...
Ginnungagap, the void between worlds
...
If there was one thing Freya used to treasure in her youth was silence. It was for her a big part of the charm of being a wanderer. She was particularly fond of the almost mystical peace of mind that venturing into the unknown gave her.
It wasn't the case anymore.
The eerie stillness of the primordial abyss was making her antsy. As if marching headlong into an ambush wasn't a sufficiently tense situation already.
"We'll reach Fólkvangr in a few hours. I know it ain't easy, but try to get some rest, okay?" Gizamaluke broke the ice, expertly maneuvering their ship through a crystalline asteroid field.
Freya didn't answer; she was too busy staring blankly out the porthole.
"Can I ask you something? And I want you to be completely honest with me," she finally said.
"... You want to know your odds of winning, don't you?" Gizamaluke predicted her question. "After all, far more experienced warriors have walked the same path before, but no one has ever succeeded."
"Heh... you're not exactly the god of subtlety, aren't you?" she retorted.
The spirit chuckled. "... They were doomed to fail from the start."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because the whole judgement thing is a trap, meant to identify and neutralize those who would rise against Athelric's bloodline," he explained. "No one survives Berlioz's wrath by chance, especially in his realm."
"Well... he's already failed to kill me once," the knight remarked.
"Believe me, he was being merciful back then," the Dreki stated. "You can't imagine the things he's capable of when he really wants to hurt you..."
"Wow, thanks... I'm touched by his generosity," Freya scoffed.
"Look, I'm not trying to defend him, okay? I'm just pointing out that you've walked away mostly unscathed after questioning his rules, punching him in the face, and siding with his ex," Gizamaluke enumerated. "He respects you... in his own twisted way."
"Or maybe he's onto you, and he threw my soul where you could find it to see if you would rescue me," the dragoon suggested.
"Maybe... but we're all running out of time, and his lack of reaction can only mean two things: either he has no idea what's going on, or he knows about Cleyra and does not care..." the Dreki answered. "I really hope it's the latter..."
"What if I fail..?" Freya asked.
"... You won't," Gizamaluke answered, one second too late for the dragoon to buy it.
"Thanks... I appreciate it..." she sighed.
...
Cleyra, Myrkvidr
...
"Dude... could you please stop that? I can't hear myself think," Puck groaned, sitting on Reis's doorstep.
Zidane halted his anxious pacing to give the Burmecian a death glare.
"How can you be so calm..?!" he barked, pointing at the sky. "She's somewhere out there, dueling a freaking god of war to the death, and we can't do shit to help!"
"Calm..? Do I look fucking calm to you..?" the ghost king retorted, clenching his fists.
"When will you understand, monkey? She was chosen by the goddess! That means she doesn't need you to win, so tell your damn ego to shut the hell up!" Sir Wulfweard exploded, eliciting an outraged gasp from the Genome.
"Guys, seriously, stop," Fridgeir intervened, unwilling to put up with any more tension. "We've all done everything in our power to support her. Fighting among ourselves right now is as unfair as it is pointless."
Click!
Creeeeeak!
"You're only half right, Fridgey..." Reis chimed in, emerging from her house. Despite her attempts to appear serene and confident, it was clear she was just as nervous as everyone else.
"W-What do you mean..?" the bard asked.
"Come on in, gentlemen; there's still something you can do to lend your friend a hand," she answered.
The first thing the four men noticed as they entered Reis's chalet was the large levitating mirror in the center of her living room. Its oval frame was made of pure mythril, exquisitely engraved with long-forgotten runes.
"Whoa... spooky..." Zidane murmured, staring at the strange floating artifact. It reminded him of his brother's taste in decoration.
"Oh, my... is that the actual, legendary Hlidskjálf..?" Puck exclaimed in awe.
"The Hlid... what?" the Genome squawked. "Dude... y'all need to fire the guy who names your magic stuff..."
"Hahaha, yeah. It was Wothn's wedding gift. Pretty cool, huh?" the Allmother chuckled as she activated the mirror by touching the engravings in a certain order. Once she finished inputting the activation sequence, the artifact began displaying Freya and Gizamaluke's starship like a mystical monitor.
"It's just like Wulf's beer trick!" Zidane exclaimed, earning himself a confused stare from the goddess.
"His what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh... nevermind..."
The Dreki shrugged and switched to a view of the vessel's command bridge with a wave of her hand.
"Freya..! She's still safe..." Fridgeir sighed, somewhat relieved.
