I can get the mead I’ve been saving for special occasions too! We can have freshly baked bread - and fish! I’ll get the biggest fish out of the pond before it gets too dark, and we can have that for supper! But before that - you have to meet the residents of Village 23!” She spun around then, her cloak flapping, and cupped her mouth with her hands. “It’s safe to come out, everyone! I’m back!” 

Her words were like a bell. Before Gudao or Mash could respond, doors opened. Kids peaked their heads out, and looked at them. Someone called out, in a high-pitched, squeaky five-year old voice, “It’s Gerda! Gerda’s back!” 

The words opened a floodgate. Kids poured out, one after another, emerging from houses and in between cracks like mice. A group of fifteen, all younger than ten, but older than four, circling Mash, Gudao, and Gerda like a flock of ravens around seeds. No - not ravens. Small songbirds, for these children would not stop talking. They were a babble of voices, one on top of another, an impossible wave where only fragments could be heard. Gerda was at the head of them, laughing and giggling, telling her story with great sweeps of her hands.

Gudao and Mash looked stunned. It was Gudao who spoke first, small. “Where are the adults?” 

“Maybe in the fields?” Mash asked. She sounded a bit small, her voice tiny. “This place looks like it runs off of agriculture …”

“I don’t see any adults in the fields,” Tesla said, his voice quiet, somber. “Just older children. Teenagers. Some that might be in their twenties, but no one older than that.”

“Where are the adults?” Gudao asked, then a bit louder. “Gerda, where are your adults? The elderly?”

Gordolf made a noise in between his teeth, choked off, like he couldn’t fully form the words. The children around Gerda quieted, and Gerda turned to them. Her eyes were bright green and sparkling. She had no clue the implications of the words she spoke. “Well, of course it's mostly children here. That’s how it is everywhere, right? And of course there’s not going to be any elderly! The elderly are just in legends. I mean, every grown up leaves when they turn 25, right? So they can’t be elderly.”

“What?” Mash breathed.

Gudao’s fingers clenched. “Gerda, what does that mean? They couldn’t survive out there, not with all the giants -”

“Of course not,” Gerda said. She giggled again, as if she thought they were being foolish. “Every grown up with a ten-year-old child leaves once they turn twenty-five, and get eaten by the giants. And if you haven’t had children by fifteen, you have to go too. I’ve heard that’s true for every village, one through one hundred.”

Gudao opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Mash looked shell shocked, her reaction stripped from her. It was Gordolf who reacted first, horrified, his voice breaking in surprise. “Then - you’re telling us that there are NO adults over the age of twenty-five there? None?! And that people who turn fifteen without having children have to leave and die?!”

Gerda nodded. “Children and the grown-ups raising them are the only ones allowed to live in the hundred villages the Goddess and her envoys made for us.” 

Mash made another, small noise in the back of her throat. She looked sick, her fingers gripping onto Gudao’s tightly. Gudao was holding her back, face drained of blood. He stared at Gerda with wide eyes. On the comm link, Gordolf was making choked off sounds. 

Gerda stared at them, uncomprehending. “Um, Lady Mash? Lord Gudao? Director? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why are you all so shocked? That’s just how it is!” She smiled, something that was obviously meant to be comforting. “I’m turning fifteen in two years, so if I don’t have any children, that’ll be it for me! I’m afraid your envoys won’t get to save me from going splat a second time.” 

“I -” Mash cut herself off, reaching up with one hand to cover her mouth. Gudao could still do nothing but stare. The Director said nothing. Through numb horror, CasCu wondered if Gordolf had been dragged away in a fit, or if their communications had finally, mercifully been cut off. The staff in the Shadow Border didn’t need to hear about this hell.

Gerda’s smile fell. She made a small, concerned noise, then gestured to the rest of the children. They began to back off, returning to their houses, although there were plenty of glances back to them. Only when the coast was clear did she ask, “Why are you so sad all of a sudden? Oh no, did I do something to offend you again?” She bit her lip, frowning.

“No!” Gudao said, too loud. Gerda flinched back, and he softened his voice, lowered. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Gerda. Thank you for telling us about this. Dinner … dinner sounds about lovely right now.” He didn’t look like he could eat.

Gerda visibly brightened. “Of course! Follow me!” She grabbed Gudao’s hand, then Mash’s, and dragged them further into the village of children, all destined to die so soon.

CasCu couldn’t stay in Gerda’s home. That house built for a family, adults and children, filled only by one girl and two guests. Even in Spirit Form, his hands were shaking. He walked the village as the sky gradually darkened, watching the people in it. The kids, the teenagers, the adults. To bear children before fifteen. To die at twenty-five. 

In some ways it was similar. In CasCu’s lifetime, it wasn’t uncommon for people to bear children while young. Adulthood was considered to happen around fourteen, fifteen. Marriages happened in accordance with that. But to be forced to bear children before fifteen - gods, he hated the thought. He was a druid, knew every complication that happened during childbirth, knew how much harder it got with age, young or old. And these were kids - they weren’t emotionally equipped to deal with children. There were no midwives to help them give birth, no nurses to help them raise, and if only the envoys could heal, and herbs required going out where the giant’s could catch them …

The death toll of infants and mothers had to be so high CasCu could barely comprehend it. Mothers, before the age of fifteen. Gods, CasCu had a daughter. He couldn’t imagine Finscoth in this situation. Couldn’t imagine any of the children he and Emer had fostered in this situation. 

Kage would have hated this place. He would have ripped it apart. 

“This isn’t a village.” Scáthach’s voice, touching his own. The cadence of it was grounding. CasCu stopped wandering and closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath between his teeth. She must have felt his agreement, because she kept on talking. “This is how you raise livestock. Breed them young, and once they’ve fulfilled that duty, feast on them before they grow too old and too tough. These people are not humans, but feed for the giants, and the envoys are their keepers.”

CasCu swallowed a lump in his throat. “That Goddess …” He couldn’t finish the thought. 

“No doubt this is of her orchestration,” Scáthach finished. “She must have no love for humanity, to allow them to exist like this. The giants have no walls, no constraints … they have her favor, I believe. This Goddess is not of humanity’s ilk.”

Who were the Norse goddesses? CasCu should have known the answer. But his mind felt blank, scrubbed and erased with the shock, the disgust, the horror. The answer was there, but it remained out of reach. He had nothing to add to Scáthach’s assessment, but his agreement. No goddess of humanity would have chosen a fate like this. Gods, he had a hard time imagining the Mórrígan selecting a fate like this. 

For a moment, they lingered in silence. CasCu scrubbed his face again, forced his mind to work. “How has Alter been taking it?” 

“He’s fallen into his curse,” Scáthach said.

CasCu winced. Shit. Alter’s curses, his Madness Enhancement, was different from other Berserkers. It wasn’t endless battle fury, or rage. Instead, it was mind-numbing, body freezing depression. With his curses in full effect, he didn’t care about anything beyond following his Master’s orders. It had taken CasCu and Proto forever to drag him out of it when he was first Summoned. And yet … 

It might be the better option here. CasCu almost wished for a curse like that, so he wasn’t stuck in this endless, looping cycle of sick. But It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with this, and he knew it. “I’ll talk to him later,” he mumbled, scrubbing his face once more. “Tomorrow, when we’re out of this damn village.” 

“It might do him some good,” Scáthach said. “What is not doing you any good is wandering out here, watching this abomination. Go back to Mash and Gudao. Listen and support them. And if you have to … sleep tonight, Setenta. It would be a better way to conserve energy than worrying and pacing when you can do nothing.”

Setenta.

Some part of CasCu twisted. He ducked his head, slight, and let out a huff of a breath. “As you wish, Scáthach.” He hesitated a moment, then sighed. There was nothing more he could add. He turned from the village, and started walking back to the house, one step after another. 

Above him, brief, the caw of a bird. CasCu’s head snapped up. Against the darkening sky, he caught sight of two wheeling shapes. His feet froze in their place. A goddess who held no affection for humanity, was not of humanities ilk. A goddess who heralded from the jotunn.

Loki.

And then.

Skadi.

CasCu blinked sharply. The words were gone, leaving him with lingering impressions. Fire: ever shifting, tame and dangerous in one breath, spilling out of hearth confines to cause an engulfing blaze. Ice: slowly growing, beautiful and deadly, the sharp bite of cold metal, words the only way to stop its freezing rage. 

Chapter Text

The ravens caw. 

Two of them have been following him, flitting from one branch to another. Their shapes cast shadows upon the roots of Yggdrasil. They follow him, as he walks along one particular root, one of three largest, thickest. The bark scrapes off beneath his boots. The wind tugs at his hair, his cloak. And the ravens follow him, cawing occasionally to one another, beady black eyes watching his progress.

He walks along Yggdrasil’s root until the air grows cold. Until he can taste the frost on his tongue, and there’s snow coating his shoulders. Jötunheimr, the realm of the Jotun. A place that once existed as Ginnungagap, the void that begun everything. The realm of nothingness from which everything had sprung. Linked to power. Linked to magic.

It is here, above which Ginnungagap had once spread, that he stops and turns his head up. The sky of Jötunheimr is black with storm clouds, and white with oncoming snow. Only distantly can he see the twisting patterns of the World Tree’s branches. Two flickering shapes dart in between them. 

The ravens. 

He smiles, and calls out. “You cannot follow me where I go.” 

The sound of a distant caw echoes through the howling air. His ears barely catch the noise. But no matter. Soon, no sound will be out of reach. No sight too blurry to make out. He turns his gaze from the circling birds, and down. 

The root of Yggdrasil kinks up, creating a hollow between it and the snow. The hollow is blackness itself. No light can penetrate it, no snow falls within the maw. He knows where it leads. And with a hand braced against the root to steady himself, he leaps off the lifeline of the Wold Tree, and into the darkness.

It accepts him, swallowing him up. His feet do not hit the bottom. The hole is not a cavern, not a cave, but a hole in truth. He falls , and he falls , and he falls into darkness. Air rushes by him, then not at all. He’s descending in nothingness, the only hint he’s still falling the way his clothes and hair still pull up. It’s the remnants of Ginnungagap he travels. The entrance to Mímisbrunnr, well of all knowledge.

He cannot see a well. He cannot see anything.

But he feels something, the press of power old and ancient. A set of eyes watching him as he descends. And he hears it too, a voice low and thrumming, questioning his motives, felt in the bones more than heard with the ears. Mimir. Guardian of the well. Keeper of knowledge found within the universe. The single most knowledgeable being in all the Nine Realms.

But not for long.

He opens his mouth, and sound is whipped away from his lips before he can properly speak. It does not matter. As long as he can shape the words, Mimir will know what he wishes. “I have come to drink the waters of Mímisbrunnr.”

Mimir laughs. It’s a rolling, deep thing. “Of course you have, All Father . King of Valhalla , chief of both Aesir and Vanir. Most powerful already, what wish do you have for more knowledge? Wisdom is the domain of others. You are accustomed to war, to easy power. What I hold in this well is not for your mind.”

“And is it for yours?” He retorts. At the words, his speed picks up. He can feel air again, pressing against his face. “You, Mimir, are keeper of all knowledge, but only so because you drink from the waters yourself. The knowledge within that well belongs to whoever drinks from it. To you, and to me.” 

There’s a rumble, another laugh. “Such confidence,” Mimir calls, “As to be expected from the All-Father himself. You believe that you will land at my well, vanquish me as you have vanquished others, then drink from the waters without breaking a sweat. Easy power, as you have always expected. But Mímisbrunnr does not give up it’s secrets so easily. To be brought to it, to drink from it, requires sacrifice. And what will the great god of Asgard sacrifice for this flight of fancy of his?”

He is silent, for a moment. Silent, but for the roar of wind in his ears, the press of nothing against his back. Here, he cannot see. His very senses are being robbed from him, bit by bit, as he falls further. Perhaps he will fall forever, never reaching the well. It is impossible to know, without all the knowledge of the world at his fingertips.

A sacrifice…

What would be a good sacrifice for Knowing? 

He moves his hand against the wind, and presses it against his face. An old face, aged by displays of power, of war. With eyes that have trouble picking out what they once did. He smiles, a sharp thing, full of teeth and amusement. Fitting, to give up one form of perception and trade it for another.

“You ask what I would sacrifice,” he says, pulling his knife from his belt. “How about this? An eye. To take the eye of the All-Father, one of the most powerful beings in existence. To impose a disadvantage upon myself for any battle I might enter upon the future. A disability that will be carried with me always, no matter how wise I become. Does that sacrifice suit your taste, Mimir the wise?” 

A pause.

For a second, a moment, an infinity silence. 

And then, speech. The world around him changes. His feet land on stone, and he finds himself within a hollow of rock and dirt and twisted roots. Above his head, an opening, where cold, frosty light pours in. It illuminates the rough well, with its mossy sides and ill-fitting blocks. Highlights the starlit water within its curve . And across from it, sitting on a stone podium, a head. Its eyes are swirls of white and black, the voice that emanates from its throat loud enough to send dirt cascading across his head.

“Place your eye into the well, old man Odin. Only then, may you drink.”

He smiles, more urbane than before. “As you wish.” He raises his hand, and the knife tip finds skin. 

It is not a pleasant process. The knife is the wrong shape to scoop out his eye, not curved like he would have preferred. It takes many cuts, many jagged slices. Too much wiggling the blade around in his socket to cut everything free. He goes blind from the pain long before his eye slips down his cheek. His skin is wet with blood. His fingers scrabble against his skin, and catch his eye before it can fall where he cannot see. It’s slimy, oddly squishy to the touch. Warm, and coated in blood. 

Distantly, he hears Mimir laugh. Everything sounds distant for the pain.

He steps forwards, one, then another, until the tips of his boots bump against the well. He holds his hand out, and then tilts it. A small plop assures him that the eye finds the water. Mimir makes a sound like a sigh. 

“Your sacrifice has been accepted, one-eyed Odin. You may drink from the well.” 

His fingers fall to his belt, unhook his horn. Giallarhorn, taken from Heimdellr, smooth and thrumming beneath his touch. The pain is starting to recede. It’s enough that he can see the well, blurry through tears. He dips Giallarhorn into the water, and ripples expand through the water. It’s no longer just starlit, touched red and gold with his own blood. He pulls out Giallarhorn, full, and brings it to his lips.

There are no words to describe the taste of knowledge. He thinks he should drink the mead of Kvasir, which would give him the dexterity of tongue to draw out it’s likeness in word. But he can feel it working, crystal cold and burning, threading through his body. He swallows, and swallows, not daring to breathe, and when the horn is empty he licks his lips, catching every last drop of knowledge.

He can see again. 

It is not the way one sees with sight, with colors, definitions, and shadows. Instead, he sees the weave of everything. He sees the well and knows what it’s made of. Looks at the head and understands where it came from. The very fabric of the world fills the space where his blind side had once been, but for all he can see it. He cannot read it.

Of course, he cannot. 

He has not made the proper sacrifice yet. 

“Are you pleased with yourself?” Mimir asks, and he can pinpoint the voice, the location of the speech. It’s not coming from the head, and his lips twitch, then pull up in a sharp smile.

“Very,” he says. “Content yourself, Mimir, with keeping the well. I go to find the source of runes, and then perhaps to drink from the Kvasir’s mead. Keep this knowledge well, for it is the only thing you shall have.” 

“Smug for someone whose lost one eye,” Comes the retort, jagged and sharp. 

“Oh,” he returns, turning from him, “but I gained so much more than I have lost.” 

He walks out of the hole and back into the freezing weather of Jötunheimr. It’s a much shorter trip out then it was in. Of course, he has made his sacrifice, and now he sees the workings of the magic guarding that hole. But he cannot read it. Rune craft . Something still out of his reach. But not for long. 

He sees what he has to do. 

The ravens are still circling. Now he can see their forms flitting between the branches of Yggdrasil far more clearly than before. He steps up onto the great root of the world tree, and holds up his arms. They dive towards him, twin blurs of black, one upon each arm. They stare at him with beady eyes. Watching. Waiting.

Clever little birds.

He smiles, this sharp thing. “If you derive such entertainment from watching me on my quest, then I see no reason you will not serve a greater purpose. I want eyes everywhere. I want thoughts that come to me on the wind, and a memory that never falters , even if information must be stored elsewhere for a time. So henceforth, you two will be mine. Huginn. Muninn.”

Huginn, thought, gives a little caw. His feathers ruffle, puffing up against the freezing wind. But there is sly pleasure in the bird’s eyes. Pleased.

Muninn, Memory, considers her name for a longer moment. Then she walks up his arm, watching him close, and takes a strand of gray hair within her beak. With great deliberation, she begins to groom him. 

It seems he has both their agreement. Not that it would matter, now that he has named and claimed them. With a laugh like a raven’s caw himself, he tosses both birds back into the air. Huginn and Muninn circle him briefly, before flying off. He watches them go for a long moment, teeth bared against the wind, before turning towards Yggdrasil . He has a long walk ahead of him, and at the end of it, the answers he seeks.

CasCu woke with a reflexive groan, squinting and blinking blearily. It’d been a while since he’d slept properly - certainly not since Chaldea was destroyed - and the experience left him disorientated, disjointed. His vision was blurred with tears. One eye - the one pressed against his arm - itched and stung. He blinked repeatedly, then groaned again. The movement sent pain spiking to the back of his head. Gods, it was like he’d gotten fucking blackout drunk last night, instead of just going to sleep.

Muttering to himself, CasCu slowly levered himself up off the ground. Mash and Gudao had taken Gerda’s guest bedroom, so he’d had the delightful position of the floor, with only his robes and cloak to soften the ground. Maybe that was why he felt so pulverized, why his head hurt so blindingly much. Gods, his back too. Fucking hell.

A snort, ghostly in the back of his mind. “You look drunk.”

“Thanks, Alter,” CasCu breathed. He stumbled a few steps towards a window, opened it up, and stuck his head outside. The sun had just crested the horizon. CasCu closed his eyes and let its rays touch his face. The headache receded a tad, but the pain in his eye remained. “Anything happen last night?”

He sensed more than felt Alter’s presence beside him. “No,” came the response. “You?” 

“Fucky dreams, apparently.” He thought, at least. As most dreams did, his were dissolving with the rising sun. And it didn’t feel quite like a memory. Gods, what had it been… ravens? Something about ravens? His eye stung. He scrubbed at it briefly. “Think I got something stuck in my eye too.” 

At a normal time, Alter might have shot back some snark. Now he just hummed, this low flat note. 

So he was still residing in that curse. CasCu let his hand fall, and sighed. “Are you going to be alright, big guy?” He asked, quiet. 

“Are you?” Alter retorted.

CasCu didn’t know, so he kept his mouth shut. He ached for Kage to be here, to stand beside him. To slug him lightly in the shoulders, then make a cup of tea, and ask him about the damned dream. To hold him, afterward , though he’d swear up and down it meant nothing. But Kage wasn’t here. Kage was on a cot, struggling and fighting for his life. CasCu’s fingers curled into fists. He tilted his head into the rising sun, fought the unease that came with its sight, and let the light burn away the pain in his eye. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, gruffly. “Where are Gudao and Mash?” 

“Outside,” Alter said. 

“Let’s catch up then,” CasCu said. He looked away from the sun, so large and bright, and took to Spirit Form. 

It was barely dawn, but outside Gerda’s house, the village was bustling. Children and teenagers ran around, dragging garlands of flowers with them. The village had been nice before, well presented, but now it was bustling with activity and life, the final touches set upon the houses. Like a celebration, a festival. 

CasCu wasn’t sure he wanted to know what type of festival these people partook in. Not with what he’d already learned of their culture.

Even in the chaos, it was easy to find Gudao and Mash. All he had to do was follow the swirl of children forwards, towards the gate. Here, the area was even more decorated. The world was in black and gray, but CasCu could just tell the houses were decorated with flowers of the brightest colors. There was laughter, giggles, but also an odd solemn air. Like this was a cheerful goodbye. At the edge of the crowd, listening in, was Gudao and Mash. They stood close together, pressed side by side.

Something in CasCu’s gut threatened to drop. He shoved that feeling away, and continued forwards. The crowd Mash and Gudao were watching changed into a more distinguishable mass. Children, yes. Teenagers, yes. But at their center, two adults. One male, one female. They had flowers in their hair, and were smiling happily.

The woman bent down, and picked a bouquet from the children. She pressed her face against the flowers, and breathed it in steadily. The man accepted his own bouquet, and smiled, warm. “Thank you all,” he said, “thank you so much.” 

The woman pulled her face from the flowers, and smiled. Like the man’s expression, it was filled with joy. But there were tears at the corners of her eyes, glimmering slightly. “You’ve grown up to be such wonderful children, you follow the goddess’s teachings so well. We’re so happy to have you send us off today.”

“Make sure you get along even after we’re gone,” The man said. He scrubbed at his cheeks with one wrist. His smile was a bit more watery. “We can’t wait to see you again when you come join us.”

“Take care of yourselves,” the woman whispered, then pressed her face into the flowers once more. 

This festival was a goodbye, CasCu realized, with a sudden drop in his gut. They were saying goodbye to these twenty-five-year-olds , barely at their prime. His hands were shaking. He felt sick. His fingers balled up into fists, and he swallowed hard, biting back the growl in his throat. He could see the realization dawn upon Gudao and Mash’s face. The way Mash’s eyes widened, the way Gudao paled.

Gerda pulled from the conglomerate of people, and walked up to Gudao and Mash’s side. She smiled at them. There was terrible joy on her face. “It took six months to grow those flowers,” she said, and there was pride in her voice, bright. “They’re very special.” 

Gudao licked his lips. “Why’s that?” he breathed, and his voice shook slightly.

“Only those with flowers can arrive at Valhalla’s halls,” Gerda said. She turned to watch the goodbyes, smiling. “The flowers show that these two were an important part of the community here, and only those important can go to Valhalla. The Goddess decided that so long ago it would make your head spin!”

Valhalla.

CasCu felt like he’d been hit with something. Like the whole world had fundamentally shifted with the word. As if he’d been forced off his feet and was slowly growing steady again. His eye ached. Valhalla. The golden city of the Norse gods. The home of Odin and the Asgardians. The place where the Valkyries, the created daughters of Odin, shepherded the chosen to the greatest of afterlives. But those chosen were warriors. Great heroes who had died upon the fields of battle. 

Not normal, twenty- five-year-olds , who had been forced to bear children too young. Who had stayed their entire lives within a pen. 

“If you and your friends hadn’t saved me from those giants,” Gerda said, “they would have squashed me before I had a chance to get my own banquet. The envoys would have never given me my weapon. Then my soul would have wandered around forever, and I’d never get to Valhalla! So thank you!” 

Gudao and Mash just stared at her. CasCu’s head was spinning. He pressed his fingers against his temples, as if that could make the whole world stop tilting around and around and around him. Had Gerda said the envoys gave them weapons? The words didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. This wasn’t how souls entered Valhalla. 

The children had finished their goodbyes. They pulled from the man and woman, leaving them to stand in a clearing. Both of their bouquets were bursting with flowers. Smaller garlands adorned their hair. The two, in unison, stepped towards the gate. They reached out, held each other’s hand. Their others held the bouquets close to their chest, flowers tickling their chin. Their voices rose in prayer, in sync.

“Envoy, O envoy, we have come to offer you everything in accordance to the Heavenly Goddess. We carry the flowers of our children, in proof of our love and devotion to our people. Our hands await your weapons, to show our determination to remain by your side. Our bodies are yours, as they have always been. Envoy, O envoy, we offer ourselves to you. We offer ourselves to the Heavenly Goddess. May she see us worthy of Valhalla’s homes.” 

They bowed, deep, eyes closed. For a moment, silence swept through the children, through the village. The world stabilized around CasCu. His hands dropped. He looked up, and tilted his head towards the sky. The sun watched them, a blazing circle of silver. Two birds watched them too, wheeling overhead. 

Somehow, CasCu wasn’t surprised.

“Humans”

The word boomed, like gentle summer thunder. The light from the sun burst, then fell. CasCu was left blinking away sunspots, dizzy with the sudden blindness. But it retreated swiftly. A figure had joined the swirling ravens, which retreated swiftly at her appearance. It was a woman’s figure. She was a dark silhouette, light blazing at the edges. And as just a silhouette, she almost made out the shape of a rune. 

Algiz.

Divine Protection. Courage. The energy of a Valkyrie. 

“O’ humans, today is an ordained day. O’ humans, today is the day your lives shall be taken. Know that this is an act of love. Know that - through this act - the last remaining deity, the Goddess, extends her hand to you. O’ humans, bow your heads. Give thanks to the ice, the snow, and the light.”

The two adults bowed their heads, and closed their eyes. CasCu could see their lips moving, as if in prayer once more. The children ringing them raised their heads, raised their voice. Their speech was perfectly in sync, and had obviously been repeated before. “Envoy! O’ Envoy! O glorious Valkyrie, gleaming bright, please take the grown-ups with you! They followed all the Goddess’s teachings, raised us, and those that couldn’t raise us played with us until they were fourteen! None of them are bad people, so please, take them to Valhalla!”

“They’re going to kill them,” Gudao breathed. His hand shook. The expression on his face was terrible to look at. Mash made a noise in the back of her throat, small and choked off. Rightfully horrified.

The Valkyrie descended, and the algiz silhouette broke apart into definable form. Two bars of light, sticking out from her sides like unmovable wings. Intricate silver armor, with wings wrapping around torso and waist. A white skirt billowed around her armored legs. Her face was hidden by a similar, matching white cowl. Nothing could be seen of it but glowing red eyes, a nose, and an unsmiling mouth.

A pang, in his chest. Brief and fleeting. There was something about her. Familiar, almost. But the feeling disappeared just as quickly, and CasCu was left reeling in the aftermath.

Her voice, as she descended, grew softer. More human. More approachable. “O’ humans, rejoice, for I will open the great gate for you. Your weapons will be bestowed, in accordance with divine law. Walk through it. Do not hesitate. Meet your end as a sacrifice bravely, and your souls shall be taken to the Hall of Warriors, though you have never known anything but peace. This is the gift bestowed upon you.”

Gudao was shaking now, fingers digging into his palms. Mash held onto his shoulder, tight. Her expression was pained. CasCu took a step closer, then another. 

The man and woman stood, and looked up at the Valkyrie . Their faces were lit with terrible joy. As one, they raised their voices, “Thank you, O envoy. We are endlessly grateful for the blessings you and the goddess have bestowed upon us. We will go to meet our end. Please, open the gate for us.”

The Valkyrie held out her arm, and gestured to the gate. With the motion, the gate began to creak open. “It will be done.”

“HOLD IT!”

The words were raw. Wild. Screamed at the top of the lungs. Gudao broke from Mash’s hold and jerked forwards. CasCu’s fingers closed around his wrist too late - not that it would have done much, still in Spirit Form as he was. He cursed as Gudao planted himself between the two adults, arms outstretched as if to stop their movement forwards. He glared up at the Valkyrie, eyes burning.

“I said,” he hissed, “hold it.” 

The Valkyrie ’s head tilted. Her face showed a trace of surprise, her eyes slightly wider then they had been before. There was something stilted in her speech, almost ritualistic. “Humans? What is this strange sound? This is astonishing; a crime most grave. This ritual marks the solemn, glorious end to these human lives . It is not to be trifled with.” 

Mash stepped up beside Gudao. She had recovered from her shock, and held her shield tight between her fingers. Her eyes were bright. “Please wait, Valkyrie.” 

Gerda took a step forwards, her mouth open to protest. CasCu stepped out of Spirit Form and caught her before she could move forwards, into the line of fire. “Not right now,” he murmured, quiet. “That woman won’t care about catching you in the crossfire.”

“ But - we ’re not supposed to go against tradition on an ordained day!” Gerda protested, but she didn’t fight his grip. Perhaps she knew she couldn’t. Or perhaps she remembered that he was the one who had pulled her from the giant’s grasp, and the debts she owed to Gudao and his Servants.

“Sorry, kid,” CasCu breathed, offering a low, thin croon. “But my Master’s not the type to stand around doing nothing, when it comes to shit like this.” And gods, a part of him couldn’t help but swell with pride. Both Gudao and Mash had grown up.

“Valkyrie,” Mash said, “you said these people would go to Valhalla, to Odin’s palace, the Hall of Warriors. But that is supposed to be the resting place for the souls of brave heroes!”

“But these people,” Gudao said, gesturing, “are not brave heroes. They’re people, ordinary people, and no garland of flowers or gifted weapon is going to change that. And you’re sending them to die? These people that worship you? For what?!” 

The Valkyrie was silent. For a long moment, she was silent. The adults edged back, and the children pulled away, trembling slightly. The light from the Valkyrie’s wings was starting to brighten. Near painful to look at. CasCu tugged his cloak around Gerda, so her eyes didn’t get seared.

“Heathens,” the Valkyrie breathed, “Our shared records had reported that heathens had invaded our holy lands - and now, here you stand. In that case, it falls to me to execute you.” A twist of the hand, a burst of light. When the light died, she held a gleaming silver shield , and a blazing spear of white. “Humans,” she said, “know that it is futile to resist. Humans, know that the will to resist is itself a grave offense. Your souls will never ascend to Valhalla. You will simply die, and wander, loveless and forever alone.” 

“No they won’t!” CasCu called out. The Valkyrie’s head turned. She froze, her eyes widening a tad. CasCu grinned, a sharp, vicious thing. “Your job is to escort the souls of brave heroes to Valhalla. Well, Gudao and Mash are some of the bravest heroes I’ve ever met. Even if you want to leave them as shades down here, you could never bring yourself to do so. Your initial programming would never allow you to do so.” 

The Valkyrie yanked back, slightly, as if struck. Her face slowly twisted, an incremental amount, but CasCu could see how much she disliked the words. “You are above the age of 25,” she said. “You will be executed too.” 

“No, he won’t!” Gudao called out. The Valkyrie twisted to him again, and he reached out, gripped Mash’s free hand. Gudao’s laughter was wild, loud. Perhaps a touch hysteric. “We don’t know this Scandinavia. We don’t know what you value. But we know that we are not loveless, and we are not alone. And we know that what you’re doing, right now, is cruel! Offering up people's lives to the giants. Ending children’s lives before they even have the chance to grow up. It’s all cruel. And we will not look the other way when it happens!”

“Hai!” Mash said. She gripped his hand tight, then planted her shield into the ground. “What you’re doing here is wrong! And as long as we have breath in our body, we will say that it is wrong! Master, preparing for battle!”

Gerda began to struggle against CasCu. “No! Envoys aren’t supposed to fight each other. Envoys aren’t supposed to fight!”

CasCu held her still, he’d her tight. “We’re not envoys,” he said, “Which is why we will call her out on her bullshit.”

Gerda froze. Her sob was lost beneath the sound of Gudao’s orders. “CasCu! Protect the village, make sure none of these people get hurt. Scáthach , this one’s yours.”

The Valkyrie jerked back, her eyes flying wide open. Scáthach appeared mid-lunge . A burst of red light around her; copies of Gáe Bolg raced down towards the winged being. To Valkyrie’s credit, she blocked the first Gáe Bolg with her shield, knocked away another, and dodged around the third. But CasCu knew Scáthach . This would only be the first attack of a swarm, and he had no time to watch the battle. 

He grabbed Gerda and threw her into the ring of children. She yelped in surprise. Someone - an older teen, CasCu thought - grabbed her and dragged her off with them. The children and teenagers were scattering. It was the adults who were frozen, watching this battle with horrified eyes. CasCu didn’t have time to go after them. He ordered the runes he’d need in his head, lined them up one after another, then slammed his staff into the ground. A ring of runes lit up around it’s base, then another, another, another, another. 

Nine circles of runes in all. Thurisaz. Algiz. Iwaz. Opilan. Ansuz. Protection against the Valkyries , the gods, resilience, and strength for this home, this village. All tied close together by Odin. 

The bounded circle burst to life around the battlefield, a bubble that kept the villagers out, and the dueling Valkyrie in. Not that it seemed the battle would last long. Scáthach ’s expression was of boredom, not the fierce hunger it would have showed if the fight was challenging her. The Valkyrie was struggling, fighting off Scáthach ’s attacks, but unable to land or even start her own. The end of the battle was inevitable as the tides. Scáthach ’s spear buried deep within the Valkyrie’s sternum, the metal armor broken and bent with the blow.

“How -” the Valkyrie gasped, blood leaking from her lips. “How -”

It was Mash who spoke. Though she was prepared for battle, she’d never had a chance to deal a single blow. Yet her voice was hard, flinty. “Like CasCu said, Master consorts with heroes. I have a Heroic Spirit within me. Scáthach is a great teacher of them. Given your nature, you can’t ignore the souls of heroes here.”

“The soul of a hero,” the Valkyrie breathed. Her wings were starting to flake off into gold flecks, rising to the sky. “Two thousand and several hundred years since I was manufactured … and never once … did I get … to see one …” She disappeared on Scáthach ’s spear. A wash of sparks that rose, then fell, like dying stars.

Scáthach flicked her spear to clear it of the remaining blood. “How foolish,” she noted, dispassionate. “She should have stayed to the skies, and kept her advantage.” 

Gudao relaxed, slightly. “Thank you Scáthach . CasCu, keep up the barrier for now. We don’t know -”

“How could you do that?!” Gerda’s voice was raw. They all turned to stare. At some point, Gerda had escaped the one who had dragged her off. Her eyes were full of confusion, small fists balled up by her sides. “How could you fight another envoy like that? The Goddess … is going to be really mad …”

Slowly, one by one, children begin to slip out of their hiding spots. Voices rose, a low murmur of chatter, of fear. The grown-ups glanced at each other. CasCu could see the tightness in their eyes. Then the woman turned, and her voice traveled over the growing rabble, soft and gentle, but instilling instant quiet. “It’s okay. The envoys are servants of the Goddess. Even if one disappears, another will take her place. Look!” She pointed up, to the sky. “See that light in the sky? They’ll take care of this, and then the ritual will continue.” 

They looked up. Everyone, looked up. CasCu stared, blinking, at the light in the sky. There were so many. They looked like stars, one after another, little glints of gold against the blue. At this distance, it was just a repeated number of Algiz runes. The Valkyries . 

“Master,” Mash said, shifting her stance, “The Ortinax should be able to handle a series of consecutive battles. Amalgam goad is in good shape. It should stand up to combat, at a minimum.” 

Gudao nodded. His fingers tightened into fists. “It seems the Valkyries view these villages as something to be protected,” he said. “The other Valkyrie didn’t try any large scale attacks, though flying Servants tend to have them. I’m willing to bet the next Valkyries will come to the ground as well. Alter, Tesla, come on out. CasCu, your main focus is going to be the bounded field, but I want you to heal as needed. Got it?” 

“Got it,” CasCu said. He planted his feet, and wiggled his toes into the dirt. Beneath his skin, he felt the pulse of power, so much clearer in this place without snow.

Tesla and Alter entered solid form in a wash of light. Alter was crouched, growling, spear held tight in his grip. He looked ready to spring into action. Tesla stood straight, one hand adjusting his giant gauntlet. Sparks flew around his fingers. This time Scáthach grinned, this feral, familiar thing. She spun her spear, and copy after copy littered the ground around her, a circle of available weapons. She grabbed one, then hefted it, ready to throw.

“They’re coming down!” Gudao called. “Now!” 

The Valkyries descended, seven of them in all. CasCu could feel their power, the differing levels, and knew the others could too. Scathech threw her spear with unnerving accuracy, lightning fast. It was hardly her Noble Phantasm, but it was still a powerful blow. The lead Valkyrie batted it away as if it was nothing. Scáthach didn’t let up. One after another, she pulled her spears from the ground, and threw them. Some hit, others were batted aside. One of the Valkyrie’s fell, impaled through the chest.

Six left.

Tesla’s lighting burst into action. He raised his hands, lashed out. A bolt of pure white light shot towards the Valkyries . They dodged around it - some too slow, singed and clothes burnt. Another shot, quicker this time, a thinner stream of lightning, more accurate. This time, a Valkyrie was knocked out of the sky - one of the ones Scáthach had hit. She disappeared into golden motes as she fell. And then the remaining five Valkyries were upon them, and Alter was meeting them. He roared, this earth-shattering thing. His tail and spear swept around, battering at their opponents. Scáthach joined the fray, darting and twisting, jabbing and blocking. Tesla took to the air, shot lightning down from above. 

A few Valkyries separated from the melee, and went after Gudao. He stood there, watching them, with flinty eyes. Then Mash was there, her shield grating against their weapons, the force of her shove sending them backwards. With this, Mash entered the fray, her shield smacking from one side to the other, her eyes burning with the most anger CasCu had ever seen from her. She’d grown into a true shield maiden, he thought, watching as she deflected a blow from the Valkyrie ’s leader.

The rest of the village had run, again, including the adults. This large scale battle was too much for the people of such a peaceful home. Only Gerda stayed. She banged her fists on CasCu’s bounded field, shouting for them to stop, to please stop, that this was wrong and that they shouldn’t be doing this. There were tears in her eyes. CasCu commended her bravery, but the shouting would only work to distract Gudao. He cut off sound from the bounded field, so they could not hear her protests, or her pleas.

Scáthach , Alter, Mash, and Tesla fought. For all it was five - no, four against four, they did not seem to be struggling too badly. Alter was the most injured, covered in weeping wounds across his chest, his back. CasCu flicked a series of runes into the air, searing blue. Sowilo, sun and health, which was all that was needed for a person of Lugh’s blood. Alter’s wounds knit together in small flairs of bright light. He plunged his spear into the chest plate of one of the Valkyries . She screamed out, and died in a burst of golden light upon his attack.

The final the three Valkyries flew into a flurry of action. It wouldn’t be long now, CasCu thought, his fingers flexing slightly. A stab to Scáthach ’s side, another bright burst of runes, another knitted wound. Mash was holding steady, her guard unwavering. She was barely injured, each shove and push of her shield strong and steady. But CasCu could see she was growing tired, her shoulders shaking, her chest heaving. Without a Servant’s endurance to keep her going, she was beginning to falter.

Then her eyes widened. Her head whipped around. “Senpai! There are more enemies coming from -”

“Divine execution!”

The roar came from above them. CasCu’s head jerked up just in time to catch another fleet of Valkyries, flying down quickly. The one at her head was launching her spear - but it wasn’t a spear anymore. It was a burning bolt of brilliant, electrical light. CasCu cried out a warning too late. It had already left her hand. Tesla, still in the air, only had time to turn and see it rocketing towards him.

The bolt hit him straight through the chest. His lightning went out. He fell, and CasCu broke formation, jolting forwards, his feet digging into the earth and propelling him onwards. He caught Tesla as he fell, grunting and rolling with the impact, before setting him on the ground gently. The man was alive, though his eyes were crossed, and the air rasped from his lips in jagged gulps. He didn’t look good. His Guts skill had probably been activated, which - with his own resistance to electricity - must have kept him alive.

Not that that mattered. CasCu threw those thoughts from his mind, and got started. Sowilo, Kaunan, and naudiz. Health, rejuvenation, and survival. They burned under CasCu’s fingertips, then sunk into Tesla’s suit. Bit by bit, the hole in his chest started to knit back together. The burns across his body began to sooth away.

Around them, chaos. CasCu heard the calls of more Noble Phantasms being unleashed, then just as swift, Mash’s cry, “FORM CAMELOT!” The wash of her Noble Phantasm was immediate. CasCu gasped, body shaking, as he felt the layers of protection cover his form, the bolstering rally she gave off. It protected him from the brunt of the collected attack, though he could feel his skin steaming.

Not quite lightning. Not quite heat. What the hell were they wielding?

It wasn’t the time to ask, though some part of CasCu felt that he would know if he dug deep enough inside of his own memories. He ignored the feeling, and patted Tesla’s shoulder, rasped out, “Can you get to Gudao okay?”

Tesla gave a shaky nod. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. “Yes,” he said, “do not fear, I will not be from the battlefield for long.”

“Grand to know,” CasCu breathed, before pushing away from him and surveying the scene. His bounded field was holding. But Mash, Alter, and Scáthach were badly outnumbered. These new Valkyrie’s, like the others, had come to the ground after their initial attack. His eyes flickered, found Gudao’s. 

“Do you mind?” He asked, sent along that mental distance.

Gudao tipped his head. “Be my guest.”

CasCu nodded, then stepped forwards. He could feel the pulse of his bounded field, the drain from his runes into Tesla, those protections. CasCu closed his eyes and shut it out. The sound of battle, the burn of his bounded field, all of it. Gone from mind. All that remained was the brilliant river of mana beneath his feet, accessible, willing. It had been a long time since this land had felt a druid’s touch. He raised his staff high over his head, lips moving softly, words quiet under his breath.

“Timber Giant, eaten away by fire. Become a cage of flames. WICKER MAN!”

CasCu slammed his staff into the ground, hard. Earth cracked underneath the impact. CasCu’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up just in time to see Scáthach hook an arm around Mash and drag her away from the blast area. Alter had already gotten out of the way. Some Valkyries had sensed the incoming mana, had taken to the skies. More were caught off guard as the ground opened up beneath their feet, and Wicker Man’s hand rose to meet them. Not the full thing - that would burn the whole village down - just the hands, snapping up Valkyries in their woven grip, catching on fire the next second. For a moment, the screams of the dying. Golden sparks and firelight danced up towards the sky. Wicker Man’s hands burned away, and the hole in the ground was sealed. The Valkyries that had stood there - gone. 

One in the air’s eyes flashed. Her voice, robotic, “Requesting assistance. More backup required. Requesting -” 

A spear cut her off, thrown right through her chest. Scáthach dismissed her replica with a flick of her fingers. “They are unlikely to come to the ground again,” she noted. “How long until Tesla is in fighting order?” 

“Not long,” Gudao panted. Sweat beaded at his brow. His hands were held over the wounds Tesla bore. Increment by increment, they were starting to mend. “CasCu, continue running interference. You and Scáthach are our only ones with long ranged attacks until Tesla’s healed. If we can clear this wave, we can get out before -”

“It’s too late Master,” Mash said. “Look.”

Up, again. The two remaining Valkyries had been joined by more. Another fleet of seven. Back to nine enemies, and Gudao was starting to grow exhausted. Mash couldn’t be far behind. CasCu cursed, got ready. He could feel the pulse of mana in the air. One of the first two held out her spear. She spoke, cold, her voice carrying across the battlefield. “All Valkyries, deploy Noble Phantasms.” 

“Shit,” CasCu breathed.

Mash’s face was pale. She raised her shield, drew in a deep breath. She would be too slow, CasCu could already tell. The last attack had been barely blocked. Mash was more exhausted than she had been then, and now -

A sound split the air. A roar like nothing CasCu had ever heard. His eardrums shattered. He cried out, plastering his hands over his ears. Light burst before his closed eyelids. He heard the cries as the Valkyries’ Noble Phantasms were shot to shreds, blasted apart by - what had it been? The answer came through ringing ears, from the Throne’s knowledge, distorted and so far away. Or perhaps it came from somewhere else, welling up from inside of him, from the sudden blinding pain in his eye.

Cannon fire. 

That had been cannon fire.

CasCu straightened, and let his hands fall from his ringing ears. The oldest two Valkyries - who had already sustained wounds from the battle - had been ripped to shreds by that blast. A few of the new ones had been similarly vaporized. The others were badly injured, steaming gently. They seemed shocked at the attack, frozen. CasCu could see many of them blinking repeatedly, an almost human gesture.

“Impressive,” Scáthach noted.

Tesla made a noise between his teeth. “I could have done that,” he muttered. 

“Well, who did?” Gudao said, patting Tesla’s shoulder. 

“I think - he did, Senpai,” Mash said. She leaned on her shield, and pointed.

CasCu turned to follow the direction of the point. It was towards the fence, so the man she pointed at had either slipped through, or materialized right there. The shot had to have been from this man, if the absolutely massive cannon pointing the angels way was any inclination. The proportions of said cannon were made nearly comical by the proportions of the man, whose small stature was only made smaller in comparison. But his grin was wide, and big, and he carried himself like a man twice his size. 

“How did you like my little cannon here?” He called out, voice booming across the village. “C'est magnifique, non? Haha! Nothing better than a fine gentleman like myself fighting off a swarm of angels!”

The burst of sudden french had CasCu’s chest twisting tight. Marie used to do that, to pepper her speech with sayings from her native tongue, and then giggle right after. With Servants, that sort of habit wasn’t an issue. The Throne translated everything heard into something they could understand. But CasCu hadn’t heard anyone do that in a while. His chest ached, a brief, painful pain for her loss. But the battlefield was no place for such pain. He shoved it away, tucked it right beside where his pain for Kage still burned.

“I see,” the lead Valkyrie said. Her eyes flashed, glowing. “Though they were just mass-produced models, this one can blast several away at once. I also see that he is working with an individual known as Mash Kyrielight. Servants are beings that threaten the Goddess’s rule. They are to be eradicated. Begin link. Begin link. All nearby envoys begin link. None my defy her will.”

The Valkyries began to cluster. More lights in the sky lit up, one, two, three, four. Not a full platoon then, but enough to bolster the ranks, to replace who was missing. And the man with the cannon only laughed. “Go ahead!” He called out, “I’ll blow you right out of the sky! Haven’t you learned that anything in the air is just a target for my incredible firepower?”

“A Servant,” Mash breathed. “Master, he’s a Servant from Proper Human History!” 

Gudao gave Tesla’s shoulder a pat, then straightened up. “I know,” he said. “You, Servant? My name is Fujimaru Ritsuka, the last Master of Humanity! What is your name, and will you help us?” 

“Well, let’s see,” the man said. He closed his eyes briefly, a pause just for dramatics, then opened them in a sudden burst. His grin was nearly blinding. “As long as someone’s out there’s got their hopes up, or wishes things were different, I’ll make their dreams come true. And I see those stars shining bright in you and your friend, fighting against the fate of the world! Go ahead and lead the way, Fujimaru Ritsuka, Mash Kryielight. My cannon is yours to command! Let your magical energy loose, and don’t hold back! Let’s get this done in style!”

“Well, close enough.” Gudao muttered. He held out a hand. “Archer, Tesla, CasCu! Focus your fire on the Valkyries . Scáthach , Alter, take down any that are still living when they reach the ground. Mash, you’re on the defense. I want you blocking every Noble Phantasm you possibly can. Got it?” 

“Hai!” Mash called.

The word was barely finished with before the mysterious Servant ’s cannon fired again. It was another blazing burst, but this time the Valkyries reacted . They swooped and twirled around the attack, eyes glowing. Their movements were in sync. As one, they raised their lances, glowing, burning. Their Noble Phantasm. 

This time, Mash was ready. She lunged forwards, slammed her shield into the ground. A cry, and the walls of Camelot rose around them, flickering in holographic projectiles. CasCu dug his toes into the ground, and pulled. Roots ripped from the ground, reaching up to support those walls. Just in time, for the Noble Phantasms crashed down upon them. Flecks of Camelot’s walls flickered away in the onslaught. CasCu’s roots began to crumble to burn.

And then they were through. As one, Archer and Tesla lit up the sky. Lightning crackled from nothing. Cannon bursts broke the sky, one after another. One of the Valkyries fell to be finished off swiftly by Scáthach ’s blows. More burned away from combined onslaught. The rest of the Valkyries swept low, spears at the ready. 

Alter met them like a wrecking ball. His spear flashed, his tail lashed out, knocking away weapons and shields both. Then Scáthach was there, her spears flashing, diving, coming away with slashes of blood. CasCu let his control of the roots dropped, then focused on support. His runes burned arcs into the air, bolstering their speed, their strength, healing the wounds stitched across their skin. 

Valkyries fell in golden sparks all around them. Mash and the nameless Archer joined the fray, and Tesla shot his light towards the sky, discouraging further reinforcements. A smart move. CasCu eyed the fray, but - no . He wasn’t needed there. He pressed Thurisaz and hagalaz, Thor tied to the uncontrollable power of nature, against Tesla’s arms. The Archer’s bolts grew in power, lashed out further. One of the incoming Valkyries burned away mid-descent . 

The rest drew up, short, and watched as the last of the group was destroyed. They were too far to shoot down. Heads turned, as if one of them was speaking, but they were too far to hear the words. Then, as one, the group rose to the sky, and left. 

Scáthach pulled her spear out of the last Valkyrie , and flicked the tip to clean it. “Must have decided they were loosing too many,” she noted, her tone sliding back to blandly bored. “A shame. Things were just getting interesting.”

“Of course you would say that,” CasCu breathed. 

Alter grunted, then took to Spirit Form. Gudao watched him go, then wiped the edge of his sleeve over his face. “Alright. Everyone, back to Spirit Form. CasCu, drop the bounded field for now, but the runes just in case we need to pull it back up.”

“Got it, Master,” CasCu said. He cut off his runes on Tesla, then tore down his bounded field. He took to Spirit Form just in time to watch Gerda stumble back. Her face was pale, blotchy with tear stains. She stared at Gudao and Mash, then at the Servant, and then at the bloodstained ground. She made a noise in the back of her throat, broken, then turned and ran. 

“Gerda -” 

“No,” Gudao murmured, cutting Mash off. “Let’s not - she won’t understand, right now. Best to leave her alone.” His lips pressed together, obviously unhappy with having to say those words. His hand slipped down to grab Mash’s hand, squeezed. In response, she dropped her outstretched arm, and turned away.

“Hai,” she said, quiet.

The moment was interrupted by the new Servant, who sauntered up and slapped Gudao’s back so hard he nearly stumbled, set his other hand on Mash’s shoulder. “Good work, you too!” He said, grinning wide. “To command so many Servants, and to stand beside them when you’re not exactly one of them, is quite impressive! I can’t promote you to general at our first meeting, but there’s a metal in store for the both of you!”

Mash stepped away from his hand. “E-excuse me,” she said, “We really appreciate the help, but could you please not slap him so hard?”

The Servant blinked. He withdrew both hands, raised them high. “Oh, was that hard? Sorry ‘bout that! Old habits die hard, they say.”

Gudao coughed, clutching his chest. CasCu wondered if he needed to step out of Spirit Form to heal him.

“Sorry again,” the Servant said. He didn’t sound very sorry. “Here, how ‘bout I give ya a back rub? Or are you alright now?”

“I’m fine,” Gudao said. He straightened, grimacing, palm pressing into his chest. He swallowed hard, then let his hand drop. “Like Mash said, thanks for the help. But you didn’t actually introduce yourself.”

“Ah, I suppose I didn’t.” The Servant chuckled, then stepped a bit away from them. He set his hands on his hips, puffed up his chest, and then beamed wide. “Then listen up! Humans, one day, your desires will become a rainbow emblazoned across the sky. Know why? ‘Cause I’m here now! That’s right! I’m the man of infinite possibility! Wherever I go, I leave rainbows in my wake … I am Napoleon, an Archer! You’re looking at the only hero of humanity in all of Scandinavia!”

There was a pause, prominent, and long. CasCu felt the information from the Throne flood his mind. His eyebrows rose high. Alter made a noise between his teeth. “He’s insane.” 

“Absolutely,” CasCu breathed.

