Death is the Beginning
Rowan began building the channel down to Helheim, her bloody hand on the wall, pushing it back as she envisioned the escalator going down. The walls on both sides would be stone, like the one going down to Hell, only the artistic engravings etched in the stone would depict the Seven Heavenly Virtues, opposite of the Seven Deadly Sins. As the souls would pass those designs, the images would morph into possible happiness, such as being with their families, watching the sun setting, celebrating the joys of their lives. Rowan envisioned beautiful sculptures in the stones, protruding, forming large trees and mountains with children playing and laughing, forming magnificent waves crashing on the sandy shore of a beach.
Rowan wanted the souls to find their perfect place in the afterlife. In the old days, Helheim was just dull. She loved it, mostly because she didn't have a choice, but also because it was a part of her. The dead roamed the vast space, free to do what made them happy, as long as they behaved, and they joined her in the temple to celebrate, to welcome their loved ones. The new Helheim was just going to be less darkness, more sunlight and homes.
She reached the bottom of the escalator, another dead-end wall. This would be the tricky part; building Helheim and all its complexities. This was the part where Death said she couldn't do it alone. And speaking of the old bugger, Death now stood next to her, looking at the blueprints and then at her, seeing if she was ready. Rowan was, and eager to start.
"This is going to drain most of your energy." Death said and Rowan gave a nod. She expected as much. She watched as Death passed the blueprints back to Bjarni and then took out a knife, slicing his palm like Rowan had done to hers. He glanced at her and placed his bloody palm on the wall. Rowan joined him and envisioned the plan of building Helheim.
Immediately, there was a trembling and the wall got sucked in, revealing a large cavern that seemed to be disintegrating for miles and miles all around. Rowan and Death placed their hands on the inner walls, giving the place more energy to form the very vast space and levels needed to build Helheim. It was a void, pitch black darkness, like looking into a black hole. Rowan could feel the place drain her of energy, using her strength to build her realm of the dead. Her hand had that glow and she watched as the darkness took her power to form Helheim out of her blood.
She glanced over at Death and saw his fatigue; he was being drained as well. She thought of him as an asshole, but he was putting so much of himself into this as she was for the sake of the souls. The Keeper of the dead and the one who has power over the time of their death, together building the realm that will welcome them home.
Then she realized what Death had meant when he had said she couldn't do it alone. Building Helheim was draining her as it is and they haven't yet begun the levels and the spaces, transforming the cavern. If she had done it alone, it would indeed take a long time because she would have to stop and rest. Not only that, but they were, in a way, partners in Death, like she was partners with Crowley. Although partners with Crowley has some perks that she's never want from Death.
Gross.
Rowan couldn't keep thinking of Death as an asshole. A little cold and impersonal, yes, but it was important to work with him. Even if they would never cross paths in their jobs, they were still partners. Whether she liked him or not, she was stuck with him. What a pleasant thought.
She looked out into the darkness, picturing different levels, sort of like Dante's Inferno, but not narrowing down like a funnel; more like a corporate building where you have to work your way up to the first floor, where you have the entire bonus package. That's what she wanted Helheim to be. She wanted to sort out the souls based on how they lived their lives; what they gave others will return to them in Helheim. If a person always gave of themselves when they could, they'd be in the higher levels of Helheim. If they were selfish and cruel, but not bad enough to go to Hell, they would be at the bottoms levels, depending on how bad they lived.
Hades' Underworld had judges to determine where the souls would go. Well, she wasn't going to judge them; she was going to let their life actions speak for them. The old Helheim didn't have any of that, but it was time for a change and change was good.
And the perfect way to make the souls work their way up to the higher levels is to treat the bottom levels like Groundhog Day; repeating the times in their lives where they mistreated others and giving them the chance to correct themselves. If and when they do, and they regret the things they had done, then they move on up.
That's where she would need to consult Crowley; how to sort, what criteria to set for the levels, when to know where to draw the line. Nothing was black and while; life was shades of gray and death was no different.
As Rowan thought of these things, she could feel the floors and ceilings growing out towards her and Death. Helheim was made of her blood, bending to her will, binding to her. Well, Death too, but he was just contributing his strength and deathly touch to building the home of the dead.
