Chapter 9 –

An old ghost

"It is colder in here than it was outside," Freya commented as she looked around the dimly lit temple after she made certain that the doors were sealed shut. She had attempted to use her magic to reinforce the seal, but for some reason, her magic was weaker in the icy temple. It had been growing weaker throughout her travel with Kratos to the icy land.

"It is the nature of the lands, I suppose. It has been growing colder ever since we crossed the Skirling Pass." Mimir said, in lieu of explanation.

The hall that Kratos had landed in was very poorly lit, with only a pale blue cold fire that was lit along a few chandeliers along the hall.

There were no paintings, or decorations in the hall, except a very tall statue of a woman, wearing flowing garbs. Her face was shrouded under a hood, and only a part of her mouth, and her glowing crystal eyes were visible underneath. Of the visible part of her face, the right side was carved to look rotten, while the other half had smooth, almost beautiful features. And just like her face, her right hand was rotten too, as the bony hand was interlaced with her beautiful left hand, as they held a bright orange crystal, like frozen fire.

Apart from the statue, everything else was just pitch-black walls that shone blue under the light. There were no windows to see outside the temple either. The only indication that there was an outside to think about was the massive black and silver gate, that they had just come through, and the incessant shrieks and roars of the ice dragons that they had just fled that came from the outside.

There were stairs behind the statue, that spiraled as they led to the upper floors.

Freya followed Kratos as he walked up the stairs behind the statue.

"Who do you think she is?" Mimir asked as he got a good view of the hall and statue as well.

"I have no idea. There is no name, inscribed on the statue." Freya replied as she and Kratos reached the upper level of the temple.

Even this floor was similarly lit by pale blue fires, that seemed to suck out all the heat from around it.

They followed the hallway that the stairs led to, deeper into the temple. The floor had small chambers on either side of the hallway, with black doorways, etched with silver. Even the silver had begun to blacken.

Most of these chambers were empty, darkness was the only thing that greeted them when they looked into them.

They explored the temple till they reached the end of the hallway, where yet another chamber lay. The doorway of this one was also monotonous, dark, and dull. The silver on this, which once must have shone beautifully, was now completely black.

The inside, however, was a different story.

There was a giant library inside. Books under thick layers of dust, and ice covered the shelves stacked one after the other in the library. Some of the large shelves had toppled over as if a giant earthquake a few thousand years ago had caused them to fall over, and they had remained untouched ever since. The frozen dust that had covered the toppled shelves was indicative enough.

It was the tomb in the center of the library, however, that caught the eye of the company. It was a beautiful work of metal and stone. The Tomb itself had a pedestal carved as its headstone, on which lay a dusty book. The pages were rotting, but not quite done through yet. The silver was intricately carved on the tomb and the pedestal, and it still shone under the icy blue light of the fire that lit the chamber up.

"I know that writing." Mimir said as Kratos held his head in his for him to observe, "That language is quite similar to a few books, Odin was able to steal from the Jötnar. But, how did it reach here?"

Kratos hummed, "Can you read it?" As he placed Mimir's head on the pedestal, so he could better see the writing.

"Let me see," Mimir said aloud, as his golden eyes roamed over the text. The Bifrost in his eyes worked to help him read everything he wanted. "This is a poem, again in the language of the Jötnar. Again, very curious. Here's how it goes.

Bræðr munu berjask ok at bönum verðask,
munu systrungar sifjum spilla;
hart er í heimi, hórdómr mikill,
skeggöld, skalmöld, skildir ro klofnir,
vindöld, vargöld, áðr veröld steypisk;
mun engi maðr öðrum þyrma.

Fyllisk fjörvi feigra manna,
rýðr ragna sjöt rauðum dreyra;
svört verða sólskin um sumur eftir,
veðr öll válynd. Vituð ér enn - eða hvat?

Þar kemr inn dimmi dreki fljúgandi,
naðr fránn, neðan frá Ís- og dauðarvígi;
berr sér í fjöðrum, - flýgr völl yfir, -
Snefrostóðr nái. Nú mun hon sökkvask.

Ok svá þat munu sem langrinn ok kaldr nátt komur!

Brothers will fight and fall to the ground,
Sisters' children will spill their blood;
The world is harsh, great is the turmoil,
Sword-age, axe-age, shields are cloven,
Wind-age, wolf-age, before the world sinks down;
No man will spare another.

Fate will haunt the lifeless men,
The serpent will rise from the waves with red blood;
The sunshine will turn black in the summer,
All weather will be unkind.
Do you still not know?
Or what?

There comes the dark dragon flying,
The serpent of the deep, from the realm of Ice and Death;
It bears itself in the wind, - flies over the earth, - Snefrostóðr bites.
Now it must sink.

And so, it will as the Long and cold night comes."

Kratos grunted in annoyance, at his recital, and was quick to return back to his belt.

"That was ominous." Freya commented, "And that definitely is worded just like Groa's prophecies."

"It is of no consequence," Kratos said, as he fought hard to bring down the annoyance that was threatening to surge forth as yet another ugly prophecy seemingly landed at their feet. "There is nothing written that cannot be unwritten."