They left Village 23 behind them. No one stopped them. No one came out of their homes to watch them leave. CasCu wasn’t too surprised. They had walked into their home under false pretense, interrupted a sacred ritual, killed multiple Valkyries on their soil … it was probably the most violence that supposedly peaceful village had ever seen.

The Valkyries …

CasCu found them sticking in his mind as they walked. Someone had tampered with the Valkyrie ’s initial purpose. He could feel it, down deep inside of him. Without any heroes to collect, the Valkyries had been changed so they would accept normal people. A weapon did not make a hero. A crown of flowers did not make a hero. Their purpose had changed, and it felt … utterly wrong, in a way CasCu couldn’t name.

Lugh, a part of him felt disgruntled for no reason. They weren’t his Valkyries . Not his to be disgruntled over. The feeling was foolish. He shook it off, harsh.

CasCu forced himself to focus on the progress Gudao, Mash, and Napoleon were making. Napoleon - despite Gudao’s poke - had refused to take Spirit Form. Instead, he traveled on his own pair of skis. He was talking, right now, and CasCu must have been too involved in his own damn head to have caught the initiating question.

“Of course I know what’s going on with all the snow and ice,” he called, “if we stop for a bit, I’ll tell you. It’s not a story to be yelled across traveling.”

“There’s a good spot up ahead,” Mash said, pointing briefly. It was the top of a hill, bare from trees. It would be a good place to keep an eye on their surroundings while they took a break.

Gudao nodded, once. “Looks like a good place to me.”

They made swift time, and were soon swirling to a stop at the top of the hill. Napoleon buried his skis into the snow, and crouched. Gudao and Mash planted their own skis, so they wouldn’t move, and settled. Gudao crossed his arms over his chest. “So,” he asked, “What’s the deal with the snow and ice? We already figured it has to be connected to the Lostbelt King, but we don’t have much more information than that.”

Napoleon closed his eyes, hummed. “All right, then let’s start at the beginning. You two know the myth of Ragnarök, right? Well that battle happened here as well. But the age of the gods didn’t end that day. Something caused to last, even until now, which forced the history of this world to change with it.”

Mash blinked. “So Director Gordolf and Da Vinci were right …”

“This Goddess,” Gudao said, frowning, “She survived Ragnarök, right? And she’s not been existing as a Pseudo-Servant, or a Divine Servant - she’s just a goddess.”

“The one and only Goddess,” Napoleon agreed, “The last God of Scandinavia, who rules this Lostbelt, using her envoys as go-betweens to keep both giants and humans in check. She lives in the northern part of Oslo Fjord, in a castle located in Proper Human History’s old Oslo region. The Queen of Scandinavia, who covers half its mountains in frost. A Goddess of Snow and Ice …” 

He paused, as if for dramatic effect. CasCu didn’t need him to fill in the gap. Electricity shot through him, painfully cold, throbbing in his eye socket. His fingers flexed around his staff. His throat locked up, as if it had been frozen. In his minds eye, he could see a towering woman of jotun blood. He saw the armor she wore, the weapons she carried. Blood for blood. Family for family. A goddess of snow and ice. One who favored giants over humankind .

Skadi.

Chapter Text

Napoleon kept talking. CasCu didn’t hear him. It felt like that name had frozen him to the ground, trapped him efficiently as ice he couldn’t melt. Skadi. A Goddess of Jotunn ilk. The woman who had marched upon Asgard to avenge her father’s death, and left with a husband, her father’s eyes in the sky, and Loki’s pride in tatters. The details of the myth curled in the corners of his mind. Some of them were hazy. Others were cut in crystal.

A Goddess of Ice and Snow, with gold chipped blue eyes. A Goddess of Hunting, her armor made of crystal and accented in leathers. Her voice - he thought it was deep. Maybe smooth. Cold. Or maybe it crackled, like ice reforming. That exact detail was hard to remember. 

It didn’t feel like something imprinted by the Throne. It felt too real, parts of the memory too sharp, others too hazy, like something that happened long ago-

“Skadi? Now that is surprising.”

Scáthach ’s cold words snapped CasCu out of it. He stumbled, then caught himself, mind spinning around in rapid circles. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. Something clogged his throat. Oddly enough, it was Alter that spoke, his voice a comforting rumble in the back of CasCu’s mind. “You knew her?”

“In a way,” Scáthach said, “My Isle of Shadow is connected to Scotland, but it is disjointed from space and time. Skadi is also tied to an Island of Darkness. There were bound to be some ties built through that.”

“Your rune work,” CasCu rasped out. “You said you learned that through someone Norse.” They were norse runes, after all. Primordial runes.

“I did, didn’t I?” Scáthach said, and then didn’t say anything else. 

That was how she cut off conversations. Giving just a bit, and then leaving the rest of it to them to put together. A teacher’s tactics, and they never stopped even if the information felt - important. CasCu shook himself, and forced himself to focus on the conversation. He could think on Scáthach ’s words while he listened.

“Here in this Lostbelt,” Napoleon was saying. He’d changed positions. Had shoved his giant cannon deep into the snow, and was perched on top like an odd bird, “the Age of Gods never ended, she rules over humans and giants alike. Her goal seems to be for everything to remain as it is. I guess that’s the same as other Lostbelts? If nothing else, she doesn’t want to wipe humanity out.”

“Well,” Gudao said after a moment, too long, “That’s good. Do you think she can be reasoned with?”

Napoleon closed his eyes and hummed. It was over the top, meant to convey how seriously he was taking the question. “Possibly. She’s secure in her power. As long as we don’t openly declare war, I don’t think she’ll see us as enemies.”

“Um,” Mash bit the corner of her lip, “We did just destroy a number of her envoys. Would that be considered a declaration of war?”

That. Was a good point. CasCu shot the last remnants of his questions about Scáthach out of his head. Skadi was a warrior goddess. If she acted anything like her myth, she would not take the destruction of her Valkyries lightly … but the Valkyries had never been hers in the first place. They had been Odin’s; CasCu could only guess as to why they were following Skadi’s orders. But it was doubtful Skadi cared about them like she’d cared about her father.

“Trust me,” Napoleon said, winking briefly, “It’s going to take more than that to ruffle this queen’s feathers. I know that sounds pretty weird, but it’s true … That said, I can understand why you’d feel nervous. Especially after that big dust up.”

“I’d call that more than a dust up,” Gudao said, dryly. He stretched, then pushed himself up. A roll of his neck, a grimace, and then he was looking up, meeting Napoleon's gaze. “You know an awful lot about this Lostbelt and Proper Human History.”

Napoleon blinked. “Oh?” 

“Napoleon Bonaparte,” Mash said, and it was that voice. The almost flat one she used when she was regurgitating information she had learned long ago. The one that hinted at the inhuman thing she’d been at the beginning of her life. “You first made a name for yourself after the French Revolution in 1789, and eventually become the first Emperor of France. As the Supreme Commander of the Grande Armée , you were one of France’s greatest rulers and conquerors. For a time, you controlled over half of Europe, and your grand expedition to Russia is particularly well known… but at least in our database, I haven't seen anything regarding your exploits that pertains to Scandinavia. I did hear that you were quite the fan of James Macpherson's Ossian, which had epic poems similar to the Norse Poetic Edda, but that's all.”

Napoleon’s eyebrow rose. Gudao whistled. “It still impresses me when you manage to do that,” he said, grinning slightly.

Mash started, then flushed, dipping her head. “Sorry. What I meant to say is that Napoleon must have acquired his knowledge of Scandinavia after he was summoned.”

Roundabout way to say it, CasCu thought. But it was a warm thought, amused, lingering in the back of his head. It helped ease the ice that Skadi’s name had left in him. It was good, to see that Mash and Gudao could still be normal people, sometimes, even after everything they had been through. Especially after today’s shitshow.

Napoleon certainly seemed to find it amusing. He laughed, this loud thing for his size. “I materialized here just a little bit before you all showed up,” he said, “That’s why I happen to know so much. I’ve been traveling all around this place getting information. As for the source of my information … I think I’ll hold off on it for now. An air of mystery make hotties like me even hotter, don’t you think?” He tossed another wink.

Mash and Gudao’s faces were very blank. CasCu fought another laugh at their expressions. “Sure,” Gudao said, his voice completely bland, “Is there any other wisdom you wish to impart on us?”

“I’m on humanities side,” Napoleon said, an immediate response. “I’m your ally, and I came here to save you. Just make sure you don’t forget that. Long as you don’t, we can make a temporary contract.”

CasCu considered this, a moment. Gudao didn’t have much mana to spend, and Napoleon didn’t seem the type of person to retreat to Spirit Form to save mana. But he was strong, very much so, and he knew the layout well. It would probably be for the best that Gudao made a contract with him.

He could see Gudao working out those same gears in his head. He frowned, this sharp thing, then glanced up again. The grin that replaced that frown was bright, cheerful, so customarily Gudao that it hurt to look at. He held out his hand to Napoleon , and said, “I trust you, and I’m open to making that contract.” 

Napoleon laughed, held up his hands. “That’s wonderful to hear! But it’s something I think I’ll hold off until later.”

Gudao’s eyebrow rose, high. “And why is that?” 

“It’s a secret,” Napoleon’s smile flashed. “And I’d hate to ruin the surprise. Now, is there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

Mash and Gudao exchanged brief glances. Gudao nodded. Mash turned to Napoleon. “Hai!” she said, “Remember how Gerda said that, at least in Village 23, an envoy won’t come again for another year? Is there a reason for that? Something you know from your unidentified information source?”

“I can’t be totally sure it will be another year,” Napoleon said, frowning, “but I’m relatively confident that it will be. But that’s my own information talking.”

Mash blinked. “How?”

Napoleon shrugged, this easy, short thing. “Just look at how many of them showed up this time. The envoys aren’t allowed to sacrifice humans on any day besides the one that Skadi ordained, so they must’ve brought a whole bunch of them along to make sure the ritual didn’t go off the rails again.”

Gudao’s eyebrow rose. He crossed his arms, and gave Napoleon the look. It was the look he normally used when the Chaos Crew was acting up. “Again?” He asked, pointed. 

CasCu fought back a brief burst of amusement at Napoleon’s startled face. The man waffled a moment, then huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in turn. “Again,” he said, in the too-boisterous voice used by some painfully prideful kings Gudao commanded, “This wasn’t my first run in with them. Back at another village, I caught one of them trying to open those giant gates and sniped ‘em. There was just the one back then, probably because ‘cause they didn’t expect anyone to attack them, but that obviously wasn’t the case with that last village.”

Gudao’s eyes flashed. He snapped his fingers. “The Valkyries mentioned something about shared records. Your attack must have been recorded, so they prepared in advance for another one.” 

Napoleon nodded, grinning wide. “Exactly! They’re basically machines. There’s no reasoning with them.” 

Mash and Gudao’s faces were a sight to behold. Gudao’s eyebrow slowly started to rise. CasCu pressed his lips together, tight, as Napoleon’s expression slowly twisted. His pleased grin slowly fell. He squirmed, on top that giant cannon, and Gudao’s expression didn’t change. He watched, waiting, as Napoleon broke. 

“So,” Napoleon said, “uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is … I’M SORRY!” The last two words were shouted. He bowed, this jerky thing. “I had no idea they’d come back with those kinds of numbers. Guess I’ve really messed things up for you.”

“Mister Gudao and Miss Mash have gotten very good at that,” Tesla noted, something almost like surprise in his voice.

CasCu could hear Scáthach ’s barely restrained grin. “He’s had a lot of practice.”

Gudao’s posture relaxed, and he smiled. “You’re forgiven. But you are a king. You have to think about the consequences of your actions.”

“And you did help us,” Mash said, in a bit of a rush, “which was much appreciated. The envoys were quite strong individually.” 

Had they been? CasCu hadn’t noticed. Then again, he’d been outside the conflict for most of the battle. On the fringes, doing what he could to help and protect the village. He supposed that, for Mash, with her current capabilities, she would see things differently. 

“Oh yeah, that …” Napoleon waffled a moment, glancing away. “Guess I should probably be level with you. I’m pretty sure the sisters they based the envoys off of are even stronger. The ones we met yesterday were basically mass-produced dolls Skadi made by infusing them with her magical energy.”

Something in CasCu’s chest flickered, this brief waffle, hard to understand. It was odd, the feeling the truth of the Valkyries brought up. And yet, it felt right. The Valkyries were sisters, the daughters of Odin - but most of them were replicas. The Valkyries were made with a purpose, and it was easier to program replicas then actual people.

CasCu blinked, at that thought. The back of his head was aching, this dull pounding that was making it hard to focus. His eye hurt. He reached up, pressed the heel of his palm against his temple. His hand felt hot, vision wonky. The world was built as Spirit Form made it, gray and flat and slightly shimmery, like it was underwater. But that sight felt wrong. Like there was something vital missing from it. 

Skadi had rewritten the Valkyrie’s programming. That wasn’t her power. Skadi was a hunter of Ymir’s blood. A goddess of ice, of snow, of killing, of surviving within the mountains. Magecraft wasn’t under her jurisdiction. The Valkyrie’s weren’t under her jurisdiction.

But they were, here. Somehow, during Ragnarök , Skadi had gained the Valkyrie’s. Somehow, during Ragnarök , Skadi had gained mage craft , primordial runes. Mage craft enough to rival his - Odin’s own. 

CasCu squeezed his eyes shut, tight. Blocking out the world , and it’s missing factor helped his head. He squeezed his eyes shut until the hurt distracted from the throbbing pain in the back of his head. He breathed, slowly and steadily, until he felt a little less wobbly. A little less like he was about to fall apart. CasCu opened his eyes, blinking sharply, and pulled his hand slowly away from his temple. 

That odd feeling was gone. It was just Gudao, Mash, and Napoleon talking. Something about Privates, and medals. Why Napoleon was here in Scandinavia, when he’d never been near Scandinavia in life. CasCu couldn’t pull himself together enough to care. He closed his eyes, and breathed, slowly and surely, slowly and surely.

Mash stood, sharply, reaching out for her ski’s. “We should go, Master,” she said. “Ortinax is picking up a group of giants near bye. If we use my thrusters, we should be able to make a clean get away.”

“No,” Napoleon said. He leapt off his cannon and sank into the snow. One-handed , he yanked his seat out and spun it around, a comical display of impressive strength. He set his massive cannon across his shoulders, and said, “We should fight them. I want to get a better look at the way you two fight, and we’ll need to learn how to fight as a unit.” 

Gudao shook his head, briefly. “Normally, I’d agree with you,” he said. “But we’re under direct orders from the Director not to spend more mana then necessary. And after such a large fight with the Valkyrie s, I don’t have the mana for another one so soon. We’ll go at the next group of giants we encounter. Right now, we need to keep on moving.”

Napoleon frowned at that, obviously displeased. CasCu forced himself to focus, watching Napoleon’s face closely. Gudao’s plan made sense, especially for the resources and the orders they’d received. The only question was if Napoleon would be problematic, or if he’d go along with it. A part of CasCu would bet problematic.

But to his surprise, Napoleon shrugged. “You have a solid idea of what your resources are, Private. That is an admirable quality, if difficult to work with. Very well! We’ll target the next group of giants for our target practice instead.”

Gudao relaxed, then grabbed his skis. “Great,” he said, “then let’s get a move on. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have too.”

It took until sundown before they met the next group of giants. That large, silver sun was just dipping under the horizon, sending brilliant colors darting across the sky. Oranges, pinks, and purples in a brilliant dance. Violence and softness at the same time. And a group of giants, being escorted by Valkyries, bathed in the dying light.

Per Napoleon’s request, Gudao did not summon anyone else. It … was probably a good thing, CasCu thought. Kept the amount of mana Gudao had to provide low, and Napoleon had already worked with them as a group. This was about how Gudao, Mash, and Napoleon worked together. If needed, one of the waiting Servants could leap out of the wings to assist.

At first, it wasn’t needed. Mash stalled the giants, her shield blocking their swings, throwing in her own attacks when the opportunities presented themselves. While Mash dealt with them, Napoleon dealt with the Valkyries . This time, CasCu paid close attention to the man’s fighting style. 

It was … something for sure.

Despite barely being over five feet, Napoleon wielded his near seven-foot cannon with ease. He shot the Valkyries down with massive blasts, and when they got too close, used his cannon to both block and attack. It was an impressive showing, and in a way reminded CasCu of how Moriarty fought. Somehow, this looked more deceptively ridiculous. 

The fight, though, with only the two of them was drawing out. CasCu could see Mash growing more exhausted, her arms shaking with each block. Scáthach noted it too. “Gudao,” she said, “this cannot go on. Tell Napoleon to release his Noble Phantasm. I wish to see what this man is made of.”

“Was just thinking that,” Gudao said. He straightened, drew a breath. “Napoleon, release your noble phantasm! Mash, pull back to cover him!”

“Hai!” Mash called out.

Napoleon’s eyes widened, then he tossed back his head and laughed. He threw himself back from a Valkyrie ’s attack, the follow-up swiftly blocked by Mash. Napoleon planted his feet into the snow and held the cannon above his head, pointed at the sky. The whole thing unlatched, split to reveal another barrel within, white and striped with rainbow lights, doubling the size of the cannon. He leveled the contraption at the giants.

“As you wish, Private!” He shouted, his grin wide across his face. “Rainbow, O Rainbow. Now’s the time to suspend the bridge of possibilities. Conquer the skies! Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile! ”

At his words, light burst from the cannon. It was a blazing, brilliant thing, blasting across the snow and scattering rainbows against the surface. It was too bright to look at, too painful to stare at. Even in Spirit Form, the color was brilliant, and CasCu had to cover his eyes, wince and look away. When the roar of the cannon went out, CasCu opened his eyes.

The light was gone. So were the giants. And the Valkyries.

Gudao let out a breath between his teeth. “Impressive, Napoleon,” he breathed. 

Napoleon’s cannon shrank to its normal size. He planted it in the snow, drawing his shoulder’s back and grinning wide. “Why thank you, Private! Gotta say though, you two handled yourselves pretty nicely. I could tell you’ve done this before. You’ve got real guts, little shield lady. You too, Private. And those Servants you summoned before … how many can you control?”

Gudao’s lips twitched. “Outside the Shadow Border? I only have the ability to control five. My mana reserves aren’t the best.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Napoleon said, closing his eyes. “Otherwise, I could have put together the greatest Grande Armée of all time! But there's no sense crying over … uh, milk you can't even spill.”

“Not that you’re the first to try.” Gudao said. His crossed his arms over his chest, head tipping to the side. “So, since you’ve been here longer, I figure you know how best to fight giants. What tips do you have for us?”

Smug, pleased, Napoleon started to speak. CasCu tuned him out. He already knew how to fight giants, those people larger than him. Alter scoffed in his mind, this low rumble that could have meant anything. “Could have asked us.”

“I doubt Gudao wanted to risk another one of Scáthach ’s lessons,” CasCu said, just to Alter. During normal times, Alter would have huffed a low laugh. Right now, all he did was huff. This low thing that only allowed the smallest trace of amusement to be heard, but carried none of it’s customary chuckle. Still, the curse ran deep. CasCu fought the urge to sigh.

The last bit of that giant sun slipped beneath the skyline, silver disappearing over the tops of the trees.

Napoleon already had a campsite set up in the area. They got to it just as the last traces of light disappeared, twilight replaced by full darkness. The cave itself was predictable. Rock formations had been replaced by dark, sparkling ice. Their small campfire cast flickering reflections across the surface walls, but like the rest of the snow in this Lostbelt, the ice didn’t melt. Gudao, Mash, and Napoleon were capable of surrounding the campfire without worry of cave in.

With the sleeping bags set out, water being passed around, and food cooking, the whole scene was near darn right cheerful. They ate, and talked, getting to know each other as Gudao was wont to do. CasCu left them to it, exploring the dimensions of the cave. It wasn’t large, and the back end went nowhere. A little, shallow hole scooped out of the mountain side. If not for the stalagmites and stalactites, it could have been hollowed out by a bear.

Bears …

CasCu blinked, glanced up. “Has someone been assigned watch, yet?”

“I have,” Tesla said, “I will see the best and furthest out of everyone. Though if there is someone who wishes to join me, I will not deny the company.”

A moment passed. Then Alter grunted, sharp, “I will.”

CasCu let out a breath, then turned from one icy wall. That left him with nothing to do. Technically, he could have joined watch with the two of them, but there was nothing he could contribute beyond a bounded field … which he should get started on. He should have thought about that beforehand . He took a moment to rub his aching head, then made his way out of the cave.

The Scandinavian night was very different than the Scandinavian day, or even a night from Proper Human history. The sky was almost empty without that large, silver sun filling it. There were stars, yes, but they were faint and far away. Brief, twinkling points of light in the blackness, easily missed. The shadows were thick, and the winds were cold. A place devoid of life. Skadi’s home.

CasCu took stepped out of Spirit Form, and flicked his gaze up briefly. For a moment, he thought - but no, if the ravens were there, he could not see them in the darkness. CasCu turned his gaze to the snow, and got started on making his runes. One after another, etched into rock and the base of the crystal trees. The snow was Skadi’s domain. He’d have a hard time getting anything to stick with her mana thick through it. 

Skadi …

Had Scáthach really known Skadi? It was possible, a part of CasCu said. The part of him connected to the Throne of Heroes. Their names had many of the same linguistic roots, both tied to the nature of shadow. They both made their home on an Isle of Darkness, Scáthach Scotland, Skadi Scandinavia. Both of them fierce warriors. Scáthach was immortal, famed for killing the gods. Skadi had brought war to Asgard when her father was killed.

And yet there were differences, distinct as day and night. Scáthach was a warrior, a god slayer, but her main purpose was to teach heroes. Skadi was not the type to teach others. And where Scáthach would never be swayed with empty words and a promise of a husband, Skadi had been willing to put away her weapons for just that.

Skadi’s husband had been Njörðr, god of the sea. Though Skadi had only been married to him for a brief time, could that have been their connection? Had Njörðr given her the chance to meet Scáthach ? How much did that connection actually matter?

For some reason, CasCu couldn’t help but feel that it mattered a lot. Skadi was a Goddess, and this was the Age of Gods. She would have a physical body … but all the Divine Spirits they had met so far had required human hosts. But Skadi wasn’t a Divine Spirit. Napoleon had said she was flesh and blood, a Goddess in full.

What had Skadi looked like? CasCu stared up at the sky again, like it could give answers. He knew what Skadi looked like. A part of him knew what Skadi looked like, but it was like the memory, the information, had been scrubbed from his mind. Something tugged at his chest, like a string attached to a swooping kite. His eye ached, painful, followed by a jolt to his head. CasCu jerked his head down with a curse, yanking his fingers away from his current tree trunk and pressing them against his eye. Gods -

Skadi would need a host.

The thought came from nowhere, and everywhere. CasCu pressed his eyes tight shut, kneading at the aching one. Skadi would need a host. A Goddess in full, yes, but Ragnarök was the destruction of the gods. The fall of all of them. For Skadi to have survived Ragnarök , she would require a body to host her consciousness in. One that would have a similar skill set to her. One that -

“ Scáthach ?” CasCu asked, his mental voice a rasp, “Do you think -”

“Quiet, CasCu,” Scáthach said. “And come listen. We’re planning our approach to Skadi’s castle. This Napoleon does have a good grasp on tactics. Perhaps once, he would have made a fine student. But like all my students his ambition and pride needs to be ruthlessly cut down until he can control it.”

The words were so out of the left field that a small, raspy laugh burst from CasCu. The pain in his eye eased. He scrubbed it a final time, then pushed himself to his feet. If Skadi had really required a host, it was more likely that she had found someone close by to possess and assimilate. Scáthach would have been too out of the way. And Scáthach was a God killer. There was no way she would have allowed Skadi to possess her. And if there was any scrap of Scáthach in that Skadi, this world would have looked radically different.

The idea of Scáthach being Skadi’s host was ridiculous. Gods, the stress of the place must be getting to him if that was the sort of shit he was thinking. If Kage was here, he’d have said something about CasCu not listening to blinding eye aches. The thought brought a small smile to his lips.

“So, Scáthach ,” he asked, “What does this Napoleon say about our tactics?”

“It’s quite simple,” came the reply, and by the faint reverb CasCu knew it had to echo to everyone. “Our winning condition is to get back Paper Moon and locate the Tree of Emptiness. Our loosing condition is Gudao and Mash’s death. Skadi does not yet see us as a threat, so we should have no issue getting into the castle and getting our meeting. The best he has saved for last.”

She sounded … so battle hungry about it. CasCu could just about hear the smile in her teeth. Excited about the prospect of fighting Skadi, no doubt. CasCu found himself laughing, again, this hoarse whisper of a chuckle, as he struck the final rune. The bounded field blazed into life, and CasCu took a step into Spirit Form. 

The answers he wants are at the very center of Yggdrasil. The walk from Jotunheim to there is long, and without the presence of his ravens it feels longer. Yet he is not alone. He can feel them, flying out across the realms, collecting and storing every bit of info they came across. He knows that, all he has to do is close his eyes, and he can ride their minds as well. It is something he will indulge in later. Right now, he indulges in his new type of sight.

The weave of the world is wonderful. It’s constructed of something silver, glimmering threads making up every object, superimposed on top of everything he sees. Though he cannot read the threads himself, cannot tug and twist at their strands, the information they carry still floods into his mind. History, wisdom, small tips and intricate stories. 

Mimir’s wisdom is at his fingertips. All he has to do is look. All he has to do is think.

And it is this information that leads him towards the glimmering strands that make up this world. He cannot read what they say, but at this stage he does not need to . They are the world’s weave, which means that the world’s weavers must understand their nature. If these strands write the fate of realms and mortals alike, then those that pluck the strings of fate must be able to know what they pluck.

The answers he seeks lie with the Norns. 

And the Norns lie at the very center of Yggdrasil . At the base, the roots, and the place the World Tree grows from. The Well of Urd. A pool of fathomless depths. A home to things his mind - even now - can barely comprehend. Things that are less gods, and more like forces. Like Power. Things like the Norns, who treat fate as their plaything, working with the fabric of this world so effortlessly.

He wants it. That power, that ability, that knowledge, that understanding. He wants it like a drowning man wants air. He wants it like a dehydrated man wants water. Like a starving man wants food. Like a plant searching for sunlight. Intrinsic. Instinctual. Impossible to ignore. 

And he has no reason to stop. To deny himself. Why should he? The world is at his fingertips, and soon, he will be able to move it.

He draws himself up at the base of Yggdrasil. The trunk of the World Tree is massive, so large that he cannot see around it. But he doesn’t need to see to know the tree’s radius, to know how its roots shoot out in cardinal points, to know why each world is attributed to which root and which branch. To know that, as there had been in Jotunheim, that there was an entrance to a Well beneath this tree.

Here, there is nothing for Yggdrasil to bury its roots. It is the meeting place between worlds, between realms. Here, the tree is the world, and it’s just it, its bark, the nebulous sky and the nebulous ground below. Before they had been real. Now he knows they are simply illusions his own mind has placed, so that the truth of the matter does not destroy him.

For here, there is only the Tree. The Tree and the Well below.

He takes a breath, and closes his eyes. Then he opens them again, and steps off the root. Like before, he plummets. This time, he can count how long his fall takes. This time, he can see the world rushing by him, silvery filaments that stretch the air, then snap closed like a net. A room builds before his eyes, this hollow beneath the roots. A place where walls are made of bark, a ceiling created by the trunk of Yggdrasil. The bottom is nothing but a pool of water, the Well of Urd. If he wants too, he will fall into it, and then keep on falling for all of eternity.

The entities are house in layers, then. One for each type, like the species are separated into realms. His lips curl with the knowledge. Briefly, there’s an ache where his eye used to be. He welcomes it with open arms. It is only because of this pain, he can see this, understand this, and see them. 

The Norns.

There are three of them, and their names blossom in his mind. Urd, the past. Verdandi, the present. Skuld, the future. Their outside appearance is of women. Beautiful in their plainness, eyes bright and watching him. But their true forms, the ones only he can see now, are something he finds impossible to describe. His mind twists, bends, and then snaps back into position, and only their outside appearance is left.

Yes. He will certainly have to retrieve that mead. Only then can he describe it all. 

“One eye,” Verdandi says, her eyes fixed solidly on him. “Welcome to the Well of Fate.”

“I come for -”

“We know what you’ve come for,” Urd says. She looks left, seeking the past. “It is written in every step of your journey. Your thirst for knowledge has driven you far.”

“And it will drive you further,” Skuld says. She looks right, into the future. “The secrets you want are in reach, All Father, and they will make you powerful beyond measure. But to reach them you must sacrifice far more than a paltry eye.”

Their knowledge is breathtaking. He sucks in air like he can drink in their power. He can smell it, in the musty scent of roots and the clear smell of water. He can feel it, from the ache in his eye socket to the way the hairs on his arms rise. “And what do I seek?”

Even while looking human, Verdandi’s eyes glow silver, just as the weave of the world. “Runes,” she says. “You seek the runes, which do not belong to Godkind, nor mortal. They are the fabric of the universe, and you seek the power to pluck it.”

Runes. He tastes the word on his tongue, shaping it with his lip. Runes. “And how do I find them?” 

“As you have found all things,” Urd says, and turns her head to look at him. “Through sacrifice, and pain, and growth.”

“But this is no pain you can just forget,” Skuld says. Like her sister, she turns her gaze. Past, Present, and Future, all staring into his soul. “To find the runes, you must walk the line between life and death. A day for each world. A day for each realm.”

“Hang yourself,” they say, in unison, “and stab yourself. Feed your blood to the Tree, to the Well. For nine days, and nine nights, hang and bleed, and refuse all drink, and refuse all food. Given to Odin, yourself to yourself. Only then will you be fertilized and wise. Only then will you grow and thrive.”

The words echo with power enough to make his eye water. He blinks hard, and when his eye opens, the cavern beneath Yggdrasil is gone. He its standing on its root again, his hand pressed against the bark of the tree, the words of the Norns echoing in his ears. 

He draws in a ragged breath, listens to the whistle of air between his teeth. 

Hang himself.

Stab himself.

For nine days, and nine nights, refuse all water and drink. 

A breath leaves him, and then another, and another, his laughter spiraling through the air. He throws his head back and laughs, and laughs, watched the glimmering twists of silver and the overarching branches, black against nothing. The branches of Yggdrasil, creaking and swaying, over the gulf that lead to the Well of Fate, the Norns below. The branches that will be the answer to his question, his want.
Given to Odin, yourself to yourself.

A sacrifice, greater than his paltry eye. His laughter fades. He stares up at the branches above. The gods of Asgard will not let him do this. The gods of Asgard will try to feed him, try to keep him alive. Yet he cannot let them stop him. For everything to be his, he must walk the line between life and death. A sacrifice. 

After this, it all will be his. 

He smiles, and raises his fingers to his throat, his fingers to his chest. He feels the rope against his throat, rough, and can no longer feel the air. His hand grasps his spear, and feels how slick it was, blood warm against his fingers. Nothing whistles past his dry and cracked lips, for he has no breath to breathe. His eye aches, a painful fire, as the knowledge he wishes for floods into his mind. 

Nine days. Nine nights. Eternity and a moment. His stomach clenches. His blood drips down his spear, his boots, and falls into the Well of Fate below. He sees the Norns watching him, their silver eyes glowing. Watches his blood cloud the Well of Fate, and watches the runes spiral in its surface. 

Fehu: luck, abundance, wealth. Uruz: power, strength, courage, creativity, endurance. Thurisaz: strength, defense, protection, conflict, change, catharsis. Raido: Wheel, movement, travel, destiny. Kaunan: revelation, creativity, fire, transformation, illumination, regeneration. Gebo: gift, partnership, love. Wunjo: connection, fellowship, hope, harmony, friendship, kinship, comfort. Hagalaz: loss, transformation, nature. Naudiz: necessity, hardship, endurance, survival, self-reliance. Isaz: quiet change, challenge, stillness, self-control , concentration. Jeran: peace, hard work, prosperity, fruitfulness. Iwaz: Yggdrasil, stability, reliability, strength, tree of life, eternity, resilience, longevity. Perbo: hidden secrets, magic, divination, mystery. Algiz: divine protection, courage. Sowilo: Health, energy, mastery, success, wholeness. Tiwaz: victory, honor, justice, balance, leadership, authority. Berkannan: birth, fertility, growth, fresh starts. Ehwaz: partnership, swiftness, trust, teamwork. Mannaz: friends, self, mankind, social order, intellect, mind, memory. Laguz: flow, sea, renewal, dreams. Ingwaz: unity, harmony. Dagaz: the dawn, awakening, challenge, adventure, breakthrough. Ophalan: ancestral possession, home, abundance, heritance , legacy.

And finally.

Ansuz: God. Wisdom, truth, communication, inspiration. 

And now, Odin. 

CasCu woke up choking. 

His fingers scraped against his throat, nails digging against his skin, chest heaving as he tried to draw in breath after breath. The air didn’t want to come. It was like something was blocking him, cutting off his airways. But his fingers felt nothing. CasCu arched against the icy ground of the cave, dug his fingers into his skin, and scraped until something made his fingers freeze, his chest stop heaving.

It was odd, the icy calm that replaced the sensation of choking. The pain in his socket had flared, brief, and then settled there, warm like an ember. CasCu blinked swiftly, and like a flip had been switched, he could breathe again. His hands relaxed. The haze before his eyes settled. Sensations other than his own panic began to sink in.

Sound was first, and then swiftly followed by clear sight. Gudao, Mash, and Napoleon crowded around him. Gudao’s hand was wrapped tight around CasCu’s, useless in his attempt to stop CasCu from hurting himself. “CasCu! CasCu, are you with us now?” 

CasCu opened his mouth. Nothing came out but a croak.

“Here,” Mash breathed. She helped him up, pressing a water skin to his lips. It was cold, soothing as it trickled down his throat. With each small swallow, he felt a bit more grounded, less like he was spiraling into nothing.

“Strange Servants you have with you, Private,” Napoleon said. He pulled away. CasCu had a bit more room to breathe.

“This isn’t normal,” Gudao shot back. He rubbed CasCu’s shoulder, then nodded to Mash. Mash pulled the water skin away, frowning with worry. Gudao’s voice was soft. “CasCu? Are you alright? What happened?” 

“I -” He broke off, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He pressed his eyes closed, tight shut. What had happened? He’d woken up choking. He had dreamed … dreamed what? His eye socket pulsed. His mind felt blank, as if scrubbed. CasCu dug his palm into his eye and tried again. “Just a nightmare.”

Mash and Gudao looked at each other. Mash made a soft noise between her teeth, worried. “What about your charm to prevent them? The one Medea made for you?”

CasCu shook his head. “Lost with Chaldea,” he breathed. “Couldn’t take it with me in Spirit Form, and Kage ain’t here to replicate it. But those fucking dreams haven’t plagued me in a while.” He gave them both a smile, crooked. He hoped it was reassuring. “It was just a dream. A stupid dream, is all. Don’t even remember it.”

Gudao frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” CasCu rasped out, and did his best to ignore just how badly his throat ached.  “I’m sure. I’m alright, kiddo. You two don’t need to worry about me.” 

He said the words soft, as if that would cover the scratchiness in his throat. They were words Gudao and Mash needed to hear. There was so much more for them to fucking focus on, more than CasCu’s own issues. And CasCu wasn’t even sure what issues these could be called. He’d had a bad dream. He’d woken up choking, and couldn’t remember what or why. That was all. 

That was all.

Gudao and Mash glanced at each other, brief. It was Mash who pointed out, “You have a bruise on your throat,” she said, “like a rope.”

Shit. CasCu’s hands flew to his neck. He felt the tender skin there, and tried to restrain a wince. “Must have been my cloak,” he said, and did everything he could to make it sound truthful, like something in his gut wasn’t spiraling. “Damn thing must have caught around my throat while I was sleeping.”

Neither of them looked convinced. Mash bit her lip, obviously considering asking more questions. But Gudao’s eyes were dark. In Chaldea, he would have followed up. In Chaldea, he wouldn’t have rested until they knew what was wrong. But this wasn’t in Chaldea. They were in enemy territory now.

CasCu pushed himself slowly to his feet. “Teaches me to sleep when I could have been taking watch with the others, right?” he asked, and he forced himself to sound light. “Next time, throw me up on watch with the rest before I get any funny ideas, alright, Gudao?”

“... Alright.” Gudao said. He squeezed Mash’s shoulder once, then stood up too. “Are you certain you’ll be alright? We’re going to Skadi’s palace today. I need you to be okay.”

“Of course I’ll be okay,” CasCu said. He gave Gudao a brief hair ruffle, Mash a wink. “Now you two focus on packing. I’ll take down the bounded field.” He took to Spirit Form before either one of them could argue.

It didn’t matter. Arguments were waiting for him in Spirit Form too. “You’re a liar,” Alter said, a low rumble in the back of his throat. 

“And you’re feeling better,” CasCu returned, “Did you pick up anything from that dream last night?”

“Didn’t sleep,” Alter said, voice dry.

“Damn,” CasCu sighed. He’d been hoping. Copies of Servants could pick up each other's dreams, their memories. CasCu couldn’t recall what the fuck he’d dreamt about. If Alter had, maybe those questions would have been cleared up. Maybe he would have had some damn answers. Maybe the tender skin around his neck would have made some sort of since. Cloak his ass. But there wasn’t much else it could have been. 

Shaking himself, CasCu walked outside. It was easy, to take down the bounded field. The brief tug of runes, the pull of mana. It felt easier than it should have been, in any other circumstance. Like, his rune craft was more responsive than it had been before. CasCu paused a moment, and frowned at his fingers. 

They looked the same. Like his fingers. For some reason, it felt like a part of him was convinced that they should have looked older. 

A cry from above, the too familiar sound of ravens. CasCu looked up to watch the two swooping, darting shapes, black against the sky. His lips tugged into a small smile. “You know,” he said to Alter, “If they’re going to continue to follow us, they should get names.”

Alter grunted, uninterested. It was Scáthach who asked, just a note of curiosity in her tone. “And what would you suggest?”

CasCu tipped his head back a bit further and watched. Waited. The birds swooped again, and he caught the glint of one beady black eye. Felt the connection burning between them. Druid craft . He almost wanted to laugh, for some reason. Another part of him wanted to reach out his hand and let the birds land upon it. To have that weight so familiar and so strange perched upon his fingers.

“How about,” CasCu mused, slow, “Huginn and Muninn. Fitting, I think, for two Norse ravens.”

“I suppose it is,” Scáthach said, her voice low. And at another time, CasCu might have noted something about that tone. The slow consideration, like a snake deciding if now was a good time to strike. It was a tone that would have sent him running. But right now, it was hard to care.

His eye ached, his runes were responsive, and Huginn and Muninn watched over them. CasCu could tell that today was going to be a good day.

Chapter Text

Skadi’s castle was different from what CasCu had been expecting.

In myth, Skadi was a hunter, a warrior. Here, as the last God, she would also be the ruler of Valhalla. CasCu’d expected her halls to reflect that. A warrior’s home, defensive and imposing. Something cold and sharp and dangerous, just as she was. Protected. Dangerous. Not a place that could be broken into easily.

But something of Skadi must have changed, over the years. Or perhaps her place as the most powerful being in this Lostbelt meant that she could place aesthetics over practicality. Or maybe the Skadi that resided here was different than Proper Human History’s. For Skadi’s castle was beautiful, cold. A frozen, architectural masterpiece, with Nordic designs and runes etched into the ice. There was a delicacy in its construction - the many bridges, the fluted parapets, the careful consideration of each decoration. It was something that must have taken forever to build. A place where beauty had been chosen over function.

Or maybe the appearance was all a lie. This castle was made of snow and ice, clear through. Skadi was the Goddess of Snow and Ice. Her mana signature sung through every falling flake, resided in every pile of power, and every icy leaf of her crystal trees. Her castle was beautiful, and had nothing in the way of defenses, but that did not mean it would be easy to be breached, for her divinity would be etched into every little design, every little rune. Every corner and crystal that formed her home was hers and hers alone.

CasCu’s eye ached. He stared at the structure, and wasn’t sure if it was the rebound from the massive sun, or the glow of mage craft that hung about that made his eyes sting. 

Mash made a small noise between her teeth. “If we were in Proper Human History,” she murmured, “this would be considered an architectural masterpiece. People would flock everywhere to see it.”

“Not many people here get to see it,” Napoleon said. He tipped his head towards the masterpiece, spoke conversationally. “It’s a kinda temple, a place where a real-life God resides. Not the kind of place anyone just gets to walk into.”

“But you know how to get in,” Gudao said. He glanced at Napoleon and raised his eyebrow. “So, how do we get in?”

“Through the back,” Napoleon said.

There was a pause. Mash’s head whipped around, and she stared at him with wide eyes. Gudao made a noise between his teeth. “You have got to be joking.”

“Nope,” Napoleon said. He pointed to the castle, and grinned wide. “I’ve already tried breaking in here once. As you might have guessed, it didn’t go so well. Didn’t get many spoils, but I got enough information to keep me happy! But if we go over the bridges, we’ll be swarmed by Valkyries. But if we go over there -” And here he pointed to the mountain flanking the castle “- there’s an underground passage that will lead to the main building. There’s not as much security that way.”

“She doesn’t need security, Master,” CasCu said. He tugged his gaze away from the castle, and stepped closer to Gudao’s side. Though he might have been in Spirit Form, he knew Gudao had to sense him. The kid stiffened, frowning. CasCu leaned over and lowered his voice. “That whole castle is hers, from top to bottom. She’ll know if someone walks in, no matter what path we take. She’ll know he took that path.”

Gudao nodded slowly. “Alright … Napoleon, do you think she’ll have increased security? Or will we have a relatively easy time getting in?”

Napoleon let out a low hum. “I doubt it,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Since we’re not dead yet, I doubt she sees us as anything worth worrying about. But we’ll have to be ready to face her once we reach the castle proper. She’ll be waiting for us.”

“Alright,” Gudao said. He pressed his fist into his palm, and said, “then here’s the plan. Scáthach , CasCu, Mash, you three are going to be our main attackers if we run into anything on our way to the main building. Napoleon, your cannon’s going to be too loud. Alter’s hardly quiet during fighting, and Tesla lighting is liable to bring the down the castle upon our head. I want any fights dealt with quickly and cleanly, got it?”

A round of responses, agreements. Alter’s was as flat as ever. Tesla sounded mildly disgruntled, and Napoleon was roughly the same, though the man could hardly argue. Tesla’s lightning was dangerous, but it wasn’t as loud as the giant cannon Napoleon carried around. That would only be a liability. 

“Good,” Gudao said, once they’d all agreed. “CasCu, I want you to keep an eye out for any runes or traps in our way. She might not have upped her security, but I don’t want to take any risks. Do you think you’ll be able to sense anything?”

This wasn’t a question CasCu could answer in Spirit Form. He hesitated, then stepped out of it. The gray-white fabric of the world fell away, and color bloomed. Skadi’s castle was even more impressive like this. The crystal shone with shades of silver, blue, pink, and purple. Each glance of the sun sent rainbow sparkles scattering across it’s surface. And woven throughout it, he could see the map of mana, pulsing silver threads like a spider’s web. Within the web, he could just make out the shape of runes. Isa  and opilan seemed to be the most prominent ones. Ice and home. Not surprising.

CasCu knuckled his aching eye. “Possibly,” he said, “but if you want me to focus on traps, I’m going to be pretty much useless in combat. Skadi’s mana is threaded so thickly through this place that I’ll have a hard time picking out anything specific.” He paused, a moment, then added, “Master, I think she’s a Caster.”

Mash started. “Really?” She asked, “I would expect a Lancer or an Archer, or even a Rider, from what I know of Norse mythology …”

“A Lancer or Archer wouldn’t have this much mana,” CasCu said. He tapped his toes against the snow, and felt the jolt in response, sharp and electric against his skin. Beneath it, deeper, just barely could he feel the actual pulse of the earth. “To have this much mana, to imbue all the snow and ice with it, means that she must be a Caster. Either that, or a duel Class like Semiramis is.”

“What about a Ruler?” Gudao asked. “That would make sense for the situation.”

No. CasCu knuckled at his eye again, then dropped his hand. Twin caws from above had him glancing up. There, circling him - them - were Huginn and Muninn. Some part within CasCu eased. His shoulders relaxed. He knew he was right. “Caster,” he said again, “I’m not sure what would make her that, but I’m positive that she’s a Caster.” 

“Confident,” Alter grumbled, in the back of CasCu’s mind. There was almost a question there, hidden within the depths of those words.

“But right,” Scáthach added, “This depth of power and knowledge of rune craft only comes with the Caster class. Though we may use it ourselves, our class limits our abilities. It is why CasCu’s rune craft is stronger than yours or Cu’s.”

“We’ll plan for a Caster, then,” Gudao said. He turned to Napoleon, then lifted his chin. “Well? Show us the way, Napoleon. If she knows we’re here, then there’s no use in waiting around any longer.”

Napoleon grinned, this sharp, wide thing. He sounded far too excited to walk into enemy territory, with so few on their side. “This way then, Private!” 

Napoleon’s back door to Skadi’s castle was not guarded nor trapped. In fact, it was very ornate, and very easy to find. Like an offering, an open hand, a challenge. Come on in, if you are so confident in your abilities. At the end of the road, Skadi will be waiting for you, and she’ll be as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside. 

The inside of Napoleon’s tunnel gave off the same vibe. It was sculpted from ice, so that each detail stood out in clear relief. Bricks and side alcoves and passageways, with ice cycles hanging from the ceiling. The whole place was a thing of light and beauty, blue rune flames sending shadows and lights cascading along the hallway. No matter how hard CasCu stared at the runes, no matter how hard he pressed his fingers against the walls, or his toes against the flagstones, he felt no prickle of anything malicious.

No traps. No enemies. It was an invitation through and through, a dare all the way. Someone would be foolish enough to walk into this hall and into her throne room. And today, that person was them. The easy confidence in the challenge made a part of CasCu twist. Another part of him felt far too calm. His eye socket ached, and his throat felt tender, but beneath his fingertips the rune craft pulsed, slow and steady and thrumming. 

“I’m still surprised you came in here alone,” Gudao said. His voice bounced off the walls back at them, and he winced briefly.

Napoleon didn’t seem too bothered by the echo. “Damn straight, I did!” He said, cheerful. “It’s not like I was overly confident in my abilities or anything - I was mostly curious to see how far I could go. And it seems like we were right, she hasn’t changed this place at all. She doesn’t see me as a threat.” 

“It’s exactly the same?” Mash asked. She glanced up at the walls. 

“Yup,” Napoleon said. He closed his eyes and hummed, as if recalling a particularly difficult memory. Some part of CasCu wanted to scoff at the dramatics. “ Same walls, same alcoves, same lights, same presence of power. Absolutely nothing’s changed.”

“So you know what the magical signals up ahead are?” Mash asked.

Both Gudao and Napoleon froze. CasCu dragged his gaze from a complicated patch of rune craft and frowned. “I’m not sensing any traps,” he said. “What’s Ortinax picking up?”

Mash shifted from foot to foot, gripping her shield tight. “It’s the same signal as the ice beasts the giants had with them,” she said, in a tone that could nearly be apologetic. “I’m guessing that they’re new, then? Does this mean she sees us as enemies?”

“No,” Napoleon said. He shook his head, grinned. “If she believed that we were enemies, there would be more than mere ice beasties waiting for us. My guess is they’re just creatures that decided to make their home here. We’ll be able to take them out quickly enough.” He held out his arm, pointed his massive cannon down the hallway. 

Gudao tapped Napoleon’s cannon. “No artillery fire,” he reminded. “Mash, Scáthach , move out. CasCu, remain on trap duty, but support as needed. I want as little ruckus caused as possible, got it?”

Napoleon’s arm drooped. He sighed, a sound near too large for his body. “Fine, fine, private.”

“Hai, Master!” Mash said. 

She lifted her shield, then started forwards. Scáthach took the space right beside her, spears ready. CasCu tugged his hands away from the walls, and started after them. The flicker of runes was a constant mirage at the edges of his sight. Silver shone, twisting, turning. Isa. Opilian. No matter what Napoleon said, the ice beasts were probably Skadi’s. She was a hunter. A fondness for hunting animals wasn’t out of the question.

The passageway widened into a larger circle, with three hallways split out from it. Within the circle, the ice beast's home. There were scraps of fur and fabric that had been dragged into a rough nest. They’d been fed recently. Picked clean bones littered the floor. The white curved line of ribs, the broken shatters of snapped apart femurs . Their recent feeding was probably why they were just now waking up, grunting and growling as they emerged from their bed.

It was a creature Mash had faced before. CasCu’s mind spun, but he didn’t think he’d had the chance to face them yet. But they looked like things Skadi would have appreciated. Big and large and threatening, like a cross between saber toothed lions and wolves, sculpted out of ice. Proto would have liked fighting these.

“A hunting lesson it is,” Scáthach said. She stepped around Mash and spun her spears. “Are you ready to learn, Mash?”

Mash swallowed hard, then lifted her shield. Her face was set, her feet pressed hard against the ground. CasCu kept an eye on the pulse of magecraft beneath her stance. If that changed, went against them, he’d have to do something. But if Mash felt it, she didn’t show. She lifted her head, then nodded. “Hai!”

The beasts hadn’t waited for them to finish talking. The smallest too - young and lean looking, hungry - lunged before Mash got the words out. Mash was quick, though, her shield flashing out to block both of their lunges. There was a bang of ice against metal, and she shoved, sending them off their feet. The other three - all larger, older looking, with scratches along their icy flanks - were out of the nest and moving now. Scáthach darted around and met them face on. Her spear glanced off the flank of one, sending ice chips flickering through the air.

Beneath their feet, the power of the castle pulsed. CasCu planted his staff into the flagstones, closed his eyes. With his eyesight gone, the silver lines of the castle showed all the more strongly. The runes were pulsing, pulsing. Not attacking, just … watching. As if judging their abilities.

A test. She was testing them.

CasCu’s eyes snapped open. His hand reached out, flickered along the air, drawing gold lines of fire before him. Uraz, for power, strength, and courage. Tiwaz, victory and the warrior. The two runes burned across Mash and Scáthach ’s backs. The next time Mash blocked a beast, it shattered into shrapnel. She stumbled back in shock, her eyes wide.

Scáthach had to block the next blow coming for Mash. She danced between the beasts, her spears a flash of red in her grip. A stab, a shatter, one of the beasts scattered in chunks of ice against the ground. “You’ve gotten stronger, CasCu,” she noted, bored, spinning around another attack. 

“Had to at some point,” CasCu retorted. He flicked another series of runes out, and one of the beasts slammed into an invisible shield. “Mash,” he said, a gentle reminder, “you can’t phase out in the middle of a battle. Keep your head in the game.”

Mash blinked sharply, then nodded. “Hai!”

CasCu smiled to himself, watching as she turned back to the battle. With the runes in place, the rest of the beasts were swiftly destroyed. The last few echoes of the fight danced off the chambers and down the hallways. CasCu waited for a long moment for the reverberations to fade. The mana beneath their feet didn’t react. Skadi had yet to make her move.

“Gudao,” he sent back, “The way is clear.”

“Then we’re on our way,” Gudao returned.

