In Sweiza’s terror of what she can only assume are the last few minutes of her life, she tries to let out a scream, but the giant creature has her in its talons tight. However, as soon as it began, the talons start to become transparent and turn to flame. She looks up to see the avian reptile has turned into a flaming bird. The thought of Muspellheim comes to mind—Ifrit are only found there.

  She lets out a scream as she suddenly feels her self tumbling downward. She catches a glint of the bird creature’s flame becoming transparent. It’s talons begin to fade and a familiar light blue orb comes out fast from the opposite talon she (Sweiza) was held in. It makes a beeline for her and glows a very bright blue. Sprite makes it to her in time and summons another blue aura around himself—it soon envelopes Sweiza. She tries to cry, “Help!” but the wind blocks her voice. She realizes despite being upright, she is still falling. She looks down and sees what the bird creature has done. A large nest with several smaller, younger versions of the bird creature. Sweiza looks up at Sprite helplessly. He glows brighter and attempts to slow her descent; he starts flapping his wings as fast as he can to rudder her out of the way. As if by some enchantment, the fall fights him. He pulls hard on the aura around her and slows her some one hundred feet from the nest. He pulls her to a hover about ten feet above before she drops down. She hears the young bird-creatures roaring chirps.

  “” Her cries reach him as she tries to claw her way out of the nest. He sees her, but his attention shifts towards something in the distance. He alerts with a chirp and lets out an alarm click. Half out of the nest—young bird-creatures trying to peck at her and all—Sweiza follows his gaze and sees that further up in the mountain is Lady Strife with an entourage. The entourage approaches with weapons drawn.

  Outside of the nest Sweiza’s hands come up. She looks up helplessly at Strife. Sweiza only hears the words, “Kill them, and take her.”

  “What the hell?” Sweiza would back up, but she remembers what is behind her. As she tries to retreat to her side, she feels something heavy land on her head. She drops to her knees and gives one last look up towards Strife. She feels reality leave her as she passes out.

  —

  Sweiza lets out a groan as she looks up at the world around her. She sees the stars twinkling down at her. She twists to her side and feels the grass on her arms. In a daze she can’t pull herself up. She finally resorts to turning up at the sky. A wisp of air crosses her face and she lets out a frustrated breath. She hears a familiar voice. Demi!

  “Whatever Demi!” She lets out a scoff at him. He will have none of it as he stoops over her and offers his hand towards her. She offers a shaky hand as she pulls her up.

  “What happened this time? I don’t seem to remember what happened.”

  Demi eyes her once. He looks over in the distance. Sweiza follows his gaze. A strange looking crystal in the distance. It resembles a monument with a pyramid on top, but it also looks the same at the base of the spire. More uniquely still is the fact it is floating above a lake with glowing purple chains tethering it to the ground outside the lake. Flame flows up the chains. Sweiza shifts uncomfortably at it.

  “Don’t tell me that is the monument!”

  Demi shrugs. “I’ll spare you then. Just don’t die. If you die, I die.”

  Sweiza winces at him.

  Demi’s voice tethers Sweiza back to reality as she looks over at him. A giant tarantula hovers over him. He starts backing up. He takes one look back at Sweiza. “Utgard again.”

  Demi snaps his fingers and…

  —

  Sweiza’s eyes bolt open to a solid ceiling. She hoists herself to a sitting position. The pain in her head finally hits her. However long she was out, was not for longer than a day. She looks around and notes a very small and fifteen by by fifteen foot cell with a ten foot ceiling. The walls, floor and ceiling are all the same dark shade of dark gray granite—the same as the monument. She notes there is a small sink with a continuous stream of running water; and a small built up square with a wooden cover on it—it has a hole in it; she can only assume it is some kind of makeshift toilet. Looking over she sees the ‘bed’ she is on, is nothing more than a wooden platform bolted into the wall and suspended with chains. She rolls her eyes at her luxurious surroundings.

  “”

  Her cries go out of the small barred window that is too high for her to reach or see through.