As the void split into vast levels, Rowan was just getting started.
She envisioned first a lobby of elevators, about four on each side of the short hallway, hiding those miles and miles of Helheim from view. Those elevators would bring the souls down to their designated level just beneath the lobby, stretch on for miles all around under their feet. Ahead of the escalator, at the end of the short hallway, would be two spaces. The first would be the office where the Draugar and Rowan would review the souls working on their Groundhog Day and so on. It would be large enough with four desks and shelves full for documentation. There would be a large window where they could overlook the first level, the ones receiving the very best of Helheim; the ones that deserved the very best for their selflessness. She'd like to have computers and iPads, to store all the personal data of the souls, but that would be details for later.
The second space would be special. For now, Rowan simply thought of a wonderful apartment, looking more like a New York penthouse with windows that showed wonderful landscapes of the wilderness of the world above, or whatever its inhabitant wanted. That would be a surprise for someone who deserved a good place to stay, if he wanted to, that is.
As Rowan thought of this, she could see walls closing in, now forming the very lobby she had envisioned with the four elevators on each side and the two spaces just across from her at the end of the hallway.
However, she was too drained for all the details in her mind to form. For now, the foundation, the structure, was all she was going to get and all she wanted. She could do the rest on her own with her Draugar and Gadreel.
So far, Helheim's walls where bare and dark, even the lobby was looking like dark jagged stones with metal shoots for the elevators. The doors had been created, but they remained open, as the elevators themselves were being constructed. The skeleton of Helheim was nearly finished and it would be up to her to add the tissue and flesh, covering it up with cosmetics such as artistic designs.
She was okay with that.
When the lobby was done, Rowan and Death nearly collapsed to the floor, exhausted. It hadn't taken a long time to create the foundation of Helheim, but it had taken the two of them and their strength. Death was right; the time that it took to rebuild Helheim was going to be a lot longer than the time it took to destroy it. If she had done it on her own… she never would have gotten this far in minutes.
"Thank you." Rowan mumbled, glancing at Death who met her eyes, still with that blank expression, as difficult to read as ever, despite being exhausted. "It should be ready for the trapped souls of the Veil in a day or two." She added and he remained silent, although she was certain he was going to argue that it would take her more than two days.
He glanced away, to her surprise, and at the elevators of the lobby.
"That wasn't on the blueprints." He said and she let out a tired laugh as she smiled. She didn't expect that, but she was too tired to think of what Death was probably thinking.
"I can't draw out the details. I have to feel it and just go with it." Rowan replied, glancing at her elevators with pride. Once everything was done, Helheim was going to be beautiful, better than before.
"Is that why you got Crowley to do it for you?" he asked and she glanced at him, too tired to defend herself, so she stuck her tongue out at him. He shook his head, judging her juvenile behavior, but she didn't care. "What is it exactly you plan on doing?" Death asked, tearing his eyes away from the elevators and looking at her with a sort of disapproval. If he didn't like her idea of levels and sorting out the souls, too damn bad.
"You know who's about to die. You make sure they die. Your reapers get the souls to the proper place. That's going to be my place. Tell me how any of the details of my place are any of your business?" Rowan asked and he stared at her for a brief moment, but then gave a slight nod as if couldn't argue. She watched him remain silent and she arched an eyebrow at him. "Wait, is that your way of agreeing with me?" she asked and he glanced back at her, slightly annoyed.
"It is a valid point. Why do I care where the souls go?" he said and her lips slowly spread into a smile at him. The old bugger was so difficult to figure out, but he wasn't so bad. Just annoying.
"It's been a pleasure to work with you, Death." Rowan said, her eyes glistening darkly. "I hope it's the last time." she added with an air of innocence to her smile. Death, for the first time, gave her a slight grin in response, as if he also agreed to that.
"Milady, are you alright?" Bjarni asked from the escalator, climbing down and kneeling beside Rowan. It seemed her Draugar had stood back at a safe distance, memorized at the power of their Lady of Helheim.
"Just drained." Rowan replied, trying to stand up. Her physical strength was pretty good, but she knew there'd be no conjuring black nail polish or fixing the rips in her dress. Her power had been temporarily zapped out.