Scáthach glanced down the hallway they had come from, then tapped her spear against the ground. Her eyes met Mash’s. It was a familiar look, one that CasCu was well-used to by now. “A challenge,” she said, her voice just a touch of amused. “The Goddess wants to know how strong we are, and how we deal with unexpected foes. She knows better than to underestimate us thanks to our fight with her Valkyries, but she is not so foolish as to leave this place unguarded - no matter what Napoleon may claim.”

“You speak like you know her,” Mash said.

CasCu’s lips twitched. He couldn’t keep quiet, not on this. “Perhaps she does,” he said, “ Scáthach had to learn Norse Runes from someone, and Skadi clearly knows them. But that would be in Proper Human History, not here. Things have probably changed.” Had definitely changed.

“Hai, but -” Mash chewed the corner of her lip, then pushed forwards. “Is there anything you can tell us about her? Anything that might be of some help -”

“You can’t be careful with a cannon,” Gudao sighed, the words bouncing off the walls before Scáthach could answer. Gudao and Napoleon entered the room, side by side. Gudao was wearing that expression again, the one he reserved for troublesome heroic spirits.

Napoleon, in contrast, almost looked like a kicked puppy. “No … no, I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. “I should have known from the minute I materialized with this giant cannon that I wasn’t really going to be great at covert ops.” 

Gudao’s expression said ‘no shit’, but he kindly kept those words to himself. CasCu fought the urge to laugh at the expression. Scáthach ’s showed no such restraint. Her lips twitched, eyes narrowing in mirth, before she took a step into Spirit Form and disappeared. A part of CasCu was tempted to follow after her, so he could laugh without the miniature emperor getting all huffy at their amusement. 

“Anyway,” Napoleon huffed, pointing his cannon down the rightmost hall. “We need to go down that way. It’ll lead us to a set of stairs that will take us to the throne room.”

“And Skadi will be waiting for us,” Mash said. Her fingers gripped around her shield, tight, biting into the metal. Gudao stepped up and set his hand on her shoulder. It was a small touch, immediately comforting, and Mash relaxed under his hand like melted butter.

Napoleon nodded sharply. “And probably that Sigurd guy too. We’re not here for a rematch, but we don’t have much of a choice. Will you be ready, private?” 

Gudao froze, brief. This time it was Mash who raised her hand and covered his own. For a moment, the two stood there, touching each other, drawing comfort in each other’s strength. A pang shot through CasCu, brief and liquid warm. Then Gudao turned to Napoleon. He lifted his head, and there was steel in his eyes, a determination that rested there, red-hot and burning. 

“We have no other choice,” he said, and started forwards down the hall.

Skadi’s castle did not stop being beautiful. The halls were made of crystal, and spun ice allowed silver sunlight to pour through the ceiling and send the whole place sparkling. Banners hung down the halls, each identical, the fabric decorated with stars and runes. It was different from what CasCu was expecting. Less rough, and more polished. But the castle wasn’t important, the design it held wasn’t important.

What was significant was that, with every step they took, the mana in the air only grew stronger. He could barely see the runecraft in the walls for the power that poured off it. Mash kept on running her hand along Ortinax, as if to check that it was working. She could tell too, that every step forwards brought them towards something they had never faced before. 

“Gudao,” she murmured, “I’m getting a powerful energy signal from everywhere. It’s as if the castle itself is emanating magical energy … I am not sure if I will be able to pick any enemies up.”

“That’s the queen's power,” Napoleon said. He pointed down the hall, towards two carved, double doors. Runes and Celtic knots decorated their surface, and a multifaceted star was emblazoned in the middle. Fainter, CasCu could see the shape of ice beasts, humans, and giants, and two circling ravens. “Past that,” Napoleon said, “is the throne room. We’re in the center of her power now. We might as well be in here.”

“Great,” Gudao murmured. He hesitated, then glanced back at CasCu. “I don’t think they’ll be any traps here,” he said, “and you look like you could use a break. Retreat to Spirit Form. If I need you, then I’ll call.”

CasCu frowned. He needed to go further, he needed to see what lay beyond those double doors. It was a drive he couldn’t name, a push forwards he had no words for. He had to step forwards. He had to keep going. “I’m fine.” 

Gudao glanced to him. “You’re crying.” 

CasCu blinked. “What?” 

“Your eye,” Mash said, her voice smaller. “It’s weeping. Hadn’t you noticed?” 

No, he hadn’t. CasCu reached up and scrubbed under his eye. His hand came back wet. Frowning, he scrubbed again. He was crying, his eye squinted up with a pain he didn’t fully feel. The lights of this place were too bright. The pain in his socket felt bone deep and right, so intrinsic to his own being that he had forgotten to make note of it. He pulled his hand back and stared at the gloss of tears over his fingers. “Huh.”

“You’ve had a rough day,” Gudao said, gently. “Sit back, CasCu, and breathe. We’ve got it from here.”

CasCu let his hands drop. “Alright,” he said, “but if Sigurd should pop up - I want a shot at him, Gudao. You can’t fucking take that away from me.” 

Their eyes met, and for a moment, CasCu thought Gudao wouldn’t agree. It burned at him, itched in his back. Sigurd, the man that was not Sigurd, needed to go down. For Kage. For Sherlock. For Gudao and their path forwards. The thing that wore Sigurd's face had to fucking go down, and CasCu wanted to be the one burying his staff in his chest when that happened. 

“Fine,” Gudao said, “but if I say pull back, then you pull back, got it? You agreed at the start of this that you wouldn’t let your anger get the best of you. Don’t break that now.” 

“I won’t,” CasCu said. He took to Spirit Form before Gudao could say anything else on top of it. The kid was right and CasCu knew it. Not-Sigurd was too much of a problem for them to run in, without a plan, their feelings driving their swings. But Kage’s life depended on that fucker’s death. CasCu wasn’t going to forget that.

“Your friends are full of fire, Private,” Napoleon said. He was grinning, as if CasCu’s anger, his determination, was particularly pleasing. “It’ll be needed ahead!” 

“ … yeah,” Gudao said. He glanced at Mash, exchanged a nod, and then turned to the double doors. “Let’s do this.” 

Napoleon never had the chance to open the doors. They swung open wide at Gudao’s voice, as if they had been waiting for them to gather their never and enter. The doors did not open fast, a slow inwards crawl, and at first the room beyond was veiled in light, so sharp and bright that even in Spirit Form CasCu couldn’t make anything beyond it. 

“A god is eternal. A god is absolute.” 

The voice boomed around the hallway they were in, and made the doors shake and open faster. It was a woman’s voice, a low voice. Inhuman, giant, and full of power. With it, the banners on the walls fluttered. The very ice itself sung. It was a familiar voice, deep and full of confidence, of tranquil danger.

“In ancient times, humans saw gods in everything, but in my world, there is only one. If a god is everywhere, in all things, then so am I. If a god is death, if god is life, if god is power, then so am I. Fragments of Proper Human History, you who have never known god, I now give you a chance. Enter, and bow your heads before me, so that you may know god.”

“Confident,” Scáthach noted. 

CasCu’s step forwards froze, feet planted on the spot. Scáthach ’s voice echoed in his mind, and he felt stunned, smacked upon the head. Her voice - Skadi’s voice - the familiarity. The low confidence, the deep velvet of it. The doors to the throne room opened, and the light brightened, and cleared, and CasCu didn’t have to look because he knew what he would see, knew it from the pulsing pain in his eye, from the voice that had boomed those words across the ice and the same voice that had just spoken in his mind.

Skadi’s throne was a masterwork of shattered glass and sculpted figures. The skylight above her was formedsheets of white ice and sheets of black, and light bounced from the glittering chandelier and the blue dancing flames around the throne. But for all its magnificence, it was not the throne that drew attention. It was the woman who lounged in it with easy confidence, gold eyes watching them coldly.

Mash sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth. Gudao took a step back. “ Scáthach ?!”

“Is that what draws your attention?” Skadi asked, and laughed, a low, rolling thing. “My Crypter told me you were acquainted with Heroic Spirits from Proper Human History. I suppose you are right, to react that way, considering the Celtic warrior holds my essence - but I am not Scáthach . You will not find her here. I am Skadi, God of this land, and your lives exist through my power alone.” 

But she was not Skadi. Or she was - her mana signature was clearly Skadi. Yet her body was not. That was Scáthach ’s body, Scáthach ’s face. The shape of her eyes, the fall of her hair, the easy way she held herself - it was all so Scáthach , and hysterically CasCu thought about his brief, fleeting theory. The connection between Scáthach and Skadi. The idea of how Skadi had survived Ragnarök . How he had foolishly dismissed it -

“Well, interesting,” Scáthach said, her voice low and hungry.

A part of CasCu wanted to laugh, high and hysteric. Of course, she would find it interesting. Of course, she would look at this and find it amusing, an interesting facet to a fight, instead of the horror it actually was. 

Not everything was the same as the Scáthach he knew. The shape of her face, the line of her posture - those were the same, but there were differences too. CasCu had never seen Scáthach wear a dress, but Skadi did - this dark purple, blue, and silver thing with a collar of raven feathers around her neck. Skadi’s skin was paler than Scáthach’s, and had the translucent tint of ice. The red of Scáthach’s eyes had been replaced with divine gold. Her hair, too, was no longer the purple-maroon of normal. Now it was shot through with a dozen lighter highlights, darker blues and lighter pinks, giving it a colder appearance. But it was still too close to the same. It was still so fucking disorientating -

Skadi’s eyes narrowed at their lack of response. “Set the matter of this body aside, for it s original owner no longer requires it. It is your situation that I find interesting. You fought bravely within that hunk of metal called the Shadow Border, clashed repeatedly with my giants, rescued one of my humans, and slain my envoys. It has been a long time since heroes of such caliber have existed. For your bravery, and prowess in battle, I am willing to hear you out.” 

Mash’s eyes flickered to Gudao. CasCu could read her expression clearly. The relief in it, the trace of hope, the fear. Gudao stood there, shaking a moment, before he drew himself up. Perhaps Scáthach had said something, because he looked suddenly more defiant. More sure of himself. “Does that mean you’re willing to negotiate with us?” 

“I said as much, did I not?” Skadi asked, her eyes narrowing a fraction more.

“That’s real generous of you, Your Majesty,” Napoleon said. He stepped up beside Gudao, bumping shoulders with him briefly. He sent a small wink towards their Master’s way, then asked, “Does that mean we’re under your protection as well?”

Skadi’s narrowed eyes were replaced by a look of boredom. “I see it’s you, Nameless Archer. You are alive because I wish it so. Is that not enough of an answer for now?” 

Napoleon winced. “Damn, is my name really that hard to remember? I’m Napoleon Bonaparte . I used to be an Emperor, and now I’m a Hero of Humanity. I told you that before.”

“And I have no interest in your name, or your deeds. It is not the Spirits of Proper Human History that interest me, but the humans. You have come here for a reason, Master of Chaldea. Speak it now, or be evicted.” 

“I’ve come to recover Paper Moon .” 

Gudao’s words bounced off the crystal chandler, the icy halls. Skadi’s eyebrow rose, and Gudao swallowed. But he didn’t step back. He kept his chin up, his gaze level, and his fists unclenched by his side. “ Paper Moon was stolen by a Servant from this Lostbelt, who goes by the name of Sigurd. We have also come to discover the location of your Tree of Emptiness. Your help in either of these tasks would be greatly appreciated, your majesty.”

Silence.

CasCu swore the temperature in the palace dropped a by an increment. The light that built the palace - the power of Skadi’s magecraft - increased briefly, flashed silver. CasCu blinked spots from his vision, another stream of phantom tears from his eyes. The smile Skadi wore was sharp and amused.

She straightened on her throne. No longer did she lounge like a bored predator. She sat straight now, elegant and poised, like a wolf about to lunge. “I will not disclose the location to the Tree of Emptiness,” s he said, “and I suggest you do not pursue it further. As for the Paper Moon , you are free to do with it as you will. Of course, I imagine its current owners may have something to say about that.” 

Napoleon laughed. It was a brief thing, loud and wild. He hoisted his cannon up a tad higher. “So that’s it, huh? You want us to put on a little show and fight for it, do you?” 

Skadi’s smile was urbane as ice. “A lovely little idea, and I’ll entertain it for a later date. But no, I had a different idea in mind. Thrud, capture them.”

Thrud. 

The name felt like a hammer, slamming down from the sky. Like the fracture of ice and snow and wind and the very truth of the world. Thrud. CasCu might have been in Spirit Form, but he felt the impact of that name, rattling him to his very bones. Worse than Skadi. Worse than the sun and Huginn and Muninn. His stance felt unsteady, mind fetching back, to memories of- of- of-

Finscoth?

No-

Something landed on the ground, and CasCu realized the crash and shatter of ice had been very real. The crash had caused Napoleon and Mash to yank Gudao out of the radius of shattered ice. Skadi sat on her throne, unconcerned, and with a wave of her hand the ice fragments shot up to reform the ceiling, as if the break in had never occurred. But it had occurred. And CasCu could do nothing but stare at the woman, the Valkyrie that hovered above the floor.

She was a cut above the Valkyries in the village. That was clear from her unhooded face, to the way power radiated off her in beams of warm light. Her armor was golden instead of silver, imprinted with filigree, and the same could be said of her shield. The face that shone down at them carried none of the impartiality the other Valkyrie had. She held her weapons openly, and at the ready. Wings sprouted from each side of her head, the same color as her dancing hair. And her eyes were blazing, blazing red, with pupils of bright gold.

CasCu had seen that face before. His eye socket ached with the knowledge. He’d seen that face before. Or he saw another, imposed on top of it. Finscoth’s bright red eyes, her hair brown and red and gold, her face set in a ferocious scowl. And then he blinked , and the image was gone, and it was Thrud again. Just Thrud.

His mind felt muddled. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. 

“Command received, Skadi,” Thrud said, “What shall I do if the targets resist?”

“Kill the Spirits if you need too,” Skadi said. She eased back into her chair, and set her cheek on her hands, watching lazily. “But the humans keep alive. This will be their test of valor. I want to see how well they’ll fare.”

“As you wish,” Thrud said.

She moved. Only, CasCu didn’t register her movement as a movement, but simply a clash of weapon against weapon. Thrud’s speed was greater than the Valkyries they had faced before, her strength stronger. Strong enough that her strike sent Mash flying off her feet, her shield thrown to the side by Thrud’s first attack. The Valkyrie followed up, a blaze of white light, her spear raised -

“Napoleon, now!”

CasCu nearly missed Gudao’s voice. The roar of Napoleon’s cannon was loud enough to send ice raining from the ceiling. Thrud twisted in midair, golden shield slamming down before the cannon blow. There was a flash, a bang, and when the smoke cleared, Thrud hovered close to the wall, her eyes faintly narrowed. “Your attack is powerful, but insufficient to break my shield.”

“Oh la la,” Napoleon laughed, holding his cannon up a bit higher. “Your shield’s something else. Was that made in the Age of Gods? Don’t tell me Odin himself forged it!”

“You have a keen eye,” Thrud said. Something like a small smile flickered across her lips. “My divine iron shield was indeed forged before Ragnarök, and bestowed upon me by Odin. It will not break, no matter what strange firearm you wield against it.”

“Oh, my weapon here?” Napoleon laughed, patted its side. “It’s called a cannon! Don’t you forget it.” And with that said, he fired.

Thrud’s eyes flashed. “Designation: Cannon.” She noted, then blocked again. This time, the cannonball was deflected into the castle walls. More ice rained down from the sky, cracks littered the walls, and Skadi watched it all with a small, amused, bloodthirsty smile. 

Gudao had run to Mash’s side. He helped her up to her feet, flares of mana healing away the small wounds across her arms and shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Hai!” Mash panted. But she lifted her chin, the set of her face determined. “She’s very strong. I am adjusting Ortinax’s output. Auto-Maintenance function activated. I’m ready now, Master.” 

Gudao nodded, then stood. “Go, defend Napoleon from her attacks. Alter, come out. I know you’ve been hungering for a fight.”

Alter came out in a wash of sparks, growling low, tail lashing. As if she sensed his appearance, Thrud spun on a dime and threw her golden spear. There was something familiar in its shape, the form of it, like liquid light as it rippled through the air. Mash met it head on, shield turned just so to deflect its arc into the floor. This time she wasn’t blown off her feet. This time, she held her ground as Alter lunged around her and hurtled towards Thrud. 

Thrud held her hand out, and the spear flashed back to her grip. She deflected another cannonball from Napoleon without even looking. The room shook at its impact. The recently shattered chandelier rained down a few more ice fractals as Alter and Mash converged on the Valkyrie. Yet Thrud held her own, spinning and danging between them and Napoleon’s own blows.

“You keep yourselves together well, Proper Human History.” Skadi said, “But if you are to be summoning secondary fighters, then so will I.”

She waved her hand, and the floor cracked open. The fighters broke apart, and Thrud flew up, hair streaming behind her. Increment by increment, a cage rose out of the ground, built of thick ice. There was a being within it, chained, constrained. Like the Joutun and the Bergasi, it was a giant. But this one’s skin was made of cracked lava, its face covered in a shining golden disk. Its weapon was strapped to the top of the cage - a massive, triangular like blade with glowing, fiery runes.

“Great,” Gudao breathed.

“Quasi-link to Muspel established,” Thrud said. Her eyes flashed, and the mask began to glow. Skadi waved her hand again, and the icy cage shattered. The giant grabbed its weapon, and lunged towards the small group of Servants. 

“Shall I engage, Master?” Tesla asked. CasCu could hear the note of tension in his voice.

“No,” Gudao said. He bit his thumb and frowned, watching Alter meet the giant head on. There was the clash of weapons, the spurt of blood. Thrud attacked, only for Mash to block it. Napoleon readied his cannon again and shot, this time into the Muspel. The giant barely staggered at the impact. “If we add another Servant, Skadi will just add another Giant. CasCu, is there anything you can tell me about this guy?”

CasCu yanked his gaze away from the fight. His eye socket throbbed, and the information came easily - far too easily. The Throne, probably, messing with his innate knowledge. CasCu shoved away the confusion and reported, “Muspel’s are flame giants, and live within the realm of Muspelheim. They’re the most powerful race of giants. Surtr, the one that burned the world during Ragnarök , was essentially their king.”

“Got it,” Gudao said. He grinned then, suddenly. “Mash, Napoleon, I want you to focus all your attention on Thrud! She’s the one that will take us out if we get distracted. Alter, here’s an opponent finally worth your spear.”

Gods, it was easy to forget sometimes how effective Gudao was at his job. Making split second decisions, analyzing the flow of battle, determining what words would encourage his Servants to do their most. And those were the words that would goad Alter into giving it all. Alter’s curses might have sapped the care he had about everything, but a part of him was still Cu Chullainn, and at the heart of it Cu Chulainn would always hunger for a proper battle. CasCu knew it too. He felt that urge himself. 

Alter roared as Currid’s curse took him over. The curse marks painted across his chest glowed vivid red. His skin darkened as the black, chitinous armor began to push out of it, his head transforming and shaping into that of the beast whose bones had donated their spear. He would pay for it later, in aches and pains and a flair of his curses, but right now Alter was a savage beast born from a sea monster, and he tore into the muspel with a ferocity it had obviously not been expecting. 

Somehow, the damage the Giant was taking transferred over to Thrud. She flinched briefly. Napoleon’s next cannon shot punched through her defenses. It sent her spinning through the air to slam into the wall with a gasp of pain. Her eyes flared, the glow cut out, and then with a growl she used the wall to rocket towards them. Mash met her, shield first. The resulting blast of light sent all parties scattering. When it died down, Alter’s monstrous maw was closed around the muspel’s neck. He ripped, blood sprayed.

“One down,” Mash panted out. She raised her shield again. “Energy remaining stable. I never thought there would be so many enemies on par with Sigurd here before.”

A pause. Silent, lingering, beyond the sound of everyone’s exhausted breaths.

“My, my, my,” Skadi said, “I would expect someone as traveled as you, shield maiden, to know better than to speak those words. Names have power, after all. Now, the one who fills you with such dread approaches. He would have stayed to the shadows, if you’d kept silent.”

Gudao and Mash froze. CasCu could feel it too. The sudden heavy presence, palpable despite Skadi’s power. CasCu’s anger surged, sudden and fast, hot in the center of his chest. He turned - the all turned - to the double doors as they cracked open. And there, his blade strapped across his back, eyes glowing red from within his mask. 

“Sigurd,” Gudao breathed, fingers clenching.

“Oh, now I see,” Napoleon said. He fell into stance again, his cannon aimed at Sigurd. “This one’s tough, just as the shield mademoiselle described! I’m getting goosebumps. But I’m afraid that’s where it stops. That isn’t enough to trade my cannon for a white flag … and I’m getting curious as to how much gunpowder it takes to break through the Spirit Origin of such a great hero!”

Thrud’s light flared. She floated up a few more feet off the ground, her expression twisting towards disgust slightly. “Why are you here, child of Barnstokker? Do you mean to interfere with my task?”

Sigurd - the one that was not Sigurd - grunted. He glanced around briefly, as if to take in the battlefield with derision, before speaking. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I hear I’m supposed to be a knight now, so I’m just here in case her Majesty needs me, like my princess told me to be. Those Chaldeans? Well, here they are, just like Her Majesty said. What do you want to do with them, Ophelia ? If you want them dead, I can kill them right now.”

It was almost laughable, watching this man that wore Sigurd's skin talk about knighthood and following the orders of a princess. CasCu’s fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. He pressed his feet against the ice. Nothing. No earthen beat, no mana he could tap into. All he could do until Gudao gave the go ahead was sneer.

“Quiet, Saber,” said another voice. Softer, lower, and measured. A woman stepped out from behind Not-Sigurd, and looked up. “Your majesty, would you be so kind as to have Thrud stand down? I wish to speak to that young woman.”

Mash made a small noise between her teeth. “ Ophelia …”

So this was Ophelia , one of the mages that had belonged to team A, one of the mages that had betrayed the world by turning crypter. She cut a less imposing figure than what CasCu had been expecting. Her hair was mousy brown, cut to hide one eye, and fell past her shoulders. She wore a simple suit, dark and professional. Only one eye showed, a soft crystal blue. The other was hidden beneath her hair and an eye patch .

A mystic eye, some part of CasCu whispered. He’d bet money on it.

Skadi leaned against her chair again, posture going back to ‘bored’. “Granted. Thrud, stand down.” 

Thrud made a sharp noise between her teeth, then flew higher. “As you wish.”

Ophelia nodded once, then took another step forwards, past Not-Sigurd. She seemed at a loss for words, for a moment, before she found them again. “Mash Kyrielight,” she said. “It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. Two years, if I’m not mistaken?”

Mash took a small step towards Gudao. He reached out, set his hand on her shoulder, and gave a small squeeze. Mash took in a deep breath, then nodded. “Hai, it’s been a long time, Ophelia . I have been wanting to talk to you again too. I wanted to tell you everything that happened in Chaldea, about our journey to restore humanity. I wanted to tell you about who I was now, and who I was then, and ask about the name ‘crypter’. I’ve been to so many places, learned from so many people. I’ve learned about people. About good and evil, and how people retain their humanity in difficult times …”

She trailed off a moment, then drew in a deep breath, pulled her head up. Her eyes blazed, suddenly bright with fire. “Back then, I never got to know you as a team. I never really got to talk to you properly! So, I wanted to talk to you all properly now. I want to find out if there was meaning to the time I spent with you!”

Oh. 

That was right.

CasCu forgot, sometimes, that Mash was initially a part of team A. That the people they were facing, their enemies set out to destroy the world, were the people she should have worked with. And yet here Mash stood, stubbornly defiant despite it. A burble of pride rose through the anger, then burst like a warm bubble. 

Ophelia smiled, this small, faint thing. “I see … I am glad to hear that, Mash. You really are earnest, aren’t you?” Her face grew harder, sterner. “But I am afraid we won’t be able to do that. This is where your journey ends.”

Mash took a reflexive step back. Her face twisted. “But -”

“You’ve seen many things I don’t know about,” Ophelia said, cutting over her, “and been to worlds I’ll never visit. I would love to listen to it all. I do wish we could sit down and have a nice talk, I’ve wished that ever since we first met, and now that you’ve grown … I think we could have a good discussion.”

Was it CasCu’s imagination? Or had Not-Sigurd moved minutely towards Ophelia , angling his body towards hers?

Ophelia took in a deep breath, then met Mash, and then Gudao in the eyes. “But that doesn’t matter. I am not going to change. I can’t. I am a Crypter now, with all the responsibility that entails.”

“Even if that means resetting the planet?” Mash asked, her voice small. “Even if it means forsaking our own history? Our own world?”

Not-Sigurd made another small, incremental shift towards Ophelia . She didn’t need it. Her shoulders pulled back; she tipped her head up. “What if it does? That’s who the Crypter’s are. That’s who I am, under Lord Kirschtaria Wodime's guidance.” She gave a small laugh, soft, lacking amusement. “It’s strange, isn’t it Mash? You were originally supposed to come with us. Now you are a Demi-Servant, and our enemy. I’m not sure if this is irony, or fate.”

Mash took a breath. She glanced at Gudao, and Gudao nodded, one of those moments of silent communication that defined them. This was Mash’s moment, Mash’s battle, Mash’s conversation. Gudao would not step in. So Mash stepped forwards, and she stepped up. “I don’t think of myself as your enemy. I would like to resolve our differences peacefully, if we can. Is that not the case for you too, Ophelia ?”

This time, Ophelia took a step back. Her shoulder bumped into Not-Sigurd’s. Her expression shifted, slight. “I -”

A bang, the clatter of metal against ice. Heads turned. Napoleon stood - figuratively - tall. His gaze was focused on Ophelia , though his words were directed towards Mash. “Go easy on the girl, Mademoiselle Mash. She won’t be able to take it if you push her too hard.”

Gudao frowned. His eyes flickered between Napoleon and Ophelia. “Wait. Do you two know each other?”

“Well, this is the second time we’ve met.” Napoleon said. He seemed very proud of himself, a smile curling across his lips. “We first met when I broke into the castle. In fact, let me be frank. Mademoiselle Ophelia Phamrsolone isn’t just beautiful. She’s also my fiancé !” 

A moment of silence, as the words resounded around the hall. Skadi straightened, as if suddenly interested in the conversation. Ophelia’s face fell into something that approximated careful neutrality. Behind Ophelia, Not-Sigurd bristled. CasCu felt the energy in the air tick up, threatening. “ Fiancé ?!” Mash repeated, her eyes blown open in surprise.

“Let me find my jaw,” Gudao said, his voice dripping towards dry, “I think I dropped it somewhere.” 

Mash reached out to grab his hand, stabilizing herself. “I am trying and failing to imagine Ophelia … and Napoleon Bonaparte, the Heroic Spirit … married …” Her head jerked around, “B-Besides, aren’t you already married? Oh - but you divorced your first wife, and went on to marry an archduchess - but-there are some Heroic Spirits who believe they’ve made a clean break to their past when they materialize, so - but Ophelia, a -”

“I’m not,” Ophelia said, flat, cutting Mash’s babblings. CasCu was thankful. He’d never heard Mash babble so much before. It was almost embarrassing, and certainly would be for Mash later, when Gudao eventually teased her about it.

But for now, Mash stared at her, gaping, “You’re not?”

“Of course not,” Ophelia said. She stood there, rigid, her voice utterly collected. Not-Sigurd was more imposing, bristling right behind her. At some point he’d reached up, and his hand had wrapped around the handle of his sword. CasCu called his staff to himself, pressed his fingers against the grains of wood. 

“I’m one of the seven chosen Crypter’s. Such trivialities are rather unimportant now,” Ophelia continued, “Besides, Mash, you said it yourself. The world we grew up in has been completely wiped clean. Engagement? Ridiculous. Marriage, family, every institution of human society is gone. All that remains now is the new worlds in each Lostbelt, with new societies and new norms to guide humanity. Take a look at Scandinavia! The very idea of marriage doesn’t even exist-”

“I proposed to you!” Napoleon roared. “You didn’t say no!” 

Mash gasped. “So you ARE engaged!” 

CasCu wondered at what point this conversation had turned into a soap opera. Mash, Napoleon, and Ophelia seemed to have completely forgotten the situation. Gudao was splitting his attention between them, and Not-Sigurd, whose aura was growing blacker and blacker with each word traded. Alter stood there, waiting in the wings, rumbling. Thrud hovered, and her gaze kept on flicking to Skadi, as if expecting the goddess to interfere. 

CasCu didn’t think Skadi would interfere. She looked like she was having too much fun watching the proceedings. A part of CasCu wasn’t surprised. Skadi had always liked a good show.

“Listen, Ophelia,” Napoleon continued, “Not saying no outright to a proposal is like saying yes. Don’t go all Tallyhand on me now.”

“That’s not how consent works,” Gudao said.

Napoleon ignored him. “I want you to be my beloved Joséphine!” He winced right after the words. “No, scratch that, that’s an awful thing to say. I want you to take your place beside Joséphine in my heart.” 

That. Was actually a damn romantic thing to say. In another situation, CasCu might have applauded. Mash certainly seemed to think so, her expression softening as she turned to Ophelia. “You really didn’t turn him down?”

This time, Ophelia’s calm appearance seemed ruffled. She stuttered once, then caught herself again. “B-Because the very idea was preposterous! It was so stupid, it didn’t even merit a response! Regardless of your absurd claims, my silence in no way indicates an affirmative answer!”

“That’s alright,” Napoleon said. He placed his hand over his heart, and said, “because I feel in love with you.”

Ophelia took a step back, one visible eye slightly wider than previously. Her shoulder bumped against Not-Sigurd, and he let out a small sound, barely heard. It sounded like a growl. Like the faint rumble of thunder.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m in love with you!” Napoleon looked Ophelia in the eye, and smiled. “Are you convinced now? Ma chérie, Ophelia Phamrsolone?”

“Oh shit,” Gudao breathed, “you’re actually serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” Napoleon said, and this time, he actually sounded it. His voice was softer, more earnest. “She’s one of my main motivations. If a woman I’m in love with is here, I can’t just sit back and do nothing, can I?”

Ophelia actually looked flustered. CasCu didn’t blame her one bit. Hell, he probably would have been flustered, if the situations had been reversed. It was that kind of sappy, romantic shit that would have sent Kage red in the face and stuttering even if he didn’t have any feelings.

“Y-your words,” Ophelia said, trying to catch her feet, “Ring as hollow now as they did back then. I can’t stand to listen to them any longer. Why would you even think to propose to someone you’d only just met?”

Napoleon looked vaguely affronted. “Haven’t you heard of love at first sight?!”

“He just fumbled,” Scáthach noted. CasCu sent her the mental equivalent of a nod. There were types of love at first sight, that he fully believed in. And if you were young enough, and full of hormones and adrenaline, then one of those types might be enough to make you want to propose. But the love needed to survive a marriage required more than a pretty face and a brief meeting to last. And it seemed that Ophelia knew it too.

Ophelia’s face with through many incremental shifts. Then she straightened. Her expression hardened. “I have neither time nor patience for jokes,” Ophelia said, her voice cold. “Any Heroic Spirit fighting for humanity is our enemy. Your Majesty, will you grant me permission to stain his castle with his filthy blood?”

Skadi tilted her head, briefly. Everyone turned to look at her, waiting. When she spoke, it was low, and amused. “No. I see no reason why you cannot entertain his request. If he is not a satisfactory husband, then you can always divorce him, or kill him later. In fact, he has so amused me with his blatant declarations of love, that I wish to test his metal. You will capture him without killing him, Ophelia.”

Well.

That wasn’t quite what CasCu had expected. 

Ophelia’s lips pressed together, brief, before she nodded. “As you wish, my queen. You heard her, Saber. Neutralize them. No killing. And make extra sure you don’t kill Mash Kyrielight, even by accident.”

“Got it,” Not-Sigurd said. He stepped past Ophelia, and drew Gram. The blade’s glow flickered. In spirit form, it almost looked blue. It was supposed to be blue, instead of the red CasCu knew it’s current hue was. “Precision work isn’t exactly my specialty, but if that’s my order, then fine. So I just have to not kill the shield girl, right?” 

“I meant what I said,” Ophelia said.

Skadi laughed, brief, and shook her head. “Such a stubborn girl.” But she didn’t sound displeased by the fact, just amused.

Gudao half turned. He glanced to Skadi, and asked, “For this fight, am I allowed to summon more of my Servants? Or will you add more giants to the fight if I do?” 

“This is not my fight,” Skadi said. “The matter of the Paper Moon is between your two groups. Summon who you will.” 

Gudao turned. “Tesla, CasCu, come out. Mash, are you ready?” 

She didn’t look ready. Her face was pale, and she gripped tight to her shield. But her chin lifted, and her voice was even. “Ortinax output is stable. This battle won’t turn out like the last one, Master!” 

“Don’t worry,” Napoleon said. He readied his cannon, held it up, pointed at Sigurd. “I might have stirred this pot, but I’ll make damn sure you two make it out alive! Time to undo some damage I just did to my reputation, here!” 

CasCu tuned him out. He stepped out of Spirit Form, onto the pulsing floor of Skadi’s castle. He could feel the sudden influx of her attention on his back. He ignored it, and fell into stance, fingers gripped tight around his staff, dug into the wood. For all Skadi’s castle was a silver glow he couldn’t ignore, he could still feel Not-Sigurd’s presence. Overwhelming. Overpowering. CasCu could see the runes writ across that cursed blade, and felt his blood boil.

Kaunan: fire, transformation, death. Halgaz: radical change, loss. 

The runes that had struck down Kage.

“This won’t take long,” Not-Sigurd said, his voice full of dry confidence. And before the words had filtered through the air, he was moving. Tesla’s blast of lightning shot straight through his after image. Mash’s shield slammed down before Napoleon. There was the clang of metal as Not-Sigurd’s short sword crashed down upon her shield, split, and then shot off around her guard towards Napoleon’s back. Napoleon spun around and blasted the blades away with a cannon shot. Not-Sigurd twisted just in time to block a monstrous strike from Alter with Gram, blades jarring, ringing.

CasCu didn’t bother to join the fight. It was too cluttered, and his fired runes wouldn’t work in such a melee. He focused instead on the damn splitting short sword, the way the shards would spin around like knives, blocking blades and dodging cannon blasts, attempting to find chinks in their armor. A few rocketed towards Tesla, forcing the Archer to stay on the defense. A few more raced towards CasCu, but he just poured mana into his Protection from Projectiles, and watched as those shards bounced away from him. His fingers and lips moved, lighting gold through the air.

Isa, ice, stillness. A risky choice with Skadi right there, but he doubted she would interfere. Raido, for travel. “Ansuz,” he breathed, two tie the two runes together and grant them greater strength.

Ice fractured through the air, sounding with sharp cracks. The swirling fractures of Not-Sigurd’s short sword froze in midair , their movement stalled. It was unexpected, obviously. Not-Sigurd actually paused, as if he hadn’t thought it was possible, None of them were foolish enough to let such an opportunity to waste. Napoleon twisted around Mash’s shield and shot Not-Sigurd, point-blank in the face. 

A bang, a flash, Not-Sigurd was sent stumbling back across the ground. Lightning rushed from Tesla’s position and grounded itself in Not-Sigurd’s body, the same time a stream of fire lit from CasCu’s fingers engulfed him. CasCu watched the bastard burn with bared teeth. Alter was closing in, swift. He jumped, his spear falling down upon Not-Sigurd’s head -

Gram lashed out. They were lucky. The blade didn’t hit Alter, but that long, long pommel sure did. CasCu heard the ribs crack, heard the grunt of breath. The power of Not-Sigurd’s strike sent Alter across the room and straight into the wall. The foundations cracked. Rumble fell. Alter was buried in a pile of ice. He wasn’t moving. 

The lightning cut out. The flames died down. CasCu didn’t waist time seeing if Not-Sigurd still stood. He knew what he would see. Instead, he grit hit teeth, yanked his gaze away from the battle, and lunged across the battlefield. He wasn’t going to fucking lose another. He fucking wasn’t.

He could hear Sigurd’s laughter, as he darted across the battlefield and fell at the pile of icy rubble. It was an insane sound, skipping and amused. “It seems like you can finally fight back a little! Good! This would have been boring otherwise. Ophelia, release one of my limiters.”

Shit. CasCu grit his teeth and grabbed at icy chunks, dragging them off Alter’s body until he could see an arm. CasCu pressed his fingers against Alter’s wrist, counted the heartbeats. Alive, but sluggish. He’d probably lost his rage. CasCu swore, then started laying rune after rune across Alter’s available flesh, using Sowilo as his base.

“Very well,” Ophelia said. “Forced Spirit Origin Ascension limiter released. Destroy all who would stand in our way, my knight.” 

“Phase two limiter released,” Not-Sigurd said. His voice seemed deeper, threaded through with a growl. “Authorization granted to Heroic Spirit Sigurd for full employment of the demonic sword Gram. Now then, how shall I kill you? Who should I kill first? HA! That’s a given. I’ll start with you, lover boy. Maybe that will shut you up.” 

CasCu could feel it, in the air, the increase in energy, palpable and hot. It was hard to breathe, hard to focus. Sweat beaded across his brow and dripped off his nose to plop onto Alter’s arm. He poured more mana into the runes. Come on, come on. Alter hadn’t been struck with the blade. He’d heal. He’d fucking heal. 

“I’m sorry about this.” 

Ophelia’s voice was cold. CasCu blinked sweat from his eyes. Shit. He’d lost time. How much? He could feel Alter’s heartbeat beneath his fingers. It was stronger. The runes were taking effect . 

“Phenomena, schufen auf.” Ophelia said. The words to a spell. CasCu’s eye ached, and he knew that she was using her mystic eye, knew that - shit. “That armor of yours is impressive. Ich will es niemals glänzen sehen.”

Metal broke. CasCu cursed, spinning around in time to see Mash buckle, before he could call out warning. The metal of Ortinax was starting to warp, to rust. And Ophelia Phamrsolone’s hidden eye was uncovered, glowing silver and red. She took a step forwards, and Mash fell to one knee with a cry.

“My Mystic eye’s rank is jewel,” Ophelia said, “Once I have decided I don't want to see something shine, it will never shine in front of me. I never showed this to you before, did I? Well, now you know: This is what I can do if I feel like it. I’m sorry Mash, but you will sit this one out.” 

CasCu swore again, he leaned forwards, froze, turned back to stare at Alter’s buried form. The runes were still at work. He couldn’t fucking leave Alter to focus on the fight, or he’d die. But Mash needed his support - 

Alter’s hand wrapped tight around his wrist. “Go.” 

The word was a gritted out, bloody thing. The pile of rubble shifted, then stilled. CasCu felt his gut drop. “You’re -”

“I’ll get to Gudao. Mash isn’t going to stand down. She needs you more than I do. GO!” 

One didn’t argue with Alter when he spoke like that. Edge was going to kill CasCu, later, for leaving Alter such a wreck. But Kage would kill CasCu if Mash or Gudao got hurt. CasCu gritted his teeth until they hurt, yanked his hand from Alter’s grip, turned, and ran. 

Not-Sigurd’s released limits had caused a change in his physical appearance. He had more armor, now, and there was an increased number of spikes and blades coming off of it. The lower half of his face was still covered by that mask, but the upper half was free, giving sight of red eyes half hidden behind glasses. Silver and black hair spilled over his forehead. There was something familiar about it, something that struck a chord deep in CasCu - but he pushed past it. Not-Sigurd was lunging forwards, and Napoleon was racing to meet him, cannon held up as a shield instead of a weapon.

Mash stood behind them, buckled under the pressure targeting Ortinax. There were cracks across her armor. Her face was a twisted mask of strain. Yet she gritted her teeth, tried to stand. “I can’t-” she panted, breathless, “I can’t back down - I can still fight! I have to still fight!” 

“Don’t over do it, Mash!” Gudao called. Alter had managed to get free of the rubble, and was limping his way towards their Master. That left Tesla and Napoleon against Not-Sigurd. Class advantage. But a class advantage hadn’t helped Kage.

“I can’t run away from him again!” Mash cried out. 

“And you won’t.” CasCu said. He fell to her side, one hand on her shoulder, the other tracing runes against her back. “Breathe, calm down. Give me a few moments , and I’ll get you back up into running order. Okay?” 

Beneath his fingers, Mash’s back rose with her sharp inhale. “Hai!”

The sounds of the fight continued. The clash of weapons, the bang of thunder. It didn’t sound like Alter had rejoined. CasCu wasn’t sure Alter would be in the shape to rejoin. He shoved all thoughts and sounds from his head and focused on Mash’s breathing. The rise and fall of her chest, the creaking and groaning of Ortinax. The heavy pressure of Ophelia ’s Mystic Eye. His own eye ached, the world bathed in silver. It felt like something constrained his breath.

Gold flowed from CasCu’s fingers like ink from a pen. Uraz, for power, strength, and endurance. Thurisaz, for strength, defense, and protection. Iwaz, for stability, reliability, resilience, and longevity. Algiz: divine protection, courage. Asuz, Odin, to tie it all together. Nine rings of these runes, one after another, until Mash’s back was patterned with them, until she could breathe without laboring.

CasCu was the one having a hard time breathing now. He pressed his hand against the ice and sucked in a sharp breath. His head swam. Too many runes, too much mana spent too quickly. The sun wasn’t reaching him in here. He pushed past it all and looked up at Mash. “How does that feel?” 

“Better,” Mash said. She pushed herself to her feet, lifted her shield. “I can fight now. Thank you, CasCu.”

“Welcome,” CasCu choked out. He spat onto the ice, and rubbed at his throat, wheezing.

A whumph of air. From the corner of his eye, he caught Napoleon flying back, his cannon flying in the opposite direction, Not- Sigurd right after him, fire blazing in his eyes. “If you’re going to prattle on about love,” he growled, “then you’d better make sure you’re good enough to back it up.” Gram raised, came down.

It bounced off Mash’s shield with an audible bang. Mash’s legs buckled, then she pushed up and pushed back. Sigurd went skidding. The runes across Mash’s back glowed brighter, and CasCu could feel the enchantment draining more mana from him. Of course, it was. It was powered in part by Mash’s own courage, but something this complicated needed more than that. CasCu gagged on nothing, fingers scrapping against his neck. Gods, why couldn’t he get any fucking breath -

Sigurd growled, low and thundering. “And you - Ophelia doesn’t want you dead, Demi-Servant. Get out of the way before I make a mistake.” 

“No!” Mash cried out. She blocked another one of his attacks, limbs shaking, the runes glowing brighter. “I’m not running away from you again!” 

“Stop.” 

Everyone stopped.

It wasn’t even that everyone quieted. It was simply that Skadi’s voice had frozen them in place. CasCu himself froze mid-scramble , mid gasping breath. The power in the castle, beneath his feet, rose a notch. Before tear-glazed eyes, he watched as the Isa rune that formed the base of this home began to burn blue-gold. Skadi’s power. Skadi’s influence. Skadi’s command, freezing them all mid-fight .

Skadi had stood. She was taller than Scáthach was, a stupid detail CasCu couldn’t help but note. Her voice was just touched with frosty - something. He couldn’t tell. He needed more air. “That was an impressive fight, everyone, but it is time for the curtains to close. Ophelia, stand down. At this moment, you do not have the power to stop Mash from fighting, unless you commit to hurting her. Permanently.” 

Ophelia’s face twisted. For a moment, she almost looked regretful. Then she hardened into cool neutrality once more. “As you wish, your Majesty. Saber?”

Not-Sigurd growled. He pulled Gram from Mash’s shield, took a step away. “I’m warning you: next time, I won’t hold back.”

“Not necessary,” Skadi said, “for I shall finish this myself.” 

CasCu’s gut dropped. Ophelia and Not-Sigurd could move, but no one else could. They had been frozen to the spot. Immobile . Helpless. At this moment , this span of breath, they were completely in Skadi’s power. She could do whatever she wanted , and they wouldn’t be able to stop her.

“I will admit to being disappointed, People of Proper Human History.” Skadi said, “I was expecting more, after being told how you destroyed the King that ruled the Russian Lostbelt, but it seems you are not quite up to the task of killing a god. You cannot even fight the runes bestowed to me by the All father himself. You are helpless. You are no threat. Bow down and rejoice, for I have determined that today you will live. Know your place within my dungeon, and get used to the snow and ice. It will be all you will ever know from now on.” 

And with a crack, earsplitting, the floor beneath them broke apart, and they all toppled into the black abyss.

Chapter Text

Prison had been part of Napoleon’s supposedly brilliant plan.

He’d bet that Skadi wouldn’t kill them - which had been the right bet to make. They just simply weren’t a threat, right now. They didn’t have the firepower to take her down, or make her pay a moment’s worth of attention. At best, they were entertainment. At worst, they were simply nothing. And she had no reason to kill nothing.

Perhaps the years since Ragnarök had softened her. Perhaps she just couldn’t conceive anything being a threat, and if it wasn’t a threat, she had no use to kill it. This world was hers, from the giants to the ice beasts to the Valkyries to the humans to the very snow itself. Nothing here was a threat, so why should she treat it as such?

It would have still been nice not to be tossed so abruptly into prison. Or dropped from such a height. 

The ice was hard and unforgiving, and CasCu’s breath was blown out of his lips. He lay there, on the ground, head spinning, stunned. His throat and eye throbbed. He felt weaker than he should. Too much mana spent too quickly. The magecraft woven into this prison burned his eye sockets , and he squeezed them shut, tight. Above them, the ice closed, sealing them up tight.

“Gudao,” Mash asked, “Are you alright?” 

“I’m alright,” Gudao breathed. “Alter got me. How’s everyone doing?”

“Hurting,” CasCu rasped.

Alter grunted, then took to Spirit Form. CasCu couldn’t blame him. Tesla rubbed his back, then sighed. “I think I will follow Alter into Spirit Form. It will be easier to recover my mana, that way.” and it would hurt way less, but he didn’t need to say that out loud. It was the unspoken truth of the matter.

“And you, CasCu?” Gudao asked, glancing to him.

CasCu slowly pushed himself up, then rubbed his back. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to take a look at the rune work on the walls, alright?” 

“Alright,” Gudao said, slow, but he didn’t pry. Not that Napoleon gave him a chance. 

The Servant had been hazy at first, rubbing the back of his head as if he had banged it. But now he sprung to life and bowed so low his head nearly hit the floor. “I’m sorry for putting you through that! We could have avoided that battle with Sigurd if I hadn’t been so brazen in my courtship. I really didn’t think that one through … sorry again!”

Mash started, a bit, glancing over to him quickly. “N-not at all! Your plan did work out in the end…”

“Though it was a close call,” Gudao added, grimacing. “Alter will take a bit to recover, and CasCu’s mana is low. Sorry, I can feel it. We might have to do a transfer.” 

“Probably,” CasCu agreed, pulling away from the wall with a grimace. He hated drinking blood, damn it.

Napoleon winced once more. “It was too damn close, wasn’t it? And it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

He sounded really heartfelt, for an emperor that reminded CasCu of Iskandar and Gilgamesh occasionally. CasCu shook his head and turned back to the wall, examining the gap space where false icy bricks turned into thick icy bars. Mash’s voice was a touch forgiving, soft. “Now that we’re away from Ophelia’s eye, my Ortinax is in working order. It hasn’t taken any critical damage. So our position isn’t overly worse.” 

“And Scáthach ’s still in the wings,” Gudao agreed. “She’s an expert in killing gods, so I wouldn’t be too worried about our firepower .” 

Napoleon relaxed faintly. “Well, that’s good to hear!”

Mash nodded. She hesitated a moment, glancing to Gudao, before glancing back to Napoleon. Another hesitation, then she started, her speech filled with pauses and stutters. “So, um, I’m a little hesitant to ask this, but … Napoleon, are you serious about … ”

“Ophelia?” he asked, immediately straightening out of his slump. 

“H-hai,” Mash said, nodding, “You didn’t sound like you were joking about that, or like you wanted to confuse them … So did you mean what you said about her?”

“Sure did,” Napoleon said, “I fell for her hard.” He paused a moment, brief, then sat on the edge of one icy cot. “Well, more accurately, my heart went out for her. I didn’t have much compassion for anyone back when I was alive, but now it feels like that side of me has been cracked up to eleven! Being a Servant can be a real pain in the ass, huh? I wouldn’t have to worry about this stuff if I was a mindless battle robot.”

Gudao took a seat on the second cot, Mash beside him. His voice was very dry. “I prefer who you are now to a mindless battle robot.”

Napoleon gave an awkward cough. “Anyway, all that aside, I’m well aware that she’s a Crypter. I know they’re using the Tree of Emptiness to prevent the continuation of Humanity, and that we’ll have to take her out eventually. I know that, but I am choosing to side with you two.” He gave a smile then, gentle compared to most of them. “I won’t betray your trust. I won’t stop fighting until we’ve saved Proper Human History.”

Gudao considered him for a long, long moment. “This is why you wanted us to wait to make the contract,” he said. “You wanted us to know how you felt about Ophelia first.” 

“Exactly,” Napoleon said, “Not all the marks I made on History were glorious. I made a lot of bad decisions too, like the one that resulted in the destruction of my Grande Armée . I wasn’t very good to the two women I loved either. They must hate me, and I don’t blame them. I’m not going to pretend the past never happened. If humanity goes away, everything else will follow. It’d be great if all we lost was just the sadness and tears, but that’s not how it’ll work. Everything, good and bad, will be gone forever. My own glory doesn’t really matter now, but to see all the joys, hopes, and dreams people have held through history disappear… well I can’t just let that happen.” 

Gudao was silent, a moment. Mash was too, her fists a tight ball in her lap. They glanced at each other, obviously mentally talking. And then Gudao sighed, stepped up. “I agree, Napoleon. And this doesn’t change my decision. I would like -”

“Someone’s coming,” CasCu said, pulling away from the bars. “So I think we’ll have to hold off on that contract for a moment.”

Mash stood, reaching out for her shield, gripping it tight. “Who is it?” 

“It sounds like Ophelia’s footsteps,” CasCu said. He took to Spirit Form. It would be best to save what little mana he had, just in case there was another confrontation.

Napoleon brightened. Gudao stood and shook his head. “No, not right now. Your attempt at wooing will have to hold off for now. Mash and I want to talk to her.” 

Napoleon let out a long sigh, and then sat back down onto the cot. “You’re right, Private. I’m not going to make a mess of things again.”

“Thank you,” Mash said, softly.

“You’re welcome, mademoiselle,” Napoleon said.

Mash gave him a small smile, and Gudao gave a nod. The two stood there, waiting. They didn’t have to wait long. Ophelia’s footsteps were soft and measured. It wasn’t long before she stood before the bars. Her eye was covered again. She held a small circle in her hand. Even in Spirit Form, CasCu could feel the mana pulsing off of it. A device of some kind, with potent magecraft attached to it.

She held it tight between her fingers. Her voice was very cold, very flat. A forced distance. “Mash, I bring you a message from Kirschtaria Wodime. It was delivered shortly after you were imprisoned by his Servant. Since it was addressed to both you and her majesty, I brought it down here for you to listen to.” 