  —

  Alone and cold, the minutes turn into hours, which turn into days. Guards walk by, observing her at different intervals throughout the day. Her only indication of time is the creeping sunlight through the cell window. Occasionally a random person walks by. She tries to speak to them—most of them give her no attention—a few eye her, a few speak to her, one smirked. She wishes she knew what was going on. On the second day, Strife walks by and stands directly in her cell. By now Sweiza’s apathy initially has her ignoring who is at the cell entrance. This changes when she sees Strife. A number of emotions wash over Sweiza, but they are all controlled in her apathetic depression—a void where everything has become meaningless. She sees Strife speak to her, but no words come out.

  Several more days pass, with not much change. Sweiza becomes more lethargic. The only hope she has throughout the day is a tray of food at the entrance of the cell. It is stale bread and water—a few times there is a potato or vegetables for her. She wonders if this is some kind of punishment, rite of passage or worse—some kind of ritual. Her mind wanders to Demi, whom hasn’t contacted her in days. She then wonders about Strife, and then her thoughts move to Lester. She thinks of the Goddess, then her parents.

  On the sixth day, Strife once again appears. Her arms are crossed. She seems impatient with Sweiza. Strife seems to shake her head and walk off in a huff when Sweiza stares at her with lethargic eyes.

  —

  As the sun sets, Sweiza feels herself lull into a half-sleep, half-waking moment and Demi appears to her in her cell.

  “It’s getting harder to consul you if you let your senses dull like this.”

  Sweiza eyes him up and down slowly and simply mouths, “”

  “”

  His words echo in her mind as he suddenly jolts and begins to fade. The moon of Lokul slowly creeps into view of the high window of the cell. She looks up at it forlorn. She’ll turn into a berserker at this rate. She winces at the thought. There would be random passersby that would mock her and laugh at her.

  She hatches her plan for the next day…

  —

  The guard didn’t mind his duties. His is a lowly position—patrolling the castle’s corridors. Occasionally he checks on inmates, which are often few and far between. One of his more recent charges is a spy found off island. There are rumors of the girl being a Valkyrie, but the guard has dismissed them. The girl appears harmless and is just as stoic and lethargic as any of the other inmates he tends to. As is his usual routine, he delivers food to inmates in the morning. That is until he arrives at the girl’s cell.

  The food is immediately set down on a table outside the cell as he fumbles for his keys. As the key enters the door, there is no sound. Not until the door creeks open does the noise of the outside world invite itself inside. The guard is already at his knees next to the girl sprawled on the floor. He grabs her arm and lifts it. It feels cold and clammy. Is she dead? He drops her arm and moves his hand up to her neck to feel for a pulse. To his surprise her eyes pop open and she knees him in the face. He lets out a cry as she scrambles to her feet and elbows him. He lets out a grunt as he drops to his side. She eyes him with disdain and kicks him in the groin for good measure. He lets out a groan as control of his senses dulls and his body’s control numbs. He isn’t quite passed out, but it is enough. The girl stands to her feet, glares at him and about faces as she leaves towards the cell door. The guard is left to watch in horror as the sound from the outside corridor fades with the creak of the cell door closing. The twist of the key signifies his entrapment as the girl reaches for the stale bread from the tray. She mutters something inaudible to the guard as she reaches for a cup of water on the tray. She winces at the water and spits it out at the cell door. She sticks her tongue out, knocks the tray over and struts off. The guard knows the jail master is not going to like this. But more importantly that girl can cause some serious damage if she gets too far. But first the pain in his head and groin…

  As much as the guard tries to maintain awareness, he soon passes out from the pain shooting in his body…

  —

  For the time being, Sweiza knows she is free—but this new found freedom is subject to change. She starts to run through her options. Strife has betrayed her. She knows that she is inside the control monument for this area—more interesting is that it has been hollowed out into some kind of castle. It reminds her of the monument at Vecna, and then the constant warping of seasons in Myrkvellir. She knows she’ll have to get control of…

  Sweiza freezes when shadows walk by. She remains frozen as they approach her. It appears to be a family—a man, woman (presumably husband and wife), two girls about the same age and then a young boy. They are dressed in ceremonious garb, not unlike what she wore during the annual Fertility Festival at Maria.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  The children gawk at her weirdly; one of the daughters giggles at her and the mother rebukes her daughter with a hush and a whisper. The father approaches with some concern as he speaks in a friendly voice, “Sister, are you lost? You appear desecrated and ungarbed.”