"How long till they reach Fólkvangr, ma'am?" Wulfweard asked.
"Half an hour at most..." the goddess answered.
"You said we could still help her..." Puck stated. "What can we do, ma'am?"
Reis made an ominous pause before turning to face them.
"Berlioz is a harvester of souls. His might comes from the countless spirits he has absorbed," she explained. "To counter such a monstrous power, Freya will need as much spiritual energy as she can get. That's why my son and I will link our souls to hers."
"With all due respect, ma'am... will that be enough to challenge him..?" the colonel inquired, his voice subtly tinged with worry.
"She will still be at a disadvantage in terms of raw strength, but Berlioz has grown complacent... arrogant... old..." the Dreki answered. "His overreliance on soul magic has blinded him to his own physical decline, and now that someone has the means to actually hurt him..."
"He's in for a nasty surprise!" Puck confidently declared. "You can lend her our energy too, right? That's why you called us here."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple..." Reis somberly answered, producing an obsidian knife. She made a deep cut in her palm, and warm draconic blood started dripping on the carpet. "To weave our lifeforce together, we must literally become one. If Berlioz severs the link while we are still bound to her..."
"We'll be annihilated..." Wulfweard completed her sentence.
Fridgeir stepped forward without hesitation and extended his hand.
"You know what? Bring it," Puck said as he followed the bard's example. Sir Wulfweard smirked and offered his soul to the goddess too.
Zidane suddenly found himself paralyzed. Twenty years ago, he would have volunteered for the ultimate sacrifice without missing a beat, but the idea of his son growing up without a father and leaving Garnet to fend for herself on the verge of a new world war stabbed itself into his heart like one of Iifa's thorns.
"Buddy... I appreciate everything you've done for us, but this isn't your fight anymore," Puck told him. "Go back to Alexandria... your people needs you."
The Genome let out a wry chuckle.
"... Two of my best friends are in mortal danger, and you think this isn't personal?" he answered, removing one of his gloves.
The Burmecians smiled at him as the Allmother took him up on his offer, and then the five of them smeared their blood on the mirror's frame. The runes avidly drank the tribute, and once their morbid thirst was quenched, they began glowing a vibrant green color.
"The pact is sealed," Reis stated, crushing the obsidian blade in her fist with a sickening crunch.
"What do we do now..?" Fridgeir asked.
"We wait and hope for the best..." she answered.
...
Ginnungagap, the void between worlds
...
"Umm... Gizamaluke? Is this normal?" Freya asked, pointing at the glowing rune that had appeared where her old Dragon's Crest used to be.
The Dreki left the ship on autopilot and rushed to her side. His eyes widened when he recognized Reis's seal on the knight's shoulder.
"Oh... this is what my mother promised you... the power to duel Berlioz on an almost equal footing," he sighed.
"Why do you sound so disheartened, then?" she inquired, surprised by his reaction. "... Are you afraid I might hurt your father with this..?"
Gizamaluke averted his gaze for a moment.
"Freya... this is a convergence seal... as long as you have it, my mother's very existence will be bound to yours," he explained.
The dragoon gasped.
"Wait... does that mean..?" she mumbled, overwhelmed by the implications.
"... Yes..." he confirmed, pulling out an obsidian knife from a leather pouch and cutting himself with a swift motion.
"Whoa, what are you doing?!" the knight exclaimed, recoiling like a snake.
"Relax... I won't hurt you..." Gizamaluke said as he extended his wounded hand towards her. "You need my blood to complete the ritual. Here, let me add it to your seal."
"... Why..?" Freya stammered in utter disbelief. "This is way too much... why entrust me with your lives..? We've only just met!"
The Dreki chuckled.
"Well, who's exaggerating now? We've been watching over you since you were born..." he retorted as he painted a few symbols around the mystical brand. "Sorry I couldn't make that sound any less creepy. In my defense, it was kind of our job."
It was Freya's turn to laugh.
"Thanks... I won't let any harm come to you, or the souls living in Cleyra," she promised.
"There. You're all set," Gizamaluke said as he crushed the dark crystal into dust. The bloody pattern glowed green like the rest of the seal, and the knight felt an ancient power flood her soul, turning her into something... else. "How do you feel?"
"I feel ready..." she answered, clenching her fists.
"Good, because we have arrived," he stated, pointing at the porthole. "Steel yourself for combat! Who knows what awaits beyond that gate!"
The proximity alarm flared to life as Fólkvangr's crimson light engulfed the ship.
...
Fólkvangr
...