“To me, or for Gudao too?” Mash asked, her voice soft. 

Ophelia gave a single hesitation, then nodded. “To the both of you,” she said, “I’ll replay it now for you -”

“We’d like to talk first,” Gudao said. He crossed his arms over his chest, and watched her, closely. “Both Mash and I have a lot to ask you, and Mash wants to catch up with you. She has a very favorable impression of you, Ophelia, and I - would like to know why you’re doing all of this.”

Mash nodded. “He’s right,” she said. “I want to know more, so Ophelia, please, tell us.”

Ophelia hesitated, as if uncertain. In Spirit Form, CasCu’s eyes narrowed. This woman wasn’t living up to her reputation as a Crypter very well - then again, neither had Kadoc. They were both very human, and though Ophelia might have been the superior mage, gifted with a Mystic Eye of such power, her humanity seemed very intact. CasCu would have liked to know exactly what a woman like her was doing in a situation like this too.

But then Ophelia shook her head. “Now that Skadi has taken you prisoner, we can have that talk at any time, and since Saber has been … disturbed, I need to take time to keep him calm. I will play this message for you, and then leave. Please don’t argue, Mash.”

Mash and Gudao glanced at each other. None of them were planning on spending any more time than necessary here. Gudao’s arms dropped, he reached for Mash’s hand. Mash took it, squeezed tight, and then nodded to Ophelia. “Alright,” she murmured, small, “We’ll talk later. Please play it, Ophelia.”

Ophelia nodded, and then pressed the center of the communication device.

A hologram appeared midair , not so unsimiliar to the ones projected by the Chaldean communication devices at times. Formed out-of-the-blue light was the upper torso of a man, this Kirschtaria Wodime, leader of the Crypters. He had a cold face, aloof, disinterested. His hair was long, framing his features and spilling past his shoulders. He wore an ornate suit, a cape with something that looked like a shoulder pauldron, and held a staff in one hand. The traditional upper class magus. 

His voice reflected that look, cool and smooth, a bit arrogant. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Queen of the Scandinavian Lostbelt. My apologies for delivering a recorded message rather than visiting in person. I am Kirschtaria Wodime. I am in charge of the largest Lostbelt, Greece, and the leader of the Crypters. As for you, Chaldeans, welcome to this bleached Earth. As your ‘senpai’, I am proud to welcome you here. While I confess that doing so required some speculation on my part, I have taken the liberty of sending this message to the King of Scandinavia with the assumption that you will all be present as well. Given how you triumphed in Russia, and how close this Lostbelt lies to it, I am confident you will have reached it by the time this message is delivered.”

“Our goal,” he continued, “is to rebuild human history. This entails recreating a land for gods to inhabit. Proper Human History was not a mistake per se, but neither was it correct. Instead of loss and gain resulting in a net benefit, they became caught in a system that resulted in unchecked growth for both. It was an incredible waste. What should have been a virtuous cycle was effectively stuck in a rut. The Foreign God wept to see the state of this planet, and decided to grace it with their presence. As Crypters, our duty is to help the Lostbelts take root and become stronger than Proper Human History.”

He paused for breath, incremental. Ophelia’s face was utterly composed. Mash’s expression was tight; she gripped Gudao’s hand with white knuckles. Gudao’s own expression was … something. He didn’t get angry often, but there was fire in those eyes right now, and the fingers of his free hand curled into fists. 

“The King of Mages' answer to humanity's failure was to have other humans incinerate it, but that is not my answer,” Kirschtaria said, “I choose to rewrite history, with the Foreign God's help. People have had gods running the world behind the scenes since ancient times. They believed gods were both the planet itself, and the laws of nature that governed it. But humanity lacked self-awareness. Those laws were meant to be used, not obeyed. It was that mistake that led to humanity and the gods parting ways. Humanity did not forget the gods. They abandoned that possibility once they became unable to handle them.”

“Your Majesty, Queen of Scandinavia. You care for a mythological ecosystem that met its end in a self-imposed ruin, rather than one which ended when its people forgot it, like Greece. Keep the Tree of Emptiness safe. As long as it exists, your Lostbelt will never vanish. I implore you to turn your back on your fate, and to decide the path of survival. Once you do that, I would like nothing more than for you to face off against my own Tree of Emptiness.”

“My Tree of Emptiness is already fully grown,” and finally, that cold expression changed into something that could have been considered smugness, “While the Norse world has Yggdrasil, a world tree that serves as the foundation of its every realm, Greece now has a Tree of Emptiness supporting the very heavens. Thus, it has been dubbed the World Tree Atlas by my ally, the great god Zeus.”

“Chaldeans, I can say that, as far as you are concerned, Atlas is your greatest and most important target. The roots of my Lostbelt's Tree of Emptiness now cover eighty percent of the earth's surface. Even if you succeed at cutting down every other Lostbelt's tree, you will never be able to restore Proper Human History so long as Atlas remains standing.”

“Queen of Scandinavia, you are a god, and so I have high hopes for you. Indeed, you could even think of this as the gods taking revenge on humans for usurping their throne. As for me, I am prepared to make full use of the gods despite being human myself. I will create a fully realized Age of Gods. A glorious history where human weakness is a thing of the past. It will be a world that will endure no matter how heated human consciousness becomes. A place where life can flourish with neither deficit nor fragmentation. Be warned that I will show no mercy to any who would stand in the way of that goal. I hope that, alongside Ophelia, you will choose the best possible future.”

With those words ringing across icy walls, Kirschtaria’s image fizzled and disappeared. Ophelia closed her hand around the device, and slid it into her pocket. Mash stood there, face pale, her body trembling. Gudao was shaking too. He had to take a moment, jaw working, before he spoke. “That was a declaration of war.” 

“Wrong,” Ophelia said. “That was a declaration of victory. Thanks to Lord Kirschtaria’s leadership, we Crypter’s have already begun a new chronicle for humanity. There is no hope for Proper Human History.”

“Do you really believe it?” Mash asked, her voice shaking, tight. “Do you really think that it's a good idea to whip everything out. Destroy all of Proper Human History? Both the bad … and the good?” 

“ … Of course.” Ophelia took a step back. “But we can speak on that at greater length later. I believe, Mash, that you will agree with us in time. I will see you later. Goodbye Gudao, the last  Master of a Humanity that will no longer see the world’s light. I hope you will come to enjoy this Lostbelt.” 

With that, she turned, and started walking away. Her footsteps were measured. Mash opened her mouth, then flinched and glanced away, staring at the floor. Gudao hadn’t stopped shaking. His voice was utterly cold, quiet, and filled with something approximating rage. “CasCu,” he said, “have you figured out how to break us out of here yet?”

CasCu stepped into solid form once more. “Maybe,” he said, “Like the rest of this castle, the basis of this cell is opalan and isa. But there’s hagalaz, perbo, and jeran. Opalan and isa makes this place Skadi’s own, the shape and form of it bends to her will. Perbo stands for magic, hagalaz for loss - together it means that while we’re in these cells, we cannot access our skills. Jeran is peace. Having it here makes us less inclined to break out.”

“But can we break out?” Gudao repeated, frowning. 

“Not right now,” CasCu said, frowning. “Theoretically, I can nullify the runes by writing their opposites - canceling them out, but I have no mana to do so right now, and I’m not sure how well it will work.” Hagalaz and perbo were a difficult combo. The loss of magic. But he could still see the runes writ on the walls , in the bars. Maybe, just maybe, his runecraft would be left untouched. Maybe he could do something.

Gudao sighed and let go of Mash’s hand. He started rolling up his sleeve, frowning. “I’m going to lend you some mana.” He said, frowning, “and then I need you to sleep for a bit.”
CasCu flinched. His hand flexed, went up to his throat. The bruises were still there, tender beneath his touch. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Gudao said, “You’ll regain mana faster that way than in Spirit Form. While you sleep, I’ll make a contract with Napoleon, and we’ll figure out our next steps from here. How does that sound?”

Like a bad, bad idea. But he was right, and CasCu knew it. He swallowed hard, then pulled his hand away from his neck. “I’d like the cot then,” he said, and ignored the small nugget of fear in his chest, “it’ll wreck less damage on my back.”

She brings with her cold wind.

He’d known that she was coming. That she would appear before their gates, armored with weapons raised, her fury the icy winds of the north, to avenge her father’s death. Yet the cold she brings is sharper than he expected. Each breath he breathes is painful. Frost crystallizes and hangs in midair. The first flakes of snow begin to fall upon Asgard in thick, white drops.

Footsteps, beside them. They’re a light thing, almost like a dance, sporadic in nature. Their owner is the same. 

“Avoiding the celebrations, old man?” Comes a voice, ever shifting in nature and tone, right by his side. “What a shame. I would think you too would celebrate Idun’s return, considering you need her apples of youth more than any of us.” 

He doesn’t look over. He knows that capacious voice well enough to label its speaker. “Though Idun’s return warms my heart, the death of Thjazi chills it. His daughter, Skadi, is coming to avenge him. She’ll want blood price for his death.”

“If I remember correctly, it was you lot who killed him, not me. Burned him alive, remember? I believe his smoldering corpse is right over there.” 

He doesn’t look. He knows the truth of those words. He barely wavers in his own response. “It was you who gave Idun up. It was you who took her back, and brought Thjazi here to kill. It is you, Loki, who Skadi will have the greatest hatred for, not I. You are the sole architect of his death.” 

“I would hardly consider myself the sole architect. I didn’t ask you all to burn him alive, and Thjazi could have easily coerced you into giving Idun over. It’s not fair to place the whole blame on me, old man.” 

“The world is not fair,” he returns, “and it does not matter what could have happened, but what did.” 

There’s a sharp sound from beside him, like the displeased hiss of a snake. The snow is starting to grow thicker. He holds out a hand, and watches as the flakes fall onto his skin. They stay there for a moment, then melt.

“The Gods of Asgard are a sorry bunch, right now.” Loki says, after a moment. “Drunk with celebration and newly returned power. Fragile. Prone to making mistakes. Normally I’d bet against her, but Thjazi was a powerful one, a clever one. Any daughter of his is bound to bring pain with her. And with your gods drunk and high, they’ll be easy targets for frost. So what’s your plan, old man? I know you have one.” 

Finally, he turns to look at Loki. The form they’ve chosen today is male, though slim and effeminate. Though both him and Skadi are of giant ilk, Skadi is jotunn, ice. Loki, however, is flame, from Musphiem, and his appearance reflects it. Every shifting, ever-changing , not even their gender is subject to stability. Today, his skin is the soft gray of a hearth’s fire, his red hair intricately braided to frame his face. Gold eyes flash like sparks from black sclera, and his grin is far too nice to be believed. 

He looks away from the giant-turned-god beside him. “Which one are you planning to lure into bed today?” Loki likes looking pretty on average, but he knows Loki like the back of his hands. Gold eyes mean trouble. Mischief.

“I’m not quite sure,” Loki lies, “I like this form, but I might shift again soon. What face do you think Thor will make when he finds the wench he’s taken to bed is no one else but the most hated god in Asgard?”

A shake of the head. “His reaction will be on your shoulders, if you do so. Now leave, Loki. Your hated presence will make this talk more difficult.” 

Loki laughs. “Oh, a talk? Are you going to try to reason with her, instead of taking her down? What a change of pace, old man. Tell me, has that all seeing eye gotten a glimpse of her supposed beauty? Have you been smitten like the fool that you are?” 

He turns, and when he looks, Loki is a she. Her face is terribly beautiful, her curves outlined by her dress. She fans her hand in front of her face and smiles, side long, this low amused grin. “I’m on to you~”

“You should be careful when you choose your bed partner, Loki,” he says, “I cannot save you from your own stupid decisions all the time.”

Like fire, her face twists, eyes blazing to red, form swelling into something more true to her origins, tall and muscular, a giant’s body. She spits venom from her lips. “Like the All Father’s protection means anything to me. We’ll see, when Skadi asks for her revenge, if you will protect me at all, like you have in the past.” Her face twists, the flicker of silver scars around her lips, “Good luck, old man, you’ll need it in this talk. Let's see how fast your silver tongue will fly, and if you can melt any of the ice in Skadi’s heart.” 

Then Loki spins and goes. With each step, she shrinks, back into her lovely visage, her red hair streaming behind her. He looks away, and watches the approaching storm. Without Loki’s fire to fill the space around him, it is rapidly growing cold. The clouds are thick, the sky growing dark, and snow blazes the sky with gray and white. It doesn’t matter. He sees all.

And he sees her, Skadi, walking through the snow towards Asgard’s walls. 

Her father had been a shape-shifter , but Skadi shows her jotunn heritage clearly. It’s apparent in the blue of her skin, to the icy white of her hair, to the ice that coats her cheeks and covers her eyelashes with frost. Her height is a giant’s too, and so is her bulk, though her figure is hard to tell beneath layers of leather armor and chain mail and fur. There is a bow in her hands, a quiver on her back, and a sword and hatchet strapped to her waist. 

She sees him, of course she does. He must be a beacon, standing alone on this wall. An arrow leaps into her bow, she brings it up and points it at his face. Her eyes blaze through the snow, gold against the blue of her skin.

He wonders if she is already a god. He wonders if the color of her eyes means merely that she was always destined to be more than her trickster father and the pile of burned feathers he had ended up as. 

“Odin!” She calls, her voice clear and strong over the wind and the snow. “One eyed All-father, king of Aesir and Vaneir, of Asgard, I come looking for my father, Thjazi. I know he came this way, and I know he had dealings with Loki. I demand his return!” 

She knows, he thinks, watching the way the arrow doesn’t waver. She already knows her father’s fate. 

He leans against the banisters and lets his voice carry. Allows the sorrow to cloud it, for all he feels no grief. “Then I must apologize to you, Skadi of the jotunn folk, for it is too late. Your father marched upon Valhalla with intentions to kill, and such he was treated as an enemy. If you should wish, I will give you what is left of his remains to bury.”

If he was expecting screams and wails, he does not get them. Skadi bows her head, her shoulders quivering. Tears flicker on her cheeks and freeze there. When she opens her eyes, they blaze. The storm rages louder. “Then you will die,” She says, the whisper of snow, before she lets her arrow fly.

He raises his hand. Isa burns gold at his fingertips . Her arrow freezes, and falls to the ground to be lost in the building snow drifts.

“Do not be foolish,” he says, “Your father kidnapped one of our own, and when we took her back, gave chase. He threw his life away. Do not do the same. As someone who has lost my own fair share of family, it is not worth it.” 

She laughs. A grief stricken bark, more benefitting an animal then one of Ymir’s ilk. “Play your games with someone who appreciates them, gray beard! I can hear the celebrations going on inside your walls. How many drinks have your gods drunk tonight? Perhaps I cannot slay you, but my storm will take their breath. When was the last time you gods faced the cold bite of winter unprepared and inhibited? Tonight, you are in my hands. Tonight, you will die!”

“And what will their deaths bring, Skadi?” He asks, pressing his hands against the stone walls of Asgard. “Their deaths will not bring your father back, and will only incite vengeance upon your own head. It’s an endless cycle, vengeance. Are you willing to continue it?”

“As if you have ever stopped it,” she says, sneering. “As if you have ever done anything but kill in revenge.” 

“I’m trying to stop it tonight, Skadi.” He says, fingers flicking across the rock. Little golden lights dance in their path. “Your father is dead, and yes by our hands, but he is dead by his own as well. Killing us will not bring him back. It will not relieve your grief. But if you leave us alive, there are things we can do for you. Things that will offer you closure.” 

She pauses, and the flakes of snow pause too. A stillness that lingers even after she speaks. “What things?” 

He smiles, only to himself, and pushes off the stone. The golden glow flickers, then fades. “A family, divinity - you already have power, but this will elevate it to more. Perhaps even runecraft if you show the aptitude for it. Your father’s bones, and perhaps a way to honor him even after they’re gone. Anything you want, beyond our heads.”

Her arrow drops, this small incremental amount. “You are a fool.” 

He shrugs, walking steadily towards Thjazi’s burnt corpse. The wafting smoke has been stifled by Skadi’s snow. “Name your price. In fact, name three. Whatever you want will be yours, within reason.”

“You will try to bargain,” she says. 

“Of course I will. It’s in my nature.” He bends, and picks up Thjazi’s skull. It’s a horrible thing, trapped in mid-shape change, part bird and part giant, blackened and burnt. But in the sockets - oh yes, those hadn’t been destroyed yet. “His eyes are still here,” he muses. “There are things you can do with eyes.”

She is quiet, for a moment. He can feel the frost of her anger against his skin. Her voice is chilly, cold. “My first price,” she says, “is his body, all of it beyond his eyes. Those I want to be hung in the sky as stars.”

“Done,” he says. He plucks the eyes from Thjazi’s skull and writes runes across their surface. They burst into golden motes, and he looks up at the clouded sky. “Part your blizzard, Skadi, and see that your father is looking after you. I think he would have liked for you to be happy, don’t you?” 

“You have killed my happiness,” she retorts. But the blizzard parts, and she looks up. There in the sky, shining bright, are two golden stars. He watches as Skadi’s face twists, expression breaking, then freezing again in one smooth motion. “You spoke of family. You spoke of becoming a god. My family is dead, so if I must start anew, then I want to start it with Baldur as my husband.” 

His lips twitch. Of course, she wants Baldur. Everyone wants Baldur, his beautiful, kind, perfect son. Everyone with an inclination towards men wants Baldur. Why would Skadi be so different? If her father is gone, then her home will be empty. Might as well take the most perfect of gods to fill it as a husband. 

He bares his teeth, a grin, and lets his voice carry through the snow. “Just as I doubt your father would marry you to any random soul, I am not so eager to sell my son to any one person, no matter how strong they might be. But, if you can pass a trial of my choosing and win his hand that way, then I will be willing to part with him.”

Her eyes narrow into gold slits. The wind kicks up briefly. “What trial?” 

“I won’t tell you that,” he says, “but even if you fail to win Baldur, you will walk home from Asgard with a fine husband to fill the hole in your home. Not only that, but you will be welcome among the Gods of Asgard , and will be treated as kindly as one of our own. How does that sound, Skadi?” 

She considers this for a long moment, her eyes narrowed faintly. Then she nods. “Very well,” she says, frosty, “I accept your terms. My third price is simple, All-father. You should have no issue fulfilling it. I want Loki’s head on a pike.”

Like the request for Baldur’s hand in marriage, this one is hardly surprising. Loki was at every step of Skadi’s father’s death. She might not know all the details, but it isn’t hard to put together pieces. Loki is always at the heart of every mess, whether they had created it or whether they had solved it. 

“That is something I cannot do,” he says, tapping his fingers against the table. “Loki and I are oath-bound as siblings. And they have already been punished for this transgression once. Name another price.”

There’s a hiss in the wind. Slight, and cold, like the sound of a freezing snake. Skadi watches him with narrowed eyes, fury writ across her face. Then she smooths out her expression. Composes herself to coldness. “You and your gods have killed my family. You have killed my laughter. My last price is that you return my laughter to me. If you cannot, then our other deals are null and void, and I will not stop until all is ice.”

He watches her, for a long moment. Distantly, he hears one of his raven’s caw. Muninn. He smiles, sharp, amused. “As you wish, my dear. Come, into the halls of Asgard. Together, we will find you a husband.” He waves his hand, and the gates crack open. Skadi steps through like a dark winter wind. Within the halls of Asgard, the lights dim, the feasting quiets. 

They know something is about to happen now. 

He steps from the gate and towards Skadi. He holds out an arm for her, but she does not take it, her expression sharp and cold. Disgusted by him. He smiles urbanely, then starts towards the main hall. She follows after. The walk is silent, like the dead of night, when even the nocturnal animals are quiet.

He pushes open the doors of Asgard to the hall of warriors, bright and bold. The Valkyries move from table to table, serving the gods in the midst of their celebration. But they’re not celebrating right now. Their glazed gazes are focused on him, and Skadi beside him. He catches the hair of a flame disappearing into the shadows, and smiles. 

Loki’s making their escape, as expected, but he knows Loki better than either of them are willing to admit. Loki won’t be far. They could never ignore a spectacle. 

“Gods of Asgard,” he cries, words ringing off the rafters of his home. “I bring to you Skadi, Thjazi’s daughter. She has come to seek reparations for her father’s demise.”

Thor stands to his feet swift, for all he’s swaying heavily, face red with drink. “Let me at her father! I’ll kill her before she can.”

" No,” he says, raising his hand. “There will be no death today, just new beginnings. For the loss of her father, I have promised Skadi a husband and to have her laughter returned to her. First, we will find her a husband. I will not ask you to volunteer, but neither will I have her unfairly choose. But the choice will be hers.”

“Then how will she choose?” Njörðr asks. He’s a smart god, one of the sea. Patient compared to the fiery tempers of many here .

“Yes, All father,” Skadi says, her voice cold as ice. “How will I choose?” 

“By their legs, and their feet,” he says. He barely gives a pause for the incredulity that is sure to follow. “All male gods will line up behind the tapestries lining the walls. They will bare their calves and feet for Skadi to examine. Whichever set she chooses will be her husband.”

For a moment, silence. Pure, unfiltered, startled silence. Then, somewhere, the flicker of hysterical laughter. Loki. Of course, they would find this amusing.

Skadi turns on him, arrow knocked faster than he can track. It’s aimed at his remaining eye. “You mock me,” She hisses, eyes burning. 

“I do no such thing,” he returns, utterly calm, “picking a husband from his face or reputation does not guarantee a successful marriage. This way, you can tell them apart. One with strong calves will be physically capable of dealing with the harsh conditions of your home. A man with calloused feet will be an experienced hunter - something you two will share, I am sure. But if it is beauty you seek, attraction over similarities, then certainly the loveliest pair of feet will belong to the loveliest god.”

She considers this for a long moment, her eyes narrowed. The whole of Asgard seems to hold its breath. Then she eases her posture. The arrow returns to her quiver. Her face is ice as she turns to the lined up gods. “Then they better move swiftly, before I lose my patience.” 

Thor sputters, sharp. “ Father, you cannot be serious -”

“I am,” he says, “So move, all of you. Line up, and bare your legs and feet for the good lady Skadi to choose. She is to be one of us, and you will treat her with the respect that position entails.” 

“Not that it’s ever entailed much, eh, old man?” Loki calls. They’re still in their female form, only now she’s stopped hiding. She perches on one of the chairs close to the halls’ exit. Ready to bolt, but with a front row seat.

The air in the hall noticeably dips. He pretends not to notice, and instead gives Loki a smile. “You are male more often than not. Shall you retreat behind the curtains too?” 

“Oh, I think not,” Loki says. “I doubt the good lady Skadi would appreciate one such as I as her husband, and I’ve already got a wife, remember? You insisted I marry , so I could be properly welcomed among your ranks. It’s a thing the old man does. Quite infuriating, you’ll find, dear Skadi.” 

“The longer you talk,” Skadi says, “The more inclined I am to shoot . Odin convinced me to spare your head, but that does not mean I will continue to hold to that promise.” 

“Oh, how nice of the old man,” Loki says. The look she sends is poisonous. “I’ll make sure to remember it with everything else he has done for me.” 

He sighs, and turns away. The other gods have taken their places behind the tapestries. Only now is there the vague form of bodies behind the cloths, shins, and calves and feet left bare for examination. “Your husband awaits you, Skadi. Please, pay Loki no mind. She only has power when we give it to her. Focus instead on whom you will share your home with.”

Skadi’s glare is as cold as the ice she wields. But then she turns from him, and stalks to the tapestry and the hidden gods. Step by step, she walks along its row, eyes fixated on the feet there. She paces, stride even as a wolf , her eyes sharp. Minutes creep by. Finally, she points to one set of feet. “Him. This is the man I’ll take as my husband.”

The feet shift, an almost awkward, uncomfortable movement.

Loki’s laugh is wild. “Well now,” she sings, “Don’t drag the moment out! Let’s see who's the new ice princesses’ husband! Go on, old man. I know you’re dying to yank off the curtain and reveal the lucky man.” 

He sighs at Loki’s instigation , but raises his hands. Gold runes flick at the ends of his fingertips, and then the tapestry yanks up, pushed away from the other gods by an invisible wind. Standing before Skadi, her finger pointed at his feet, is not the Baldur she had been searching for. It is Njörðr, with his sun beaten skin and gray and silver flecked hair, eyes more green than gold. He smiles, and Skadi hisses, slight, spinning. “What trickery is this?” 

“None,” he lies, “you chose him yourself. I hope your marriage brings back joy to your halls, Skadi.” 

She glares at him, then turns to Njörðr. Njörðr smiles slightly, almost awkward. “If it suits you,” he says, “we can stay at your residence first. I am sure that we will manage to work out something that fits both of us.” 

She stares at him, for a long, long moment, eyes flicking over his face for any sign of drink, or cheer at her father’s death. There is none there . Njörðr’s skin is sunburned and weathered, but it is not flushed with drink. Of course not. Njörðr is Vaneir, not Aesir. Aesir have always been more battle hungry, ready to celebrate death. Vaneir, by and large, are a bit more peaceful. And Njörðr in particular, as a god of the sea, has feet sculpted from the surf. Far better feet than Baldur, for all his perfection, can lay claim to.

“Fine,” Skadi says, her shoulders relaxing a tad. “I will take this man as my husband. But you have your last promise to fulfill, Odin. If you cannot fulfill it, then this marriage means nothing. This man means nothing.” She turns then, and faces him, her gaze frosty. “So, bring back my laughter if you can.” 

“It will not be I who brings back your laughter,” he says. He drops his arms, and smiles, lacing his hands before him. “Before, you had asked for Loki’s head on a pike. Though that is not something I can give you, I will admit that this whole thing is Loki’s mess. Therefore, it is only fitting that she is the one to give you back your laughter.”
Loki freezes where she sits. Slowly, a scowl creeps along her face. “You’re fucking kidding me, old man-”

Skadi’s eyes light with surprise, then narrow in cold pleasure. She steps forwards, away from her soon-to-be husband, and asks. “And if she cannot give my laugh to me?” 

“Then you do whatever you wish with her,” he says, “After all, our agreements will be null and void if she cannot pull this off.” 

Skadi’s smile is slow and cruel. She turns to Loki then, and reaches back. Her fingers feather along her arrows, counting them. Selecting them. Should Loki fail, it is obvious who Skadi will target first. Her smile is sharp. “You heard the All-father, Loki. What joke do you have for me? What ploy or trick will you utilize, and then fail? Everyone knows the tale of Loki, whose only skill is to get into trouble too large for her to handle.”

Loki’s eyes flare, bright and golden and furious. And then the light goes out, and they’re no longer so gold, but the gray-gold of ash smothered embers. She slides off her seat, and at the moment it takes for her to get to her feet, she’s no longer a she, but a man. Tall, muscled, his hair barely long enough for the braids he favors. This form is closer to his giantish heritage, with its deep booming voice, low and pleasant to the ears.

“Oh yes,” he says, “We all know the tale of Loki. The giant brought in among the gods, brought in by Odin himself, sworn as blood brothers and then married into them. Told that he would be treated as a god - but his real role in this shabby excuse of a palace is so simple, even a mortal could play it.” 

Loki extends his hands up, and smiles. The silver scars around his lips flash against the brown of his skin. “I am the stranger! Let in, but never fitting. I am the troublemaker , the trickster, the liar. If something has gone wrong, obviously it’s Loki’s fault. Make Loki fix it. Don’t save Loki when he’s solved the issue and made his reparations, but those reparations have made more people hate him. Oh, the gods themselves have caused some sort of trouble! Who better to fix it but Loki? Who better to blame for it all going wrong but Loki? Who better to scorn, to hate, to threaten, and then to laugh when he’s injured or hated for doing what he does, than Loki? Loki, troublemaker , trickster, liar. Loki, god of chaos, of mischief, of ‘getting into trouble too large for him to handle’. Loki, Asgard's favorite little scapegoat.” 

“But it’s your lucky day, Skadi!” He sings, spinning around to face her. “Today, the old man isn’t wrong. He and Hoenir might have been with me, Thjazi might have taken the cuts of our meal meant for the God of Gods, the All father, but of course nothing could be blamed up on any of those three! This little escapade was my orchestration, top from bottom. I’ve already been threatened and nearly killed three times today, but what’s one more on the list? Loki, scapegoat, is used to such situations.” 

He smiles, and it is an ugly thing. Loki’s gray eyes flick past Skadi, to where he stands, and there is fury smoldering in their dead gray depths. Poison, with each word Loki shapes, spilling into the air. “The goddess Skadi is from the coldest reaches of the world, in a land that would put Jotunheim to shame. Everyone’s always found my tricks so entertaining, and the old man will never lift a finger to help me, but perhaps the ice princess would like a good old-fashioned show? If the old man would permit, give me use of one of Thor’s goats. They’ve yet to be put to death, this night, have they? I think they’ll be a valuable asset to my … act.” 

CasCu jerked awake, eyes flying open. For a moment, his vision swam. The white before him - the icy bricks of the ceiling - made no sense. He expected carved wood and warm lights. The air was too cold. The sounds of people talking were too quiet. It should have been louder. Drinking, roaring, words shot back and forth like an argument. There was a pit in his stomach, cold and dark. Gray eyes swam before his vision, burning with suppressed fury, suppressed hate. Gray eyes …

Kage? Had he dreamed of Kage?

No - that felt wrong in a way CasCu couldn’t name. He made a noise between his teeth and dragged a hand up, scrubbing his face. This wasn’t - wherever he thought he should be. This was - Skadi’s dungeon. They were still in Skadi’s dungeon. Mash, Gudao, and Napoleon were talking. There was another voice there. Softer, lighter, like a young woman’s - familiar. It was familiar. 

Freyja?

CasCu groaned and squeezed his aching eye shut. The voices cut out. Then Gudao - Gudako swam into his blurry vision. She was frowning at him. “CasCu, are you alright? You look … like a wreck.” 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, the lie easy on his lips. He rubbed his face once, then opened his eye again, blinking it repeatedly to keep back the burning sensation. “Did someone new join us? I heard another voice.”

Gudako frowned, obviously debating pushing the point, before giving in. “Someone did join us,” she said. She stepped away from CasCu, giving him room to turn, and gestured to the young girl sitting on the opposite bed. She looked very familiar to someone CasCu knew, with her white hair and bright red-purple eyes, only dressed in patterned winter clothing. Illya. Kage’s Sister, one they had met briefly during an event. Shit.

“This,” Gudako said, “Is Sitonai. She’s a Proper Human History Servant that got caught by Skadi, and has been down here since . She… kinda hijacked my contract with Napoleon, so she’s technically my Servant too now.”

CasCu sighed and scrubbed his face. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. Hello, Sitonai.” But the name ‘Sitonai’ felt wrong. He kept on wanting to call her Illya, or something - gods, what had he thought? Freyja? Why the hell had that name popped up into the back of his mind? Gods, his head was aching.

“Sitonai was just telling us that she’s an Alter Ego,” Gudako said. She sat on the edge of CasCu’s cot, turned to Sitonai. “You said you had three goddesses in you, right?”

“That’s right,” Sitonai said. She beamed at all of them, clearly looking a little smug. “It’s impressive, but it can be really annoying. For one thing, they never shut up.”

Napoleon had left the other cot to Sitonai and Mash. He sat on the ground, arms crossed, lips pursed as he took in this information. He seemed to be having a hard time understanding it. CasCu didn’t blame him. “Really?” Napoleon asked. “How does that work?”

Sitonai placed a finger against her cheek and hummed. “Well … how can I put this… It’s like all these goddesses are roommates that are always fighting about something, with me and my snowy fields serving as their core. They’re all very seasoned goddesses, so it’s hard playing host to such a skirmish.”

Napoleon knuckled his forehead. “A skirmish between goddesses? I can’t even imagine that …”

“Chaldea has some records of Servants with multiple divine entities tied to their core,” Mash said, “but it’s rare, and hard to imagine for most people … you must be very impressive, Sitonai -”

“Call me, Illya,” Sitonai - Illya, said. CasCu’s temple pounded. Gods, Kage wasn’t going to like this one bit.

“Illya,” Mash hurried to correct, “but why are you only imprisoned? If you have three goddesses tied to your Spirit Core, I would imagine Skadi would see you as a threat. She’s lenient on us because we cannot hurt her, but you might be able too.”

“I don’t know,” Illya admitted. “Maybe she isn’t willing to kill a god, or maybe she wants to use me somehow? I have connections to the Holy Grail, so she might be able to use me to make this Lostbelt exist forever.”

“I think if that was the reason, she would have done that already,” Gudako said, frowning.

Napoleon nodded. “And we haven’t seen any of the structures or spell craft you would expect for a ritual to sacrifice a god.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Illya said, “Then maybe it’s because I’m her daughter?” 

Napoleon, Mash, and Gudako blinked. Pain throbbed through CasCu’s eye just as the dots connected. Three goddesses to her Spirit Origin. And for her to be summoned here, she must have had a connection to this land … or Skadi herself. “One of your goddesses is Freyja ,” he said, rasped out.

Illya blinked, then beamed at him. “You’re right. I am composed of three northern goddesses. Sitonai of the Ainu, Louhi of the Finns, and Freyja of the Norse. Of the three of them, I’d say Sitonai is my most dominant personality, but Freyja certainly plays a part. Now do you get it, Gudako?”

“You’re connected to a Norse God?” Gudako hazarded. “So Skadi spared you?”

“It’s more than the Norse God aspect,” CasCu said. The knowledge was right there, buzzing in the back of his head. “ Freyja was beloved by all gods, giants, and mortals, for she was the Goddess of beauty, wealth, and fertility. She even cried red gold. But her connection to Skadi comes through her father, Njörðr, god of the Sea. He and Skadi were married briefly, so according to that part of the myth, Skadi would have been Freyja ’s stepmother during that time period.”

Gudako raised an eyebrow. “So Skadi is keeping you alive because of that?” 

“Mhm,” Illya said, nodding. “I’m not sure how things went down in this Lostbelt, if this Skadi was every Freyja’s stepmother, or if something different happened, but the Freyja in me is saying that Skadi didn’t kill us because we are her daughter. Even if we aren’t the Freyja from this Lostbelt, even if the connection between us is between two different Histories, Skadi couldn’t kill me. A part of her sees me, and sees what she once had.”

For a moment, Gudako, Mash, and Napoleon were quiet. CasCu let the silence sink in, rubbing his temple. It made sense. Skadi was a harsh goddess, benefitting of her domain … but there was a warm part in her too. One that desired comfort, happiness, laughter. When her father had died, she’d been willing to give up her revenge for a husband, for a chance of happiness and life. Though she and Njörðr hadn’t remained husband and wife long, CasCu remembered her getting along with Freyja and Freyr, her twin brother.

“I’m sorry,” Gudako said, finally. “It must be odd for you and Freyja.”

“Well … a bit,” Illya admitted, “but there’s nothing fully wrong with it. She visits, sometimes, to speak to me. I think she’s very lonely here. Or she was very lonely, before Ophelia came. She has the Valkyries, but I don’t think it’s the same. She doesn’t like … being left behind.” 

“No, she doesn’t,” CasCu breathed, before he thought. Illya sent him a sharp glance, and he shook his head, shaking the question out of his mind. “So, Illya,” he said, “You’ve been here longer than us. Do you know any way out of here? Now that I’ve regained some mana, I should be able to undo the rune work on the bars -”

“Oh, you won’t be able to,” Illya said. “Skadi’s rune craft was implanted into her head by Odin himself during Ragnarök , and she has his ravens as well. The only way you’ll break out of this jail is if your runes are as strong as Odin’s are. Besides,” She smiled, bright, “Mash and Gudako are only mortal. If their protections fail, the cold will kill you. I can cast a warming spell on you two, if you’d like.” 

The two glanced at each other. Then Gudako nodded, smiling back at Illya. “I don’t mind,” She said. 

“Okay!” Illya waved her hand, then giggled, “That should have you nice and toasty in no time. Now you’ll be able to sleep soundly, even in a bed with ice blankets and snow pillows.”

“I do feel warmer,” Mash admitted, flexing her fingers. “You must be very powerful, to be able to cast that spell without chanting. Or even runecraft … how is she keeping you here, Illya?”

“Well,” Illya squirmed in her seat, “I’m not really a captive, right now. With three goddesses in my head, I can manipulate the runes on the bars for short periods of time. Louhi’s magic allows me to dream walk , so I know a lot about the castle and the people that live in it.”

“Oho, you don’t say,” Napoleon said. He seemed suddenly more interested. “What can you tell us about lover boy ?”

Illya blinked. “ Lover boy ?”

“Sigurd,” Gudako explained. “We know a bit about his myth, but he’s… very different than we imagined, and some things about him don’t line up. Is he really a Lostbelt Servant?”

“You’re sharp,” Illya breathed. She was silent for a moment, considering, before she shook her head. “Freyja knows about his story, but she won’t tell me whether they took place during the Age of Gods, or during the A.D. era. But she does say that the Heroic Spirit that serves the Crypter is not a Lostbelt Servant. His Spirit Origin comes from Proper Human History.”

CasCu jerked his head up, staring wide at Illya, in the flecks of gold in her red eyes. He could hear the murmurs of disbelief from the others, but those faded out into white noise. Freyja was saying that Sigurd’s Spirit Origin was from Proper Human History. That he was not a Lostbelt Servant, and a part of CasCu knew she was right - but it felt Wrong at the same time. The Sigurd that was not Sigurd was too powerful, too - too -

“His energy doesn’t belong to a Proper Human History Servant,” CasCu said, quietly. “It’s all wrong. I’m not doubting you, Illya, but - there’s something more going on here.” He hesitated. It sounded stupid. It felt stupid, to speak this without any evidence to back it up.

Gudako nodded him. “Yeah, CasCu?” 

He let out a sigh between his teeth. “My gut is telling me it’s not Sigurd. The Spirit Origin is right, the appearance and skill set is right, but his behavior and energy is all wrong. Honestly, it’s like he’s possessed, but I’ve got nothing to back it up but instinct.” 

“Far as I’m concerned,” Napoleon said, “This explains a lot.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “Just look at how ridiculously strong he is. I know we’ll need to do something about him eventually, but -”

“Not eventually. First.”

They all paused, and then stared at Illya. She stared back at them, unwavering. “Sigurd’s the one keeping Paper Moon, and the Crypter with the eye patch knows where the Tree of Emptiness is. And Sigurd always goes where the Crypter goes, even her private quarters.”

“So … you’re saying to get the Paper Moon back, or even locate the tree, we’re going to have to defeat Sigurd,” Mash breathed.

“Then we have a serious problem,” Napoleon said. “This whole job got a whole hell of a lot stronger. Sigurd is stronger than us right now, and he didn’t even go full on out. We’re not completely out of options, but …”

“We need help,” Gudako said. She leaned forwards, her fingers laced before her, eyes frank on Illya. “Someone who knows his weaknesses. A trump card, you could say. Is there anything like that here?” 

Illya beamed. It was a particularly bright, nasty beam, one that made CasCu pause. “There is! It’s the final option that might get you out of this predicament. Of course, Sigurd and the Crypter put a really strong seal on it. So I want you to do your best to get it, and then fight him with everything you’ve got! Once you’ve defeated Sigurd and have the Paper Moon, you can make that Crypter lady tell you where the Tree of Emptiness is. You have to cut that tree down as soon as you can.”

“We can’t restore the world until it’s cut down,” Gudako said, something almost like agreement, though reluctant.

“But … I think at this point … reaching the Wandering Sea is more important,” Mash said. She looked hesitantly at Gudako, then at Gudako’s nod, continued, “That was our first plan when we got here. The main reason we were going to cut the Tree of Emptiness down was to lure Sigurd out.”

“You can’t,” Illya said. “The longer you wait, the more the Tree of Emptiness will grow. What will you do if it ends up completely taking root? You have to cut it down as soon as possible.”

“Makes sense,” Napoleon said, “The bigger it gets, the further down its roots go, the harder it will be to chop down.” 

“We’ll talk to the Director about this,” Gudako said, after a pause to consider it, “He’ll be ripping his hair out to know what’s going on anyway, and Grand Cavallo might be able to give us more information on the Sigurd situation.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Illya sang.

“So,” Napoleon said, “What’s this trick to fighting Sigurd? Some kind of artifact? Don’t tell us it’s a holy Grail - no, the queen probably would have used that. Hmmm.” He pressed his lips together, frowning in consideration.

“It’s a goddess.” Illya said, “There’s another Divinity here in this Lostbelt in addition to Skadi and I . She’s a part of Proper Human History, a part of humanity’s final attempt at resistance made manifest. That means she’ll definitely be on our side. I just sent her location data to your terminal.” She giggled, “I’ve never gotten to use Atlas Institute-style mage craft before!”

“Ah -” Mash checked Ortinax, then nodded. “I see the location. Thank you, Illya.”

“Of course!” Illya slipped off the bed, then brushed off her skirt with small, decisive motions. “But I think that it’s about time to wrap this up.” 

There was a click, slight and soft. The rasp of ice against ice. CasCu saw the spellcraft , a flash of silver that coated the air. There were runes there, yes, but other symbols he couldn’t see or name. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Hunger. In the first time in a long time, he lacked the knowledge to understand. 

“I wish I could come along,” Illya said, “but I’m afraid I need to stay here and go back to sleep. The queen may not want to see me as a threat now, but that will change if I defy her will and leave. So since I can’t come along, I threw in some hiding spells for free! Take care, and I hope to see you again sometime!”

“You will,” Gudako said. She stood, and held out a hand for Illya. “You’ve done a lot for us. Thank you.”

Illya stared at her hand, then shook it with a bright smile. “You’re welcome!”

Thanks to Illya’s three-goddess mage craft , CasCu’s runes were not needed. A part of him wanted to be miffed about that. More of him knew it was sensible. Though the transfer and sleep had helped him regain some mana, he wasn’t strong enough to be of much use right now. Taking apart those runes would have turned him into a one-trick pony. And right now, with the fuzzy bursts of pain in the back of his mind, he’d rather not be that at all.

Illya’s hiding spells were extremely useful, and very, very powerful. CasCu wasn’t a failure at hiding runes himself, but he preferred not to use them, and they weren’t as strong as spells tailored just for stealth. These, though - even knowing Napoleon, Gudako, and Mash were there, CasCu could only tell that they were through his connection to Gudako. Even Napoleon’s Servant signature was muffled into the quietest whisper. It was impressive.

But not impressive enough to stop someone who was obviously expecting them to escape, though.

She stood at the entrance to their exit - the same place they had come in from - dressed in the same black coat with fur trim and stupid fur hat she had been sporting in the Russian Lostbelt. Koyanskaya. One of the two that had led to the destruction of Chaldea. She stood there, smiling sharply, the pleased expression of a cat that had been handed a bowl of cream, hands planted on her hips.

“Well hello~ there~,” She sang, teeth bared in a sharp, bright grin. “Welcome to the Scandinavian Lostbelt! I couldn’t let you guys leave the castle without giving you a warm welcome~.”

At her words, the hiding spell Illya had cast shattered. Gudako, Mash, and Napoleon stood there. Mash was already ready for a fight, her Ortinax up, though at some point she’d attached the ski’s to her feet. Napoleon had followed her lead, cannon pointed at Koyanskaya. But it was Gudako who spoke, her teeth gritted tight. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Koyanskaya seemed to find the sharp words delightfully amusing. She laughed, this skipping thing, before grinning at the trio. “As long as there’s a profit to be made, NFF services will be there~ though I was hoping someone else would take out the trash. But it seems if you want something right, then do it yourselves. You three -” She pointed, first at Gudako, then at the other two. “It’s time for you to hand over what you owe. This castle might be deserted and downright awful to live in, but in this world it’s on par with five-star hotel accommodations! Those don’t come cheep, you know. A short stay for two humans and a handful of heroic spirits should come up to five quadrillion QP!”

The statement was so outrageous that Mash actually took a shuffling step back. Gudako’s jaw dropped. “You’re charging us?!” She shrieked.

“A girl’s got to make money,” Koyanskaya shrugged, “But I understand that your funds might be limited right now. If you can’t pay in QP or Quartz, then I’ll settle for watching your agonizing death instead!” She turned, presenting her back to them, and raised her hands. “Okay, everyone! That’s enough chin-ups there in the woods. Come out and announce yourselves with a nice loud roar now!”

And the woods did roar. CasCu watched, exhausted, as jotunn after jotunn poured from the woods. Each one wore their icy masks. Each one had a NFF Services tattoo emblazoned in black ink on their chest. Gods, it was so many. Not exactly enough to make them turn tail and run, but it’d be difficult to deal with, and the only one in fighting condition was Scáthach , with Tesla maybe coming in second. They were outgunned.

And from the look on their faces, both Gudako and Koyanskaya knew it.

Napoleon adjusted his cannon. “Who is she?” he asked Gudako, “Some kind of beast tamer? Did she come down from the Bolshi Circus?” 

“She destroyed Chaldea,” Gudako retorted, her voice sharp. Her eyes flicked from side to side, counting the giants, the sharp, smiling woman in the middle. “Pawning off your dirty work to your subordinates?”

Shit. That was not the sound of ‘strategic retreat’ Gudako. “ Scáthach , Tesla, I think we’re going to need you,” CasCu sent out.

“Oh, we’re aware.” Tesla said. He and Scáthach stepped out, flanking Gudako on each side, lightning and spears ready.

Koyanskaya only laughed at them. “ Of course! Wrangling subordinates is what I do best. Besides, you three aren’t enough to motivate me personally. I don’t deal with the bottom of the barrel myself. If you want anything to do with me, you’re going to have to prove that you’re worth my time. Alright, Jotunn! Time to get to work! Special honors go to those who do an exceptional job, so make sure to kill them all!”

“There’s more in the trees,” Mash breathed. “Gudako, we can’t fight them all.”

Gudako’s expression grew tighter. Napoleon nudged her sharply with his elbow. “I can see you’ve got some history with her, but save it for later, Maître. There’s no reason to fight on her terms. Let me and Mash get you out of here, and we can come back another day and deal with her then. Just give the order, Maître.”

Gudako. Swore. Loud and viscous, before she threw herself behind Mash, onto her skis, and wrapped her arms around the Demi-Servant’s waist. “Napoleon, Tesla, activate your Noble Phantasms and clear us a fucking path! We’re getting out of here and getting back onto the road!” 

“That’s what we’re talking about, Maître!”

“As you wish, Master.” Tesla began to float into the air. He clapped his hands, thunder booming around him, lightning building in a corona. “Attention please.” 

Not to be outdone, Napoleon straightened. His cannon started its transformation. CasCu saw Scáthach ’s eyes narrow, before she sighed and stepped out of existence. Mash got ready to move, Gudako’s face pressed against her back. Koyanskaya smirked, then stepped into the mass of her rushing jotunn army, which was getting closer, closer, closer -

“O ancient gods, sleep! Now is the time we humans weave our own mythos! System Keraunos!”

“Rainbow, O rainbow, now’s the time to suspend the bridge of possibilities. Conquer the skies! Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile!”

Twin beams of light burst from the Archers. It was impossible to see which one was quicker. Both hit the incoming giants head on. One, a blazing rainbow thing from Napoleon’s cannon. The other a burst of blue, black, and purple electrical light from Napoleon’s hands. Both engulfed the oncoming enemies immediately. The giants on the periphery of the attack jittered, then froze, wavering in place, smoking. Tesla’s stunning effect in action.

When the two violent Noble Phantasms cleared, the army of giants had a whole path carved through it, full of blackened bodies and snow that glittered with ash. In the wake of such noise, the silence seemed to swallow them. Mash looked sick. Gudako’s shoulders jerked, then she pressed her face against Mash’s shoulders. “GO!” 

Mash took off. The skis Grand Cavallo had dragged and forced the other inventors to create roared into action. Jets propelled the two at speeds hard to follow, all energy pushed into this initial thrust. Napoleon was on his own in a second, cannon reversing in his hands. An explosion from the end: he was propelled forwards in their wake, rapidly running over the still smoking bodies and ash. Tesla winked out of existence, in Spirit Form, and in Spirit Form, CasCu ran after them.

And then hesitated.

He turned back to the castle, and stared up at the ice. Koyanskaya gaped at them. CasCu waited for her to shoot. He knew she had a gun, knew she was close enough for sniping range. But then she smiled, this sharp, sly thing, and turned away from them with a shrug. Roared at her remaining jotunn to walk into the castle with her. 

That woman was going to be fucking trouble soon. CasCu knew it. He just hoped that, when the time came, they would be strong enough to deal with her.

He pulled his gaze away, and up towards the castle. The brilliant, beautiful, lonely castle of the Goddess and Lostbelt King, Skadi. Around the apex, two circling black dots: the ravens, Huginn and Muninn. Something sharp and hot stabbed through his chest. An angry, primal jealousy and possessiveness he couldn’t put his name too. His gaze fell to the place he knew the throne room must have been. The place Skadi had to be watching them. 

His eye hurt. His eye stung, and in the brief moment of blinding pain, CasCu thought he saw the layers of ice peel away. Thought he saw Skadi, sitting on her throne, surrounded by no one. Alone, as she had always hated to be. Her hand raised, and then covered one of her eyes. The same one that was hurting in his own sockets. And then she smiled, cold as ice, and mouthed three words.

“I see you.” 

CasCu jerked back. The pain in his socket died out, and with a quiet swear, he shook his head, shaking the illusions and the frozen sensation from the corners of his mind. Stop it. He didn’t have fucking time for this. With a growl, he ran his hand over his face, and turned his back on Skadi’s castle.

Chapter Text

They camped in another one of Napoleon’s boltholes . This one was too close to Skadi’s castle for CasCu’s liking, but they didn’t have much choice. Gudako’s mana preserves were dangerously low. They had to camp. She had to rest, and eat as much of those specialized trail rations - chock-full of mana by design - to regain what she mana she had spent in those consecutive fights. And Gudako being Gudako, she made everyone sit down so she could share them with everyone else as well.

Alter didn’t come out to eat. CasCu wasn’t too surprised. Alter’s presence had been a low hum in the back of his head, but every time he reached out, all he received in turn was pain and disinterest. CasCu would pull up some runes to ease that pain once he got his mana reserves up. Right now, the best thing for Alter was to stay in Spirit Form, where the pain of his curses was more nebulous, and didn’t cut as deep.

Everyone else was in solid form, though. Tesla had been … cornered, for lack of a better word, by Napoleon, whose interest had been greatly arisen by Tesla’s Noble Phantasm chant. The emperor was sitting beside the inventor right now, peppering him with boisterous questions, while Tesla attempted to eat his mana rich ration. He must have been pretty low on mana - at any other time, he would have gladly taken the chance to boast.

Gudako and Mash were sticking close together. They leaned against each other, Gudako’s head resting on Mash’s shoulder, Mash’s head resting lightly against hers. Gudako ate her food with mechanical bites. There was that hollow look in her eyes again, as if she was staring at something far, far away. In contrast, Mash looked deep in thought. She frowned at nothing, her brows slightly furrowed.

That left CasCu and Scáthach , sitting beside each other, eating their own rations. Scáthach hadn’t expended much mana today, something CasCu guessed she was displeased with, by the faint narrowed tilt to her eyes. Only one fight for her. No wonder she was so disappointed in the day’s turnout. Or perhaps it had been the truth of Skadi that caused that expression, that shadow in her eyes.