  Sweiza’s heart rapidly pulses as she looks down at her clothing. It does indeed appear dirty. They can also no doubt smell her from the cell. “I… uh…” She tries to think of an excuse. “I’m terribly sorry, I forget which day it is. Could you be so kind as to remind me? I would be most grateful.”

  She has to remind herself not to speak in high speak or she will be found out. Her plan works.

  “Sister, surely you remember today is the Veil of Lokul?” The man now approaches her, very concerned that something is wrong.

  Sweiza stammers. She makes up another excuse, “My apologies. I still appear to be off from last night.”

  “Whatever do you mean sister? Are you in need of assistance?” The man is now right in front of her, concern all over his face.

  “No, uh. I drank too much last night. It will pass.”

  “Do you need help getting back to your dorm? Are you on the 11th floor perhaps?”

  Sweiza panics.

  “No, no! That’s quite alright! I’ll make my way back. It’s been awhile since I’ve traveled these parts and their… austere aesthetics.”

  One of the children looks up bright eyed at her. Sweiza feels her heart sink. She’s been found out!

  The father eyes her with some skepticism. “Do you not have your crest?”

  “No, I seem to have forgot it. Do you know where I can get a spare?”

  The mother eyes her with suspicion. The father waves dismissively at his wife while shooting a dirty look to his

  observant children. He reaches into his garb’s pocket and produces something akin to a crest. He offers it rather insistently at her. “Indeed the 11th floor had too many festivities last night. Take this. It will use your bio signature to bring you back to your dormitory. It’s the least we can do for a fellow sister.”

  Sweiza reluctantly offers a shaky hand as she takes the crest. The man bows his head once at her as he strides (rather gracefully) back to his family. They all bow once as they stride away using a similar walk. She eyes the crest once. She flips it over a few times. It is almost like a dull bronze coin—it has a multi-pointed star inside of it, with a single line struck through the star. The spokes of the star are transparent and let everything through it. She eyes it with scrutiny. She shakes it a few times. It suddenly shakes and glows a bright blue. A small sphere opens up around it and produces a map of the tower. A light envelopes her and a line strikes through the map and then illuminates the floor in front of her—several arrows on the ground urge her on in the direction.

  As the door creeks open, a young adult woman enters the dormitory. What she sees is the familiar hair of Strife. She makes no mistakes about it and doesn’t second guess herself. Her clothing disappears and her armor appears. The clanks of her footsteps echo as she takes several steps forwards and premeditates her charge. She summons her sword and points it. It will be quick…

  Strife’s uncertain head turns towards the door and her mouth opens as Sweiza charges. She soon stops mid dash as Sprite flies out from in front of the woman and swoops in front of Sweiza.

  “Hey! It took you long enough!” He motions with his hands at her and squints. He clearly doesn’t know the ordeal she has been through. Sweiza’s mouth hangs open as she drops her sword.

  “”

  Sweiza gives Sprite and Strife scant attention as she looks up at the sky. “

  It takes Strife several seconds to register what the girl said—she is referring to the island’s guardian, Utgard Loki.

  “Vera, it’s not what you think.”

  Sweiza looks down and points an accusing finger at Strife. “You’re suddenly better?”

  Strife squints a smirk at the girl. “Vera, perhaps you should sit down.” Strife motions towards a chair to a table just next to Sweiza. Sweiza eyes it, and then the surroundings of the dorm—her dash didn’t have much room for error. Sweiza eyes Strife once. She makes a face at her as she reaches down for her deposed sword.

  “You don’t mind if I hold this, do you Strife?”

  Strife gives a weak smile with her eyes closed. “It would be rather hard to do so over tea.”

  Sweiza wrinkles her nose with a mock smile—that is indeed Strife. The sword in Sweiza’s hand disappears as she pulls out a chair.

