As the last word fell, Aphelia felt the ice in her limbs thaw. Her tongue brushed her teeth; speech returned like a river finding its course. The echo still hung warm in the air, and a weight settled in her chest. She didn’t speak.

She knew why the freeze had slipped off her bones. A Valkyrie.

The Valkyries of Asgard had once flown from this world like a flock breaking from winter. Then a new, formidable Valkyrie rose among humankind. Aphelia knew that power belonged to Sigdrifa. To say she had nothing to do with the ones who left—Aphelia wouldn’t buy it.

Plainly, that Valkyrie was the hook that dragged her here.

“Aphelia, you still—”

Urd’s words barely left her lips when her body locked. The world followed suit. Odin, Urd, every blade of grass in Niflheim—everything froze like paint drying mid-stroke. The breeze by Aphelia’s ear stalled in mid-sigh. Only Aphelia kept moving.

Black Aether flowed over her fists and feet, hardening into gauntlets; a horned sheen crawled across her skin. She drew every thread of Aether she could muster and scanned the still world. A pause like this meant one of two things—an ambush, or a message meant for her.

Sure enough, as she slipped past Urd, she spotted a figure seated beneath the World Tree. It lay a fair distance away, but Aphelia’s sight, laced with Aether, could sieve clarity from miles. Yet that figure stayed blurred, like a smudge on glass.

Man or woman? The outline refused to tell. Blurred vision, a back turned, armor only as sketch—gender slid out of reach. All she gleaned was a tall frame.

“Rune’s will, or Origin’s?”

After a long moment, Aphelia let out a heavy breath. She folded her Aether tight to her skin and walked toward the figure under the World Tree. Either answer boded ill.

If it was the Runes’ will, then this Rune still had the pull to drag her here. That meant a lamp guttering or a bonfire at full blaze. If it was guttering, she could watch for a seam and cut out. That earlier bind—her body locked—was just the net of its rules because she’d stepped into the mesh.

Under another’s rules, you dance to another’s whistle. But if the realm’s master had loosened the leash, Aphelia wouldn’t step into its snare again. If Origin held the reins, this theater was meant to sand her soul down and steal it.

She’d spent most of her Crimson Fire shielding Hrok. If Origin had set this board long ago, it would even sacrifice a piece of itself to end her. The “Origin” shattered in orbit might’ve been bait tossed from its own hand.

Either way, the path ahead held nine deaths and one slim life.

But as she neared, a song brushed her ear like warm rain. No glamor. No veil. Just a voice, free of malice, singing for the sake of the song.

It was a simple hum, wordless, a melody drifting wherever it pleased. Yet her heart unraveled, knot by knot. She walked over and sat beside her. She thought “her” because the voice carried a woman’s warmth, no other reason.

Was it the lure of a siren or mermaid? No. When the singing stopped, neither power nor mind had been touched. Her Aether held like a wall. Only her long-tensed spirit finally unclenched.

“Aphelia, thank you.”

The figure spoke, clear and sure. Her face looked stitched from overlapping shadows, but a voice like that painted a pure heart, even if the features failed.

Weariness sighed inside her first. Then: “Thank me? For what? I don’t recall helping you. Origin? Rune? What should I call you?”

The figure lifted a hand, as if tucking a strand from her brow. She leaned back against the World Tree’s bark, gaze somewhere between the sky and Aphelia. Then she spoke, quiet as falling leaves.

“Thank you for breaking those false Origins and freeing me from a long chain.”

The words were stark, but she carried them with calm, like water pouring steady.

“I know you have questions. We can take it slow here. A friend under the Primordial Flame’s protection will be safe in the Earth Vein. A day in this Rune World is ten minutes outside. Sometimes it’s only one. You don’t need to worry.”

“Then give me something I can trust. Who are you? And what are these ‘false Origins’?” Aphelia cut straight to the bone. Time might crawl here, but the surface still held people she cared for. The thought pricked urgency.

“I serve Asgard’s Valhalla. I was a Valkyrie, sworn to Lady Brynhildr. As someone who once carried a piece of Brynhildr, you know her strength.”

She nodded. Her blurred form sharpened as pure white Aether—Brynhildr’s hue—gathered around her, filling the outline with light. Soon, a girl stood there whose features mirrored Aphelia’s.

“So that’s your true face. It’s really—” Aphelia caught herself. The sudden beauty startled her, then the truth clicked. She was looking at her own reflection—almost.

Not a copy of her, she realized, but of Brynhildr. To this girl, Brynhildr was carved into the bones—someone vital.

So Aphelia bit back the rest. She wasn’t that blunt Hero anymore. The girl caught her restraint, lips curling into a tranquil smile.

“Aphelia, you’re too gentle.”

“Hah... most people would say the opposite.” She thought of foes torn apart by her storming style. They never called her gentle, and never got the chance to. The memory tugged a wry smile. She sighed and shook her head.

“Since you’ve said that, I’ll cut straight. You’re a Valkyrie under Brynhildr. Seeing your face, I think—”

“Don’t think—know. I was grown to serve as a vessel for Lady Brynhildr’s soul. Your guess is right. My sisters and I were the same, raised first as consumables for her.” The Valkyrie said it calmly, wearing that mild smile, as if speaking about weather.

“My calm has roots. It starts when Lady Brynhildr arrived in Asgard...”

During the war against Origin, Brynhildr and Sigdrifa split into two again. Caught in that storm of power, Brynhildr lost herself in the river of time. Even a goddess can wander when the horizon is endless. Until one day her Aether snagged a thread in the chaos—like a hooked line yanking her from the current.

That pull threw her into a world without Aether. You know it. Asgard, back before Odin took the godrealm’s throne.