CasCu understood that all too well. Just thinking about the Goddess staring out of Scáthach ’s face made his stomach roil painfully in disgust, a tight wedge of fear lancing into his chest. To have no control of your own body, to have no sense of self, to be treated as nothing more than a puppet to be moved around by a being stronger than yourself - it was horrific. 

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

CasCu stared at his half-eaten ration. The first half had been devoured swiftly. It now sat in the pit of his stomach like lead. “You knew Skadi,” he said, slowly, “And Skadi knew you, even in this Lostbelt. How?”

“I think you can guess,” Scáthach murmured, her lips barely moving. The words were far too quiet.

CasCu stared at Gudako’s hallow expression. His stomach lurched. “Respectfully,” he said, “guessing isn’t enough, teacher. We need to know. I think - it might be important, here. Especially since she’s wearing your face.” 

The words were too sharp. Scathach didn’t take well to people being sharp with her. He’d meant for the words to be even, but the sight of Skadi in the back of his mind sent cold panic through him, chills sliding through his body. He sighed, and scrubbed his face. He should probably apologize. 

But to his surprise, Scáthach spoke. Her words were very measured. She stared at her ration, head tilted to the side. “Skadi was not happy in her marriage,” she said, “Njord was not an unpleasant husband, and she did not hate him, but she could not love him. The issue lied in the fact neither of them could stand each other’s lands. Njord was afraid of her cold mountains. Skadi hated his seas. She didn’t stay at his palace long, and instead traveled. Her travels took her to my Castle of Shadows.” 

CasCu straightened, and stared at her. Skadi sent him a look, wry. “I am telling you this,” she said, “because I believe you already know it. And you are right. Though this would be a good lesson to teach Gudako, this is not the place to do it. Skadi is a powerful opponent. The gods were afraid of her.”

“She caught them in a moment of vulnerability,” CasCu said. He frowned at himself. The words came from nowhere. Certainly not what the throne told him, of that myth. His eye ached, and he knuckled it.

“Perhaps,” Scáthach said, “but a warrior is all the more dangerous if they know the best times to strike. Skadi didn’t stay at my place for long, but she stayed long enough for me to learn about Norse runes. She did not use them herself - not beyond isa - but once I had the runes, I was able to connect them to what I knew of Celtic runes, and apply them to combat. Skadi left soon after, and I never heard from her again.”

It all made sense, so much sense, and CasCu wasn’t even sure why. He knuckled his eye again, harder. “She’s different from the one you knew. Not the same.”

“Correct,” Scáthach said, “but is that a surprise? The Skadi I met was still fresh from her father’s death. She was hurt, and didn’t like the Aesir or the Vanir. Yet a part of her still longed for love and life, enough that she set aside revenge to marry into the gods, on the off chance she could be happy again. I do not think she was pleased with her own choices, but had decided to live with them anyway. But this is not the Skadi from Human History. We do not know exactly what happened here. All we know is that she somehow survived Ragnarök , and is hiding in the body of my Lostbelt self. Of course, she would be different from the one I knew.” 

CasCu sighed, and took a listless bite of his ration. With each chew, a small burst of mana flickered around his body, electric. He shuddered. “I guess that’s true,” he said. “How are you going to deal with her?” 

“She’s a god, isn’t she?” Scáthach asked. She sounded bored again, her red eyes staring into nothing. “When Gudako gives the order, I will kill her. Though perhaps, this time I will die. A god in my body must be formidable.” She smiled, and this time it was all teeth and hunger, bloodlust.

 Of course, she’d be excited about the prospect.

CasCu just felt tired. A little cold. A little sick. “Doesn’t it …” He hesitated, floundering for the word, before he gave up, “creep you out?”

Scáthach considered him, for a long moment, before saying, “Should it? That Scáthach is not me. Her mind, her personality, has all been hollowed out to make room for Skadi’s own. If anything, I feel disappointed in her. She should have fought better. Resisted Skadi’s take-over . But I suppose that I do not know how I myself would fare against a mental attack like that, so I have no room to judge.” 

CasCu shuddered.

“Does it scare you, Setenta?” Scáthach asked, watching him. He couldn’t parse the expression on her face.

CasCu hesitated, then huffed. “I wouldn’t say scare,” he said, “But it makes me uneasy. If it was my face staring back, and someone else staring out of my eyes …” he shuddered again, his fingers clenching tight around his ration. His stomach twisted again, sick. His eye ached. “That loss of control would be horrible,” he mumbled. It must have been something like what Kage felt, when the Grail’s mud was first overtaking him.

“I do not think there is anything left of that Scáthach to care about her situation,” Scáthach said, a bit quieter. CasCu had nothing to say to that. He forced himself to eat his ration, bit by bit, little by little. Sometimes, when he was sitting beside Scáthach and talking like this, he felt younger, a little more like his Lancer selves. But the thought of what had happened to this Lostbelt’s Scáthach was enough to push that sensation away.

“Setenta,” Scáthach said, and it was that voice, the one she used when people were hiding things from her.

Even now, CasCu couldn’t help but react at that tone. He looked up, away from his ration, and met her gaze. “Yeah?”

“You stopped, when we were retreating from Skadi’s castle.” Scáthach said. Her eyes bored into him, sharper, evaluating. “Don’t ask me how I know, for I will not tell you You stopped. Why did you stop?” 

“She was watching us,” CasCu said. “Didn’t you see her? She was watching us escape Koyanskaya. She was watching Koyanskaya try to kill us.” 

Scáthach considered him for a longer moment. Her eyes half narrowed, before she looked away, a small sound escaping between her teeth. “I did not see that,” she said, “Skadi would have been hidden away behind layers of ice. I am surprised you did.”

“I’m surprised I did too,” CasCu admitted, “it was hard to see anything with the strength of the magecraft in that castle. But I saw her, watching us make our escape. And she -” he hesitated, slight.

“She what,” Scáthach prodded.

CasCu hesitated again. She’d done… something, at that moment . He knew she had. She’d made some gesture. Had said something - but the question of ‘what’ was curiously blank. He remembered seeing her. He remembered nothing else, as if the exact details had been carefully erased from his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Nothing,” he said, rushed, “but I thought it was weird that she didn’t stop us. Or Koyanskaya. She didn’t seem especially eager for us to die, so for her to just watch while that happened …” he trailed off, staring at his ration. It was an obvious deflection. He wondered if Scáthach would take it.

She considered him for another moment, as if weighing her options, before letting out a long breath. “I don’t think she cares whether we are in her captivity or not,” she said. “Either way, Skadi does not believe we pose a threat to her. As for Koyanskaya, I doubt the fox woman is under Skadi’s jurisdiction. Like in Russia, Koyanskaya is doing her own thing.”

“Skadi still has the power to stop her,” CasCu said.

“Does she?” Scáthach asked.

CasCu stared at her, for a long, long moment. But Scáthach was wearing that face, blank and unreadable, and CasCu was… he was tired. He looked away, and took another listless bite against his rations. The back of his head pounded, like the steady thrum of a heartbeat. With each swallow, his throat ached a bit more. He took his last bite, and balled the up the wrapper tight in his fist.

“I guess we’ll see,” he muttered, and stood to throw his wrapper away.

They left the camp in the morning, and headed towards the coordinates Illya had sent to Ortinax. CasCu wished they were headed back to the Shadow Border instead. He’d spent his long watch thinking, about Skadi, about Scáthach , about the odd blank spots in his minds, those dreams he couldn’t remember, the ache in his eye and the bruises around his throat. About Kage, a lot, of how he was doing. If Cu and Proto had continued pouring mana into those runes , so his hellion would live.

By the time the sun rose, and Gudako and Mash were on their feet, CasCu’s head felt like it was full of steel wool. A convoluted mess with danger of cutting whatever it touched. There was a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t explain. Too much shit was going on. He needed a break, and they had no choice but to push forwards.

He stayed in Spirit Form. Let his senses focus on the surroundings, but otherwise, let the conversations Mash, Gudako, and Napoleon were having fade out of existence. Just kept moving. One foot in front of the other. He kept on seeing Scáthach ’s expression in his minds eye, the way she was watching him, sharp and expectant. As if she knew something he didn’t. As if there was something wrong with him.

CasCu thought of Skadi’s face, of Scáthach ’s face looking back at him with Skadi’s expression, Skadi’s voice, and shuddered. 

“Galdhøpiggen -”

CasCu’s head jerked up so fast his neck hurt. Mash had uttered the word, and with frantic haste, he tuned into the conversation. They were talking about the coordinates Illya had sent them. Where that mountain was located, how the terrain differed from Proper Human History. CasCu didn’t care about those details. The name felt like a spike through him, pushing everything else to the back of his head.

Galdhøpiggen.

Galdhøpiggen, the highest summit in Norway. Galdhøpiggen, where the goddess they were searching for was entombed, kept constrained. Galdhøpiggen, which sounded so familiar and so strange, his mind twisting painfully around the words, like it was important, like it meant something, like it was the key to a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed. Galdhøpiggen, Galdhøpiggen, Galdhøpiggen -

CasCu stumbled, his feet skipping over the snow. He reached out for nothing, fingers swinging through tree branches then passing right through them. Spirit Form. Above him, the caw of ravens. The sound was stabilizing. He found his footing again, and let out a slow, slow breath. His head hurt, as if that pile of steel wool that was currently his brain had grown in proportion and scrapped against the confines of his skull.

And in that pain, clarity bloomed. Galdhøpiggen wasn’t the name he was looking for. It was Hindarfjall he was thinking of, the sleeping place of Brynhildr, first of the Valkyries and Odin’s daughter. In his pain and confusion, he had gotten the two confused. CasCu almost wanted to laugh. The pain in his eye was deep, and throbbing. Hindarfjall was not native to this area. That mountain was closer to Germany, not this far north. The only similarity was that they were both tall peaks, that they both held goddesses -

“Are you okay?”

CasCu blinked hard. Alter’s grunted words were hard to make out against his pounding head. The thoughts he’d been chasing scattered like snow battered by winds. The raven’s call assured him that they would come back. “I should be asking you that,” he said.

Alter grunted, grating. “I’m not the one in distress right now.” 

Shit. CasCu froze in his next step, thoughts twisting, before the realization struck. He growled softly, then ran his nonexistent hands through his nonexistent hair. The motion did nothing but sooth him. Helped to collect his mind. “Things have just been … finicky, in my head. I thought I recognized the mountain Gudako and Mash were talking about, but no such luck. I mistook it for something else.”

“And it distressed you.”

The words weren’t a question. CasCu pressed his lips together, and wondered how the fuck he would address it. If it were Cu or Proto asking it, he would know the answer. But it was Alter. Alter, who was supposed to be so deep in curses that he wouldn’t care what distress CasCu was feeling, should have been in too much pain to feel CasCu’s distress.

“You’re being weird,” Alter grunted. “ Scáthach knows it. Gudako’s catching on.”

“Not that weird,” CasCu murmured, some attempt at buying time. His mind raced and ached in equal measure. It was hard to think.

“Waking up with bruises around your neck is weird. Being distressed over something that’s not connected to either of us is weird. Lying to Gudako and Scáthach is weird.” Each word was cold and methodical, laid out one after another as if they were nothing but fact.

CasCu bristled, a tad. “I haven’t been lying.”

Alter was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, it was low. Not quite a rumble, but just edging that as well. “We both know what rope burns look and feel like. Specially around our throats - get those dreams enough from our Emiyas, remember? And when something’s going wrong in your head, you lie. You’ve lied ever since your summons. What makes right now any different? Something’s wrong , and you’re hiding it again.”

CasCu grit his teeth, wishing he could hear them grind. “I -”

“Kage wouldn’t stand for it.”

CasCu swallowed a curse. It was a nail in the coffin, and they both knew it. Kage might have acted an ass and a brat, but gods, he cared. He cared so much, and if he sensed anything was wrong, he’d be worse than a dog gnawing on a bone. He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t rest, until he figured out what it was and fixed it. Just thinking about Kage directing that drive towards him made CasCu’s chest burn in familiar fondness.

He let out a soft breath, and let his shoulder’s slump. “Yeah, I know … but - Lugh’s truth, Alter, I don’t know what’s going on with me right now.”

Alter said nothing. CasCu was thankful. He needed the silence to order his thoughts, struggle to keep them in place. The sensation of steel wool had increased once more. There was a low buzz in the back of his head, and his eye ached as if someone had dug a knife into it. It was hard to work his throat to speak, to get the words out, as if something was constraining his windpipe and keeping him from speech.

“I don’t … remember my dreams. I know they’re not like normal dreams. They feel more like memories - but I have no recollection of them afterward , nothing but impressions. I’m jumping to conclusions I shouldn’t have the knowledge for. There’s - blank spots in my head. And my eye won’t stop fucking hurting -”

Too much. CasCu’s throat closed up, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of pain. He focused on breathing through it, slow and steady. It was more pain then Spirit Form normally gave him. It was hard to concentrate.

Alter continued to be quiet. For a long, long moment, he stayed quiet. And when he spoke, it was a rasp of a rumble, low and threatening. The voice of the Mad King, so often used but very effective when wielded. “We’re telling Gudako. No waiting around like you did with your nightmares before.”

“We can’t,” CasCu said, words pouring from his lips before he fully registered them. “Gudako needs to focus on this Lostbelt. It’s not like the Singularities, Alter. If Skadi decides to truly hunt us down, then we’re done for. We can’t risk Gudako being distracted. Whatever’s going on with my head can wait until this is over.”

For a moment, a long moment, Alter was silent. CasCu could practically feel him evaluating him, considering his words, weighing their truth. CasCu hesitated, then gave a little prod. “And honestly? It could be just stress. With Kage how he is … once he’s fixed, once he’s alright, this might all blow over. I’d rather not make a mountain out of a molehill until we’re certain it’s not a molehill.” 

Once more, nothing. CasCu wondered if he’d over done it - then Alter sighed, a rush of mental static. “Fine.”

One word. Either his energy had been completely taken from him by their conversation, or the depression was winning over any anger he might have felt. Maybe both. Likely both. CasCu let out a bit of a sigh, and closed his eyes, blocking out the world for a moment. Let himself exist in the staticky pain of his own mind, where his breathing echoed like someone was breathing with him.

They saw the light before they reached the castle.

The brilliant, burning light of fire. Of blues and oranges and reds and purples. All reaching towards the sky and playing around the trees, at the very summit of this mountain. With each step, they got closer to it. It burned hotter. With each step, they could see the outline of the castle within the flames. One made of crystal, or ice, untouched by the raging heat of the fires that surrounded it.

No wonder he’d reacted so viscerally to Galdhøpiggen. Because now, here in this Lostbelt, Galdhøpiggen had taken Hindarfjall’s place. Some part of him had been able to draw the connection between mountains, between stories, placing one where it had not been, mixing the two together to land on the right answer.
Gods, his eye really hurt.

Slowly, they came to a stop. Gudako held up her hand to block out the light, and squinted at the castle. Sweat glinted on her brow. “Fuck,” she breathed, “the air’s hot. We’re not even that close to it.” 

Napoleon nodded, and thudded his cannon into the ground. “The fire is definitely made with magecraft . Nothing else could keep it burning without melting the palace. It makes for one hell of a bounded field - but it’ll take more than a barrier of magecraft flame to keep this Heroic Spirit away! Especially since the goddess within might be the key to turning everything around!” He laughed at that, loud and boisterous.

“Gudako,” Mash said, stepping close to her. “I think - I think this is the Palace of Fire. Both in the poem ‘Sigrdrífumál’ of Poetic Edda and the Völsunga Saga mention a palace on the top of Mt. Hindarfjall, surrounded by a fiery hedge made from the shield of the gods. It was called the Palace of Fire. It's a Bounded Field created by Odin himself.”

No, it wasn’t. This wasn’t Odin’s work.

Napoleon spoke up before CasCu could. “This bounded field hasn’t been here since the Age of Gods,” he said. “At best, it’s an imitation. A bit of fancy magecraft that just looks the part. Your Caster could tell you. But you can see it too, mademoiselle. Look close, within the fire.”

Mash and Gudako exchanged brief glances. “I can’t see anything,” Gudako admitted.

Mash frowned, then leaned slightly forwards, her eyes squinting. The pain in CasCu’s eyes flared up, and he blinked hard, tears burning across his lashes. His sight readjusted, and then - shit. That wasn’t fucking promising.

“There are muspel giants in the flames!” Mash said, her voice spiking a bit in surprise. “Gudako, there’s a bunch of them, just like in the castle.” 

“Great,” Gudako muttered. “You know, for once I’d like an objective to be slightly easier to complete.” 

Napoleon laughed at her, like he knew just as well as anyone that that feat was impossible. “They’re probably on guard duty! Their legs are wrapped up in chains, and they’re walking through the flames like it’s absolutely nothing. Damned impressive, ain’t it? I love tough sorts who are proud of it!”

“Do you think Ophelia was the one who chained them?” Mash asked, her voice soft.

Napoleon hesitated. His cheer decreased, a bit . His expression more somber. “Whoever did it, they don’t have good taste. The old Jötunheimen highlands of myth weren't exactly the place to be for the likes of muspel giants. But either way, we’re going to have to burst our way through one way or another.”

“We’ll have to avoid using Noble Phantasms,” Gudako said. “I want to save those in case we hit something really dangerous. Scáthach , come on out, I know you’ve been itching for a fight. Napoleon, how many are there?”

“Around five of them,” Napoleon said, squinting into the flames. “And they’ve caught sight of us. You’re a rowdy bunch of giants, aren’t you?” He called those last words out, voice carrying across the snow. In answer, the giants roared. CasCu saw one of them leap towards them, then get cut off by the chain around its ankle.

“You said they were chained down,” Gudako said, brows furrowed in thought. “How are they chained?”

“They have pretty long leads,” Napoleon said. “Those leads do overlap, so if we aren’t careful we’ll be facing more than one at a time.” He puffed up a tad, eyes glinting eagerly. “And there might be more I’m not seeing.”

“Got it,” Gudako said, “Mash, how are you feeling?”

Mash took in a deep breath, then nodded sharply, drawing herself up straight. “Ortinax output is stable,” she reported, “Auto-maintenance function, activated. Amalgam Goad, standing by.” In other words, she was ready.

“Good,” Gudako breathed, “ Scáthach , what do you think?”

Scáthach stepped from thin air, one of her spears already in hand. “I think,” she said smoothly, “that their chains are probably designed to release when trouble occurs. We’ll have to hit hard and quick before the others reach us. With the three of us, it’s possible.”

“I’ll have everyone else on standby,” Gudako said, eyes narrowing. “Focus on the one in the middle. I want the shortest path to the castle. There’s no reason to go around if there are more in the flames we can’t see.”

Napoleon nodded, then lifted his cannon. “I’ll do what damage I can while the mademoiselles close the distance!” 

Scáthach made a noise between her teeth, dismissive. Napoleon’s cannon shot covered any retort she might have made. The cannonball struck one of the central giants hard in the leg, and it crumpled beneath them. In a flash, Scáthach was closing the distance, Mash on her heels. Scáthach reached the giant first, her spear lashing out to strike across its neck . Blood sprayed and burned away in the flames. If they were hurting her, she didn’t show it. Mash, however, wasn’t faring so well. She flinched back from the heat even as she moved forwards.

Gudako made a noise between her teeth. “CasCu,” She said, “I need you to take down that bounded field. If you can’t do that, then at least calm the flames down. That’s going to do more damage then the giants.”

CasCu stepped forwards out of Spirit Form. He waited a moment for the echoing sounds of Napoleon’s cannon to fade. Chains snapped. The remaining four giants rushed towards Scáthach and Mash’s location.

“Got it, Master,” CasCu said, then dropped to the snow. He closed his aching eye, and the world leapt into clarity. Like this, the snow practically glowed silver. He could feel the pulse of Skadi’s power through the powder, running all the way up to the base of the bounded field. That was different. There were runes there, at cardinal points - kaunan, thurisaz, and algiz were the main three - but the rest of it felt like modern magecraft. A mix of Skadi’s power and Ophelia’s then, or perhaps Not-Sigurd had helped Ophelia lay down the foundation.

No.

The person they were finding should be effective against Not-Sigurd. She would not be so easily trapped by his magecraft. More likely, this was Ophelia’s work, with Skadi or someone else providing some support. No wonder it appeared to have Odin’s power. Whoever had set this up had used Odin’s rune craft to help shape it - but it was not the same as Odin’s power in truth. CasCu could take it apart.

CasCu pushed himself up and lunged towards the flames. He heard another shot from Napoleon’s cannon. Another one of the muspel had fallen - down to three, then. They were taking them down slower than they had the bergasi and the jotun. Not too surprising, but it meant CasCu had to circle the fight to get to the first cluster of runes.

He could see them, write gold against the snow. The flames were burning the hottest around them, blazing with a ferocity that made his skin prickle. He shoved his hands into their depths and pressed his fingers against the runes. The resulting surge of power was freezing against his skin.  Skadi’s mana - no, someone different. Someone supported by Skadi’s power, but not Skadi herself. Still, it meant he wouldn’t be able to use isa to dismantle this.

Cu made a noise between his teeth, sharp. His head pulsed, painful, in tune with his heart. His fingers dragged patterns across the snow, gold filling in the spaces, reversing what was written. Perpo, to increase the strength of his own magecraft. Laguz, for water, directly contrasting Kaunan. Dagaz, for breakthrough. It wasn’t the complete opposite of thurisaz and algiz, but when he tied it with ansuz, he could change the meaning. Breakthrough to tear down. The runes began to flicker, and dim. CasCu didn’t wait to see if they failed completely. He was off like a shot to the next cluster.

Another giant had been taken down. Two left, fighting furiously. Napoleon had joined the melee, no longer taking potshots from afar. There was a sound in the air, high-pitched , like the whine of a swiftly flying object. CasCu pushed it out of his mind and pressed his fingers against the next rune cluster. The ground shook as another giant fell.

“Guys!” Gudako called, her voice rising over the chaos, “Watch out!”

There was something in her voice, high and sharp, panic and surprise, that made CasCu’s head jerk up. There was something approaching them, and approaching fast. Before he could react, it had impacted the ground. Snow blew into the air, obscuring sight. It cleared swiftly, revealing that thing - cone-shaped , silver with blue crystals, a large blue orb with a purple cross like a pupil in it - barrelling towards Gudako.

“GUDAKO!” Mash shrieked. She tried to disengage from her giant, but it wasn’t letting up. Scáthach was in position to strike , but she would be too slow -

Alter was there, a wash of color before Gudako; his tail smacked into her side and pushed her out of the way. CasCu had just enough time to throw isa, stillness, like a golden harpoon at the damn thing before it struck. His rune, panic cast, slowed it down. Not enough. It still hit Alter with enough force to send him stumbling back, that pointed tip drilling deep into his stomach. 

Cu’s own stomach dropped. His fingers flexed. Bile rose in the back of his mouth, and gods he didn’t have to feel Alter’s pain to know it, and know it well. He knew the feeling of gut wounds. How ripped up and strength drained and pain wracked the body became because of them. Alter was good. He was good, but with his curses in full effect -

The thing retreated out of Alter’s stomach, leaving a gaping hole where it had been. Alter folded, fell. Blood stained the snow. CasCu moved, feet pounding against white powder and into red. He saw the thing twist and start towards Gudako again. A giant fell; he heard the thump of it as it hit the ground, Mash’s cry as she ran to where Gudako was pushing herself up. Metal clanged against metal, an attack barely blocked.

CasCu fell beside Alter, knees buried in the snow, blood staining the blue of his robes purple. Again. Again. Something like laughter, high and hysterical, pitched in the back of his throat. He shoved his hands against Alter’s chest, fingers burning with golden light. Tears ran from his eye; his vision blurred. He could see the runes hanging in the air before him, golden, blazing. 

Kaunan, regeneration. Wunjo, comfort, to numb what pain he could. Naudiz, survival. Sowilo, the sun, health, wholeness. Dagaz, dawn, to power sowilo. Ansuz, Odin, to tie it all together. To make it fucking work. 

The wound begin to knit, slow, steady, flesh reaching out for flesh. Alter didn’t react. But his fingers weren’t fading - he wasn’t fucking fading - and his chest still rose and fell the stubborn fucking bastard he was. There was the booming rumble of thunder and cannon fire in the distance. Lights played across the snow in dizzying flashes of color. CasCu poured more mana through the runes, tears splattering across Alter’s skin and sizzling at the heat of the mana that ran through his body.

Bit by bit, the wound started to close. It started to shrink. CasCu let out half a sob. There was a burst of energy, a loud boom, a crash. Napoleon’s furious roar, “GET OUT OF HERE!” Then a hand hit CasCu’s shoulder. Mana poured through him, a small boost, but a boost nonetheless. Gudako.

“By my Command Seal,” she said, her hand joining CasCu’s on Alter’s chest. The Command Seals on the back of it began to glow. “Alter, you will not die on me, I command you to HEAL!”

The flash of mana was brilliant and burning. For a few seconds, CasCu couldn’t see. When the light cleared, Alter no longer had a gaping wound in his stomach. But there was still a wound, this deep puncture. CasCu sucked in a breath and started pouring mana into his runes again. Alter’s heartbeat felt stronger, his breathing more solid.
Gudako made a noise between her teeth, expression tight. “When we get to the Shadow Border, I’m changing him out,” she said. “He needs to see Nightingale.”

“He can’t keep doing this,” CasCu agreed, shaking. “He can’t fucking - he can’t take any more of this.” Neither of them could. Any more near death injuries and Alter’s curses would rip him apart. And if CasCu had to watch someone he cared for nearly die fucking again - he didn’t know. Gods, he didn’t know what he would do.

Another crash sounded. Breaking ice, a building collapsing. CasCu risked a glance to the side. Mash, Gudako, Scáthach , and Tesla stood there, watching as the ice palace behind the flames began cave in on itself. Napoleon lowered his smoking cannon and winced. “Aw shit.”

Gudako cursed, then pushed herself up. “What did you do?” 

“I just knocked that thing into the palace,” Napoleon said, wincing again, “What if that thing ends up eating our sleeping beauty? Or she gets buried when the palace collapses fully?”

Annoyance flared hot in CasCu’s chest. “It won’t,” he said, cold, “Neither of those things will happen. She’s not going to be so easy to damage.” Not like Alter, whose wound had retreated to the size of a quarter, skin healing over it in a scar. Not like Alter, still unconscious, so, so fragile like all mortals were. With a flick of his fingers, a burst of gold, he sent Alter back to Spirit Form to recuperate, then stood.

Scáthach was watching him, her eyes slightly narrowed. Mash made a noise between her teeth. “How can you be -”

Another boom, the burst, and crash of shattering ice. The thing flew out of the opposite side of the castle. Black blood trailed in rivulets down its form . It impacted the snow, hard, and then collapsed into motes of ice, which disappeared swiftly. And after it, following at a steady, unconcerned pace, a figure, stepping through the flames. 

“Good morning, Everyone.”

She had a soft voice, low and breathy, like the whisper of wind over snow. It matched her expression, gentle, and those purple eyes with the gold pupils, soft. Her hair half covered her face, and cut to fall like two wings encircling her, the outer layer a pure white, the inner blue and sparkling, like rippling water or a starry sky. Her armor was more decorative than anything, dark, with the same shimmer the inside of her hair carried. Crowning her head was a circlet of black bird wings; raven’s wings. The lance she carried was taller than her, with an oversized , heart shaped blade, purple and shimmering with starlight. She held it lightly in her hands, as if it weighed nothing.

CasCu sucked in a sharp, painful breath. He knew. He’d known that she would step from the fires, because it could be no one else but her. Yet he still hadn’t been prepared. Not for the swell of grief, regret, pain to settle in his chest like a cold, thorny ball.

“I am a daughter of Odin,” she breathed, her gaze meeting Gudako’s, “and the eldest of the Valkyries. Once I was both demigod and goddess of old. In Proper Human History, my story and praises were sung in the Poetic Edda and the Völsunga Saga. I am an avenger who once loved Sigurd, only to end up taking his life followed by my own. I am Brynhild , a Heroic Spirit, last Master of Humanity.”

They retreated away from the Palace of Flames before the commotion they made drew anything in. CasCu settled into Spirit Form, feeling - weirdly drawn and thin, as if stretched to breaking. He could feel Alter’s pain in the back of his mind, the crackling static of discomfort. It blended in with the fuzzy pain marking his thoughts. His eyes kept on drifting to Brynhild , who walked so lightly across the snow, feet barely making tracks behind her.

They’d been talking, as they walked. CasCu was having a hard time focusing and listening into them. In gray scale, Brynhild was no one special. All the opulence and shimmering colors were drained from her form. But he couldn’t help but feel like he knew her. Like there was something there he was missing. Something welled in his chest, bitter on the back of his tongue. 

Regret.

“Shield maiden Mash Kyrielight, Gudako,” she was saying, “I am prepared to devote myself, body and soul, to your journey to restore proper human history. That I am here in this Lostbelt means that there is someone with whom I must do battle … I am ready and willing to help you however I can, Gudako.” 

“We’ll be glad to have you,” Gudako said. She gave a small smile.

Brynhild dipped her head slightly, smiled in turn. It was a soft thing, solemn, and familiar enough CasCu wanted to bang his head against a tree. Why couldn’t he remember where he’d seen that smile before? 

“On my name, I swear to you, I’ll be of use,” Brynhild said. “My magecraft comes from Primordial Runes, bestowed to me by Odin himself. It is difficult for even powerful Heroic Spirits to resist their effects .”

“Oh ho ho?” Napoleon asked. He’d kept glancing at Brynhild with an appreciative gaze that made CasCu want to punch him. Napoleon’s smile was certainly large, almost expectant, hopeful. “Care to show off some of those runes, mademoiselle?”

“I don’t think we need a demonstration,” Gudako said. She frowned briefly at the ground. “None of us could resist Skadi when she used those runes on us. And we’ve had trouble with Sigurd’s death runes -” She stopped herself, too late.

Brynhild had frozen, the very tip of her spear resting against the snow, drawing a light furrow through the flakes. Her head dipped down. She took a soft breath, then let it out slowly. “I see,” she breathed, “then Sigurd is here, as I expected. Yes, that explains a great deal. I know what I must do now.”

Mash and Gudako paused, Napoleon stopping soon after them. Mash frowned. “Um … Brynhild?” 

Brynhild looked up, but her voice was very quiet. “When I first materialized in this Lostbelt, I wandered it aimlessly, without understanding why I was here. I went around defeating the giants who attacked me, before being sealed away by my sisters, as well as a woman calling herself a Crypter. From then on, I remained asleep in the palace protected by a Bounded Field modeled after those created by my father, Odin, until you woke me … Gudako, I must apologize to you in advance. Should I do battle with Sigurd, I hope you will forgive me if I embarrass myself.”

Napoleon whistled softly. Gudako frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Brynhild’s fingers tightened on her spear. CasCu’s gut twisted tight with guilt. Her voice was very soft, as she spoke. “Romance is no fever. It does not stop until you burst into flame, and all that is left is ash. If a hero I am sworn to love comes close to me, I may just end up killing them. I love Sigurd, and I am also the one who killed him. That is why I am strong. When I see him, I am quite certain I won’t be able to restrain myself. I will do my best to resist my urges … but the possibility remains that I may end up going into a rage like a Berserker.”

For a moment, silence. Napoleon looked a bit stunned, and a small viscous part of CasCu was glad of it. More of him twisted up, though, at the quiet way Brynhild spoke. Defeated. Shameful. A thread of distaste that ran through her words, directed at herself. He didn’t like it.

“We’ll be careful if it ever comes to that,” Gudako said.

Mash nodded. “It’s still great to have you on our side.” 

Brynhild froze for a moment. And then she smiled, this smaller, but more real thing. “Thank you,” she said, “but it is possible this Sigurd is not a Servant from Proper Human History. He may not be the Sigurd I know, but someone else entirely with absolutely no knowledge of who I am. Even if that is the case, I’m sure -”

“I don’t know if I agree with that, Mademoiselle Valkyrie,” Napoleon said, his gaze finally focused and not wandering. “Illya said he might not belong to this Lostbelt, and I’m inclined to agree with her.” 

Mash blinked sharply. “Napoleon?”

Napoleon set his cannon into the snow and leaned against it, flourishing his hands. “Well, think about it, mademoiselle. This Lostbelt's been exactly the same ever since 1000 B.C. It's a world basically designed by and for Skadi. A world where the entire human population has been locked down for nearly three thousand years. No one here has any desires intense enough to create an evil dragon like Fafnir for Sigurd to slay. What's more, there's no economy to stimulate desire. Hell, there's not even any concept of a nation-state. If Sigurd had been born in this Lostbelt, he couldn’t have become a hero, as there would have never been an evil dragon for him to defeat!” He said this last bit with another flourish, obviously proud of his deduction.

Gudako blinked sharply. “You’re right,” she breathed, “That first Valkyrie we faced had mentioned that she’d never seen a hero’s spirit before. Hell, the very concept of Valhalla and the collection of souls has changed to accommodate the fact there are no heroes here.”

“A world without heroes,” Brynhild murmured.

“Except for you and me,” Napoleon winked, and CasCu swallowed a growl.

“And the other Servants I have summoned,” Gudako pointed out with a sigh. But she frowned, glancing at her wrist, then back behind them. “Speaking off, we need to get back to the Shadow Border. Alter needs Nightingale’s attention, and I’ll need to choose a Heroic Spirit to fill in his slot. Mash’s equipment could use some tuneups. Grand Cavallo, the Directer, and - well, everyone should be alerted to what’s happened since we’ve got in contact last.”

Mash nodded in agreement. “We should be able to contact them again if we return to the Lake Vänern area.”

“That’s near Village 23,” Napoleon mused. He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded decisively , opening them up with a grin. “Hey, Valkyrie lady. How are you at skiing? Don’t worry if you’re just starting out. I’ll be more than happy to take you by the hand, hold your waist, and show you how it’s done.”

A noise leapt into the back of CasCu’s throat, reflexive and annoyed. He bunched his fingers up, tight - but Brynhild only laughed her soft, breathy laugh. “You’re rather amusing, Emperor Napoleon. But I can’t, I mustn’t , I’m sorry. It is extremely dangerous for a qualified hero to get close to me.”

Napoleon just grinned. “Dangerous? Sounds thrilling! Don’t worry, I’m perfectly delighted to risk my life for a beautiful woman.”

“Even for Ophelia?” Mash asked.

“Of course!” Napoleon proclaimed. He grinned even wider, and CasCu scowled down at his invisible hands. His chest prickled, hot, with protectiveness. Brynhild was perfectly capable of protecting herself. If Napoleon did get too close, she probably would kill him. And yet - it was as if she was Finscoth, with suitor’s vying over her hand. CasCu wanted to beat Napoleon over his head with a staff.

Gods, there was something wrong with his head. Brynhild was not Finscoth. They weren’t anything similar. So why -

Brynhild was laughing again, soft and amused. The sound whisked away CasCu’s confusion as if it was nothing, as if it was just foolishness. “We were talking about skiing?” She reminded them, “I am not very comfortable with the sport, but don’t worry, I am quite comfortable traversing snow.”

“All right!” Napoleon laughed. He picked up his cannon, jumped back onto his skis. “Let’s get our new Grande Armée underway!”

Gudako and Mash exchanged glances. Then with a huff, Gudako stepped up behind mash, wrapping her arms around Mash’s waist, her feet sliding into the spots on those skis. “New Grande Armée , moving out!” She called .

To CasCu’s annoyance, they did not run straight towards the Shadow Border. Oh, they were headed in that direction, but Napoleon had encouraged them to stop at Village 67 first. The light was starting to fall again, night slowly encroaching on them, and he wanted to check in to gather some information.

The village itself was painfully similar in construction to Village 23, Gerda’s village. Too many children, too few adults. A wooden fence and a monstrous bounded field tied to it, obviously Skadi’s work. There was something else there too, a second bounded field that CasCu was having a hard time discerning. He kept on getting distracted by the way Gudako and Mash watched these playing kids. The darkness in their eyes. The way their hands linked together, fingers twisted up tight.

This was painful, for them. To see all this life that would be snuffed out at the end of the Lostbelt. CasCu moved between them and set his hands on their shoulders. He remained in Spirit Form, but he knew by their reflexive, small jerks that they felt the touch. He could only hope that they felt the comfort behind it too.

Napoleon came back not long after. He bent down to greet the kids that had crowded around Gudako and Mash, then sent them back off to playing with their friends back in the village. “What’s with the long faces, you two?” He asked, finishing the last bit of his trek towards their side, “This is your first time meeting these people! Turn those frowns upside down, travelling’s supposed to be fun!”

“It is fun,” Gudako said, her words a whisper of normal. She drew a deep breath, then looked at Napoleon, square in the eye. “What did you learn?”

Napoleon considered her a bit longer, before speaking. “It seems like it’s business as usual,” he said, “Nobody's seen any envoys flying around on patrol, or heard anything about giants acting up. Looks like we're safe for the moment.”

“If that’s the case, we should be able to get a good night’s sleep,” Mash said.

“Yup,” Napoleon nodded, “the only thing is, there’s a Bounded Field here. A new one.”

“CasCu pointed it out,” Gudako said. “It’s around the village’s gate and surrounding walls, right?” 

“Yes,” Brynhild said. She had finally managed to pull herself away from the group of children she had been entertaining. She half closed her eyes, then dipped her head. “With apologies for my presumptuousness … but I believe it is a powerful field designed to defend against outside enemies, like a great shield or impenetrable fortress. I can't make out the exact spell type, but I do know it is magecraft on a level fitting the Age of Gods. If nothing else, I can tell you it’s not based on runecraft .”

“Which would mean it’s not Skadi’s work,” Mash breathed.

Gudako frowned. “Then who did?”

“The only one here with non rune craft magecraft is Ophelia,” Mash said, her lips tugging into a frown, “But that can’t be right. Her specialty is summoning spells, not Bounded Fields. And Gudako and I haven’t been here before. So if none of us did it, then who could have possibly placed it?”

“Mulling over it isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Napoleon said. He stretched, then settled with a grin. “Let’s just take things easy here the rest of the day, and then pick things back up tomorrow -”

The comms link on Gudako’s wrist crackled. For a moment, there was nothing but hazy static. Gudako and Mash instantly converged around it, bending around it. “Director?” Gudako asked, a sliver of hazy hope in her voice.

“AHA!” Came Director Gordolf’s voice, staticy but there, “I knew I could do it if I tried! Shadow Border here, I trust you can hear me!”

“We hear you loud and clear, Director,” Gudako said, her voice almost raspy with relief.

Gordolf laughed. “Don't be so surprised. It's a miraculous coincidence. I have no earthly idea how we got reconnected. In this case, my abundant charm played no part whatsoever.” He paused, brief, then said, “Oh, and incidentally, it seems we will only stay connected for a few seconds more at best.”

Napoleon crowded around the comm link with Gudako and Mash, peering at the surface. “Who is this guy? That Gordolf you were telling me about?” 

“Hai, this is him,” Mash murmured.

Gordolf sputtered on the other end, and CasCu could practically feel the force of his scowl even if he didn’t see it. “This is no time for formalities!” Gordolf snapped. “Fujimaru, we have an emergency on our hands! The old Lake Vänern! A group of giants is headed towards the village where Gerda lives even as we speak! There's no way a bunch of children and young adults can fight them off. If the giants force their way inside, they'll kill the lot !”

Mash’s face went pale. Gudako froze, as if smacked.

“One of our Mystic Code drones only just picked it up,” Gordolf continued, “I don't know where you are right now, but you need to get there double time and rescue them. That village may be useless to us as a source of new information now, but it could still easily serve as a base for our allies. You must protect it at all costs!”

Chapter Text

They moved, and moved swiftly, leaving Village 67 behind them. They skied through the onset of dusk, the painful blue of the sky slowly turning to warmer colors, redder, then darker and colder as night fell in earnest. While they moved, Gudako threw out ideas. Napoleon and Tesla would deal with the majority of the giants, with Brynhild and Mash holding the front line. CasCu and Scáthach would support as needed. 

The absence of Alter in that plan was painful. It was foolish - Alter was recovering, not dead, but still the emptiness where his name should have been hurt. CasCu couldn’t help but reach out to brush his mind against Alter’s. There was nothing but static. There, but not fully present. CasCu wondered if Alter was so deep into his curses that he didn’t even feel the touch.

Something curdled in CasCu’s stomach. He growled, low in his throat.

The night was light by the curling green lines of the aurora borealis. It lit the snow beneath them in soft, colorful arcs, painting the ground in watercolor. Even then, they could still see the lights of Village 23 before them. CasCu couldn’t make out much - a black shape with the diffused glow above it. 

Napoleon saw more. “The outer walls and gates are intact!” He called, “I don’t see anyone outside. If they made it in, they did so from the other side.”

“I don’t hear any fighting,” Brynhild said. Despite her lack of skis, she’d kept up well with them, near hovering as she zoomed over the snow. “If the giants got in, then we’re too late to save these people.”

Mash’s face paled. Gudako’s face flinched into Mash’s back, before she gripped Mash hard and called out. “Get closer! We’ll climb over the gate. It could be that they got in and are in the fields, and haven’t reached the town yet. We can’t waste any time.”

They picked up the pace, racing across the snow. The lights of Village 23 grew brighter. But it did not sound like it was in the middle of a giant invasion - it was too quiet for that. Quiet like night, or like everything was dead. 

As soon as they hit the wall, Napoleon and Brynhild were helping Mash and Gudako climb up. CasCu didn’t bother with climbing. He stepped through the wall in spirit form, and stared at this corner of the village. It was silent. Quiet. No destroyed houses, no bodies on the ground. Lights came diffused from windows - not the burn of torches. If there was blood in the air, he couldn’t smell it.

Napoleon thudded into the ground with an audible oomph, Gudako in his arms. Brynhild had a softer landing, and she set Mash down gently onto the ground, before looking up. “I saw nothing in the fields,” she said, “but we should still hurry. We should start by going to the center of the village.”

No one argued. They all moved, quiet and soft, but quick as well. The houses passed by, one after another. Some were dark. Some had lights in them. It was still quiet, deathly still. CasCu could only hope that Brynhild’s news was a good one. Or that they had somehow managed to reach this place before the giants did.

The center of the village was just as quiet as everything else. Mash looked around, gripping her shield tight. “I don’t see any people out and about,” she murmured, a rustle of a whisper, “maybe they’ve all holed up inside to stay safe?”

“Plenty of the houses have lights on,” Gudako agreed. She spun around in a circle, this frantic movement. “I don’t see any signs of an attack, or -” She cut herself off, biting her lip.

Brynhild glanced up suddenly. “Somebody’s coming,” she said, her voice soft, fingers tightening around her spear.

Gudako, Mash, Napoleon, and Brynhild fell into swift position, ready for a fight, an enemy. From one of the side alleys, darker than the rest of the streets, a small voice called out. “Wh-who’s there? I thought I heard voices … you shouldn’t be out this late! I know I can’t really talk, but …”

The voice was young, childish, and heavily accented. CasCu recognized it immediately.

Gerda.

Mash and Gudako froze. They were still frozen, when Gerda stepped out of the alleyway, her hands held close to her chest. She froze at the sight of them as well. For a moment, CasCu thought she would run away. After everything she’d seen Mash and Gudako do, CasCu wouldn’t be too surprised. 

But Gerda was made of sterner stuff. She swallowed hard, then drew herself up, her small chin tipping up. “I- what are you doing here?”

Mash and Gudako glanced at each other. It was Mash who spoke, her voice soft. “We came here to protect the village. We thought that there might be giants … on the way to attack it.” 

Gerda hesitated. She glanced at Brynhild, her gaze lingering on the feathered armor, her crown. Then her body relaxed. She gave both Gudako, Mash, and Napoleon a smile. “I’m glad you stopped fighting with the envoys,” she said, “I was - I was worried about you after that big fight … but it looks like it’s all okay now! But we shouldn’t be talking out here … why don’t you come inside?” 

That was not the reaction any of them had been expecting. If there were giants, then Gerda should have been more scared, ready to flinch back or fight at the name of them. But if they hadn’t come yet - that should have been the piece of information she latched onto. Gudako, Mash, Napoleon, and Brynhild looked at each other. CasCu could see them running the same calculations in their head. 

Gerda started off before they could answer, back into the shadows. After another few glances, the group followed after her. Gudako’s voice was soft, questioning. “Gerda, do you mind if I ask a question?”

Gerda’s shoulders flinched, then she looked down. “I’m not sure that I can answer it very well,” she mumbled, “I don’t know many things.” 

“Is that why you’re not running from us?”

They obviously weren’t the words Gudako meant to say. She flinched back, slight, and the look Mash sent her was shocked. Gerda stiffened, freezing. Her hands balled into her dress. Her voice was very small, very tiny. “I don’t - know why you were arguing with the envoys,” she says, her eyes hot, “but you’ve obviously stopped, and if you’re not dead, then you and the envoy’s must have made up … like I said, I don’t know much. So I have to go off what I know. And that’s what I know.” 

An assumption, then, in all the wrong ways. CasCu watched Gudako’s expression twist. Mash reached out, squeezing his hand. CasCu spoke, soft, to Gudako’s ears only, “She can’t know the truth.” 

“I know,” Gudako sent back. She breathed deep, then smoothed out her face. “Thank you, Gerda. That trust means an - it means a lot to us. Can you tell me if anything unusual happened today? Particularly from around sunset until now?”

Gerda blinked. She threw a glance over her shoulder, then resumed walking. “Right before sunset, a stranger came to the gate from outside,” she said, “The - the grown-ups offered shelter from the cold, but the stranger just said ‘No need for that, I am not cold’. But their clothes were all ragged, so we were worried. We invited them inside again, but they said that they were from Chaldea, and to not worry about them.” 

Gudako and Mash froze. Napoleon and Brynhild nearly ran into them. Napoleon’s hand fell on Gudako’s shoulder, giving her a tight squeeze. Mash’s voice was thick. “And then?”

Gerda glanced back again, then smiled. “After that, the stranger said a blessing for everyone in the village, then left.”

Mash made a noise between her teeth. Gudako’s fingers flexed on hers. “Did you see their face?” Gudako asked.

Gerda shook her head. “No, it was covered.”

“Just like in Russia,” Mash breathed. Gudako nodded slightly, her expression tight. Napoleon leaned forwards, but Gudako shook her head, mouthed a ‘we’ll tell you later’.

Gerda turned away and continued walking. The more they spoke, the more she seemed at ease. A part of CasCu was surprised … but should he have been? This girl had grown up with death at a young age as a constant. Though the death of the Valkyries must have been shocking and horrific, Brynhild was obviously one of them, and Gerda did not know Brynhild’s true loyalties or background. And it had been days, since that incident. She would have had time to think it over, to decide how she felt about it.

“Oh!” Gerda said, pausing again, “Laura did say she thought she heard really loud footsteps! We usually never hear loud footsteps except on ordained day, so she wasn’t sure if they belonged to giants or not … but she did say she could hear them before the stranger showed up.”

Napoleon gave a wise nod. “That stranger probably put up the bounded field and drove the giants away. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did that at Village 67 as well.” He hesitated, then his shoulders drooped, and he sighed. “Which means that we rushed all this way for nothing.” 

Brynhild shot him a look. “We should be pleased that no one got hurt,” she said, calm, “and that Gudako does not need to expend any more mana.”

Napoleon raised his hands swiftly. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind! It’s a good thing, it’s just …” he hesitated, searching for words, then shook his head.

“It’s fine,” Gudako said, glancing back at him, before looking at Gerda. “I wish I didn’t have to ask, but … do you mind if we stay the night? We’ll be gone in the morning, if you don’t want us to stay, but we just need a place to sleep …”

Gerda hesitated, and CasCu saw her eyes flash, uncertain - before she nodded, looking away. “I still have some soup left from dinner,” she murmured, “I don’t mind sharing.”

Mash gave her a small smile, thankful. “It’s appreciated, Gerda.” 

Gerda gave them a small smile in turn. It didn’t reach her eyes, but she had a good brave face, so no one pointed that out. Not that anyone would have, anyway.

Gerda served Gudako and Mash the remnants of her fish soup. Napoleon and Brynhild didn’t take any, despite Gerda’s objections, and they only narrowly escaped Gerda forcing the meal upon them. But Gudako and Mash ate, and listened to Gerda talk. At the beginning she was shy, uncertain, but slowly she gathered her strength and courage throughout the meal, opening up about village life since they had left the village. Once the food was done, she took the dishes away to clean.

Brynhild watched her go, her expression soft. “She’s a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft.

“She is,” Gudako mumbled. Her expression held something like tired grief in it. She reached out, and Mash took her hand, gave a tight squeeze. Gudako swallowed, then looked up. “What can you tell me about the bounded field?” 

“Essentially, it’s the same as the one in Village 67,” Brynhild said, “powerful, but not based in rune craft. There’s only one difference.”

Napoleon nodded, his face grave. “It looks like the original bounded field had a small tear in it. Probably from our fight with the Valkyries. I’m guessing that’s what drew the giants to this town … so essentially, they cleaned up the mess we made.” He made a face, grimacing hard. “Not only that, but they did a great job of it! Not even an ant could get through now.”

“Not that there are ants outside the bounded field,” Brynhild murmured.

Napoleon laughed, sudden and bright. “Good point!” He glanced to Gudako and Mash. “How about you two? Any luck reaching the Border again?”

“Not yet,” Mash said, “I have tried reaching them multiple times, but I haven’t been able to get through.” 

“It’s probably the new bounded field,” Gudako said. “We could get through before, but it wasn’t a great connection at Village 67, and that one had the bounded field too …”

“That’s probably it,” Napoleon agreed.

They were all silent for a moment, the quiet rushing into fill the space where words had been. Gudako and Mash looked so tired, leaning against each other, eyes half closed. Gerda poked her head into the room, then spoke, her voice small, soft. “Um … Lady Mash, Lady Gudako, can I … talk to you?”

Gudako and Mash blinked, then looked up. “Of course,” Gudako said, immediately.

“I … realized something,” Gerda said, before stepping forwards, into the room. She stepped up to the table, then sat there, opposite of them. Her fingers tangled into her dress, and she glanced at them, uncertain. “Between you, Napoleon, that man at the gate, and the fight you had before… I think I understand now. There are other people out there beyond the envoys, which means … you and your friends aren’t really envoys, are you?” 

Mash hesitated. “I-”

“It’s alright,” Gerda said, rushing. “I guess it’s my fault that I made the assumption, but it really explains a lot of things.” She fell silent, for a moment, biting her lips. “Things were so crazy during ordained day, I just think … I wanted to say you two were very brave. I might not understand what all you were saying, why you were fighting, and I don’t like it that you fought against the envoys, but … I think it’s brave that you stood up for what you believed in … and I’m glad I finally got to tell you.” She smiled then, small and tiny.

Something in CasCu’s chest tightened. This girl was a good one, brave and strong and smart. Too strong, for someone who was still so young. He wished it didn’t have to be so. Wished she’d had a chance to grow up properly.