"Death, can we help?" Agmundr asked and received a blank stare from the old bugger as he too stood up, brushing his spotless coat, as if to brush off the offer of help.
"I'm fine." He replied and Rowan smiled, letting out a small laugh. When he turned his eyes to her, she waved him off. She wasn't about to explain why she was laughing; she was tired and powerless.
"We're just going to need a minute, guys." Rowan finally said and glanced up at her Draugar who didn't seem to know what to do without a clear order. "Death, would you like a glass of water? A bottle of wine? A pizza?" she asked and his expression was the same as always; blank and difficult to read.
"Pizza does sound good." He replied and she smiled. "And pickle chips." He added and Rowan nodded, watching as her Draugar vanished.
"Shall we have a seat in the entrance of the Underworld?" Rowan asked and they both walked up the escalator. She gestured for him to go first with a dark smile. "Guests first." She added and they climbed up as if they had just run a marathon. Once they got up to the waiting room, they seemed to have needed a couple of seconds before sitting down. Rowan left an empty chair in between them and they sat in silence, looking at the bare walls.
"I hope you weren't serious about motivational posters." Death said and Rowan smiled, glancing over at him, her nails tapping the arms of her chair that wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought.
"Would you prefer a poster saying If you can read this, you're dead?" she asked and when he met her eyes with a deadly serious glare, she let out a little laugh. "Oh, c'mon, that's funny." She said and looked back at the bare walls of the waiting room. "After a life of bullshit, of difficult times, why not die and arrive at a place full of irony before you step into your ideal afterlife?" she asked, not really seeing why it bothered him so much.
"For some of those souls, after a tragic death or leaving behind everyone they love, a poster to make them laugh simply won't make them laugh." He replied and she glanced over at him, allowing herself to think it over and dare to ask him a question.
"You care?" she asked and his eyes hardened and it should have frightened her, but it didn't.
"My job isn't fun. This is a heavy ring to wear." He said, lifting his hand so she could see that silver band underneath this white stone on that boney finger of his. "Someone has to do it. I'm very old. This world is just a baby and its humans are insignificant." He said and before he could continue, she jumped in.
"You do care. It's not that humans are insignificant. You care because you see the bonds they have with other individuals, the love they have for their parents and their children. You see generations of families stretching on and you see the beauty of their short-lives, of the legacy they leave behind." Rowan said and he stayed silent to listen to her. If he wanted to cut her off like she had to him, he didn't take his chance. Maybe he wanted to hear what she was about to say next. "In one of my foster homes, the mother there said that angels find humans beautiful because of their souls, of their humanity. I know angels don't give a shit, but everyone else above humans like to put them down. The funny part? You, me, monsters, Gods, even demons, love their souls and their humanity. Maybe we love how vulnerable they are. Maybe we love how powerful they are. Maybe we want to take care of them or maybe we want to tear them to shreds. The point is, we care about these insignificant humans because if we didn't, we'd leave them alone to roam the earth long after they're dead, too busy with Heaven, Purgatory or the Underworld to rule. These humans are important to us in some way that varies to us all." Rowan said, staring at Death with her own sense of deadly serious.
If he had anything to say at all, he seemed to keep it to himself as he just stared at her.
"Maybe my funny posters are to let them know that death isn't the end; death is the next chapter." Rowan said and her Draugar arrived with pizza, pickle chips and Pepsi drinks. And apparently, Rowan and Death were being served as Bjarni gave them little paper plates while the boys served slices of pizza.
"And do you care about humans, even if they've done horrible things not yet deserving of Hell?" Death asked as he stared at his food, as if in love with it.
That was supposed to be a trick question. He must know her history, how she had been taken advantage of in her foster homes. He probably expects her to say that horrible people don't deserve her kindness. However, she was just a kid then, unaware of what she is. Now, she's Hel and things are different.
"Everyone has a story and I'm going to know each and every one of them. I'm not going to love them all, but they will have a place in my Kingdom." Rowan replied and her Draugar stared at them as if wondering what kind of conversation they were having in their absence. "I'll love my job because this is who I am. This is my purpose." She concluded and watched as he ate, obviously deciding that their conversation was over. She hoped he would eat that fast and then fuck off; the sooner he's gone the better.