  —

  “As you can see Miss Serif, I am quite innocent on the matter.”

  A tale of intrigue most indeed—Sweiza lets out a snort of sorts. Despite having eloped with Sigurd, Strife did not know he was a member of the Cult of Loki until they had left the Midgard region—dealings in Muspell Harbor and all that. Sweiza frowns at the thought of her home village and Muspell Harbor being so important to events.

  Strife eyes the girl intently as she (Sweiza) picks up a sugar cube. Without looking at it, she hands it up to Sprite, whom sits on top of her shoulder. Sprite greedily eats it. Sweiza pets him for good measure. Strife seems to ignore Sweiza’s eyes darting to the sugar bowl. After talking at length (which Sweiza found to be quite boring), Strife finally picks up the teacup and takes a sip. She sets it down and then picks up a napkin to clean her lips. Sweiza’s head tilts at the woman’s behavior.

  “”

  This time Sweiza avoids snorting again as she pets Sprite again. Sweiza fidgets at the thought, but says nothing. She continues eying the sugar cube bowl.

  “Is the sugar not to your pet’s liking?”

  Strife almost seems whimsical at the thought. Sweiza changes the subject and delves on the heart of the matter.

  “I’m more curious if you think this facade is going to impress me.”

  Strife blinks and lets out a laugh. “I had to do it dear, they wouldn’t have believed me if I told them you were on our side. I doubt very much they would accept the fact you are from the future.”

  Sweiza’s eyebrows cock up. Now she knows something is up.

  “Lady Strife, if you would allow me respite to turn in for the night, I would be most grateful.”

  Strife nods once and points over to a small cot next to her (Strife’s) bed.

  Sweiza has a suspicion, but does nothing to let it show.

  “”

  Despite her reservations, Sweiza finds herself sound asleep on the cot, thin covers and all.

  The land of sleep soon takes her…

  —

  Sweiza’s eyes bolt open. The night sky is fading to morning as the stars twinkle down on her. The sunrise in the distance catches her attention. She turns around when she hears a familiar voice.

  “Have you figured it out yet?”

  Sweiza knows the drill. He has some dialog he is going to dump on her.

  “I wish you would just tell me out right.”

  Demi shakes his head. “You need to learn the art of cautious curiosity.”

  Sweiza’s tongue shoots out at him. He is not impressed and raises his right hand into a fist; his middle and index fingers shoot out and he makes a cutting motion with the two fingers. Sweiza’s tongue promptly shoots back into mer mouth. She frowns at him. He gives her little attention after. He motions up at the sky. She gives him no attention.

  “You could at least have a sense of humor you stu…!”

  Demi walks up and raises his hand to slap her face. Sweiza jolts her head away with closed eyes. They slowly open as she looks back at him. He still holds his shaky hand in front of her.

  “We don’t have time for this! You need to quit acting childish. This is not a game.” He furrows his brows at her with disdain. A mix of emotions, Sweiza’s eyes close in shame. By now she has come to expect him to be the one with the answers she does not have—he is effectively her inner voice and better half of judgement.

  “I highly doubt you would. Your armor is a super conductor towards anything enchanted; I am effectively bound to it.”

  Sweiza’s head cocks at him.

  “I said that you…”

  “I am you; I can read your mind… rather I am your mind so to speak.”

  One of Sweiza’s eyes have close at him.

  Demi finally loses his temper. His body language becomes more like Sweiza. Eventually his form melts into a smaller form that is a copy of Sweiza.

  “You know what? You stupid elf! Always talking off the cuff, never knowing when to listen! You cause me so many problems! I don’t know why I bother helping you! I wish I wasn’t tied to your armor. You know what, ”

  Sweiza’s hands go up in defense as Demi slowly walks towards her and berates her. Sweiza looks away at the copy of her as Demi continues to lose his (or rather her as is now the case) temper. After a time of anger, Sweiza hear’s Demi’s voice calm down. She slowly looks back at ‘him’ and her eyes open. Demi’s arms are crossed and he has a scowl on his face. His foot taps.