Gudako seemed stunned. She swallowed hard, licked her lips reflexively, like she was searching for an answer. Mash was quicker to answer, though her words were very soft. “… thank you, Gerda. That means a lot to us.” 

“Hai, it does,” Gudako breathed.

And Gerda? She smiled at them, small and warm and uncertain, but real. Brave, growing, changing into a new person with each interaction. Learning, as children were apt too. But CasCu could see in Gudako and Mash’s eyes the guilt, tight around the corners, dark in the depths of their pupils. Gerda had no future in this Lostbelt … but she would have even less of a future once they were done here. 

No one slept well that night. CasCu didn’t even try. Somehow, he knew that a dream would be waiting for him. It was the raised hairs at the back of his neck. A pain in his eye and around his throat. The premonition that he had gained when nightmares were all that greeted him when he slept. Instead, he kept watch in case those giants came back.

They didn’t. 

The night was quiet, and they were all left alone with their thoughts.

Grand Cavallo contacted them in the morning with a screech of feedback. Her voice was distant and crackling, but the excitement in it carried well and clear. “Testing, testing! Can you guys hear me alright?” 

Both Gudako and Mash jumped. Gerda, who had been gathering plates from breakfast, squeaked and ran from the room. Mash near lunged forwards, her fingers wrapping tight around Gudako’s wrist. “We can hear you!”

“Wonderful!” Grand Cavallo proclaimed. “I think these adjustments should help us stay connected.”

“That’s good to hear,” Gudako said. She relaxed a tad, her shoulders slumping. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Aww, thank you! It’s good to hear your voice too,” Grand Cavallo sang, pleased, “unfortunately we don’t have much time to sit and talk. We have a bit of an emergency right now, so we have to be quick!” 

“What’s the situation?” Gudako asked, straightening.

“The Shadow Border is currently under attack. We’re being chased by a bunch of winged humanoids!”

Gudako and Mash exchanged glances. Napoleon leaned forwards, his voice dipping quiet, to keep away from any prying ears. “That sounds like those mass-produced Valkyries,” he mused, thoughtful.

“I thought that might be the case!” Grand Cavello said, eagerly, “since we’re in Norse lands and all, the Valkyries were the first thing that - wait, did you say mass-produced?” She made a sound that Da Vinci would have, so long ago. Like an idea had struck her. “I like the sound of that. To have a whole fleet of mini Border’s at my command - Er - that can be a later project! We just got the Border’s controls back up and running this morning. So of course, the first thing our fearless leader decides is to take the Border outside our Bounded Field!” 

“You can’t blame this on me!” Gordolf cried. CasCu could hear the strain in his voice. “I was trying to find a place with better signal! Besides, you could have camouflaged us once we were mobile!”

“Anyway,” Grand Cavallo cut in, “That’s why we’ve been able to call you again, so it isn’t all bad news -” 

A boom, a crash, they all flinched back. Gordolf swore sharply. “Driving on these snow plains is so horrible!” He cried out, “It’s like one big sheet of ice!” Another boom, like an explosion.

“Director!” Mash cried out.

Gudako stood sharply. “Are you under attack right now?”

“Yup!” Grand Cavallo said, “We’re pretty much at our limit here! We’re about fifty kilometers west of Norrköping! Sending the coordinates now. If you can get here as quick as you can, that’d be appreciated!” 

Another screech of static. Gudako stared at her wrist, then glanced up. “The connection cut out,” she said, “We have to move, now. Gerda!”

“Y-yes?” Gerda asked, poking her head around the door. She’d probably been listening in on their conversation. CasCu wouldn’t be too surprised if that was the case. “Are… you off to help your friends?” She asked.

“We are,” Mash murmured. “Thank you for your hospitality, Gerda. Especially after everything you’ve been through.” 

Gerda gave a small smile. “Of course,” she said, “Just - be safe, please?”

“We will be,” Gudako said, “I promise.”

Gudako, Mash, Napoleon, and Brynhild moved at reckless speeds, racing over the snow with a swiftness hard to follow. CasCu could feel that same urgency pulling at his stomach. Kage was in the Shadow Border. Kage was in the Shadow Border, still injured, unable to defend himself. That fear tugged him forwards, the hot rush of possessiveness, desire to keep him safe. They couldn’t stop for anything.
Otherwise, it might be too late.

“We’re getting closer!” Mash cried out, one hand held in front of her, as if to make it easier to see where she was going.

Napoleon pointed. “Is it that big chunk of armor plating over there?”

CasCu followed the line of his finger. There, hard to see through the wind and the snow, was the careening shadow border. And following it, a flock of algiz runes. The Valkyries. CasCu’s chest tightened. He fingers curled in on each other, and he swallowed hard, hands shaking. That jostling couldn’t be good for the patients inside. He could only hope that nothing vital had been struck yet.

“Hai!” Gudako shouted. Her voice was stolen, swift, by the wind.

Napoleon laughed. “Magnifique! It's not so much a vehicle as it is a wondrous-armored transport!” He sounded truly delighted about it too.

“We’ll have to jump aboard,” Brynhild noted. She skated over the snow, her spear trailing a line of flakes behind her. Her eyes were sharp, focused on the shadow border and the Valkyries chasing after it. If she was conflicted about this task, she didn’t show it.

Napoleon laughed again. “What a great idea!”

“I’m not sure that I can make that jump!” Mash protested, her words rushed.

“Don’t worry,” Napoleon said, “I’ll help you two up.” He swept up beside Mash and Gudako, then grabbed both of them around their waists. It was a ridiculous sight, a man of Napoleon's stature carrying two women his size and bigger, one in each arm. His ski’s dug into the snow. He spun, then jumped. Mash and Gudako yelled as he flew through the air, landing heavily on the Shadow Border’s top. “And he sticks the landing!” He crowed, setting Gudako and Mash back down. He kept their hands on their shoulders, steadying. “Just don’t fall off, you two, it’s pretty windy!” 

“We won’t,” Gudako promised, her fingers bunching up slightly.

Brynhild landed lightly next to them. She stared up at the throng of circling Valkyries, each one identical to one another, besides small differences in face shape and hair color. So similar, so numerous. Her expression softened. “I knew about them,” she breathed, “I thought I understood… but seeing them here, like this, I cannot help but feel an ache in my heart. These are my soulless sisters … Valkyries made to be automata and nothing more.”

CasCu felt something inside him twist. It wasn’t his fault. But staring at the tired, saddened expression on Brynhild’s face, he couldn’t help but feel like some blame was his own. It made no sense. He couldn’t help it.

“They are fully equipped with systems and functionality that allow them to carry out their orders. In fact, that's all they have,” she said, her fingers tightening around her spear, eyes cast to the sky. “They do not have the uncertainty that comes with even the limited emotions we Valkyries were given. They might be highly functional and efficient … but I cannot see them as anything but tragic.” 

“How would you like us to deal with them?” Gudako asked, her voice soft.

Brynhild shook her head. She took a few steps forwards, her feet light and ghosting over the top of the Shadow Border. The blade off her spear seemed to give off a soft purple glow. “Can you hear me, my sisters? My poor, soulless sisters?” She called out, soft voice raised. Her fingers flicked at her side, and the wind whipped up, carrying her voice to the Valkyries watching them. Rune craft. “My True Name is Brynhild. I am the eldest of you. I am the one upon whom you were most likely based. I am asking you all to stand down. No matter what the circumstances of your births … I have no wish to do any of you harm. Please, leave.”

Since Brynhild had become visible, the Valkyries had stopped their attacks. After she spoke, they froze altogether. More than a dozen figures, each one a burning algiz rune, staring down at them. As one, they spoke, their voice a harmonious buzz. “Sister. Sister Brynhild. Sister. The elite commander who stands above us all. So she really does exist … Inexplicable. Inexplicable. We were only ordered to destroy this impure slab of metal … Inexplicable. Inexplicable. Commander units, we request additional orders regarding this situation. Sister. Sister Brynhild … means to fight us! Ridiculous. Impossible. Ridiculous. Impossible. Impossible. Impossible!”

If he listened hard, CasCu could just tell the individuals apart, the different inflections. And at the sound, something in CasCu’s chest broke. This was never what the Valkyries were supposed to be. Automata, yes, dedicated to their job and nothing above it. But there were supposed to hold rudimentary personalities, have some semblance of emotion. After Brynhild, he’d made sure that they had less free will, less ability to choose, but they were never this.

“What has she done to you,” He breathed, staring at the flock of Valkyries above them.

Brynhild’s voice carried high, singing over the sky, loud and clear like crystal. She gripped her spear tight. Her hair started to waft around her. “It is not impossible at all, my young sisters! So please, leave now. If you refuse … I will have no choice but to destroy you!”

The Valkyries hovered there. Stunned, debating. In the space of silence, Gudako’s voice rushed through their minds in a rumble of static. “ Scáthach , come out. Tesla, get some rest, and take Alter to the infirmary. Raikou, Nobunaga, come out. CasCu -”

“I’m staying,” CasCu said, before she could order him back. “I have to see this through.”

“And I ask that you do not interfere,” Brynhild said, her voice soft. “This is between me and them. I have to deal with my soulless sisters, even if it means destroying them. So please, Gudako, stay and watch, offer back up as needed, but let me deal with them.”

“ … Alright,” Gudako said, “I still want those changes to rotation made, though. Mash, Napoleon, I want you to focus on protecting the Shadow Border. I don’t know how many more hits we can take, but having the Shadow Border injured again is a no-go . Got it?” 

“Aye aye, Maître !” Napoleon proclaimed.

“Hai,” Mash sent. She dug her feet into the Shadow Border’s roof, and planted her shield, waited. Waited.

After a moment, long, a single Valkyrie drifted down. Green tendrils of hair splayed out from under her hood. She said nothing, simply approached, the light from her wings blazing. She landed on the hood of the still moving Shadow Border - despite the way it twisted, spun, like the vehicle itself was trying to throw her off. She said nothing still as she attacked. 

Brynhild moved. The battle couldn’t even be called a battle - it was over in an instant. Two swipes of her spear, one to knock away the Valkyrie’s attack, the second to cut her in half. The Valkyrie disappeared before she hit the Shadow Border’s roof.

Brynhild was silent for a moment, before she looked up, staring at the circling flock. “Do you see the difference in our power?” She asked. “Know the grief of one of your sisters' destruction. Any further loss would be meaningless. I am sure another will be manufactured, but that is not the same as returning from death. It only means a new one will have been created in her place. Individually, your lives are so very finite. Now leave, my sisters. Please, don't make me destroy any more of you.”

Her plea was soft, gentle. The blade of her spear was still stained in blood. And for a moment, there was silence again. Silence, except for the rumble of the Shadow Border and the hum of the Valkyries wings as they kept up with the movement. The Shadow Border’s movements were becoming more erratic. Napoleon gripped Gudako’s shoulder, keeping her steady.

“I’m sorry sister, but we cannot leave.”

That voice - the breath left CasCu’s lungs. His hands shook. Gods, a part of him didn’t want to watch this. He couldn’t look away. 

“I’ve heard you before,” Brynhild murmured, looking up, eyes scanning the crowd.

“You mentioned a difference in power?” Thrud asked, her voice ringing through the air. “True, these mass-produced units are no match for you individually. But we do have numbers on our side! I wonder … How long can you last against a hundred mass-produced Valkyries, sister!? How about you, Chaldean dregs!?”

The speakers of the Shadow Border flared, static shattering the air. “Oh, you bet we’ll hang in there!” Grand Cavallo called, “We haven’t even gotten started! Especially now that we’ve had time to regroup!”

There was a screech as the emergency brake was struck. Gudako yelped. If it wasn’t for Mash and Napoleon, gripping on tight to her, she would have flown off the top of the Shadow Border. Napoleon laughed, something loud and delighted. “Seems like your Shadow Border still has some moves in it! How deviously clever of you! Not bad at all.” 

Gudako’s eyes widened. She grinned wide, sharp. “The escape route was planned.” She said, and there was something like a victory in the words, sharp, pleased surprise.

“You got it, maitre!” Napoleon said, setting her down, “You’ll see what your friends were up to very soon!”

Mash’s eyes widened. Her head shot up, in the direction the Shadow Border was hurtling. She gripped Gudako’s arm tight. “Senpai! Ortinax is picking up a group of giants close by!” 

Gudako’s eyes widened. She began to laugh, something bright and sporadic and startled, as if the penny had just dropped. CasCu felt it click too, a rush, his eyes widening, pain shooting through him. That clever little Grand Cavello - 

“I haven’t just been instructing people to fix up the border this whole time,” Grand Cavallo sang, with a downright devious little laugh, “I also figured the giants out! They're basically biological heat-seeking missiles. If something's warm, they go after it! Humans, animals, Heroic Spirits … They'll go after any of them! And the Valkyries? They’ve got artificial hearts, and their bodies are just as warm as a human’s!” 

A roar, splitting from the trees in front of them. It was hard to see with the speed they were going, especially in spirit form, but somehow that felt like it didn’t matter. CasCu could see the giants clearly as they stepped out from the forest, between the crystal trees, their icy beasts at their heels. Some of them held giant chunks of ice. The Shadow Border was a target - but the flock of Valkyries was more so. 

For a fleeting moment, CasCu thought of the troupe of Giants and Valkyries that had been working together - but this was obviously not the same. For the first thrown, bolder collided right with one of the Valkyries in the air, with enough force to turn her into a splatter of blood.

“You’re a genius, Grand Cavallo,” Gudako breathed.

“I know,” Grand Cavallo said, smug. “All this ruckus ought to draw more giants’ attention. So we should have the time to get a clean get away!”

“We need to use this time to find their commander,” Napoleon said. He’d lifted his cannon, pointed at the Valkyries. A fleet of them was hurtling towards the giants. More icy boulders shot through the air with terrifying speed. “I know Thrud’s here; we heard her voice. They wouldn’t bring a hundred of them here without someone to control them! She’s got to be up there somewhere! If we can find her, take her out, then the Queen’s forces will have taken a harsh blow. Victory will be ours!”

“I will focus on finding Thrud,” Brynhild said. She set her spear down, and cast her gaze to the sky. The wind tugged at her hair and her skirt, pushing her forwards, whipping cloth and strands upwards.

“Alright,” Gudako said. “Mash, focus on protecting Brynhild and myself. CasCu - you can stay, but you’re strictly on backup. I want Raikou and Nobunaga out now. Raikou, your job is the ones that make it to the top of the Shadow Border. Nobunaga, shoot as many angels as you want to out of the sky.” 

The two appeared in a swash of mana. Raikou stood there, balanced on the Shadow Border, her hair waving, electricity crackling across her blade. Beneath the sound, CasCu heard Napoleon whistle. But the Madness in Raikou’s eyes could not be ignored, the bloodlust and the grin. “Don’t worry, my dear,” she said, “mother will make sure you won’t have to look at these insects anymore.”

Nobunaga’s laugh was wild as she appeared. Unlike Raikou, she didn’t stand on the Shadow Border’s top. She stood on top of two of her muskets, a third hanging across her shoulders. Her grin was sharp, dangerous, and eager. “Like the Demon King of the Seventh Heaven could ignore such a command!” She cackled, and five more muskets appeared around her head, floating in place. “We’ll fill the snow with their bodies!”

How Kage had become friends with such a bloodthirsty menace, CasCu still had trouble understanding. But right now, Nobunaga’s particular buffs against divinity would be useful, even if - if -

It felt like his heart was breaking.

CasCu watched the Valkyries die. Napoleon’s cannon fire; Nobunaga’s guns. The thrown boulders of the jotunn, which tumbled from the sky hard enough to strike the Shadow Border’s roof with heavy impacts. The Valkyries didn’t roll over and take it - of course they didn’t. He didn’t design them to be passive. Some of them attacked the Shadow Border, only to be felled by Raikou’s blade. Other’s intercepted the giants, culling them, reducing the numbers throwing boulders.

The ground was littered with bodies and blood. Shattered bits of wings dusted the top of the Shadow Border. The Valkyries fought and died, and CasCu watched as their corpses disappear into golden motes. The real Valkyries would have just lain there, like living things. But these mass-produced things were more magecraft than flesh and blood, for all they gave off a heat signature similar to humans.

What wretched creatures. An abomination of his creations. 

Skadi had a lot to pay for.

“Well, what’s the word, beautiful Valkyrie?!” Napoleon cried, over another shot of his cannon, “Have you found your sister yet?”

Brynhild was quiet for a moment. She stood perfectly still, allowing Mash to move around her, protecting her from Valkyrie attacks and falling rocks. Gudako clung to her back for stability, as the Shadow Border’s movements had only become more frantic and wild. Yet Brynhild let none of this bother her. Her voice was very soft. “Almost,” she said.

“Don’t worry about anything but your search,” Gudako said. She gave Brynhild’s shoulder a pat. “With Mash keeping us safe, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Brynhild smiled, soft and slight. “Thank you. The determination you two hold is wonderful to behold. Though I hesitate to call it daring, your resolve shines bright nonetheless. It reminds me of the night sky, glittering with stars. Which is why I am free to cast my gaze far and wide. I have her. I see her.”

CasCu looked up, to the thronging Valkyries.

“Is it Thrud?” Napoleon asked.

CasCu’s throat closed. His knees felt weak, his fingers clenching on his sp- staff. His eye burned, painful sparking, and it was hard to breathe, hard to swallow. He saw her too, in the midst of the greatest clump. And he saw the two hanging right beside Thrud as well. Hildr, Ortlinde. All three had survived. And now they were all here to die.

Of course, they were. They had survived Ragnarök. But Ragnarök was supposed to be a new beginning, not just an end. Of course his three daughters would die here. Ragnarök was not something that could be escaped.

“It seems my beloved younger sisters have survived in this Lostbelt for a long, long time,” Brynhild murmured. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. That this situation was fated. The irony of it.

“You’re right,” Napoleon said, a bit more solemn, barely heard over the constant rat-tat-tat of Nobunaga’s guns. “The three sisters that survived are the originals. The commanders. Skadi’s aides-de-camp. They were the models for all the other replica Valkyries, and they're the ones who lead them.”

Brynhild nodded. She glanced to Gudako, and spoke, soft. “No matter what happens, I want to deal with my younger sisters. Will you let me?”

Gudako hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. We’ll focus on keeping everything off of you.”

Brynhild smiled, small, then moved Gudako towards Mash. She plucked her spear from the top of the Shadow Border, and strode forwards, her gaze turned towards the sky. There was a lump in CasCu’s throat. His hands shook. He wanted to race forwards, to offer his help - his support, at the very least. But his whole body was frozen. Grounded in place. As if he’d been struck by Skadi all over again.

“Thrúd, Hildr, Ortlinde!” Brynhild called, her voice raised high, “Can you hear me, sisters? Come down here at once! I am willing to cast my spear at you from a distance if I must, but I would rather fight face-to-face. Is that not true for you, Thrúd? Hildr? Ortlinde? Do you not wish to see my face?”

For a moment, silence. Even the Valkyries seemed to falter. Then the three hurtled down to land on the Shadow Border’s top, Thrud in the middle. Light poured from her in violent gusts, spilling golden from her wings. “Why, sister?” She called, rasping, “Why would you side with the humans instead of us?”

The skies were clear now, the rest of the Valkyries moving to focus on the giants instead. It left an odd bubble of peace on top of the Shadow Border. Just the three Valkyries, staring at their older sister. Thrud stood in the middle, but Hildr and Ortlinde flanked her. They were easy to tell apart. Hildr, with the big black bow on her cloak, her armor less golden and decorated then Thrud’s, her hair a mop of wild strawberry curls, a face that was meant to be open and cheerful, but was currently tight with something like anger. Unlike her sisters, Ortlinde was bland, only her golden shield to tell her apart from the mass-produced Valkyries, her face hidden by her large white hood, strands of short black hair escaping from its edges. Nothing of her expression could be seen.

CasCu couldn’t breathe. He stared at them and couldn’t breathe.

Brynhild stared at them, her expression soft. Their names left her lips in a whisper, before she spoke, louder. “It's been ages for me since I last saw your faces. What about you? On that day … you were so preoccupied with sealing me away that you couldn’t even talk to me.”

“That’s right,” Thrud said; her fingers clenched tight around her spear. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re not our sister. You are from Proper Human History. You didn’t experience that broken Ragnarök, nor it’s scorching flames.”

“The gods and giants didn’t die in the ordained order,” Hildr said. Like Thrud, her voice was hard, tight. “Fate itself changed. Ragnarök took a different path then what had been laid out, and the world has been mad ever since.”

When compared to her sisters, Ortlinde just sounded quiet and sad. “So when we first saw you, we were overjoyed. You were our sister from proper human history, without the madness of our Ragnarök. We thought … we thought you would join us …”

“No, my sisters from another sky, that will never happen.” Brynhild’s expression was soft, sad, but stern nonetheless. “I am a Heroic Spirit of Humanity; I was only summoned here to restore it. I would be very happy to speak with you and share your thoughts and feelings on this matter … but I can never join your side.”

Thrud’s whole body shook. The spear in her hand began to hum, the low thrum of divine energy. It was familiar. CasCu’s whole chest ached, and pain pulsed through his eye. His fingers flexed on his staff - but still he couldn’t move. He could only watch, as Thrud yelled. “And that is why we put you to sleep! As long as you were asleep, we wouldn’t have to fight!”

“That’s right,” Ortlinde murmured, “if you had only stayed asleep … this all could have been avoided.”

“We never wanted to fight you!” Hildr yelled. Like Thrud, her whole body shook, but her voice shook too, trembling on the words. “Your face, your voice, everything about you is just like our sister from this Lostbelt! Is that not the case for you two? Do you consider us strangers that just look like your sister? Is that why you have no problem killing us?” 

“I -” Brynhild fell silent. Her face twisted, slight, and CasCu could read the pain along her brow, the way her hands shook where she held her spear. Something in him flared, hot, protective anger. Finally, his limbs moved. He took a step - and froze again.

Napoleon had moved forwards. With the rest of the Valkyries no longer focusing their attention on the Shadow Border, his cannon shots had fallen off. Now he stepped up beside Brynhild, and set his cannon on the Shadow Border’s roof. “Don’t say another word,” he said, “you don’t need to. I’ll take it from here.”

Brynhild said nothing. She simply nodded, her head and gaze falling softly, taking this space to gather her emotions and words. Thrud took none of that time. She took another step forwards, the light around her blazing. “Step aside! This talk is for us and our sister alone! You have no idea what we have felt these thousands of years. You have no idea what it feels like to see the sister we once thought dead again - to have an eons long dream come true!”

“It seems like you’ve got feelings to spare,” Napoleon said. “So in that case, you out to be able to understand what I’m about to say. You say she doesn’t have a problem killing you? OF COURSE SHE DOES!” His voice was suddenly loud, booming, shouted. Thrud flinched back as if struck by the volume. “SHE DOESN’T WANT TO KILL ANYONE!”

He took a breath, deep, then continued, this time mercifully quieter. “There are exceptions to every rule. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill any scumbag I came across, but that doesn’t mean I don’t carry that burden of that death with me. That’s not how it works. Don’t you get it, mademoiselles? This isn’t the kind of thing you’re supposed to put into words. We shoulder the responsibility for every life we take. For everything we take. In the end, my Grande Armée was no different. We paid the price for every murder, every pillage. That’s how we warriors carry on. We don’t stop until we collapse, buried under that weight.”

“Yes,” Brynhild said, her voice soft. She stepped past Napoleon, one step, then another, then another. Her head lifted, high. “That is exactly how a warrior, a hero, should conduct herself. But I see that, after all the years in this Lostbelt, devoid of heroes that it is, you have forgotten that. One cannot be a true hero without battle, for it is there that one risks her life as a final resort. If you have forgotten that, then … then you are no longer fit to be called Valkyries, for you are no longer capable of guiding those souls.”

A pause, momentary, as the three Valkyries recoiled in shock. CasCu cast a brief gaze to Gudako and Mash, who stood there as if Napoleon and Brynhild’s words had hit them hard too - but his gaze was dragged back to the Valkyries as if by magnets. There was pride in his chest for Brynhild’s words, grief at the Valkyries faces: the rage and affront on Thrud and Hildr, the pain on Ortlinde’s, but Brynhild was right. They could no longer be called Valkyries. They no longer served their purpose.

Something in CasCu’s mind shut down. The grief dwindled out, as if it had never been there. Valkyries such as these didn’t deserve to carry the shields he had bestowed upon them, nor the spears replicated after his own Gungnir.

“We are the Valkyries!” Thrud screamed. She flew up, the light from her wings burning, her spear blazing bright. “We have defended this Lostbelt and the humans who live in it for thousands of years!”

“We are the last Valkyries left!” Hildr cried. She flew up to join her sister, right by Thrud’s side. “How dare you say we aren’t!”

“This is how we’ve lived our lives,” Ortlinde said, her voice a broken whisper compared to her sisters’ screams. “You may not be our sister, but you have no right to say that.” She flew up, to settle at Thrud’s other side.

“We will prove to you,” Thrud said, lifting her spear, pointing it at Brynhild, “That we are the true Valkyries here. Valkyrie to Valkyrie, sister to sister.”

“As you wish,” Brynhild said, sad, but strong. She lunged off the top of the Shadow Border, right towards her sisters. CasCu watched her arc, watched the impact and the first blur of traded blows and burning light, before looking away. He didn’t need to watch. He knew the outcome of this fight.

His gaze was drawn to Gudako and Mash, who had drawn close to Napoleon. Gudako’s voice was quiet, soft, but… almost hopeful. “Do you mean it? What you said about heroes?”

Napoleon blinked, then glanced at her. He grinned wide at her, puffed up his chest. “Of course I do! And you, Maître, and mademoiselle Mash, are the greatest of us all. We are emperors and Valkyries and heroic spirits, but we’re only this strong because we have human hearts. You two have the most human hearts I have ever seen. I have no doubt that you two are the greatest heroes and warriors the world has seen in a long time.”

Mash made a noise between her teeth. She tilted her head up, her eyes blazing. “I hope we can live up to that,” she said.

“Thank you,” Gudako nodded, before turning. “Raikou, Nobunaga, focus your efforts on the giants and Valkyries dealing with them. Don’t interrupt the fight, but make sure they don’t stray or hit the Shadow Border. Napoleon, will you do the same? Mash and I will stay here to support Brynhild.”

A series of agreements. Raikou jumped off the border, and Nobunaga flew off on her guns. Napoleon joined them. CasCu couldn’t help but smile, a tad. “Doing good, kid.” he sent to Gudako.

Gudako shook her head. “You should be with Kage.”

“I’ll see Kage soon,” he promised, “I just have a duty to watch this fight.” To see the end. Then he could see his love. The thought made warmth swell in his chest. He settled a tad, crooning. He would see Kage soon, after this. He would make sure that his brat was alright.

Gudako didn’t get a chance to answer. Ortlinde - the weakest of the sisters - hit the roof of the Shadow Border. Hildr and Thrud followed her with twin impacts. Brynhild descended after them, breathing slightly harder, blood dotting her cheek. The three sisters were far more damaged, armor wrent and blood drenching their clothes. 

Hildr made a noise between her teeth, groaning. “I don’t understand - Sister Brynhild, how can there be so much difference between -”

“Performance?” Ortlinde answered, as she got back to her feet. “Output? Equipment? No, it can’t be just that. There’s something else going on …”

Brynhild’s feet hit the top of the Shadow Border. Her voice was soft, but souring, like a song. “You fight well, Sisters. Better even then your specifications should allow. But one of the things I gained when meeting Sigurd was a human heart.” She raised her hand, and set it on her chest. Smiled, so small and sad. “It is something uncontrollable; something wholly different then our natural state. At times, the feelings it inspires can drive one to madness. Drastic mood swings. Wavering. Faulty functioning. Excessive heat. But now I see, that after these thousands of years, you have human hearts as well. Your spearmanship reflects that. Oh, my sisters, how happy I am to see it.”

Thrud had been in the middle of getting up. Her light flared, then dimmed. “What?”

Hildr just stared at Brynhild in confusion. “Huh?”

“Love,” Brynhild said, “Hate. Joy. Grief. They all flicker like flames in the wind. Sometimes they shrink to embers, but other times they explode into an all consuming blaze. But even the tiniest of embers show that there is something lurking within your circuits -”

“That’s not true!” Thrud screamed. She pushed to her feet, the light around her wings blazing brighter. There was a sound, like glass straining beneath a heavy weight, beginning to crack. “Don’t be ridiculous! We’re autonomous machines. We may now belong to Queen Skadi instead of Odin, but that doesn’t mean we’ve gained emotions!”

“Do you take us for human?” Hildr snapped. She joined her sister, her own corona of light growing. “We’d never allow something so unstable within ourselves!”

Ortlinde opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked away, expression tight, her whole body seeming to pull in on itself, her light dimming. The slight smile on Brynhild’s face shrunk, back into sadness. But she said nothing, as the light around Thrud and Hildr flared brighter, and brighter, the high whine of power beginning to fill the air.

Thrud laughed, this broken, harsh thing. “Oh, sister - our sister from Proper Human History! Why did it come to this? First you preach to us, then you tell us we’re not even Valkyries, and now you claim we’ve fallen like you!” 

There was a crack, shattered glass. CasCu flinched slightly as small black lines darted through Thrud’s wings like fractures. 

“I knew it” Thrud continued, heedless, “you have gone mad! Your mixed feelings towards Sigurd have twisted and tainted you! Once, you were our proud, unwavering sister. You gathered the souls of fallen heroes tirelessly - no more! Your affections have corrupted your mind!”

Another crack. More black fractures along Thrud’s wings. 

Ortlinde reached out. “Thrud- your magical energy is leaking - you need to calm down!”

“No!” Hildr cried. She hefted her spear, and with a crack, black marks appeared along her wings too. “Thrud’s right! This can’t stand - it can’t, it can’t, it can’t! We won’t take this! You die today, sister!” 

Thrud and Hildr through themselves forwards. They were faster than he remembered - their anger, their grief, whatever feelings now burned through their circuits increased their speed greatly. But their spearmanship was wild, off target, uncontrolled. Anger guided their strikes, instead of fueling them. Brynhild was able to block easily, though the force of their blows pushed her back. 

With each step, with each strike, Thrud and Hildr’s wings broke. Fractures at first, then little pieces falling off, dancing in their wake in little golden motes, before blackening and falling like ash to the ground. The coronas of light were painful around them, wavering and burning like the fires Brynhild had compared their emotions too. Unstable. Consuming, especially for those who didn’t know how to control them.

They were all right. Every one of them. Brynhild, Thrud, Hildr. The possibility for emotions did exist in each one of their circuits - they had been made that way, though as the first Valkyrie, Brynhild’s ability for them was so much greater. But at the same time, his Valkyries had never been equipped to understand those feelings. To control them. 

It made them human.

It had destroyed Brynhild.

And now, that inability to control their rage destroyed Thrud and Hildr.

Thrud was impaled first, upon the tip of Brynhild’s spear. It was a blow she could have blocked, could have dodged. He knew her capabilities. In her current state, it shouldn’t have hit. But Thrud let it, blood splattering across Brynhild’s spear, across the shadow border, from her mouth. The expression on her face was no longer rage. She was crying.

Hildr was a bolt of fading light, blackened wings, and pink hair. She did not head for Brynhild, did not attack like a part of him expected her too. Instead, she impaled herself along with Thrud, onto Brynhild’s spear. 

Ortlinde gasped, her hands covering her mouth. 

Thrud’s shield clattered onto the Shadow Border, followed by her spear. She gripped the heart shaped blade that bisected her, and spat blood onto the ground. “We’re not - like you,” she breathed, staring into Brynhild’s cold, sad face. “This fire - this fire that burns inside of us is so very, very ugly. We could never hope to be like you sister.” She laughed, a broken, half sobbed thing. She slumped against the heart shaped blade. “Even if you’re not from this history, you’re still our sister … you saw right through us. You always did … all we could ever do was follow you poorly.” 

“Yeah,” Hildr breathed. She pulled herself further onto the blade, and pressed her face against Thrud’s hair. Her shoulders shook - a laugh or sob, it was hard to tell. “You finally said it, Thrud. I feel the same way.” She looked up, into Brynhild’s face. “We can’t beat you. Even if our performance, output, and equipment surpass yours … there’s no way we could ever kill you … our beloved big sister.” She smiled, a thing full of bloody teeth, before letting her face fall into Thrud’s hair again. Her voice was tiny, smaller. “Let’s go out together, Thrud.”

“I’d like that,” Thrud breathed. She coughed, and blood spattered from her lips. “Ortlinde,” she breathed, no more than a whisper. “I’m sorry for dragging you into our self-destruction. But once sister woke, this one was inevitable. You’re not broken like us. You do not deserve this death. This heart, this envy - this death - is ours alone.”

Hildr smiled, a bloody thing. “We want you to follow your own heart as well,” she said, “I’m sure you have one too … so follow it, wherever it takes you.”

It started with their wings. Whatever remained of those bright gold bars crumpled into black shards and fell away until their bodies were as wingless as Brynhild’s were. Unlike the other Valkyries, they did not disappear. Of course, they didn’t. They were flesh and blood and circuitry, artificial and real all the same. Brynhild lowered her spear, and Hildr slid off it’s tip, Thrud sliding down to fall across her sister’s body. They lay there in a slowly growing pool of blood.

“I’m glad,” Brynhild said, her voice oh so quiet, “That you found yourselves in the end, my little sisters.” 

A quiet sob, a breath that was half cry. Ortlinde stepped forwards from where she had been standing, watching the fight. One hand still clutched the fabric of her half cape. The other reached out, to her sisters. “This can’t - ah - why did - sister Brynhild … why did they - I don’t understand -” She looked up. Tears shone on her face. “It’s like they - why did - it’s like they chose to die!” 

Brynhild took a step towards her, reaching out. “Ortlinde.”

Ortlinde let out another sob, then leapt away from Brynhild, into the sky. The rest of the Valkyries were gone; the Shadow Border had left them and the giants far behind. Ortlinde was a single algiz rune against the sky, burning even as she fled. Something heavy fell into the pit of CasCu’s stomach. He stared at the fallen sisters, then at Brynhild, as she slowly lowered her hand.

After she had killed Sigurd, Brynhild had slain herself. But she seemed to have no inclination to do so now. She just stared at Thrud and Hildr, then stepped away from their bodies, her shoulders shaking slightly. “Will you burn them?” she asked, soft. “A funeral pyre. It’s not what they would ask for, but I believe they will accept it if I ask it of them.”

“I will,” Gudako said. She stepped forwards, then reached out to set her hand on Brynhild’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be,” Brynhild said, soft. “It was always going to end like this. Let us leave them here, under the sky, for now. We are moving fast enough that no birds will be attracted to their bodies. And they had always loved the sky.”

Gudako nodded, her hand falling to Brynhild’s arm, before leading her towards the hatch, Mash taking Brynhild’s other side. CasCu waited until the three were in the Shadow Border before he glanced around. It seemed that Nobunaga, Raikou, and Napoleon had made their way inside as well. 

He stepped out of Spirit Form, and stepped across the shadow border, until Thrud’s and Hildr’s blood was brushing against the bottom of his feet. He knelt, then tugged Thrud off Hildr, until the sisters were laying right by each other. He stared at them for a long moment. Then he reached out. His fingers brushed across their eyelids as he closed them.

Chapter Text

Nightingale bustled around Alter’s form, her Madness radiating waves off her that CasCu could almost feel. He wasn’t too surprised. Alter was still unconscious, sunk so deep in his curses that they literally pulsed across his chest. CasCu and Gudako had done all they could, and Alter had had time to rest in Spirit Form, but there was still a small wound on his stomach - not to mention however fucked up his insides were from that damn thing. 

But he would be fine. He would be. Nightingale might not have had the same access to equipment she did in Chaldea, but that didn’t mean shit. She made do. She was the type of person who always did.

Like Kage did.

CasCu sighed, and reached out to brush his hellion’s hair from his face. Kage didn’t look to be in pain. His skin was still pale, gray shadows smeared under his eyes, but it wasn’t twisted up in agony. His mouth was faintly parted. CasCu could hear him breathe, in and out, in and out, a regular thing. When he rested his hand on Kage’s chest, he could feel the inflation of it. In … and out. Up … and down. 

The runes he had placed before were still on Kage’s side, glowing softly blue. His other selves had kept them powered like he’d asked. A part of him itched that he could do better now. But the pain in CasCu’s head, the confusing emotions and thoughts and dreams and hurts, seemed to have faded in Kage’s presence. CasCu could breathe here, timing each one with his hellion’s breaths.

Still, the death runes crouched. CasCu could feel them pulsing beneath Kage’s skin, in tune with his curse. But his brat was a fighter. He’d be alright. CasCu knew it. CasCu believed in it, with all his heart.

Because he didn’t know what he’d do if Kage gave in.

CasCu leaned in and pressed his lips to Kage’s forehead. Kage was warm beneath his touch, which made a part of CasCu tighten in fear. Being warmer than a sun demigod was never a good thing. He pressed his fingers against Kage’s forehead and wrote isa in soft gold, letting it sink in. Something in Kage’s posture eased. His breathing seemed more even, in and out in that steady pattern. CasCu laid his head on Kage’s chest and breathed in with him.

In … and out.

In … and out.

In …

“You’re bruised.”

CasCu blinked, then looked up. Nightingale had finished with Alter. Bandages swathed his chest, and Irisviel knelt by his side, her healing magic doing it’s best to combat the tides of Alter’s curse. No doubt Nightingale had also injected something into him for the pain. He would be alright. The certainty was a warm wash of relief through CasCu’s tired mind. Alter would be alright.

But CasCu would not be, if the look in Nightingale’s eyes meant anything.

CasCu straightened, so he was sitting on the edge of Kage’s cot instead of laying on it. “It’s not that bad,” he said, “Been there a couple of days. It’s fading.”

“You should have used your runecraft to heal it.” She retorted, eyes flaring. Her hand reached out to grip his chin, tilting his head this way and that to get a better look at the injury. “Rope burns,” she said, in a monotonous voice, “consistent with those incorrectly hung at a gallows, where their necks do not snap , and they are left asphyxiating until death. This process can take up to days. In such victims, there is reduced blood flow to the extremities. Other symptoms include hoarse voice, sore throat, difficulty swallowing, shortness of breath, hyperventilation, asthma or worsening of it, anxiety, poor concentration, headache, blurry or reduced vision, and loss of consciousness.” She picked his hand up, examining it. “I see no indicators of reduced blood flow to extremities.”

“There was none,” CasCu said. He’d long since learned not to argue with Nightingale. She always got her way eventually. It was easier to just go along with her. “Hoarse voice, sore throat, and difficulty swallowing when it happened. Since then, I’ve had some shit concentration, a headache, and my vision’s been wonky - but it was being weird before this. This just made it worse.” 

“What caused it?” She asked, pulling out a penlight from somewhere. She held it up to his eyes, and he blinked back at the sudden bright light, fighting the sting of tears.

“Don’t know,” he said, “woke up with it. Told Gudako that it was the loop on my cloak. Don’t know what else it could be.”

“It’s not,” she said, monotone, “It’s too wide, and too rough. There’s fiber imprints against your skin.” She switched to the other eye, and CasCu flinched back sharply again. “Your right eye is reacting slower than your left,” she intoned, eyes narrowing, “Have you sustained any head injury?” 

“No,” CasCu shook his head. There was something cold in the pit of his stomach. Discomfort, fear, something else he couldn’t name. He didn’t like Nightingale picking at him like this, as if there was a scab somewhere here that she was intent on peeling away. He wanted to bat her hands away.

She retreated, leaving him behind to collect more gear. “We need an MRI scan,” she said, “but do not have the equipment for it. We must test for concussion and brain damage the old way, before diagnosing and treating you.”

“And what would you be treating me for?” CasCu asked. He glanced back to Irisviel. She was focused on Alter’s curses, her brows furrowed in concentration. She would be at that for a while. Alter’s curses were born of the Grail, but so was her power. It would take some time to see which Grail one out.

“Brain injury.” Nightingale said, her voice cold. She continued talking, listing the tests they would be doing, the ways to heal each process, in that rat-tat-tat tone she was known for. With each word, she veered further into that Madness that characterized her class, that characterized her. 

He didn’t listen. He raised his fingers and sketched runes across his throat, healing away the bruise and the damage beneath the skin. A few more sketched runes hung golden in the air, softly glowing, pulsing. Uraz, creativity. Perpo, mystery and magic. Those two were enough to craft the illusion he needed so Irisviel wouldn’t look over at them.

He stood, and followed Nightingale. She had gathered a clipboard, a pen, and was turning around. He was there to meet her. His fingers rested on her forehead, a gentle bump before she could react. Pain flared in his eye and golden runes lit across her forehead, a complex circle of them.

Mannaz, mind, intellect, memory. Perpo, hidden secrets, mystery. 

Ansuz, Odin. 

He pulled his fingers back. Nightingale’s face was blank, slack. Her hands set the clipboard and pen back down. He retreated away from her, and sat back on the cot, beside Kage. He made a short gesture  and released his runes. The illusion fell just as Nightingale blinked, and frowned. She raised her fingers to her head. “I was -”

“You were going to tell me how Kage was doing,” he said, soft and leading. “You’ve had a lot on your plate. Maybe you should rest, Nightingale. It wouldn’t do Gudako good if her nurse worked herself into exhaustion.”

Nightingale stared at him, before shaking her head. “I get adequate rest,” she retorted, bluntly, before walking over to his side. “Kage has been doing quite well, given his situation. He is fighting admirably. I believe that it would be possible to cut off the areas affected by the runes, and his innate stubbornness would push him through the procedure.”

A sharp pang of fear bust through CasCu. He fumbled for Kage’s hand, then held it tight, squeezing. “Runes don’t work like that,” he said, words tripping over each other in his haste to get them out. “Especially not primordial runes - cutting them away will do nothing but make his situation worse.”

Her eyes narrowed, flaring briefly with light. “I suppose you are the expert.”

CasCu wasn’t sure he trusted the way she said those words. He held Kage’s hand a bit tighter. “Thank you for looking after him,” he said. “I know he’s safe in your care.” Or at least, in Irisviel’s care.

Nightingale hummed, another long note, before turning from him. “Of course. I will heal him, even if it kills him. Now replenish your mana,” she said, “your supplies are low. If you insist on continuing to support Gudako in the field, then you must first ensure your own condition is optimal.”

“Yeah … I know,” CasCu said, sighing. He laid back down beside Kage, hand still holding his. Resumed watching Kage’s face and the way his chest rose and fell with his breaths. CasCu’s head felt hazy, but his throat no longer hurt, the bruises at his neck were no longer tender. Nightingale had probably healed it. CasCu couldn’t help but be relieved. If Kage had woken up and seen that, he would have freaked.

If Kage had woken up, that was. Right now, it seemed like him waking up would be a long time coming. CasCu would have traded anything for him to wake up sooner.

Proto and Cu nudged his mind a bit later, this brief touch of mental energy against his own. CasCu started slightly, his eyes blinking open. The rhythms of Kage’s steady breathing had almost been enough to send him to sleep. There was a burst of warmth in CasCu’s chest for his other selves. 

Thank Lugh. He didn’t want to sleep, right now.

“Can you repeat that?” CasCu sent out, reaching to thumb through Kage’s hair again. He’d already finger combed it once. He wanted to do it again.

“What, didn’t hear us?” Cu asked, “Where you asleep or something?”

Proto didn’t waste time with poking fun. He just asked, his voice a bit tiny. “How’s Alter doing? We - we heard. Do you think he’s up for a visit?”

CasCu sighed and pushed himself up. Alter’s condition hadn’t changed since the last time he’d looked. Bandages still dressed his torso, though there didn’t seem to be any blood - not any CasCu could see at least. But Alter’s curses seemed to have calmed down during CasCu’s time out of it. They no longer pulsed like angry lights against his skin. Irisviel must have been successful in calming them, then.

CasCu sighed and laid down again, fingers returning to Kage’s hair. “He’s going to be alright,” he sent, “His curses have been taken care of, and the wound treated. You know how stubborn he is - it’s nothing he can’t come back from … he’ll be pissed about being taken off the team once he wakes up, though.”

“Of course he’ll be,” Proto laughed, this tight little thing. “He always hates to be sidelined.”

“Don’t worry, Edge will enforce it,” Cu said dryly. He paused to let them all laugh, then continued. “It’s good to hear he’s going to be alright. But how about yourself? Rumors going around that there’s been some weird shit going on in your head.”

CasCu scowled. “And where did you hear that?”

Silence.

“Gudako?” He pressed, “Mash? Or was it Scáthach ?” That last one made both Proto and Cu take a reflexive flinch back. CasCu could feel it in his head, and he sighed heavily. “She’s one to speak. The Skadi in this Lostbelt wear’s Scáthach ’s face. Did she tell you about that?”

Another pause. Long and lasting. CasCu waited until one of the other’s replied, this quiet, admitted “No.”

“That’s what I thought,” CasCu sighed and tucked a bit closer to Kage. “She’s brushing it off, acting like it doesn’t bother her. Maybe it doesn’t - it is Scáthach we’re talking about after all. But maybe it does and she’s not showing it. This Lostbelt has thrown more ‘weird shit’ at her than it has at me, I think.”

Cu was ready to accept that answer. CasCu could feel it. Proto, though, was more used to CasCu’s tactics. He pressed forward, pushing. “You’re deflecting. What’s going on, CasCu? We can help.”

No, they couldn’t. CasCu was silent for a moment, trying to figure out a good way to answer that question. Words bloomed in his head, as if written by the hand of a pen master, far, far away. “ … not much you can help with. It’s just damn weird, to see this place. It’s like Russia, but at least in Russia, there was a chance to live life the way you wanted too. A false future, but a future. Here, there’s not even that. It’s shitty. And seeing someone with Scáthach ’s face ruling and orchestrating the whole thing is even shittier.”

“Sounds like it.” Cu was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright out there? We could ask Gudako if one of us could come and help. Fill in Alter’s slot, for him.”

“I can fill him in well enough,” CasCu said, huffing, “And I think she’s decided to take Raikou. With a goddess as our final fight, Gudako’s bound to choose those that are good against Divinity. Is she trading Tesla out for Nobunaga?”

“Last I heard, she wasn’t,” Proto said. “She might though. Nobunaga’s real good against ancient foes like that. She’d probably try to take over the Lostbelt for herself, too.” It was a weak joke, but everyone couldn’t help but laugh anyway. It felt good to laugh, after everything.

CasCu settled in a bit more, grinning. “Tell Gudako to keep Nobunaga away from Napoleon. I don’t think anyone would be safe if the two of them officially met.”

“Another enthusiastic conqueror? Gods, Chaldea will burst at the seams if we get another one of those bastards.” 

Cu’s dry joke tugged another chuckle from CasCu, even as his grin fell. Chaldea was gone now. It was just the Shadow Border. They had no home, no hope, no nothing. They were stuck here, like this.

For now.

“Yeah,” CasCu said, a bit softer, “Another enthusiastic conqueror. Womanizer, too. Damn romantic man, which doesn’t fit his myth. But he’s one of those spirits. Like Edison.”

“Ah.” 

Really, it didn’t need much else explaining. Some Heroic Spirits were close to their original myth. Others, for whatever reason, were vastly different. Like Edison. Like Napoleon. Like CasCu himself. 

They settled there, into silence. CasCu eased back down to curl up by Kage’s side. His fingers threaded through Kage’s hair, over and over and over again. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed like Kage softened into the touch. CasCu’s own voice was soft as well. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“Of course,” Cu said.

“You know you can rely on us for anything,” Proto added, “we’re here for you.”

CasCu’s lips twitched slightly upwards. Oh, he knew that they were there for him. At some points, it could be quite fucking annoying. But gods, he wasn’t going to argue about that now. Not when it meant Kage would be well taken care off while he tied up loose ends. “Yeah,” he sent, “I know.”

As much as CasCu wanted too, he couldn’t stay by Kage’s side. The longer he laid there, curled up, watching his hellion breathe, the more exhausted he felt. If he stayed there, he was going to fall asleep, and there was a tiny part of CasCu that was afraid that - if he slept, he would no longer be the same when he woke up. 

So he took to Spirit Form, and went for a walk. He didn’t think about where he was going. He just moved, feet stepping through the hallways, and towards the outside hatch. Through the door, and up the bolted stairs, until he was on top of the Shadow Border. The vehicle was still moving, but in Spirit Form he couldn’t feel the way the wind pummeled, could only hear it whipping by in whistling gusts.

Night had fallen. The too large sun was gone from the sky, but it was still silvery and hazy, as if the light it cast had not completely been removed. It might have been CasCu’s imagination, but the tone seemed to be a bit more red than before. 

Like he’d expected, Brynhild was up here.

She stood by Thrud and Hildr’s bodies, her spear gripped tight in one hand. For all the wind buffeted her hair about, she herself barely budged. She just stood there, staring at her sisters. The sadness that so often clung to her features seemed greater, right now. Not quite like she was on the verge of tears … just the quiet sorrow, so heavy and deep, that was a part of Brynhild’s nature.

CasCu stepped out of Spirit Form. “Watching over their bodies?” he asked, quiet.

Brynhild glanced up at him. Her expression flickered, then settled. “Gudako’s Caster,” she said, her voice soft. 

“Yeah, I’m one of them.” He took a few steps closer, moving around the bodies of her fallen Sisters. He held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m CasCu. I’d say it’s good to meet you, Brynhild, but circumstances don’t ask for those words.” 

“No, they don’t.” She stared at his hand for a moment, then gave it a small shake. Her eyes bore into him, the gleam of her iris’ soft gold against the purple. “I do not believe we have met before?” The words were posed like a question.

“Not officially,” CasCu said, dropping his hand. 

“How odd… you seem familiar.” 

“I get that a lot,” CasCu said, the lie easy on his lips. “I’m … sorry about your sisters.” Those words felt odder. Part lie, part not. He was sorry, but not as sorry as he should be. The feeling was conflicting. He didn’t know what to do with it.

Brynhild stared at him for a long moment longer, then shook her head. She turned to watch Thrud and Hildr one more, her expression indescribably soft and sad. “I am not sorry,” she said, “I have always loved my sisters. Though I mourn their death, I also mourn the pain they went through, in this Lostbelt. I am glad to have lifted them from it … and I am glad that they had found their hearts in the end.” 

CasCu looked away from that expression. Stared at the fallen bodies on the ground. “Still … it’s never easy, killing a loved one. It’s a pain I know well … and I’m afraid it’s a pain you’re going to have to face again. Ortlinde is still out there. And -”

“Sigurd,” she finished for him. The word was all sigh, longing and wistful and horribly sad. She looked up towards the sky, her hair whipping out with the motion, like a set of unfurling wings. “I will see him, I will love him, and then I will kill him. Always, always, I will kill him … do you know the story, CasCu? Of our love and our death?” 

Yes. Every beat, as if he had watched it play out himself. “As much as the Throne gives me,” he said, quietly. “As much as any Heroic Spirit knows.”