Still, he was quick to take his leave of the thrice-damned library as they once again looked for answers they had come for to the Lands of Always Winter.

They climbed higher up the temple while keeping an eye out for any more text or other sources of information they could find.

Their ascend led them up the dark winding steps of the temple, the cold increasing with every floor they passed.

They did not speak, the words of both prophecies still heavy in their minds.

ჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲ

Their exploration led them further deeper into the temple, and with every step they took, the unease had been slowly increasing. The chilling cold deepening with it.

"My magic is getting weaker by the minute," Freya commented "I can feel it, a constant gnawing sensation. Tugging at my soul, and magic. A mortal would never survive here."

Mimir scoffed "A mortal wouldn't have made it further than the start of the chasms we climbed through to get here my lady. But, aye. I can feel something trying to eat away at the Bifrost in my eyes. Had they been outside in a non-living vessel, they would have been sapped out already."

Kratos led them up the last steps of the temple, to the highest floor. There were no blue fires that lighted this floor, yet light still remained. An eerie greenish hue seemed to emanate further down the hallways, from the last unexplored chamber.

Whatever it was that they had come to look for, would be behind the door. They were all certain.

Kratos did not waste a moment in taking his first step toward the doorway, Freya following closely behind him.

With each step, he made to the blackened silver doorway, there was a faint eerily familiar whisper in the back of his mind. The irritating sound increased in strength with his every step.

The whisper was practically a hiss directly in his ear by the time he had made it to the doorway, yet he could not make out what it wanted to say.

"Brother? Are you all right?" Mimir asked softly, as he noticed him hesitate before opening the door.

"Can you not hear the whisper?" Kratos asked, as he looked at Mimir and then at Freya, both of whom looked puzzled at his unease.

"I hear nothing brother," Mimir replied softly.

Kratos grunted in annoyance again but pushed his hesitation aside, and opened the large black door with a mighty shove.

And the whisper finally gained coherence to him, as well as form.

"Spartan."

A familiar rage bubbled deep within Kratos. A rage he worked hard to soothe yet again before he softly spoke.

"Athena."

The shimmering form of the Greek Goddess stood before him. Her greyish-green eyes stared hard at him, a perpetual sneer set on her beautiful face, one he had grown used to over the years after he had killed her all those years ago.

Behind him, Freya gave a loud gasp, and he spared a glance at her, and he saw that she was gazing at something behind the woman, that she clearly could not see.

Trailing her gaze, he was also rendered speechless for there was a massive shimmering tear floating in the air. A tear that he had only seen once before, very recently in Asgard before its destruction.

"You know what this is, don't you monster," Athena sneered at Kratos. "You knew even then."

Kratos did not reply, but his shoulders tensed.

"I can see it, I can feel it," Athena said as she walked over toward him, her voice taking a softer tone. One that he was intimately familiar with. "Truth. Isn't that what Odin called it? I have glimpsed it."

"Why are you here?" He finally growled out, catching the attention of Mimir and Freya again, breaking them from their trance as they'd been gazing at the rift before them.

"Brother?" Mimir asked, but Kratos gave him no heed at the time.

"To watch you suffer of course," Athena replied.

"You know the futility of what you're about to set out to do. You know you will fail. But your foolish promise will make you do it anyway, knowing you'll be giving me exactly what I have wanted all these years. Do make sure to make it entertaining for me." She said, as her form started to shimmer. "For now though, I think I will be satisfied by seeing the rage you're so desperate at holding back boil over once again. But don't worry, I have something for you to focus it on, just like old times protector."

Her form finally dissolved, the greenish tint dissolving leaving behind only the large rift in the chamber.

"Kratos?" Freya asked as she placed a worried hand over his tensed shoulder.

"What does this mean?" She asked indicating the rift in front of them.

"Bugger that for now, did you say Athena?! She was here?" Mimir exclaimed.

But Kratos still didn't reply. His sense worked rapidly, as he felt the temple shake rapidly.

"Ready yourself." He commanded.

Without missing a beat, Freya nodded as she withdrew Thrungva from its sheath and stood beside him, awaiting any danger that he may have sensed.

In the very next moment, the entire temple started violently shaking, as cracks formed in the very walls of the chamber around them.

Kratos and Freya worked hard to keep their balance when the walls as well as the roof finally gave way.

Kratos shielded them both from the falling debris of the roof and wall by quickly unfurling his shield, and deflecting it away from them.

"We need to jump off. We cannot make it down the temple. It is all going to collapse." He shouted, as he quickly grabbed Freya's arm and pulled her along with him as he dashed for the edge of where the wall had first crumbled.

Holding the goddess in his arms, he jumped off and attempted to use his shield as a cushion for them when they inevitably touched the ground.

But before that could happen, a deafening shriek sounded and they found themselves clutched painfully in the sharpy scaly claws of a black dragon.

ჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲჲ

A/N: Well, I am back. Life happened, but its all fine now, I hope anyway. And I will continue this fic.

Had to change this chapter, because I was really not happy with it before. Will probably make a few additions to it later, maybe?

Anyway, If you're still around and reading, thank you for your patience.

I am sorry for the brief hiatus.

Regular updates should start again soon.