  “Will you pay attention now?”

  Sweiza winces in defeat and nods.

  Demi’s form enlarges back into a male version of Sweiza. He points to the distance at shining orange light. He snaps his fingers and Sweiza feels her body lift off of the ground as the both of them are pulled towards the light. To Sweiza’s surprise, they remain airborn, but stationary as the landscape under them flutters by at a quick rate.

  As the minutes pass, their flight slows to a standstill. Sweiza takes one look at him; his eyes glow a radiant yellow—he points at something in the hillside. There, half buried are blocks of mirrors acting as mirrors to support more blocks sitting on their side. They sit in the shape of two circles surrounding a star with an inner circle. Different patterns within the circle and star glow a familiar blue. It takes Sweiza a second to recognize them; they appear to be more Futhark runes, similar to what the Penchant uses.

  Sweiza’s thoughts are cut off.

  “They are called Soul Mirrors; you are familiar with them?”

  Sweiza stops to think about it for a minute. She nods. “Don’t they house a soul in them?”

  Demi nods. “They are arranged as a sigil. I’ve seen the symbol before, but I’m not certain as to what. It’s missing something, or rather it hasn’t been fully built yet.”

  Sweiza does a double take. Indeed parts of the sigil are incomplete—the star is missing pieces, the circle appears to have been destroyed. “Wait, aren’t those blocks or mirrors or whatever they are… aren’t they half buried?”

  “Correct. Those are ruins. I doubt they are safe, but whatever built them is long gone. However, I still feel drawn to it. I think that is the next location you need to visit with your little friend.”

  Demi winces at the name ‘little friend’. Sweiza wrinkles her nose. “He’s not that bad.”

  “Anyone needing that much sugar is clearly…”

  Demi looks up as his form starts to fade. The world around Sweiza also starts to fade as the land of dreams releases her.

  —

  The next morning Strife prepares breakfast. Sweiza mostly stays quite and to herself—a most unusual act for the girl.

  “You seem rather withdrawn today Vera.”

  Sweiza scowls while looking up. “I’m concerned about Utgard’s tricks.”

  Strife walks over from the firepit and sets down what appears to be eggs. Sweiza eyes them once and then pokes them with a fork. The eggs quiver. She hesitates. She looks over to Strife.

  “Are they not to your usual liking?”

  Strife’s eyebrows cock up and her face turns to amusement.

  Sweiza follows the look of Strife’s gaze. Sweiza hears a chuckle from Strife as there is a clatter on her (Sweiza’s plate). Sweiza scowls at the blue sprite. “You little tu…”

  Sprite looks up at Sweiza, a delightful look of satisfaction on his face. Eggs and bacon are delicious, he will not deny it. He lets out a whistle of approval.

  —

  Sometime later breakfast has been cleaned from the plates as Strife is busy with a sink. To Sweiza’s surprise it has running water; but now that she thinks about it, the water was running the whole time. Sweiza dismisses the thought as this is the perfect opportunity.

  Sweiza’s clothing dissolves into her armor as she stands up with her hands at her side; she clicks her feet together and gives a bow to Strife. “Lady Strife, I graciously thank you for breakfast, but I wish to explore the rest of this… castle.”

  Strife simply gives an, “Of course.”, while giving the girl scant attention.

  Sweiza is soon out the door. Strife looks back at Dewey. “Shouldn’t you be joining her?”

  The Sprite lets out a small moan as his wings flutter. He attempts to fly… it takes some doing and he flies towards the door. It suddenly cracks open as Sweiza’s arm slings through the opening. Her hand grabs a mantle from the nearby coathooks; the mantle is jerked and disappears through the entrance. Sprite summons all of his might to fly out the door just as it closes. Strife stops washing the current plate; she shakes her head at the door as it clicks shut and then continues washing the dish.

  Strife looks up as she feels a presence in the room. Strife’s head titles as her body slackens and everything in the room (herself included) turns to vapor. The room seemingly rearranges itself into another part of the floating monument.

  Oh Little Sprite… I have something just darling for you!”