She nodded, small, then opened her eyes. Her words were soft, so soft CasCu nearly missed them. “The only man I love is Sigurd , none other. No one, not one single solitary person, may touch him but me.” 

They were the words she had said on her deathbed . The words she had spoken after slaughtering Sigurd, his wife, Brynhild’s new husband, and their families. Both Sigurd and Brynhild had been victims in that tale - Sigurd’s memories had been stolen, his love for Brynhild locked away, so he would marry another woman. And without recognizing her, Sigurd had tricked Brynhild into marrying another man. And in her rage when she had found out, Brynhild had killed every single one of them, and then herself.

He could see her like she had been then. Her armor and clothes soaked in blood, her hair drenched in it. The tears and the rage in her eyes. Hysterical laughter and sobs. The hands that had shepherded so many Heroic Spirits to the halls of Valhalla, had supported the wrong warrior and earned Odin’s wrath, had loved Sigurd so fiercely and taught him runecraft before he lost everything of her, had gripped the shaft of the very spear she carried now and stabbed herself with it. He could see her smile as she died, small and relieved, finally peaceful in the flames of her anguish.

“I’m dangerous,” Brynhild said. She reached her hand up, towards the stars, her expression soft and longing. “I want to see Sigurd again. I want to embrace him. I want to kill him. After all this time, there is still a fire burning inside me, endlessly driving me to that. Even now that I’m a Heroic Spirit, a shadow projected by humanity, the version of me inscribed in the Throne is based on the moment I killed him, wreathed in flames of madness.”

CasCu stood silent, watching her. In a way, it felt like his heart was breaking. Brynhild sighed, then brought down her hand, closing her fingers into a fist over her chest. “That’s why I can kill him. That’s why I will kill him. It’s why I was able to kill my adoring little sisters … and why I was able to kill Sigurd before, despite my love for him.”

“But it still hurts,” CasCu said, “Gods, I know the feeling Brynhild. I’ve killed people I love before.” Ferdiad , Connla, their pains were etched into his Spirit Form, echoing and sharp. “It’s not easy. Even in madness, it still hurts.”

“It hurts more to know he might be doing horrible things here in this Lostbelt.” Brynhild said. Her hand dropped, fell to her side. “The Sigurd I loved was a good man. A just man. If he has fallen from that path, then I must save him.”

“By killing him,” CasCu finished for her.

She met his gaze, and nodded. “By killing him.”

Pride rose in CasCu’s chest, the warmth of it offset by a bitter spark of pain, of understanding. CasCu’s lover had fallen to his spear. So had his own son. So had Kage, at one point. CasCu hated killing those he loved… but sometimes it was necessary, and Brynhild held herself under the pressure of that job admirably. And yet …

“Do not be afraid,” he said, “if you still need someone to lean on. Gudako and Mash will be here for you. I’ll be here for you too, if you need me to.” 

Brynhild considered him, for a longer moment, before speaking. “You are not like the emperor. Your gaze holds no lust. So why, CasCu, are you so invested in my safety? There is no reason for you to be. At the end of this fight, once my Sigurd is dead, I will follow after him. There is no reason to be attached to me, beyond the simple bond forged between those fighting on the same sides.”

There was no meanness in those words, no sharp cuts meant for him. But CasCu had to look away anyway. He stared at nothing, for a long moment, gaze tracing the bodies of Thrud and Hildr. Their clothes were gently buffeted by the Shadow Border as it cut through the wind. Strands of their hair flew in the breeze. 

“I had a daughter,” CasCu said, soft. “Unlike my other selves, I was lucky enough to see her grow up. You remind me of her, a bit. I’m not exactly sure why, but … you do. Enough that I want to extend the same hand I would have extended to her.” 

Brynhild considered him, before dropping her gaze. She knelt, to tuck the strands of her sisters’ hair behind their ears. “Odin was not a particularly good father. Not cruel, but distant. As long as we followed our design, he was pleased with us. I do not think he liked my sisters as much as he liked me.”

“Gods are like that,” CasCu admitted. “My own da’s a god. He was never really present - gods, he only came for me once that I can think of, and even then it didn’t turn out very well. They think different from us, but I like to think … that godly fathers care, even if they do not show it. And I can’t imagine him not being proud of you.” 

She sighed, a soft breath. “I betrayed him,” she said. “Chose to aid the young warrior Agnar instead of the warrior he favored. In response, he stripped me of my divinity and cast me to earth, entombed me in a palace of flames. And that is where Sigurd found me. That is where we met, and fell in love.”

“If it’s any consolation,” CasCu said, the words numb on his lips. “Great anger can only come when care is involved.” 

“Perhaps,” she murmured, “but would you have done the same to your daughter?”

“No.” The answer came immediately. Somehow, it felt more … him than he felt in a while. Finscoth and him had had their disagreements - with their temperaments, of course they had - but he would have never done to her what Odin had done to Brynhild. He had no sympathy for any father who did.

“That is what I thought.” Brynhild sighed softly. She stood and tipped her head up, chin raised defiantly. “Odin is my father, but in many ways he is nothing more than my creator, just as he was the creator of Thrud and Hildr and Ortlinde. We were meant to be nothing but machines that collected souls, yet he still gave us the capability to feel - yet he made no effort to guide that, or teach us how those feelings were used. Perhaps if he had, I would not be mad like I am. Perhaps if he had, Thrud and Hildr would not have died this day … but I cannot help but be thankful, that he gave us this capability. It is better to burn than to freeze.” 

“Yeah, it is.” CasCu murmured. 

He stared at Thrud and Hildr, then reached out. His staff fell into his hand. He tapped it against the roof of the Shadow Border, and runes lit gold at the impact. Wunjo, for human companionship and connections, for comfort. Jeran, the reward for hard work. Algiz, divine protection and the energy of the Valkyrie . The three runes encircled the two sisters. A golden dome, soft and flickering, warm, surrounded their bodies. Grass burst beneath them, flowers against their cheeks, gentle touches. Their clothes were no longer buffeted by the winds, or the harshness of travel. 

They laid there, untouchable, peaceful, and he hoped whatever souls the Valkyries had were comforted.

“I would like to light their pyre,” CasCu said, “But if you would rather do the deed, then I will not stop you.” 

Brynhild stared at him. Her expression was very quiet, very soft. Then she turned away, murmured almost to herself. “Familiar indeed …” then, louder, “I want to light their pyre. But if you wish to help me build it, then I will not argue against the help.”

Cascu relaxed slightly. “Then I’ll help out.” 

Brynhild nodded, then turned to watch her sister’s bodies again. CasCu watched for a while himself, but slowly, his gaze drifted up to the sky. The studded stars, a pair of them brighter and more golden then the rest. The aurora borealis, spilling across the sky in ribbons of green and blue. And that silvery, almost red, haze that covered it all. 

CasCu made his way to Kage again. It felt odd, to be gone from his side for long. Like there was something going on in his head, a nervousness that he couldn’t fully ignore. It had been the sight of that sky that had done it. No matter how CasCu stared at it, the appearance of that haze was … off. Wrong. Made him think of ashes and smoke, of things burning away. 

Brynhild believed it was better to burn than to freeze. And she was right, in some aspects. Warmth was better than cold. Fire better than ice. But if they weren’t in moderation, they could and would destroy everything they came across.

Especially when one switched between them without warning. 

The thought left CasCu nervous. He made his way to his brat, and slid into the cot beside him, cuddling up and wrapping Kage in his arms, pressing his face against his hair. There wasn’t much of the night left. He could spend the rest of it like this, curled up, listening and feeling Kage breath. Assured that his hellion was okay and would continue to be so.

As long as Not-Sigurd could be taken down. And CasCu knew, deep in his bones, that Brynhild would manage it. She had before - but Sigurd was not Sigurd. There was something wrong with him. If Brynhild couldn’t - no. No. She would be able to. Even if the mind was not Sigurd’s, the body was, and that was all that mattered. It had to be.

It had to be.

CasCu breathed. He breathed, and listened to Kage breathe as well. Slowly, his mind settled. In the room, Alter was breathing too. Nightingale and Irisviel must have left to recuperate their mana, Alter’s treatment over. No doubt, though, Nightingale would come back around to check up on them both. And on Sherlock, CasCu supposed. He actually hadn’t seen that bastard since he arrived. Sherlock had probably been moved somewhere else.

Thank the gods. 

CasCu couldn’t explain the touch of relief that swelled in his chest, but it was there nonetheless . He sighed at himself, pressed his face more against Kage’s hair. “Miss you, a ghra. Head’s all fucked up. Wish you’d be here to set it straight for me.”

Nothing but soft breaths. CasCu hadn’t really expected Kage to wake up at that point, but gods … he squeezed his eyes shut, and held Kage a little tighter, curling against him. “Fight for me,” he murmured, soft. “It’s almost over, a ghra. You just have to fight for me.”

Kage might not have been able to hear him, but CasCu knew he’d fight. It was what Kage did best. His hellion didn’t give in easily.

“Setenta.”

CasCu’s eyes blinked open. He looked up from Kage’s hair, frowning. “ Scáthach ? Did you need something?”

“I think,” she said, “we need to talk. There has been something going on with you. I know Alter tried talking to you about it, but I do not believe he was capable of pushing far enough. Now, I can either come to you, or you can come to me.”

CasCu’s frown deepened. A coil of pain slithered around his eye. “Anything you have to say,” he said, “we can say like this.” Here, she could not attack him. Attempt to corner him, yes - but she would be unable to hurt him, in Nightingale’s domain. Like this, talking mentally, he could read her and she could read -

Him. 

“No.” Scáthach said, pressed, “I know your ways of avoidance, Setenta. But you’re not fully Setenta anymore, are you?” 

Silence. 

A heartbeat. Two. Three. He pushed himself up from the half-dead man’s body, and said, coldly, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Scáthach .”

“No, I’m quite sure I’m not,” Scáthach said, her voice soft. Threatening. The low hiss of a blade as it cut through the air. “I know the energy of a God far better than most, and you are not talented enough in runecraft to send another Servant in Spirit Form. You react to things you have no connection too, and hold knowledge and wisdom that should be impossible. You are acting odd, Setenta. Being backed up by a being greater than yourself. And I don’t think you quite realize it.”

“What gives you that idea?” He asked, lips moving softly. It was odd, seeing out of two eyes instead of one. His vision was sharp, but not sharp enough. He closed his aching eye, and his vision flared. He saw the strands of mana in the air, twisting and turning, faint and fleeting. The telepathic connection he and Scáthach shared.

She was a wise woman, Scáthach . Confident in her abilities, dangerous. Her voice dropped a notch colder. “You are not my pupil.”

“You should stop prying where you’re not welcome, god killer.” He reached up, and wrapped his fingers around that thread of connection. “Count your lucky stars. This would be far worse if you were not needed for the battle ahead.” 

He snapped the thread between his fingers. It broke with a soft whump of air, a burst of mana against his skin. Pain echoed in his head, but it would be worse in hers. And before that strand of connection that lead to Scáthach faded, he shoved three runes into it, traveling along its length and straight into her mind.

Mannaz, for memory.

Ansuz.

Hagalaz, to shatter.

He waited for a moment longer, listening to the slow beat of his heart. He raised his hand, pressing it against his head as if it hurt. Waited for a response from Scáthach . Nothing. She still might have defended herself in time - he would have to keep an eye on her. God killers were troublesome. Skadi had made a menace, when she taught this woman runes. 

“Nightingale?” He said, aloud. “My head won’t stop hurting.”

She appeared in a wash, right by his side. Her eyes flared with lingering madness. “Symptoms?” Before he even had a chance to ask, she was checking him, light in his eyes and hand on thermometer shoved into his mouth to check his temperature. He let her, waiting, bit by bit. He knew how this would play out. She would find nothing, and then she would give him something for the pain. 

After that, she left. He turned to stare at the half-dead man, still sleeping on the bed. There was something familiar about his face. He reached down, and gripped his chin, tilted his head. This way, that way. Eyelids fluttered. The flash of black and gold, the soft pulse of the red curse along his skin.

“Loki would have liked your face,” he mused.

Then he laid down, and closed his eyes. 

This is the day he dies.

There is no sun in the sky, there are no stars . No light, but no darkness either. Just the soft twilight glow of winters, of fires in the different worlds, of the disaster that is befalling everything. He can see it all. Ygdrissil trembles beneath his feet, and he watches as the mountains quake, rocks falling, tress crashing, worlds being shaken down to their very roots. Can see the ramifications of those tremors as they rip through the worlds.

Fenrir’s chain snaps.

Jormungand, awakened from his slumber, rises and the seas rise with him.

And in the depths of hell, the moorings attached to the ship Naglfar snap. Though it seems a long, long distance away, he knows it will be here swiftly. After all, Loki is at its helm, and Loki has forever been quick in both their bad decisions and good, swift in all their actions and fast in carrying them out.

Above the gods of Asgard, the sky splits and cracks. Red, molten light spills out from the gap, bathing the scene in red. Soon, the Giants of Muspel, with Surtr leading them, will emerge from the sky and bring destruction in their wake.

Today is the day. The twilight of the gods. The end of the gods. He sees it all, hears it all, knows it all. The steps leading up to it - and the steps afterward . The end of the Age of Gods, and the beginning of the Age of Man. All they can do now is make sure that there is a world for them to live in.

Footsteps, behind him. Thor, stepping closer, his voice low and rumbling. He grips his hammer tight in hand. “Skadi has refused our call, father. She will not come to aid us.”

He is not surprised. 

The union between Skadi and the gods did not go as well as he had hoped. Though she is counted as one of them, and participates with their hunts, their fights, their parties, there has always been a distance that never closed. She did not care enough about them to come here today … but neither is she among the giants that threaten the wolds.

“She is not our enemy either,” he says, muses, “Keep watch, Thor. Your own battle approaches. Cast Skadi out of your mind. Jormungand is the one you must face.”

“He’ll be crushed beneath my heals, father,” Thor promises.

He does not have the strength to tell Thor that he will succeed. That he will walk seven steps from Jormungand, and then die from Jormungand’s venom. So he leaves Thor behind, and walks forwards, to the very edge of their ranks, and beyond. It is not just gods who stand here today. It is the Valkyries’, all geared up and ready. His daughters, Thrud, Hildr, and Ortlinde, and all the others that throng the skies. His einherjar, the warriors who have waited so long in Valhalla ’s halls, are here too, ready to follow his command. 

But there is one that is not.

For all Loki’s purpose in their ranks is over, he can still feel the gap in it, empty. Far away, on the ship Naglfar, Loki captains it and their army forwards. Their form is the most giantish he has seen it in a long time. Warm brown skin cracked open like lava to show glowing red beneath. Red hair that dances and flickers like fire, only to fade to white and gray smoke, intricately braided with beads and shinies. Their gold eyes glare out of gray sclera, embers in ash in a wasteland of scarring. 

Today, their form is superficially male. But that does not matter, because it is the shape and size that signals Loki’s intentions. They do not march against Asgard as a God, but as a Giant. As Loki left their kind to join him, Loki has now left him to join Surtr.

He traces two runes in the air. Raido. Mannaz. They hang gold in the air, then fade.

“There is still time to end this, Loki. Cast your anger aside. Join us. Fight for us. There is still time.”

The laugh that fills his mind is sharp and crackling, like static or flame. Loki has always been clever, but the sound of their voice now is downright mad. “Time! Time! Oh, Odin, sworn brother, blood brother, there is no time left! Face it, one eyed fool, old man of the gods, your time is all out! The eve of Ragnarök dawns, and finally, finally, there will be some payback for all your wretched deeds!”

“What wretched deeds are ours are also yours,” he returns. “If you wish to use that as your excuse, then come over here and face the consequences.”

“But I already have faced the consequences!” Loki shrieks into his mind, cackles widely and broken. “Don’t you remember what you did to me, old man? You killed my son and bound me up with his guts. You let Skadi hang that snake above my face. Oh, how long I laid there under the earth, constrained by my son’s intestines, my wife slaving to keep the venom from burning my features, but commanded not to properly interfere. Oh, Sigyn, whose bowl was always too small to save me!”

They are mad with pain, he thinks. In a way, it is not a surprise. Loki’s is a wild nature, a free being. Constraint would drive them mad. He supposes he should be sorry. And yet - “You brought that fate upon yourself. If you had kept your mouth silent at that feast, then no one would have seen fit to bind and burn you.”

Loki is silent, for a long, long moment. He can feel the crackle of their thoughts against the corners of his mind. The wild, broken, pained skipping of them. When they speak , it’s slow. “Do you remember, in the bygone days, we mixed our blood together? Do you remember, old man, or has that left you completely?” 

“I remember.” The words are soft. He does. He can still feel Loki’s palm against his own, the burn of their blood as they mixed. Muspel and God. Chaos and Order. Bound as brothers, and to treat each other as such. 

“Do you remember, claiming me as your brother? You said you would never drink ale unless it was brought to the both of us. You said the Gods of Asgard would welcome me. That I would serve a purpose there that I would not find elsewhere. That - as a brother, you would protect me, as I would protect you. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” he repeats, quiet.

“Where was that protection?” Loki shouted, their voice a roar. “Where was that protection, when I cut off Sif’s hair, and in recompense got her hair made of gold, encouraged the crafting of your spear, Freyr’s spear, and Thor’s hammer! Where was that protection, when you allowed those smiths to sew my mouth shut and your gods to laugh at my fate! Where was that protection when you gods denounced me for birthing your own steed, when it was your stupid bet that got me in that situation in the first place! Where was your protection, every miserable step of the way? Laughed and denounced and called perverted for being myself. Being threatened for every small misdemeanor and every harmless act. Every breath in your home of Asgard felt like my last! Your words of promise were nothing but a death threat!”

In the silence following their words, he waits. Waits for the ringing to end. The anger to die down. And in it, he speaks. Soft and quiet. “I said I would treat you as a brother. I, who have slain my own brothers before. It is not my fault that you did not see how obvious my intent was. You played a part in Asgard, Loki. A part you could play again.”

“I played your shadow,” they spat, venom. “I played your darkness. Oh, look at how beautiful the gods of Asgard shine, and how could they not? When they have wretched, disgusting, perverted, horrific, malicious Loki to compare against. I’m no saint, but you all -” a laugh here “- you all have only escaped being burned because of me. And I am done protecting you.”

He should have known it was impossible to reason with them. He sighs, and cuts the connection, and looks up at the sky. The crack is widening. And then, with violence, it shatters. A sword rips through the fabric of the sky. The metal of it is bright-hot, white-hot. Even from here, he can feel the heat of Surtr’s weapon.

And then Gjallarhorn blows.

CasCu woke with a jerk. His breath fluttered in the back of his throat, the race of adrenalin he couldn’t fully place. He stared, wide-eyed , at Kage. His hellion was tucked close, under his neck. CasCu clung to him, fingers in his shirt, tight. He couldn’t help staring at Kage’s hair, fluffy and soft from all the brushings it had been through, falling over his brat’s brows in unruly tufts.

For a moment, it didn’t look white. It looked like pale ash.

He sucked his breath between his teeth, and pressed his face into Kage’s hair. For a moment, he could only breathe like that. His eyes burned, his throat ached, and the scars from Chulainn’s dog so long ago were burning, burning, as if they were newly imprinted upon his flesh.

In short, he was a wreck. He didn’t want to move. Kage was here and breathing and everything in CasCu wanted to stay right beside him and listen to his breath, monitor his progress. 

Almost everything, that was.

“Have we stopped to build the pyre yet?” He asked, sending the words to Brynhild. 

It took a moment for her to reply. “We will be stopping soon. We’re close to a good place. I can feel it.”

“Alright,” CasCu said. He settled there, by his hellion a few moments longer, before leaning down to kiss his ashen hair. “I’ll have you healed up soon, a ghra. I promise.” Then he took to Spirit Form, leaving his brat on the bed behind him.

The place Brynhild chose was a small clearing, surrounded by crystal trees, the snow smooth and unbothered. The sun shown down on it in full. CasCu hadn’t been imagining things, last night. Even the light seemed faintly touched by red. Like a fire starting to grow. Like the ceiling of the world splitting open wide enough to pour forth Armageddon . He stared at it for a long moment, then reached up to wave at one of the raven’s watching. It took off towards Skadi’s castle in a flurry of feathers.

He wondered if she recognized the sight of that sun. Knew what it meant - but Skadi had not participated in Ragnarök like the other gods had. It was possible that she was clueless … or that there was something else going on.

CasCu shook his aching head, then turned away from the flying ravens. They needed wood for the pyre, and these crystal trees weren’t going to cut it. He plunged his hands into the snow, through the pulse of Skadi’s divinity, and touched the ground beneath. It leapt to him easily, answered the runes he boosted, and began to grow. 

A sapling pushed from the ground, slow and stead, swiftly growing bigger. Leaves blossomed green and turned brown as he watched, seasons passing at an abnormal rate for it.

Two thumps, as people landed. Brynhild carried Thrud in her arms. Hildr was being carried by Napoleon. Gudako and Mash followed after them both. Gudako’s voice was very soft. “Do you think we can burn what’s on the top of the Shadow Border?” 

“No,” CasCu said, shaking his head. “They’ll disappear now that the bodies have been moved. How much wood do you want, Brynhild?” 

Brynhild watched the tree grow. Her expression was very soft, very gentle, and very sad. But she didn’t look to be on the verge of tears. She just sighed, and shook her head, looking back down at Thrud’s body. “We do not have enough time to grow the trees for a proper pyre.” She murmured quietly. “So we’ll only take one, and make it last. It is not the wood that is important, but the flames.”

CasCu would have argued that the wood was important. The one he had chosen was an ash tree. It was tall now, taller than him, and growing thicker and wider with every moment. He poured more mana into it, tugging that same mana from the leylines beneath his feet. They pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the cycle of the seasons on the tree’s branches. Spring. Summer. Fall. Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall. Winter. Over and over and over again, until -

“That’s good,” Gudako said. “Any larger and it’ll take forever to chop up. Napoleon? That’s your job.” 

“But Maître -”

“No. I think … CasCu should hold Hildr for a moment.” CasCu stared at Gudako, and she smiled, a sad thing for a moment. “Brynhild told me you wanted to take part. I see no reason why you can’t hold her while Napoleon works on the tree.” 

“I’m not a woodsman!” Napoleon protested.

CasCu found himself smiling. “Thank you Gudako.” He pulled himself from the snow, and shook his hands off. Then he moved to Napoleon’s side. Despite his grumblings, the small emperor passed over Hildr too him without much argument. CasCu stood beside Brynhild, Hildr cradled in his arms, as Napoleon got to bringing down his tree.

They waited.

For a long moment, they waited.

“Are you going to be alright?” CasCu asked, his voice very soft.

Brynhild considered him, her head tipped to the side. Then she stared down at her sisters. Her soft expression hardened. She held Thrud tighter to her chest, then looked up, watching as Napoleon and Mash constructed the pyre. “I will be.” She said, and the words were soft, determined, sharp.

CasCu nodded, and looked away. This was the day. Today, everything would change. Today, this Lostbelt would fall, and he felt it down to his bones. 

When Mash and Napoelone stepped away from the pyre, Brynhild stepped forwards, CasCu at her side. They set Thrud and Hildr down beside each other. Brynhild fussed with the lay of their armor and the placement of their hair. CasCu hovered about them himself, before reaching out to trace a few runes across their foreheads. Ones for rest. Ones for peace.

They stepped back.

And then, with a flick of her finger, Brynhild set fire to the pyre. They stood there, watching the Valkyries burn. 

Chapter Text

This was going to be the final act. CasCu could feel it in his bones, in his eye. Everything that had been building up to this moment was about to crash, to burn. It would all fall apart this very day.

Above their heads, the sun glowed with its red-tinged, silver glow. The sight of it sent pangs of anger and resignation through him. Of course. He could see the pieces now, how they strung together. A puzzle that was slowly starting to take shape. How laughable it was, that no one else - not even Skadi - had yet to start putting it together.

No, that was a lie. That Sherlock could have put it together, if only he hadn’t been taken down by Not-Sigurd’s runes.

They were making their way towards Skadi’s castle, the Shadow Border flying fast over the snow. There had been few instances where they had to deal with groups of roving giants before they continued on their path, but those were all dealt with quickly. CasCu’s runes leapt easily to his fingers - far easier than they ever had before. 

He didn’t know why. It was also hard to care. The sooner Sigurd was dealt with, the quicker Kage was freed. He wanted to see his brat up and moving again.

Skadi’s castle loomed up into the distance. That beautiful ice structure, built into the mountain, cold and frigid and aloof. The singular bridge that lead up to it, alone. The power of her magecraft pulsed through the air, stealing CasCu’s breath. She had to know they were coming, her enemy. Why hadn’t she attacked yet? The Skadi he’d known would have defended her home with a viciousness that would put wolves to shame …

Unless she still didn’t take them seriously. How arrogant she had gotten, in her time as the sole God of Scandinavia. The people here couldn’t threaten her, the giants were completely under her control. Ragnarök could not repeat itself. They would come to her, and when they did, she would obliterate them. There was no reason to lift a finger until then.

And that would be her undoing.

Always, always, Gudako’s greatest strength was the fact people kept on underestimating her and Mash. CasCu wanted to laugh.

“There’s no turning back now!” Napoleon called, voice ringing joyous. He stood on the Shadow Border’s roof, one hand on Gudako’s shoulder, the other on Mash’s, steadying them both. “This time, we’re not sneaking in or getting captured. This time, we’re going in guns a blazing! It’s time to settle the score between the new Grande Armée and that demonic sword wielder once and for all!”

“We’ve got him this time,” Gudako agreed. “It doesn’t matter if it’s Sigurd in truth or not - as long as he’s using that Spirit Origin, then he’s done for.”

Mash nodded her assessment. She pointed out, down at the base of the bridge to where a large group of muspel giants was coming out. Each one wore one of Skadi’s masks - the things she was using to control those not of her blood. “They already know they’re here. Do you think it’s Skadi’s response to our approach?” 

“Nah,” Napoleon said. He patted her on the shoulder, then let both of them go. A step forwards; his cannon appeared in his hand with a swash of sparks. “If Skadi was greeting us, we’d be dead. I bet she just wants a show. So get out of the way, giants! We’re going through, whether you like it or not!” 

The last words were a bellow, echoing through the air. In return, the giants bellowed back. They started to rush forwards, much quicker than the chained ones that had guarded Brynhild’s flaming castle. 

Gudako stood firm in the face of them. She held out her hand, her voice sharp. “Napoleon, Tesla, CasCu, I want cover fire across the ground. Take down as many of those giants as you can. Scáthach and Raikou will flank the Shadow Border, taking down any who get close. Mash, you’re on defense. If there are boulders thrown, block them.” Then, mentally, “Brynhild, stay nice and tight inside. We’ll call you out when we need you.”

“A solid plan, Maître ! Now, let’s get to it!” 

Napoleon’s first cannon shot left Gudako no room to be surprised at the praise. CasCu appeared, his feet alighting on the Shadow Border’s roof. Runes danced on his fingertips, each one a golden burning light. He had his staff in one hand, but he barely needed it. His runes hung in the air, and with a mental push, they exploded into flame and roared forward towards the giants.

Ice would have been better, for muspel, but right now with so much in the balance, it would have been risky to utilize what Skadi could control. Fire was less effective, but in this body, it didn’t matter. Lugh’s blood, running through his veins, automatically made any light based or fire rune stronger than any others he could cast.

And oh, how he cast. 

CasCu’s magecraft leapt to his tune like never before. He didn’t even have to think about the combinations of runes he used to get the results he desired. They just came to him, and he wrote them into the air and pushed them out like it was second nature. The ice beasts the muspel giants fought with shattered. The giants fell like logs, right into Skadi’s snow, staining the white scarlet. They were close to the bridge now, so close -

Gudako grabbed onto Mash’s arm. “Alright, Napoleon - throw us up there! Tesla, Scáthach , keep on defending the Shadow Border from our enemies. Nobunaga, CasCu, Raikou, Brynhild - follow us! It’s time to bring the fight to them. Scáthach , reconvene with us once the Shadow Border is safe!”

“Hai!” Mash said. She grabbed onto Gudako as Napoleon laughed and grabbed them both around the waists.

“As you wish, Maître !” he crowed, and then he was throwing all three of them towards the icy bridge. They flew through the air, and landed with an obvious thud. 

CasCu followed after, his runes spinning through the air. He landed softly beside them. Nobunaga didn’t even land - this close to the Shadow Border, with Tesla about to switch out, it was alright to have more than their allotted slots - she stood on her guns, where she had apparated out of Spirit Form, grinning and cackling wildly. 

Brynhild landed behind them, soft, silent. She held her spear tight between her fingers, and drew in a deep breath, steadying. CasCu let out a soft croon for her.

The shapes of Not-Sigurd and Ophelia were clear to see, on the other side of the bridge. They were standing almost side to side, though Not-Sigurd was in front of her. His face was half showing, eyes burning red behind his glasses. His laugh was an ugly thing, low, disgusted, mocking.

“That’s it,” he said, “none of you has changed much, but I can see a lot more momentum in you now than you had before. You’ve done a lot with a little, humans and Heroic Spirits.”

“Hah!” Napoleon laughed. He raised his cannon, aimed it at Not-Sigurd. “It takes a Heroic Spirit to know a Heroic Spirit, ain’t that right, Mister Big Shot ?” 

Not-Sigurd laughed again, low and ugly. But he did not get the chance to reply, and Napoleon did not get the chance to shoot.

Brynhild pushed past Napoleon, swift. She stood there, the wind whipping through her hair, sending it dancing. Her hands were shaking. She held her spear in a tight, tight grip. “Sigurd,” she breathed, and it was a sigh, a plea, longing all wrapped up into one package too big for the word.

CasCu’s chest wrapped up tight, then hardened all at once. Her pain didn’t matter, right now. This was the only way to move forwards.

Not-Sigurd tipped his head, as if Brynhild’s appearance meant nothing to him. He hummed, this low thing. “The last time I saw you, you were being sealed away. You’re from Proper Human too, right? Well, that’s enough reason for us to fight.” He held out Gram, and one of his short swords appeared in his other hand. The stance was full of confidence. “Come at me, Brynhild, eldest of Valkyries and daughter of Odin. If you really are a demigod, then that makes you worth the effort of killing.”

Brynhild paused. Her expression grew sadder. “So it is true. I did not want to believe - but you speak as if I am a stranger.” 

The posture of Not-Sigurd flexed. What they could see of his expression shifted slightly, arrogance into a trace of amusement. “As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

Brynhild’s expression shifted again. Her grip on her spear tightened, a note of steel sliding through her words. Each one was a step down, a spiraling staircase descending into madness. “The change of your eye color is not enough to confuse my quarry. You are Sigurd, son of Sigmund. You are the warrior-king who excels in every regard. Every fiber of my being screams that you are the one I must love and kill. Your mind might be clouded, you may be turned against me, but I know you. I know you, my Sigurd, my Sigurd . You won’t mind dying now, right, my love? You know that now I’ve found you, I cannot rest until I kill you, right, my love? My love, my Sigurd?” 

Not-Sigurd’s expression grew chilly. He gripped Gram harder. “You’re going to die here today, Valkyrie.”

They moved, both at the same time and blindingly quick. Gudako didn’t even have time to shout her orders. Perhaps Brynhild could control herself no longer. Perhaps the thing that controlled Sigurd’s actions knew that - the longer Brynhild lived, the more likely the true Sigurd would push himself from the depths. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the clash of steel, of lance against swords, how their gazes were completely locked on one another's. They moved in a blur, impossible to follow, impossible to intercept, for Gudako-

And for Ophelia.

She stood there, across the bridge from them, her hand on her heart. Her uncovered eye flickered across the battlefield, keeping track of how the two danced, in sync despite Not-Sigurd’s difference. Occasionally, she would glance at Gudako and Mash. Her fingers flickered up to her eye patch - then a sound from above. The cry of a ‘ Halt ’ ringing through the air.

CasCu’s head jerked up. Above them, a blazing algiz rune, singular, broken up into Ortlinde’s shape as she descended.

He wasn’t sure that any other sound would have caused Brynhild or Not-Sigurd to stop their duel to destruction. CasCu’s heart plummeted as Ortlinde, the last of his Valkyrie ’s, came to a rest on the bridge between Brynhild and Not-Sigurd. When she looked up, her eyes were missing their golden pupils. They glowed red - the same as Not-Sigurd’s.

Mash took a step forwards. Gudako caught her hand, then shook her head. Napoleon let out a soft breath. “I thought she might be a bit hung up about what had happened to her sisters,” he murmured, just to them.

Not-Sigurd slashed Gram through the air, his voice a growl. “Out of the way, doll. This Valkyrie is my kill.” 

“No,” Ortlinde breathed. “I cannot.”

Brynhild’s hand shook on her spear, gripping so tight CasCu swore he heard the knuckles creak. “Stand down, Ortlinde,” She said, pleaded, “You were there when our sisters made their final plea. There is no point in fighting me. You know this. No point - and no need. You cannot interfere in my dance with Sigurd. Stand down. Please.”

Ortlinde met Brynhild’s eyes. She did not stand down, only held her shield and spear steady. “Sister, I’ve been thinking about Thrud and Hildr’s last words. But I cannot understand it. I believe I feel something similar - but it is fleeting, too overwhelming to describe. That is why I am taking up my spear, like they did.”

“No,” Brynhild breathed. She took a step forwards, her spear raised.

“Force-expending combat functionality,” Ortlinde said, her voice devoid of that human touch, “Increasing output beyond safety limiters. Overload. Overload. Synchronizing magical energy with Gram. Initiating team combat.” Mana began to pour off of her. A crack ran through one of her wings.

Not-Sigurd cackled. “You’re planning on keeping up with me? You cheeky little thing! Well, it’ll be amusing to watch you try your best!”

He lunged - they both lunged at the same time. Gudako’s word was soft, quiet, but every single one of them heard it. “Go. Take them both down.”

They moved, all at once. Mash’s shield caught Ortlinde’s spear before it could cut through Brynhild’s exposed side. Napoleon’s cannon blast caught Ortlinde’s shield, sending her flying back. Then Raikou was there, her katana cutting through the air. Ortlinde blocked with ease, her eyes glowing brighter. She was flying all the faster, striking all the harder, the edges of her wings cracking under the strain. But unlike her sisters, she was not wild with rage. Unlike her sisters, she was synced up with Gram, able to keep up with her three opponents with ease.

Not-Sigurd didn’t even seem to care.

He matched Brynhild blow for blow. They were a terrifying dance, going back and forth, back and forth. Nobbunaga darted around them, the rat-tat-tat of her guns filling the air. The shots bounced off Not-Sigurd’s short sword - which had fractured and was spinning around him, defending him. Some of them bounced off of Brynhild’s own blade, swung up as if to defend her most loved.

“Hands off!” she said, her voice a roar. “He is mine! Mine to love, mine to kill. Oh my Sigurd, I will not let another but me touch you ever again!” Her spear swung around, sparking across the ice of the bridge, then across Not-Sigurd’s chest, skidding along the hastily placed Gram. She was pushing him, back, back, her attack a ferocious thing.

“Oh, jealousy is so not wabi sabi!” Nobunaga cried, aiming her muskets again.

“No-” CasCu bit off the word when Nobunaga glared at him. He lowered his voice. “We can’t distract her,” he said, “aim for the ice, upset Sigurd’s footing. I’ll slow him down - the main work has to be done by Brynhild. She won’t let anyone do it for her.”

“So not wabi sabi,” Nobunaga complained. But she re-aimed her guns anyway, and started shooting at the ice, creating cracks and pitfalls across it. CasCu held his staff tight, then slammed it into the ground, runes lighting up golden at the impact. The pits widened, turned to fall directly under Not-Sigurd’s feet.

The bastard just stepped over them like they weren’t even there. CasCu had to yank them out of the way before Brynhild - focused solely on Not-Sigurd - stepped into one and cracked her ankle. A flash of light, of steel - the fractured short sword shot away from its defense and blazed towards CasCu and Nobbu. Nobbu’s gun’s ducked and weaved to avoid it. CasCu’s defenses flared, and the shards shot off into the distance.

Not-Sigurd used the distraction to push his own attack. Gram swung up, clanging against Brynhild’s spear. He pushed, hard, and she was sent flying back. His short swords shot towards her like glass shards. Brynhild caught herself like a dancer, spinning across the ice. Her spear spun in a blazing arch around her, though it wasn’t a perfect defense. Blood coated her skin where Not-Sigurd’s strikes had landed, where those fractured blades had punctured skin. It didn’t slow her down. She lunged forwards again, headless of her injuries. Metal rang upon metal once more.

“You’ve grown stronger my love!” Brynhild cried, wild. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, a smile across her face. Another strike of her blade nearly sent Not-Sigurd flying back. 

He dug his feet into the ice, her strike barely moving him back. Behind his glasses, his eyes glowed red as flame. His expression was twisted, as if he was scowling behind his mask. Or maybe he was smiling. Something in CasCu’s gut dropped, at the smugness Not-Sigurd seemed to carry. It was all to easy to note how little Not-Sigurd was injured, compared to Brynhild’s red painted skin.

“Ah, what a magnificent hero,” Brynhildr laughed. She pushed her attack, punishing, but Not-Sigurd’s defense didn’t break. Her voice grew more erratic with each blocked blow, higher in delight and bloodlust. “Ah, what a magnificent man! In the face of such a confident warrior , I must answer in kind! My heart, my soul, I’ll set it ablaze for you my love! ODINSEAL PROTOTYPE ENGAGED!”

Mana burst across the bridge in a wave of power. Everyone was thrown back - Not-Sigurd, Nobunaga, Napoleon, Raikou, Mash, Ortlinde, CasCu. Both Ophelia and Gudako stumbled away from the onslaught of mana pouring off of Brynhild, the two runes that burned gold and purple over her head.

Algiz. Valkyrie.

Ansuz. Odin.

Brynhild lifted off the ground, her hair a torrent around her head. Purple-blue wings burst from her back - the same bar like shape that Ortlinde carried, that gave the Valkyries their signature algiz silhouette. But hers was not fractured. It studded in silver and golden stars, glowing with soft light. Her dark armored turned white and silver, growing in length and feathered in design. The whirlwind of mana whipped around her. Her spear grew in size, a purple Heart in the center of the storm.

“What’s going on!” Mash cried out. She had caught her feet, and had slammed her shield in front of Gudako. CasCu couldn’t help but note that Not-Sigurd had done much the same for Ophelia, who was watching this with wide eyes.

Ortlinde had caught herself midair , staying their for all the way her wings had fractured. “Odinseal prototype,” she said, her voice tight with fear. “A rune forged for Brynhild by Odin himself. None other has it. Sister, oh sister Brynhild, would you really go so far to defeat us?” There was a wild note there, desperation and pain. Grief.

CasCu felt gutted. He knew why.

The Odinseal wasn’t like the power up the other Valkyries gained when they lost their senses. It wasn’t just power beyond safety limiters. It was power that would kill her. Destroy her Spirit Origin. Consume her soul.

Brynhild didn’t land. The power eased down, and she drifted, floating just above the ice. Her eyes were wide and wild. She pointed her spear at Not-Sigurd and smiled, something beautiful and terrible all at once. “Forgive me for making you wait so long, my Sigurd, my love. I am finally ready to express my love and kill you again. Won’t you burn away with me my love? We’ll die together, as we’re meant to.”

Not-Sigurd’s fingers tightened on his sword. “What a shame,” he said, his voice flinty, “Here I thought we could still have some fun together, but then you went and pulled one of Odin’s tricks. I’ve had enough. No more play-fighting. Time to die.” 

“Hold it.” 

It was the first time Ophelia had spoken. Her voice was frost, her hand on Not-Sigurd’s shoulder. CasCu heard the grating whine beneath Brynhild’s teeth, her fury of having another woman touch her beloved. She stood there, fingers shaking on her spear. She made to move-

“Wait,” CasCu said. “Let her speak. Then you can kill them.” 

Brynhild said nothing, but she stilled. A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks and puddled in the corners of her smile. Power pulsed off of her in waves. He saw Ortlinde’s head jerk up. She stared at him with wide eyes.

“You’re only supposed to kill Servants, Saber.” Ophelia said. She squeezed his shoulder, tight. “Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

CasCu expected argument. Instead, all Not-Saber did was let out a growl, annoyed but not protesting.

Napoleon stepped up from where he’d landed after Brynhild’s release of power. He raised his voice, letting it carry. “Well, hello there, my beloved Ophelia! It seems like you’ve finally deigned us worthy of your speech? It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Archer.” Ophelia’s hand fell to her side. “I should have killed you when we first met. But I do commend your efforts, even if I hate their results. You just had to bring Brynhild here, didn’t you?” 

Napoleon laughed in delight. “You honor me, ma chérie. Haha! It's enough to make me cry out of sheer gratitude! Unfortunately, though, it was not my feet alone. My maître and mademoiselle Mash helped out a great deal.”

Ophelia’s gaze flickered to Mash, and stayed there. There was an exchange between Mash and Gudako, brief, and CasCu couldn’t tell what they said - but he didn’t need to. Mash stepped up, her chin tipping up. “Ophelia,” she said.

“I see you’re here again,” Ophelia said. Her expression twisted, the faintest bit. “Why? Why did you come here, Mash?”

“It is our duty,” Mash said. Her voice was hard. “Even if we end up destroying this Lostbelt, we cannot give up on our own world. Just like the Yaga in their frozen world didn’t give up their survival. No matter what happens as a result, we’ve decided to hold our heads high and keep moving forwards.” 

“We have no other choice,” Gudako said. She stepped up, gripping onto Mash’s hand. “You have given us no other choice. No matter how many we have to kill, no matter how much those deaths weigh on our shoulders - these worlds weigh on our shoulders - we will keep on moving forwards until our world is safe.”

Ophelia stopped. Just for a moment, and CasCu saw her eyes darken. “ … Like Master, like Servant, I see. I can practically see you both buckling under the weight of your guilt, yet you meet my gaze, unblinking. But I’m nothing like you. I could never be like you, Mash.” She took a breath, deep, and straightened. “But I will not step aside either. Wodime - Lord Kirischtaria made a decision, and I refuse to betray his faith in me!” She raised her hand to her eye patch , fingers brushing the black silk.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about,” Gudako said, her voice utterly flinty. “I’m sorry, Mash. Everyone - now!” 

Napoleon’s cannon boomed. He didn’t shoot towards Ophelia - of course he didn’t - but Not-Sigurd was there nonetheless, blocking the shot with Gram. Then Brynhild was upon him, a silver force of fury. Her attacks laid him that way and this, and though he defended well, each strike made her spear grow larger, her wings brighter and burning. Raikou moved to join them - Ortlinde was there, her face twisted up like she was holding back tears, her speed an equal to the Berserker’s. Nobunaga rose, her guns pointed down at Ophelia. The rat-tat-tat of musket fire filled the air.

Ophelia’s hand rose, and runes blazed in the air, creating a shield around her to deflect Nobunaga’s fire. Her fingers gripped her eye patch and yanked it off. Beneath her hair, her mystic eye glowed like silver fire - like the sun in the sky.

CasCu didn’t wait to see who she would target. There were any number of ones she could choose from. Brynhild was the most obvious, most likely, but Ophelia seemed invested in Mash’s safety, and might seek to keep her out of the fight again. Gudako was another possibility. She was the key link tying this fight together. If Ophelia severed that link, then they were all done for. There would be no coming back from a dead master.

He threw up his runes in rapid succession, each one gold and blazing. Thurisaz, iwaz, perbo, algiz, and ansuz. Ones for protection, for strength, tied together for magic resistance. It was thinner than he would have liked, spread out among the many targets. But it was up in time for Ophelia’s eye to flare.

“Phenomena, schufen auf,” she called out, over the chaos of the battle, “The Odinseal … What a marvelous Primordial Rune! Ich will es niemals glänzen sehen! You shine too brightly. That's why this eye of mine refuses to see that possibility go any further.”

And Brynhild screamed.

It was a raw thing, high and shrieking, like a bird of prey that had been cut and flayed apart, been dragged open while still alive. CasCu felt it in his gut like fishhooks yanking through his stomach. He stumbled, his staff catching him. Dimly, he heard Ortlinde shout. Dimly, he heard Gudako and Mash, the answering fire of Ophelia’s voice, and Not-Sigurd’s cold laugh, his loud boasting. But over it all, CasCu heard her screaming.

And screaming. 

And screaming.

Her back arched with the pain, her hair blown away from her in a torrent of mana. Black cracks ran through her wings, shattering the galaxy sparkles that made up her power. Pieces began to fall. Her body shook, eyes wide, that sound of pain echoing from her lips. 

It was Sigurd’s name. Always, always Sigurd.

His protections had been too weak - or perhaps this was the effect of Ophelia’s eye on his Odinseal, just weakened. It didn’t matter. He had to do something. He lunged forwards, feet traversing the ground swiftly - not swift enough. He was blown back from the mana that escaped from Brynhild in waves, her runes reversing themselves. Algiz and Ansuz began to flicker out, like bad static.

Then, impossibly, Brynhild began to laugh. A mad, spiraling laugh, filled with pain and … warmth. With mad, burning love. The runes above her head stopped flickering. First Algiz. Then Ansuz. Her wings stopped cracking into shards. Light began to spill off of them in waves once more.

Ophelia took a hurried step back. Her eyes widened, mouth moving. CasCu couldn’t hear her say the words, but he saw them take form. Phenomena, schufen auf!

“No!” Brynhild cried, her voice loud and clear, free from the pain. “Your Mystic Eye will not lead me astray! Your eye cuts away the possibilities you don’t want, but there is only one possibility that exists here. And that is my Sigurd, dead by my spear! You cannot cut it away! I will not be denied. Even if it were Odin himself looking down upon me, I WILL STILL KILL SIGURD!”

“You’ll die!” Ortlinde screamed. “Sister, you’ll die! SISTER-”

Brynhild floated up, her hair streaming around her, her spear raised towards the sky. It was growing in size, giving of pulses of purple power. Distantly CasCu could hear Gordolf and Gudako’s voice, Mash’s and Ophelia’s. It was all faded out, like it was underwater. He didn’t need to hear it to know what they were saying. Didn’t need to hear it to know the order to retreat, to back up and stay out of Brynhild’s shock waves was coming.

Someone grabbed him and dragged him away. He couldn’t move himself.

All he could do was stare.

Not-Sigurd stood there, laughing. He made no move to guard himself. Just left himself wide open, Gram in one hand, his short sword in the other. CasCu could see the crinkle around the edge’s of his eyes. He was smiling, as if this whole thing was amusing, as if he did not believe Brynhild’s blow would strike.

And in that moment, CasCu knew that it both would and wouldn’t. It would hurt him. It would bring him down - but only momentarily. It would not kill him. Brynhild would burn herself to nothing and CasCu could do nothing. 

“To you, who walks the path of evil” Brynhild cried, “I offer up my fire, my madness, and my love! Till death do us apart … BRYNHILD ROMANTICA! ”

In that moment, she was beautiful, in that terrible way storms were beautiful, violent and destructive, but leaving people unable to do anything but watch. The stars on the underside of her hair glowed silver, as the galaxy across her wings spilled and coated the fractures and breaks, reforming them into solid bars. Her eyes glowed with golden light. 

In her hand, her spear transformed, growing longer, longer, longer, until it was four times her size. The blade itself changed - the purple crystal grew longer, more like a prong, and the base became a golden filigree heart, with spines the shape of sigurds spiky pauldrons pushing off of it. Blue feathers - the color of her hair - melded the base of that blade into the long, long, golden shaft, which she held in one hand easily, spinning it around until the blade faced Not-Sigurd.

Pride swelled in CasCu’s chest, followed by a heavy pang of grief, of dread. His eye ached, his throat burned. 

He thought he smelled smoke.

Brynhild and her spear crashed into Sigurd like a comet. Powerful, beautiful. Utterly devastating. Even from where he had been dragged, CasCu felt the shockwaves impact him. The boom of sound left his ears ringing, which blocked out anything anyone had been saying. There was a swell of light, brilliant and beautiful. A silver corona that burst towards the sky and then died in twinkling stars.

Skadi’s bridge was made of powerful stuff. The crater from brynhild’s blow was deep, but had not destroyed completely the bridge completely. In it, stood Brynhild, her spear implanted in Not-Sigurd’s chest. She was panting, her shoulders shaking, the runes above her head emitting a weaker light. The energy she had expended was tremendous, and it showed in the duller glow of her wings, in her ragged breathing. 

Not-Sigurd’s hand was wrapped around her blade, preventing it from plunging in too deep. He was laughing.

“Nice try,” he said, a sneer, as he pulled off her blade. His armor was rent , a bloody wound in his chest - but he moved like the wound meant nothing. “That Noble Phantasm of yours was definitely impressive. If I was fully Sigurd, I’d be dead. But unfortunately for you, it wants the soul of Sigurd, not his body. And I am not Sigurd. I’m not even one of those heroes you Valkyries long for.”

They’d known. They’d all known, and CasCu stared at that open hole in Not-Sigurd’s chest. He was not Sigurd, but the body was, the Spirit Origin was. He should be dead right now. Not - this. No one could do anything but stare.

It was the wrong thing to do. He knew it. He couldn’t help it.

Not-Sigurd took a step away from Brynhild, shoving her spear away. She stumbled in the broken crater, barely catching herself. Not-Sigurd turned from her like she was nothing, and roared. “Ophelia, release my second limiter. And do it quick, this Spirit Origin won’t last long. Personally, I don’t mind if -”

“No!” Ophelia’s cry was sharp. “I won’t allow that to happen. As long as you’re in this Lostbelt, you must remain my knight. And as my knight, you cannot loose.” She took a breath, let it out. Her gaze hardened. “Forced Spirit Origin Ascension, final limiter release. Vanquish all who would stand in our way.”

Mana burst around Not-Sigurd in twists of flame. It was a blaze of heat, burning, and his form was awash in color, obscured. He was laughing, loud and delighted, like this was all a fun game that was finally reaching its crescendo. CasCu caught the shape of his arm as it raised, the sparkle of Gram as it swung towards Brynhild. Fire trailed after the edge of that blade, which now burned bluer than the sky above them.

Gudako’s voice was a wordless shout. CasCu felt the burn of the Command Seal as it rushed by him. Brynhild blinked out of existence before Gram could strike, and popped back into existence beside Gudako. Her eyes were wide, shocked, the flame of madness in them gone. “He- He didn’t use a rune to make fire,” she said, “He’s not - you’re not Sigurd. Sigurd said he would never use fire. Sigurd - no. No, no, no, no, no! You aren’t him! You COULDN’T be him! Who are you?!” 

The flames around Not-Sigurd died down. He stepped out of the crater lightly as if it had never existed in the first place. The very air around him wavered with the heat. He wore a cape now, and it was buffeted around by the air from his flames. His full face was exposed, and his smile was razor sharp. He held Gram on one shoulder, his short sword on the other. His mana poured off of them in hot waves.

Waves like - 

The crack in the sky widens. And then, with violence, it shatters. A sword rips through the fabric of the sky. The metal of it is bright-hot, white-hot. Mana pours off of it in burning waves, scorching the ground and painting the sky a boiling red. Even from here, he can feel the heat of Surtr’s weapon.