Rain.
Freya opened her eyes.
Rain.
She raised her gaze to the overcast heavens.
Rain.
She knew those clouds all too well, the drumming of raindrops on her helmet, the unmistakable scent of her home.
Burmecia.
"Gizamaluke!" she yelled, looking for the missing Dreki. "Gizamaluke! Where are you?!"
But only the distant thunder answered.
"Dammit.." she grunted, scanning her surroundings. She was standing at the base of a barren hill, and it wasn't long before she recognized a familiar silhouette crowning its summit. "The farmhouse..." she thought, tightening her grip on the Dragon's Hair; it was obviously a trap, yet she had no choice but to play along.
She began climbing. The downpour pounded mercilessly on her armor, but as a true daughter of the rain, she found it invigorating.
After a short walk, she reached the top. Her old house, the one she had built with Fratley decades ago, looked far more run-down than she remembered; the roof was full of holes, all windows had been boarded up, and the front door hung precariously from its last remaining hinge.
"Okay... no turning back now..." the knight muttered to herself, pushing it open with the tip of her spear.
Creeaaakkk
Darkness welcomed her as Freya stepped into the farmhouse's foyer. She had half-expected the door to slam itself shut behind her, but it remained mercifully open, providing the only light source in the building.
"Gizamaluke! Can you hear me?" the dragoon whispered, bracing for an ambush as she entered the living room. She winced as a furtive water droplet found its way into her right eye; there were so many leaks that it was practically raining inside.
"I hope you like the spot I picked for our final meeting..." a deep, familiar voice echoed in the dark, causing her heart to skip a beat. "Get comfy... you're going to spend a long time between these walls."
"Berlioz!" Freya gasped, unable to dissimulate her surprise. She spun on her heels, ready for trouble, but he was nowhere to be found. "Where are you? What have you done to Gizamaluke?!"
"He can't hear you where I sent him..." the Dreki taunted her. His voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Disgusting... your soul reeks of him. I also smell thieves, losers and traitors... a convergence seal, perhaps..?"
"Thieves..? What are you talking about?!"
"Wait... that scent..! It can't be..!" the god exclaimed.
The fireplace roared to life without warning, revealing a towering armored figure standing in the corner.
"... I won't ask twice, varmint... why do you smell like Reis?!" Berlioz snarled, summoning his winged spear to his hand.
"Look... we come in peace... she sent us to talk to you," the knight answered in the most soothing tone she could muster.
"If you're here to talk, then why did you bring that thing?" the Allfather retorted in a menacing tone. "I see... you stole the Dragon's Hair and Reis's lifeforce to usurp me..."
"What? No! Please, listen to me!" Freya exclaimed.
"I knew Gizamaluke was an ungrateful little mongrel... but to think he would kill his own mother..." the god muttered to himself, averting his gaze. Even if his helmet obscured his features, his body language spoke loud and clear: a sacred line had been crossed, and he was going to make them pay for it.
"Berlioz, you're misunderstanding everything!" the dragoon said, steeling herself for the inevitable.
"Oh, am I..?" he growled, glaring at her so intensely that she thought he had already stabbed her.
KLANG!
"So fast..!" Freya grunted, having barely managed to deflect the Dreki's opening attack; he had darted towards her and attempted to impale her through the face, all in a fraction of a second. Hadn't Reis's seal enhanced her reflexes and strength, she would have been dead before even knowing a fight had started.
"DIE!" the Völsung roared, transitioning into a brutal spinning kick that sent her crashing into the next room.
KER-KRAKK!
Freya coughed and dragged herself backwards as the avatar of war calmly followed her through the new, Burmecian-shaped hole in the wall.
"I must admit I fully expected your head to go splat..." he commented. "Good... it's been way too long since the last time I got to hit someone twice."
He raised his weapon, intent on gutting her like a fish, but she narrowly avoided death with a back roll. CRACK! the floorboards went as the spear pierced them like cardboard.
"Stop, Reis is alive!" the dragoon exclaimed, adopting a defensive stance. "I swear she sent us here to negotiate with you..!"
"THIS CHARADE OF YOURS ENDS NOW!" he roared, violently tearing his polearm out of the parquet.
"ENOUGH!" Reis's disembodied voice echoed across the house, stopping the Allfather dead in his tracks as he prepared to lunge.
"Reis..? is that you?" he stammered, perplexed by her intervention. "I thought you were..!"
"I've made a soul pact with Freya and Gizamaluke. They're under my protection now," the goddess answered.