CasCu bent double. His eye was burning - with a cry he dug his fingers into his socket, as if that could get rid of the sensation. He couldn’t breathe, air blocked off by something he couldn’t name. 

“What pitiful creatures humans are!” Not-Sigurd cackled. “If only you were a god, you would know what this fire in my soul signifies! Pitiful! Pitiful! Pitiful! How unsightly - I can’t stand to look at you any longer!” 

The air burned, as if it was the end of the world.

The air burns, for it is the end of the world. 

The giant that crawls out of the hole in the sky is larger than any he has seen before, for it is the king of the muspel giants, the most powerful. His body is made from flame and magma. Fires fall like rain from his exit from the sky, and pours across the land in a tidal wave of heat. The first leg comes out, and everything burns away, ash rising towards the sky.

He is Surtr, king of muspel giants, destruction incarnate.
And the sword he swings is death.

They were fighting. He could hear the sounds of clashing metal, of gunshots and cannon fire, of thunder. He could hear it all, but all he could do was wretch dryly as he came down to his own body. The name repeated in his head, over and over again. Surtr. Surtr. Surtr. He couldn’t breathe. Surtr. Surtr. Surtr.

Skadi had to feel it by now. There was no way she couldn’t.

There was a hand on the back of his shoulder, mana pushed thorough his circuits. Dimly, he could hear Gudako shouting at him. Something about being hit, something about taking damage. The words made no sense. He could only gag, and suck in breath, and try to catch his mind again. It felt like sand between his fingertips, slipping out before he could get a proper grasp. It felt too large to hold, memories not his own taking up too much room.

“Surtr,” he rasped out, through his raw throat.

“What?” Gudako asked, her fingers tightening on his shoulders.

“It’s Surtr,” CasCu choked out. He brushed her hand off, then used his staff to lever himself back to his feet. He was shaking, trembling, burning away. All he could do was stare at the battle, and say, numbly. “It’s Surtr. We’re fighting Surtr.”

And loosing.

Or- perhaps not.

CasCu stared at what he was watching, expression blank. Surtr was strong, and flames roared after every swing of Gram - but they were fighting back. They were standing their ground. Mash met his blade, block for blow, driven back only to leap forwards again. Nobunaga and Napoleon pelted him from afar, breaking down the defense of those spinning fragments of short sword. Raikou and Brynhild attacked from each side, pushing him back and forth, barely breaking through his armor, but still landing blows. They weren’t winning, by any means, but they weren’t loosing.

Gudako swore, briefly. “Are you sure, CasCu?”

“I’m sure,” CasCu rasped out.

He could see it, with every strike Surtr managed to make. The flames that blazed off of his sword, arcing in devastating blows, lashing out like hungry tongues. It was in the heat haze; the way the bridge seemed to glisten, as if Skadi’s ice was finally starting to melt. It was in the blisters that raised on arms and legs, the way armor gleamed and began to melt. The way Ortlinde hung in the air, staring at this, her mouth covered and her eyes wide in horror. His very presence. 

There was no one else he could be.

Gudako swore again, briefly. “Alright - Fuck, CasCu, we have to take him down. We can’t run away now. Not when we’re so close -”

“I know,” CasCu rasped out. He gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze, tight. “We’ll do what we need to do, and figure out what to do later.” 

“Alright,” she said. “I need your help. The aura will kill us before he does - CasCu, I know you hate him for what he did to Kage, but I need you to run support.”

“I know,” he rasped out. Gods, he knew, and the anger he felt seemed so distant. Surtr’s death was more important. CasCu straightened, planting his feet onto the ice, shoving his spear against it. The pain in his eye and throat had yet to die down. Memories clustered the edges of his mind like ravens.

“Leave it to me,” he said, voice cold.

Gudako nodded, then straightened. She stared at the battlefield, her expression tight, eyes flicking. Examining, but not panicking. Completely collected and in control. On the other side of it stood Ophelia. She held her hand to her chest, eyes wide as she watched this. There was a Command Seal already missing from her hand. There was an expression in her gaze, something that could have been fear. 

The two couldn’t have been more different. Ophelia, a mage with a powerful Mystic Eye, and a magecraft suited towards Summoning, but little experience. Gudako, a Master whose magecraft was negligible, but with more experiences then most commanders had under their belt. It showed, in their attitude as they watched the fight.

He smirked, sharp. 

Even if Surtr was powerful, Ophelia would not use him to his full capacity. She was too scared. What a fool. One shouldn’t be afraid to use the tools at their disposal. Gudako had learned that lesson long ago.

He slammed his staff into the ice, alighting circle after circle of runes. Just as Skadi controlled the ice, Surtr controlled fire. But Skadi wasn’t out here, and if she hadn’t lifted a finger yet, she wouldn’t. Isa blazed across the ice, burning cold gold. Flanking it was laguz, for water. Following that was jeran, for peace, and naudiz for endurance. They glowed around feet in arcing wafts of gold. 

Nine worlds.

Nine days.

Nine circles of runes.

Mana blazed around CasCu, a torrent, and then fell upon the battlefield of Surtr and CasCu’s allies. The flames of Surtr began to dim and waver. Burns and blisters smoothed out and healed. The heat haze began to diminish, the chill in the air, the water of the rune, and the peace instilled in the mana fighting the flames. It was an effort. He gritted his teeth and dug his feet into the ice, fingers straining against his staff. 

He felt Ophelia’s eyes flick. The realization across her expression. She cried out, and he couldn’t hear the words for the rush of mana, but he could feel the effects of the Command Seal fully present in the air.

Then Surtr was in front of him, Gram swinging in a blaze of blue. His eyes were filled with flame, his smile filled with sharp teeth. He laughed, a sound full of smoke and cinder. “I recognize you, old man! Bölverkr Gram!”

There was no time to dodge, no time to move. CasCu barely had time to yank back, feet stumbling across the ground. He saw the flicker of runes across the edge’s of Gram, the sword’s curse. He saw the flames that burst in its trail. He felt a bust of mana from close by - Gudako’s Mystic Code. 

Bölverkr Gram passed right through CasCu. The arc of blue light blazed across the bridge, burning a path across ice, snow, and into the mountain and far off trees. CasCu saw Surtr’s eyes widen in shock as CasCu solidified. He did so with bared teeth, a predatory grin. “Got you, bitch.” 

His staff might not have been a spear, but Gods, even as a Caster, CasCu had never let his spear work slip. 

The side of his staff smacked against Surtr’s face, knocking those damn glasses away and shattering them across the ice. A push of laguz showered the bastard in cold seawater , and the man retreated, sputtering sharply, a low growl threading out of his throat. His hand curled tighter around his sword, and in an instant he was recovered - but when it was one against six, an instant was a long time.

The space around them was lit up by gunfire. Bullets swerved around CasCu, but Surtr had no such protection. He retreated with a snarl, stumbling over his own feet, barely dancing around the cannon shot aimed in his direction. Raikou was there, swinging her sword - he blocked it with one of his short swords, but the burst of lightning from the blade was still enough to send him falling back, to where Brynhild and Mash trapped him, between lance and shield. 

CasCu watched Ophelia’s eyes widen. Her hand raised, the last Command Seal emblazoned in fiery red. “Saber! You cannot lose this!” 

“Shut it!” He roared back. The Command Seal’s energy poured into him, and fire burst around him. CasCu’s runes evaporated. Brynhild, Mash, and Raikou beat a hasty retreat before the flames that ate at the surface of the bridge ate them up too. Nobunaga’s gunfire was reduced to slag. 

Surtr was laughing, a wild, loud, delighted thing. “We’re just getting to the good part!” he crowed, “Stay out of this Ophelia! Keep your damn mouth shut!” The fires blazed out, leaving him standing there, wreathed in flame, wounds being sewn together by the heat. He rocketed forwards, right towards Gudako.

And Mash was there, right in his way. She slammed her shield down onto the ice, and screamed, “MOLD CAMELOT!”

It was hardly the most perfect Noble Phantasm, lacking the chant as it was. But that didn’t matter. All it had to do was be strong enough to stall Surtr’s flame born path, to strain and keep Gram at bay. Give enough time for Raikou to sweep Gudako out of Surtr’s way - and enough time for Brynhild to appear behind his back, spear lashing out.

At another time, Surtr probably would have been able to dodge. But Mash was in front, occupying his full attention, his flames blasting against the transparent walls of Camelot, just starting to flicker out. Surtr was grinning wild and violent, the light of victory in his eyes - then Brynhild’s spear was through his back and exiting out of his front, her face close to his ear, her hand on his shoulder, holding him steady as she shoved her heart shaped blade further into his body.

“SABER!” Ophelia’s cry was cut off, horrified. She paled. Her feet took a reflexive step away from the sight, then another.

“Can you feel that, you who wears Sigurd’s face?” She asked, her voice soft. “My spear has destroyed your armor, torn through your flesh, shattered your bones, and cut your Spirit Core in two. Every attack, every block, wore you down bit by bit. And now, at last, my spear has found its mark.”

She stepped away from him, yanking her blade out with a sick squelch. She was smiling, this faint thing, as the flames began to die out. Then her body collapsed against the ice; she no longer had the strength to hold herself up. Surtr was also too weak too move now, blood spilling across the ice. His eyes were bright red, his whole body shaking in smaller trembles, as if he was laughing.

“No,” Ophelia breathed. She took another step back Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “This isn’t possible - you can’t have lost. My knight wouldn’t - You can’t -”

Gudako’s comm link began to beep. Grand Cavallo’s voice sang from it in a burst of static. “Whatever you just did had an effect! The magical energy values are going wild - Gudako, you should get out of there!”

Gudako took a step back, Mash by her side. Her voice blasted through their minds. “Everyone, Spirit Form now.”

No one argued. CasCu fled to Spirit Form, eyes fixated on Surtr’s form as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He was pushing himself up. Impossibly, he was pushing himself up. Each movement ripped the wound in his chest further open. Blood spilled from his lips. His expression was pure madness. 

“Finally,” he rasped out, strings of spit and blood trailing from his teeth with each cackle, “Finally, someone has managed to piece my Spirit Core! How I’ve waited! Now that accursed Command Seal that kept me from taking my own life no longer matters!” 

Mash’s eyes flickered. “Ophelia?” 

Ophelia’s feet were tripping over themselves in their rush to move back. She was panicking - obviously so. All the blood had drained from her face. “No, no, no no - Phenomena, schufen auf! I won't let a new Saber be born from Sigurd's destroyed Spirit Core! Ich will es niemals glänzen sehen!”

Oh. 

Oh, shit.

CasCu felt the weight of his stupidity like a hammer blow. Surtr wasn’t just Not-Sigurd. It wasn’t just possession - Sigurd was trapping Surtr’s Spirit Origin within him. With Sigurd dead, Surtr could escape. How had he not seen it before? In the face of Ophelia’s panic, it seemed painstakingly obvious. He should have expected it from a mile away -

But he had not made the right sacrifices yet. He did not have the full extent of that wisdom, nor that magecraft. There were limits to what he could do, to what he could understand, as he was now. The puzzle pieces were there … and he had placed them down in all the wrong fucking spots. 

Surtr laughed, and stood, pushing himself up to his full extent using Gram. His grin was bloody and sharp. “Don’t bother, Ophelia. The Valkyrie was kind enough to show me how to get around that. I might be just another Phenomenon,” and here his grin was even sharper, “but I have a mind and soul.”

“No!” Ophelia stumbled, fell. Her gaze darted around, frantic, to land on Mash and Gudako. “Mash! I can’t stop him - once he breaks through Sigurd’s shell, it won’t be long before - I can’t stop him! I can’t! And after Lord Kirischtaria entrusted him to me- but the flames - they’re coming!”

The body of Sigurd fell. Ophelia’s hand rose, pointing up at the sky. At the sun. She screamed, a horrible, high-pitched , ringing backdrop as the hell in the sky unfolded.

The sun was no longer silver. 

It was a black hole, ringed in blue, with orange light blazing hot from its edges. Even here, CasCu could feel the heat against his cheeks. Gudako and Mash flinched back from it. Brynhild and Sigurd lay beside each other, neither able to move, one bleeding out and the other consumed by the mana of her runes. Napoleon moved to help Ophelia. Both of their faces were twisted up in pain, as if the heat of that black sun was unbearable to them. The ice on the bridge began to glitter, to glisten, water beading on it’s surface.

And the sun began to undulate.

CasCu’s breath caught. He had seen this sight before, in Kage’s memories. In Singularity F. A black hole in the sky. Burning liquid spilling out to gush along the ground.

But here, that burning liquid - looking so much like magma, and so much like that corrupted grail mud - spilled as a hand grasped the edge of that hole. It was a large hand, clawed, and formed of magma and fire. And it gripped the edge of that hole, and pushed out the beginnings of a body. The face, the shoulders, all born of flame and magma, horns flanking the head and blending into that mane of fiery hair. 

And all across the Scandinavia Lostbelt, giants roared as their fiery king pulled himself free of his prison.

Chapter Text

Surtr’s climb from the sun was slow, difficult, as if even after all that has happened, there was still something preventing his escape. A part of CasCu understood what was going on. It saw the runecraft lining the circular edge of the sun, explained the processes that kept Surtr from running out and destroying everything he saw immediately. But the rest of CasCu was numb with horror and static. He could only watch, as Surtr slowly pulled further and further out of the hole in the sky.

Heat poured off the Fiery King of Giants in endless waves. The air itself wavered. Crystalline trees began to melt. In answer to Surtr’s flame, Skadi’s power flared, freezing cold and blazing ice. It pulsed beneath their feet, through the bridge, into the snow and their surroundings, and got nowhere.

What could a God do, against the walking end of the world?

Nothing but struggle.

Napoleon was talking. So was Mash. CasCu couldn’t hear it over the static in his brain. He heard Brynhild’s breathing, weak and fluttery, the damage her Spirit Origin had taken thanks to two primal runes in a row finally too much to bear. Sigurd’s body had yet to disappear, and curled towards her, as if an unconscious part of him was reaching out. CasCu listened as Ortlinde dove towards her sister, a cry of her name on her lips, rising through the air.

It was Sherlock’s voice that startled CasCu out of his shock. Partly because CasCu wasn’t expecting it. Partly because he sounded so rough - like a dead man walking, a ghost of himself. But still, he spoke, that familiar informative pattern. “I strongly advise you keep your distance. Fujimaru, your Mystic Code may have been outfitted to accommodate Russia’s extreme cold, but it is not nearly so effective against extreme heat. Make sure to stay where Ms. Kyrielight can protect you.”

The relief on Gudako’s face was palpable. She stood behind Mash, gripping onto her shoulder tight. “Alright. Everyone else, if you haven’t retreated to Spirit Form, do so now! If Mash is going to protect us from the heat, then we need to make sure she doesn’t have much to protect! Napoleon, this includes you.”

Napoleon opened his mouth to argue, but another waft of heat rolled over the bridge. Only the blaze of Skadi’s runes kept it from melting beneath their feet. He retreated into Spirit Form with a pop. CasCu was already in Spirit Form, so he didn’t have to move. Had a fuel view as Surtr’s knee came up, painstakingly slow, above the edge’s of his hole. The hole seemed to be fighting, shrinking and widening and shrinking like a pulsating heart.

In the background, he could hear Gordolf moaning about how no one would believe his reports. He could hear Sherlock’s acidic retort. Then Gordolf was yelling about getting them away, away, away as fast as the Shadow Border could carry them before the heat fried it. And then Napoleon’s laugh, his agreement. CasCu felt the tingle in his mind, Napoleon’s insults hurled towards Surtr, but too quiet for CasCu to pick up in all the noise.

Surtr’s voice, however, came loud and clear, burning the insides of CasCu’s mind like a hot poker.

“You will be the first to die, lover boy.”

With a surge, Surtr moved. He prevailed against the runes, the energies, pushing him back. A leg left the hole. Enough space to swing his sword. It wasn’t close enough to reach, hardly, but it didn’t matter. Waves of flames rocketed towards them with that swing. Mash slammed down her shield, screaming the name of her Noble Phantasm. Camelot surged into place, all bricks, and walls and the burning emblem of the round table in the middle of the construction.

Behind it, Mash protected everyone remaining. Gudako. Brynhild and Sigurd’s bodies. Ortlinde, and Ophelia. The edges of Mold Camelot burned away as soon as Surtr’s flames rushed past them. The rest of the strike warred against Mash’s walls. Mash slid back, her feet dragging tracks into the ice. Gudako was at her back, fingers pressed into her shoulders, forehead at the base of her neck. CasCu felt the flair of one of her Mystic Codes.

He would have helped himself, but in Spirit Form he was useless. He could only watch as the silver light of Skadi’s power flared. Ice wrapped around Mash’s feet, anchoring her in place. No longer was she driven back. No longer did Surtr’s flames threaten to burn through the walls of Camelot, and roast everyone behind them.

So Skadi was aware. She was fighting back, helping out, in her own way. She was keeping everything from melting in Surtr’s mere presence, keeping back the destruction his touch would bring - was pouring power into the runes of his cage, slowing down his coming.

And she wasn’t even born to be a mage. 

In a way, it was impressive, if her blindness hadn't led to this outcome. He should have spent a longer time pursuing her as a student. Should have forced the knowledge of the runes upon her, to see what sort of mage she could have become in his timeline, if this was the sort of feat she could accomplish now. Not just any God could hold back Surtr’s destructive power for three thousand years.

And not any Demi-Servant could hold back the attack of Surtr now. Yet Mash did. She flexed her legs and dug in her heals, with ice wrapped around her feet and Gudako at her back. She screamed as she pushed forwards, Camelot’s walls flickering, the bricks that made them up burning, burning, burning - yet still the structure stood strong. 

It still stood strong.

And Ophelia stared at it, her eyes wide, mouth partly open. There were the brush of tear tracks along her cheeks, glittering and evaporating in the heat. Her head dipped. CasCu heard the words, a soft breath under the fire and the sound of Mash’s cry. 

“You’re amazing, Mash.” Ophelia’s fingers bunched tight in her skirt. “I wish I could be like you.”

Ortlinde’s head jerked over at the sound. The robotic tone had returned to her voice, although CasCu could catch the high whine of stress that threaded through it. “It’s dangerous out here, Ophelia Phamrsolone. Please hurry inside the castle, while the King of Giants’ attention is focused on them.”

Ophelia drew in a deep breath. She stood, then reached up to pull her eye patch back over her eye. The tears were gone. The set of her face was determined. “No, Ortlinde. You go on ahead. This … this is my mess. I need to be the one who cleans it up.” 

She took a step forwards, and disappeared. Ortlinde cried out her name a moment too late. Ophelia blinked into existence up Surtr’s shoulder, wincing at the heat. Surtr’s attack stopped immediately. His hand reached out, as if to cover her. The sun flexed, then shrunk again. Immediately, Surtr roared, and began to draw his last leg out, his hand sheltering Ophelia the whole time.

In the silence after the attack, Mash nearly collapsed. Gudako caught her, holding Mash to her chest. There was a tightness in her voice. “Mash, can you withstand another attack?”

Mash panted, as if there was no air in her lungs, no oxygen in whatever she drew in. “I’m afraid that - this heat and pressure are so intense that-”

“The Ortinax is designed to be fire-resistant,” Grand Cavello chimed in. “It should be able to hold up in the face of extreme heat from the natural world. But it was never designed to with stand a being submerged in lava. You two are lucky to be standing. If not for all of Skadi’s magical energy, you’d be a goner. After all -”

“He’s not quite as hot as a star, but he is indeed close,” Sherlock said. It seemed that, now that he had healed enough that he could participate, he couldn’t stop himself from butting in. “But you cannot focus on that heat. Be wary of his Noble Phantasm. Surtr’s flaming sword is a divine construct born from a planet, it prioritizes life forms over all else - not even a deity from the Age of Gods could survive it.” 

“So good to hear Sherlock,” Gudako rasped. Her face pale and sweat slicked, and her arms shook where she held Mash up.

Napoleon laughed in their minds. “You should be proud, you two! We’re still standing tall after facing off with a being that kills entire worlds!” His voice rose, projected loud. “Hey Surtr! I figured a god killer like you would be way more impressive, but so far, you’ve been a big let-down . You’re nothing compared to the despair my Grande Armée and I felt in the Russian winter!”

Surtr froze. Gudako swore, pushing Mash up, and Mash shakily took to her feet, raised her shield once more. Then Surtr’s clawed foot was pulling from the hole, and was setting on the ground. His hand fell from the shoulder Ophelia stood on. He gripped his sword tight, and grinned. Even in Spirit Form, CasCu could feel the heat of his laugh.

“Winter, you say? All I have for you is fire.” 

He swung, again, that glowing, flaming sword arcing through the air. Released from his bonds, the light that raced towards them was brighter than. Mash cried out, and slammed her shield into the ice again. 

“MOLD CAMELOT!” 

Her scream was a ragged thing. She dug her feet into the ice, those icy struts that had kept her steady before rebuilding at a frantic pace. Gudako pressed against her back, pushing mana into her skin. But CasCu could see the effort it cost them. The blood smearing Gudako’s nose. The shake in Mash’s limbs, the grit of her teeth, as the flickering flames roared, and roared, and roared. 

Slowly, the ice making the bridge, the center of Skadi’s power, began to melt, increment by increment. 

CasCu watched as Ortlinde panicked. The way her eyes widened. The way she lunged forwards, out of the flames fully, and onto Sigurd and Brynhild. Watched as her eyes flickered between the two bodies, her hands flexing - then she landed by Sigurd. Her fingers rose. Gold runes flickered across them, his chest.

“You will not stop me.”

There was something like anger, in Surtr’s voice, this low edge of frustration. The flames that had played across Mash’s Camelot went from orange-blue to blue-white in an instance. Ice evaporated into steam. Mash screamed, the high keen of someone who could no longer hang on to a precipice. CasCu couldn’t see, for the blazing light. But he could still sense as Ortlinde’s runes went to work. He could sense the flare of a Spirit Origin, sudden and swift. 

He sure as hell heard it, that damned voice, roaring. “BOLVERKR GRAM!”

If Surtr’s noble phantasm was nothing but fire, then Sigurd’s was the opposite - cold, cursed ice. It was stronger too, than the Noble Phantasm of a Servant dancing on death’s door should have been. CasCu could feel Skadi’s energy in it, bolstering its strength. 

Gram’s blade cut through the worst of Surtr’s flames, splitting them to either side of Mash and Gudako. In the burst of energy, CasCu couldn’t see what happened. It was just mana, and heat, and flames, and by the time it was cleared - everyone was standing, and Surtr had turned, dismissive, walking towards the Northern Mountains as if they were nothing but insects to be left behind.

Perhaps Ophelia had convinced him to leave. CasCu didn’t know. His head was hurting, the smoke clogging his lungs. It was hard to think. Gods, he knew this feeling, too well from Kage’s dreams.

Mash and Gudako collapsed onto the remaining ice of the bridge. Mash was panting, this high, whining thing. Her shield fell from her fingertips. Her body shook with effort. “I - Gudako - are you?”

“I’m alright,” Gudako said. She looked up, stared at Sigurd. “You - saved us.”

Sigurd stood there, bent over, his fingers gripping the hilt of his blade. Then, slowly, he stood and turned. Each movement was painful - obvious, with how his body was still damaged, the hole in his chest still there, just stitched together in a gruesome array of runes. He shouldn’t have been moving. He gave a bloody smile, his eyes a gentle shade of blue. 

“I am glad to see you both safe,” he said. “I know you know who I am - but let me introduce myself properly, as I could not before.” He drew a breath, drew himself up. “I am a warrior and the wielder of the demonic sword Gram. I am the son of Sigmund and Hjördís, and I have manifested in this Lostbelt as a Saber. My true name is Sigurd, and I am glad that was able to protect you. I just wish I had been able to do so sooner.”

Gudako blinked. Her fingers raised, trembling to her throat. “You’re the one who stopped Surtr from cutting off my head,” she said.

Sigurd’s smile was small and wry. “I did manage to resist that once, yes.” 

Mash gaped at him. She blinked, repeatedly, as if she was having a hard time understanding what she was looking at. “But you - you were dead! Surtr escaped because we -”

“I did,” Sigurd said, his voice softer. “And I would still be dead if not for one brave Valkyrie, who decided to put aside her hatred for me, in favor of her fear of Surtr. And in return, I must help her sister.” 

Ortlinde. 

CasCu felt something in his gut drop. He looked around, wild - Ortlinde was no longer in the sky. She lay on the ground, curled up beside Brynhild, her face quiet in her death. Unlike her sisters, Ortlinde had not died to her rage … she had died to her love, and her determination for this world to survive. Healing Sigurd had pushed her beyond her limits. Her wings lay in shattered shards behind her … but the smile on her face was soft, and happy.

He’d missed her last moments, in the heat of Surtr’s attack. 

CasCu felt gutted. He stared at Ortlinde, and then at Brynhild. Unlike her sister, Brynhild was still breathing, but barely. It was not her wounds that were killing her, but the use of the primal runes that still glowed weakly over her head, flickering in and out. Her wings were starting to fade away into stardust. Her chest moved, up and down, in stuttering breaths. Golden blood trickled from the corners of her lips.

CasCu’s knees shook. He gripped onto his staff, and grabbed it hard, fingers digging into the wood. He could still see Brynhild from last night, her gaze cast towards the sky, soft and sad but filled with such determination.

Sigurd limped over to her side. He fell to her knees, and took her hands in his. The expression on his face was so full of love and adoration that CasCu wanted to smack him with his staff. Sigurd raised her fingers to his lips, kissed them softly, then began to write runes against her skin. CasCu saw them, as if they were writ across his own flesh.

Algiz, Valkyrie. Tiwaz, warrior. Gebo, love. Ingwaz, unity.

And Ansuz, to tie them all together.

“In Odin’s name, by the rune’s guidance, I ask that you awaken, my love.” Sigurd pressed his lips to Brynhild’s hand once more. His voice was soft. “Brynhild. My love, my external executioner, please open your eyes. I promise I will hold your Spirit Origin together. Even if we’re both damaged … I hope you open your eyes nonetheless, even if just for a little.”

Brynhild’s breathing seamed to have eased. Her eyelids flickered, then cracked open. She stared up at him, no recognition on her face. Then it bloomed. Her eyes widened. “Sigurd.”

Sigurd smiled. His hand moved to cup her cheek, hold her head steady. “Hello, my love.” 

“Ah,” Brynhild’s face twisted up, her expression cracking like the tears curling over her cheeks. “You can’t - you mustn’t - Please don’t come near me. I am the one destined to kill you … I can only resist the madness for so long … So please, stay away.”

“I cannot,” Sigurd breathed. “I would like to stay with you, my love. Let me?”

She kissed him. Or maybe it was Sigurd who leaned in to kiss her. Or perhaps they had both moved, fingers gripping onto each other tight like it was the end of the world. CasCu swallowed his growl and looked away. Gudako and Mash were watching this, smiling softly. There was the trace of Skadi’s mana in the air. And Surtr walked towards the Northern mountains, melting and burning behind him.

“I knew it,” Brynhild said. Never before had her voice been so joyful. “I was right. It really was someone else earlier, wasn’t it Sigurd?”

“It was.”

Brynhild laughed slightly, wild and delighted, but soft at the same time. “It’s really you. The man, the hero, I fell in love with.”

“If only that were true,” Sigurd breathed. Those words had CasCu looking over, to glance at them again. They were so close together, their foreheads pressed against one another. Niether appeared ready to move away. Sigurd’s face was downcast. “Then and now, I’ve shown myself too much of a fool to be your hero.”

“No,” Brynhild said, her voice a rush, her fingers curling on his cheek. “No, don’t say that. You protected me. You protected us. You protected the shield-maiden, and the girl fighting to save humanity. You kept this world’s hope alive, Sigurd. No hero could have done it better.”

She kissed him again, soft, and he kissed her back. The mana in the air seemed to tick up a notch. CasCu looked up, frowning. It was Skadi’s power, thrumming through the air, still thick and cold. It was Skadi’s … oh. That made a lot of sense, for all he hated it.

Sigurd pulled back, forehead pressed to hers. “I could have never done that with my little strength alone,” he murmured. “Her help was crucial. She’s also why your spear has yet to pierce me, despite coming face to face. It’s all thanks to her Godly power.”

“Skadi?” Gudako asked. She stood now, arm in arm with Mash, leaning heavily on each other.

“Indeed.”

Skadi’s voice was low in their minds, rolling with the timber Scáthach normally carried. CasCu shuddered slightly, then stilled. 

“If Surtr had brought his flaming sword down in earnest, my castle, my Scandinavia, would have been raised to the ground. And that is something I cannot abide. Chaldeans, Sigurd, Brynhild, you fought well. I commend your bravery and your valor. You all may enter my castle, so we may plan our next steps.”

The doors at the very end of the bridge swung open. Gudako and Mash looked at each other, then nodded. “Seems like we’re fully on the same side now,” Mash breathed.

“Strange bedfellows,” Gudako said. She glanced over, to Sigurd and Brynhild. “Will you two need help standing up?”

“No,” Brynhild said. She took Sigurd’s hand, and with his help, stood. Neither of them looked good. But they leaned against each other, solid. Her gaze landed on Ortlinde’s fallen form. She hesitated, before the joy on her face fell into sadness once more. She reached out a touch. “We should carry her inside.”

“I’ll do it,” CasCu said. He took to Spirit Form, then picked Ortlinde up in his arms. For all the weight of her armor, she was light. He stared down at her quiet face, and swallowed hard. Ortlinde, like her sisters, had found herself. But the price she had paid for that was too great. He looked up, and spoke softly. “Let’s go inside. Perhaps the queen will have a place for her to be put to rest.”

“We should burn her where we burned Thrud and Hildr,” Brynhild breathed.

“We will,” Gudako said, “if we get a chance. Now let’s go. I want to figure out a plan before Surtr gets to wherever he’s going.”

Skadi no longer looked so smug. Nor did she look so chilly. She still sat on her throne, but her posture wasn’t of a languid wolf, a lazy predator. 

No. 

Her appearance had changed. Instead of her dress, she wore armor. This wasn’t the practical armor she had worn when she had marched upon Asgard's gates. This was fancier, showier, more benefitting a queen, and still carried the raven feather ruff her dress had. A chest plate, curved and embroidered, with pauldron, arm guards, and leg armor. Where there wasn’t metal, there was leather, a pale purple with darker stripes and silver studs. She still wore a skirt, but it was open at the front, and short enough to fight in.

The armor wasn’t the only change. She looked more like Skadi than Scáthach now. She seemed taller. Her hair was done up and out of her face, but was a lighter color than before, streaked with bands of softer purples, pinks, and blues. Her skin was paler, blue touched, and her eyes blazed brighter gold. The softer colors did not make her appear softer. No, she was just as harsh and cold as ice was.

And yet it didn’t scare Gudako into keeping quiet. She spoke as soon as greetings were had, her voice sharp, the same one that had carried them all through fight after fight. “The people in the villages … are they safe?”

Skadi was quiet for a moment, watching them. Then she straightened, and nodded her head. “I have sent the envoy’s to protect them,” she said, “with Surtr released, the giants will no longer listen to me. They hear the beat of Ragnarök. If their power approaches their power from the Age of Gods, the villages’ protections will only last so long.”

“Is there anything else you can do?” Gudako asked.

Skadi’s eyes flashed, her lips tightening. Perhaps it was the fact that Gudako dared to speak back. Perhaps it was the forced admittance of her own weakness - either way, she obviously didn’t like the words she had to say. “I cannot offer any more power to sustain them than I already am. To do so would be to let Scandinavia burn, and that is something I refuse to let happen.”

Gudako opened her mouth - only to be cut off by Sherlock, coming from Gudako’s comm link. His voice was politely bland, but CasCu didn’t like the prodding note to it. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Gudako, but first I believe we should thank Queen Skadi here. Your majesty, I am Sherlock Holmes from Chaldea. Let me start by offering my sincere thanks - not only help with surviving Surtr’s attack, but for also helping our injured personnel.” 

Skadi had yet to heal anyone, CasCu wanted to point out. But Skadi’s eyes narrowed, and her hand waved, runes lighting in the air. “Of course,” she said, smoothly, “Such a thing is simple, even in these circumstances.” 

A show of power, baited out. Such a clever bastard, that Sherlock Holmes. He would have to be very careful to avoid him, in case the sharp-eyed sage figured out something he had no right knowing.

Brynhild’s and Sigurd’s thanks were soft. Napoleon’s - who had flashed into existence again as soon as they had stepped into the castle - was as boisterous as he normally was. Mash was a bit softer, her fingers running over the edges of her shield in wonder. “You even restored the Ortinax and it’s components,” she noted.

“You cannot be expected to fight Surtr with faulty equipment,” Skadi retorted

Gudako swallowed hard at that. Her fingers flexed - then she took a deep breath, and let it out, long. “Thank you, your majesty,” she said, bowing. “It is hard to believe that you are being so nice to us, considering you know our motives.” 

“You are not strong enough to take down Surtr,” Skadi said, her voice vibrating through the halls. “Not as you are. Neither, unfortunately, am I. This act of mercy is an act of practicality, young Master. If Surtr does not die, then we all die instead. I will not abide the destruction of my Scandinavia. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Gudako said, bowing again. The lines were clear, this alliance temporary. They would deal with Surtr, and then, if Gudako continued to cut down the Tree of Emptiness, then Skadi would no longer hold back.

“We are most gracious for your mercy,” Sherlock said smoothly, “Now, if you mind - I have a few clarifying questions to ask. I wish to gain as clear an understanding of this situation as possible in order to determine our next course of action.”

Skadi’s eyes narrowed. She considered the comm link for a moment, before nodding. “Very well. Ask away.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Sherlock said, “To begin, I presume that the fire on the northern mountains comes from Surtr?”

Gudako jerked slightly. Mash’s head yanked up, her eyes wide.

Skadi’s lips tightened. “They are his embers, depending on your perspective. The remnants of a Ragnarök I was not fully able to quench.” There was a tight knot in her voice there, anger, or disappointment - it was hard to tell.

“I see,” Sherlock hummed.

Mash’s head was spinning between them, back and forth. “E-excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may we ask you something, Holmes?”

“Of course.”

“Did you know about Surtr all along, Holmes?” Gudako asked. There was no anger in her voice, just … confusion. A touch of worry.

Sherlock didn’t sound repentant. “I was, at best, 20% certain. Giving voice to my suspicions at that point would only cause confusion, which is why I refrained from doing so. I was certain the man who attacked the Shadow Border was not fully Sigurd, but I was unable to convey that information at that time. That said … I should have found a way to warn you about the fire sooner. If not that, then at least about Surtr.”

“It would have been nice,” Gudako agreed, but there was no blame in her voice. 

“Indeed,” Sherlock said, and this time he actually sounded apologetic. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for the trouble I have caused.”

“Do not be so shamed of yourself, sage of Proper Human History,” Skadi said, her voice ringing through the room. “The fires on those mountains are testament to my own weakness. The powers Odin gave me were not enough to rid this land of Twilight, and that is a fault I will carry upon my own shoulders until the end of times.”

“Odin’s power,” Sherlock repeated. Those words on his lips were hated. “Is that how you survived Ragnarök?” 

Skadi was quiet, for a long moment. She looked up, golden eyes flicking towards the ceiling of her castle. Her voice was hard, but there was a quiet to it that he didn’t like. “Huginn and Muninn are watching Surtr’s movements. If you wish to hear the tale, I will have time to tell you … but it is a long one, and one I do not like recounting.”

Gudako and Mash glanced to each other. Gudako swallowed, then looked at Skadi. “We would like to hear it,” She said, and with the words brought on the history of another world upon her shoulders.

“Very well,” Skadi said. She closed her eyes, a very human gesture, then opened them again. “Three thousand years ago, Ragnarök went awry. It was Surtr’s fault, in the end. Surtr. The dark one. He inherited Ymir’s destructive side above all else. The first giant, with his name almost all but erased from history. The Fiery King of Giants, strongest of all in Muspelheim. He was meant to trigger Ragnarök, signaling the end of the Age of Gods and paving the way for the future. But in this Lostbelt, he did not care for his destined fate.”

“Surtr refused to be content with ending the Norse Age of Gods. He wished to bring a true end … a cataclysm to end the world entirely. He killed and consumed Fenrir, the fearsome wolf of ruin whose breath could freeze anything in its path, a monster whose bones, muscles, and heart turned to ice when he ate half of Niflheim. Fenrir was supposed to be the one to kill Odin - but when he went to swallow the sun, Surtr fell upon him. Upon Fenrir’s consumption, the fiery king of giants also had the power of ice.”

“With this power, he killed and consumed Loki - trickster and traitor of the gods. Surtr did the same to the other Giant Kings. He consumed gods, and with this power, he attempted to connect to his true body - Muspelheim itself - to the sky through the hole left by the sun’s vacancy. By doing so, he hoped to bring the twilight to the gods, and to the world itself. The Nine Realms he destroyed, the planets he attempted to burn. The flames were devastating. In the end, only Odin and I were left.”

Skadi took a deep breath at that. She held herself well, through the story. Her gaze was cold and calm, her expression completely blank - but her hands told the true story. They were shaking, where they curled around her arm rests. These tiny trembles that rattled her fingers and wracked her arms.

“Odin spent all his power to seal away Muspelheim and Surtr with one final rune, leaving it hanging in the sky as a false sun. He then bestowed the last of his power to me before he too fell. The preceding fight with Surtr had left me damaged. I was forced to seek a body to host my mind - I had met a warrior woman, when I was married to Njord. She was more in tune with Rune Craft than I … so I possessed her, and made her mind my own. Only then could I, the remains of the gods, start cleaning up the mess Surtr had left behind.”

“It was horrific. Surtr’s rampage left much of the land ablaze. The blood that poured onto the ground, spilled by the wounds the gods had dealt before their deaths, remained aflame. Those flames consumed countless lives.  The humans were never my people - but as the last God, I had a duty to ensure that they remained. So I turned the vast majority of my power to extinguishing Surtr’s flames.”

“I blanketed this land with snow and ice, laden with magical energy. I created havens for humans to live in, and left the rest of this land to my brethren. Without Surtr to control them, they listened to my orders once more. But for humanity and giants to live in the same time and place, sacrifices had to be made. So I produced several hundred envoys using the three surviving Valkyries as a base.”

Despite her shaking hands, she said nothing that would incite sympathy. Despite her domain, Skadi had always hated being alone. Despite her responsibility towards humankind, Skadi had chosen a path that would not favor them, but would favor the giants that Skadi shared blood with. Her Scandinavia was neither a place for gods, nor was it a place for giants, nor was it a place for humans. It was a place of impossible balance, succeeded in the worst way.

And she was not apologetic about it. Nor did she ask for any sympathy for her plight. She simply spoke, and they listened. 

“With Surtr sealed away as a false sun, he became ineffectual as a Divine Spirit. Though he continued to exist in this world, he no longer had any power in it. Peace returned to Scandinavia, and for the past three thousand years, it has continued under my jurisdiction. Only recently, did a great tree extend its roots down from space … and Ophelia appeared before me, calling herself a Crypter.”

“I presume you are aware of what transpired after that. Ophelia told me she must grow that tree in order for this world to survive. She proved quite helpful to me - but that is beside the point. I never once suspected the knight that accompanied her was harboring the soul of my sworn enemy!” 

And finally, something in her voice beyond harsh chill. There was anger there, the same anger that had carried her to Asgard's gates after her father’s death. It was cold deep enough to cut, rage enough to make the walls of her icy castle tremble. If Ophelia had stood before them, no doubt Skadi would have stolen her breath, frozen her body, and then tossed her from the walls just to watch her shatter.

But he could tell that much of that anger was directed at Skadi herself, for missing what lay in plain sight before her. 

Surtr.

Everyone was quiet, at that moment, as if no one could quite figure out what to say. As for himself, CasCu almost felt cold. He stood there, with Ortlinde’s body in his arms, and stared up at this goddess who had fought against Surtr and established this world, alone, only to incredibly fuck it up and miss Surtr’s presence. Something cold curdled in his gut. 

Of course, it had ended like this. Skadi was not a goddess of humanity. She was not a kind goddess, nor was she a very good one, inclined to warmth and care. She was cold, and she was ice. She was survival that favored her loved ones. The Odin of this would must have been a fool, to gift her his divinity, if he wanted this world to flourish. 

Finally, Sherlock spoke. “I do not think Ophelia meant for this to happen,” he said, “I believe this was a summoning accident of some kind. No doubt she was using a system identical to Chaldea’s to materialize Sigurd’s Heroic Spirit, and a foreign entity happened to make its way into the mix. I imagine Surtr used her mystic eye as a catalyst - that eye is meant to see possibilities, after all. She must have caught sight of a lost history - a pruned phenomenon that would have been impossible in Proper Human History at some point.”

Skadi’s cold gaze landed on the comm link. Her fingers squeezed tight onto her throne. “Regardless of how he came to be, the fact remains that Surtr has returned to my land. And now he will stop at nothing to finish what he began: to merge with Muspelheim, and bring about the end of all things.”

“If that happens, there’s no telling what effect it might have outside this Lostbelt,” Grand Cavello piped up, “You do need to go into Void Space to escape a Lostbelt, so I don’t think the fire would leak beyond it … but I can’t be entirely certain.”

“And,” Gudako added, her voice tighter, “he still has Paper Moon. With that, he might be able to navigate his way out and into our world.”

For a moment, silence again, as Gudako’s words landed. Mash looked sick. Her expression was pale, hands shaking. She gripped onto Gudako tight, and Gudako leaned against her. CasCu glanced towards Brynhild and Sigurd. They leaned hard against each other, obviously exhausted, still weak … but they both looked ready for a fight.

Like before, Sherlock was the first to speak. “Your majesty,” he said, “may I propose an alliance? While the enemy of my enemy may not exactly be my friend, I do believe our chances of defeating Surtr would improve considerably by working together.”

“There is a reason I brought you into this castle,” Skadi returned. “Do not test my patience by issuing commands. You are here because I believe -”

Gudako’s comm link burst into sound, the screaming, loud, beep of the emergency signal. It was paired with ruckus from the comms link, people going crazy at the sound of renewed threat. A high whine in the air, a mana signature familiar. For a brief second, the image of Alter impaled flashed through CasCu’s mind. He shoved it away, bundled Ortlinde’s body closer to his chest, and threw himself to the side.

Grand Cavello’s voice rang out. “There’s a mass of magical energy flying towards us from the Northern Mountains! Wait - all of our instruments are working now? What happened?”

Skadi stood. In her hand appeared a dagger of ice, intricate carved with runes. Her look was dark; the knife she pointed towards the ceiling. “I simply adjusted my snow and ice to accommodate them. Now, destruction to my castle for my entertainment is one thing - to dare attack it is quite another!” 

A bright light, cold and pale blue, burst from the knife and towards the ceiling. CasCu caught the flicker of runes as he put Ortlinde down, right against the wall. He turned his gaze away, and started sketching the same runes he had sketched for Thrud and Hildr. A golden dome shimmered into appearance around Ortlinde. The ice began to burst into green growth, and small flowers spread their petals against Ortlinde’s clothes.

Then he looked up, towards Skadi’s barrier, and watched. His eye pulsed, and he saw the web of magic threaded across the ceiling. She was good. Three thousand years of carrying his other self’s runes had made her a good mage - and as the last Goddess and the King of this Lostbelt, she was more powerful than anything here - except Surtr, and the Tree she and Ophelia had been meant to nurture.

The ceiling and Skadi’s runes shattered.

Ice fell like glass fractals, spinning as they descended towards the floor. Mash yanked her shield over Gudako, and Sigurd tossed his cloak over him and Brynhild, shielding them both. Napoleon used his own cannon. Skadi’s knife spun, a shield of golden runes swirled around her as another of those things descended.

“It’s the same type of enemy we encountered on Mt. Galdhopiggen, Master!” Mash cried out, holding Gudako close to her.

Gudako grit her teeth. “Then we’ll have to deal with it quickly - Raikou!” 

“There is no need for that, Master of Chaldea.” Skadi retorted. Her knife rose, pointing at the floating, conical thing with its single eye. “You impudent thing! I am connected to the Tree of Emptiness, you seeds have no right nor reason to barge into my home! I, the King of this Lostbelt, command you to die!” 

CasCu could have told her that it wouldn’t have worked. Perhaps there once was a connection between them - by Hel, he could see it, thin and transparent, the ghost of what had once been there - but whatever remained was not enough for her to command their destruction and for them to reply. 

The Seed of the Tree of Emptiness - for that was what it was, a seed sent out by the tree that held this Lostbelt in place, a defense mechanism sent out once the tree had sprouted significantly - shot towards Skadi in a blur. It was the same move that had ruptured Alter’s stomach open. But despite her shock, despite the three thousand years since her last fight, Skadi’s reactions were still quick. A flick of her wrist, a cut of her dagger, and an icicle ruptured from the ground and destroyed the thing mid-flight.

“There are more incoming!” Mash cried out, warning. 

“Then they will die,” Skadi retorted. Chilly frost radiated off of her. Mist started to rise up from the floor. 

CasCu saw the shiver in Gudako’s form from the corner of his eye. He moved over, setting one hand on her shoulder, the other on Mash’s. “Might want to move away now,” he said, “I think Skadi’s going to take care of this.”

“Should queenie really be spending this much power?” Napoleon asked. He lowered his cannon and frowned. “She’s spending a lot of it on Surtr isn’t she? Perhaps we should give her a helping hand here.”

“I can hear ever word you’re saying, nameless Archer.” Skadi retorted. Fractals of ice rose up from the ground. She grabbed one, and it formed a bow in her hand. “But if these things will not heed the command of their King, then it is down to me to destroy them.” 

She knocked her knife, and its shape took form of an arrow. She released as soon as the second Seed cleared the ceiling. The arrow hit it dead center in a bloom and boom of ice. It rocketed backwards and slammed into the castle wall in a spiderweb of cracks. It fell lifeless. Another Seed shot from the ceiling in rapid succession.

This time the bolt of ice that shot through the Seed did not come from Skadi. Illya came out of a side tunnel, astride a large white bear. She had her fingers in its fur, her expression lightly teasing. “But you’re not their King anymore, stepmother. Haven’t you sensed that your connection’s been snapped?”

Skadi paused, briefly. The chill around her seemed to dissipate as she turned. “Freyja,” she said, and there was just a touch of warmth to her tone. Of course … Skadi was cold and harsh, but for family she could care. For family, she did.

“I’m going by Illya, right now, stepmother,” Illya said, beaming.

“I suppose you might be right,” Skadi said, her eyes narrowing. “Freyja would not have dared to wield ice like I do.” She flicked her finger, and the seed that had been attempting to slide into the room unnoticed was impaled from every direction as the ceiling closed in on it.

“Never mind, Raikou,” Gudako murmured, “I think we’ve got this in the bag. Napoleon? I don’t think you need to worry.” 

“I suppose it is nice to see Divine Spirits in action,” Napoleon sighed, walking over. There was just the tracest amount of a disgruntled huff in his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, CasCu caught Brynhild’s soft laugh, and Sigurd’s answering smile.

“Regardless,” Skadi said, ignoring them, “I must commend you. You did well to escape my dungeon. I should have expected nothing less.”

Illya shrugged, spinning some ice over her fingers. “I could have escaped whenever. The only reason I didn’t was because I knew you’d go all out to seal me away again, this time for good.” She clenched her fingers, and another layer of ice covered the patched ceiling and the Seed half embedded in it. “What happened, stepmother? I thought you were the Queen of Scandinavia. How did you not notice Ophelia cut your connection to the Tree of Emptiness?” 

Skadi’s eyes narrowed faintly. “I may be Queen, but keeping Surtr’s flames requires tremendous effort. It means I have little attention to gift trivial matters - though I suppose I should have realized sooner. These three thousand years have made me soft.” There was disgust, in that voice, cold.

“Um -” Mash paused, when everyone looked at her. She swallowed hard, then titled her head up. “I believed Ophelia might have been able to hide it from you, your majesty. Her specialty has always been in Spirits - be it the Summoning of them or the ties that bind them - her eye aside, I mean. I don’t think the bond between you and the Tree of Emptiness is quite the same, but she might have been able to -”

“Your attempt to console me is amusing, but unneeded.” Skadi said. She tapped her bow against her hand, then dismissed it. “I am the Queen of this world, and as it’s Queen, I must live up to my own faults. Governing everything was never my strong suit, and the lack of battle for three thousand years has dulled my senses. But if Ophelia did break my connection to my tree, there is only one she could have given it to instead.”

“Surtr,” Gudako said. 

“Correct,” Skadi agreed. “There’s no telling what disaster may ensue if Surtr were to absorb the tree’s power into himself.”

“Though it seems you might have some idea, your Majesty,” Sherlock said, this almost gentle nudge for an explanation.

Skadi’s glance to Gudako’s comm link was cold, displeased with his interruption. “To begin with, he would raze Scandinavia to the ground,” she said, “The sword he wields was forged by the planet itself. Its sole purpose is to rend the Age of Gods asunder, to wipe it from the very face of the earth. That power, combined with the Tree of Emptiness and your Paper Moon will only feed his desire for destruction … and will make it more likely that it will reach your own world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Grand Cavello said.

“Assuming his magical energy and spiritual rank increase to that degree,” Sherlock added. “Your Majesty, would you tell us where the Tree of Emptiness is located?”

Skadi said nothing, for a long moment. So Gudako said it for all of them, her voice calm, steady. “The Tree took root in the Northern Mountains, didn’t it? Where Surtr is heading.”

“It did,” Skadi said. “It took root just beyond them - though I have been using my magecraft to hide it this whole time.” Skadi started walking forwards down from her throne, her footsteps echoing harsh on the stairs. She was taller than Scáthach, but carried herself with the same measured grace. Each word was as sharp and pointed as a shot ice cycle.

“Enemies of my sworn enemy, humans and Heroic Spirits of Proper Human History, I accept your proposal of an alliance.” She stopped in front of Gudako, towering over her, and looked down. Her bearing was regal, but there was distance there. A coldness that had not dropped, and would probably never drop - not for them. “Our alliance, however, will be a temporary one. Do not forget that.”

“I won’t,” Gudako said. She did not step back from the Goddess’ presence. She met her gaze, and didn’t falter. “Just as long as you remember the same thing.”

Skadi barked out a harsh laugh, head thrown back. It was the baying of a wolf, brief and amused, before dying out. When her gaze fell again, her eyes were golden once more. “You are brave, Master of Humanity. So I will say this only once: Do not enter this alliance with the intent to hold anything back. Remember, Surtr defeated Odin himself. You must kill a killer of gods. You should appreciate the incredible difficulty of this task. Is that clear?”

“As crystal,” Gudako said. She held out her hand, and grinned. “Shall we shake on it, your majesty?”

Skadi stared at her, her expression cold, a touch amused. Then she reached down, grasped Gudako’s hand, and shook. It was probably the first time she had ever shaken a human’s hand. It was most certainly not the first time Gudako had shaken a goddess’ hand at a time that destruction loomed over them, with time ticking away with each footstep towards a world dooming goal.