"But... why? Where are you? Why did you send these two in your stead?" he asked, glaring at the knight. "If you wish to kill me that much, then come and take my life yourself!"
"I don't want to hurt you, and I'm bound to Myrkvidr for the same reason you're bound to Folkvángr..."
Berlioz flinched.
"... Was it you..? The one who's been fishing heathens and traitors out of the soul cycle..?!" he exclaimed, equal parts surprised and outraged. "No... the Reis I know isn't strong enough for that... this has to be some kind of trick..."
"It's not... she has created a haven for Burmecians and Cleyrans alike... I've seen it!" Freya intervened.
"QUIET, VARMINT! THE GODS ARE SPEAKING!" the Völsung roared, and the entire house shook and creaked under the power of his voice.
"NO! YOU SHUT UP!" the Allmother countered even louder, causing him to nearly lose his footing. "I've grown stronger than you could possibly imagine without butchering countless innocents, and I'm done watching you repeat our ancestors' crimes!"
"Crimes? Innocents?! Do you seriously think that taking a few thieves and whores under your wing gives you the right to judge me?!" the Allfather barked, clenching his fists. "I freed the Burmecian people! I built their kingdom, our kingdom, with my own hands! I released them from the chains of mortality! And what did you do for them? You ran away and buried your head under the sand when we needed you most! I needed you, Reis!"
"You were out of control, and you still haven't realized that your cruelty has warped Burmecia into the very thing you rebelled against!" the goddess answered, her stern voice subtly tinged with sorrow.
Berlioz silently averted his gaze and tightened his grip on his weapon.
"I see... that's why you gave your servant my father's remains... one last insult before doing me in..." he said through gritted teeth. "Tell me something, Reis... you can feel everything she feels through the seal, right?"
"Killing me now won't save Folkvángr... and both of us know what will happen once you've exhausted your spiritual reserves," the goddess pressed on, much to Freya's dismay.
"Uh... Reis..? I don't think agitating him is a good idea..." the knight commented.
The Völsung slowly adopted a hunched-over stance, like a beast about to pounce on its prey. With a single hand, he ripped his helmet's visor off to reveal a monstrous visage; he looked like a bloated, reptilian abomination wearing a badly damaged Burmecian pelt as a disguise.
"I was just planning on knocking some sense into you... but you had to spill the beans, didn't you?" he said in a spine-chilling, downright murderous tone. "... Now that I think of it, I guess we both knew it would end this way..."
"You don't understand, we can still save this realm, together!" the Allmother exclaimed. "If only you could trust me for five minutes, we could put an end to the energy crisis once and for all!"
"I appreciate the thought, but you can't help me... no one can..." Berlioz answered as an intense purple glow seeped out through the openings in his armor. "I'm sorry... I won't enjoy this, but you leave me no choice."
"Berlioz, wait..!"
The Allfather inhaled deeply and exhaled a wave of pitch-black fire, so devastating that everything caught in the blast was instantly vaporized.
"Nononono-!" Freya blurted out, making a dash for the nearest window.
CRASH!
"Yaaagh!" the knight screamed as she dove headfirst through the glass and into the mud. Dark flames erupted out of the building through every opening, so she remained prone until the onslaught was over.
The Völsung's roar echoed across the whole dimension as Freya's old home burned and crumbled.
"I need to start fighting back now..! But how..?!" the dragoon muttered as she rose to her feet. She had little time to think before a colossal shadow burst through the roof of the farmhouse and took to the skies, its monstrous silhouette outlined by a flickering tongue of lightning. "W-What is that?!" she uttered, desperately trying not to lose the beast from sight, but the rabid downpour made the task nigh-impossible.
Suddenly, Berlioz folded his wings and plunged like a hawk. "CRESCENT!" he howled, jaws open and brimming with abyssal fire.
Freya dove and rolled out of the way, seconds before half of the hill was set ablaze.
FWOOOOOM!
"Now would be a perfect time for a Trance..." she grunted, nervously looking for the Dreki; his ability to rapidly disappear into the storm despite his massive size was deeply unnerving.
"YOU'RE HERE TO CLAIM THE CROWN OF BURMECIA, AREN'T YOU, VARMINT?" the Allfather taunted her, suddenly emerging from the burning wreckage. His mouth was twisted into a savage grin, and his body was shrouded in his own flames, like darkness given form.
Freya readied the Dragon's Hair and stood her ground.
"... THEN COME AND TAKE IT..." Berlioz growled.