Archangel Avacyn's Return

by FanWriterFromInnistrad

The unmaking of Archangel Avacyn at the hands of Sorin Markov weren't what we initially thought. He didn't destroy his most prized creation but protected her by sending her away to rest and recover on her own. What follows is her story, her entry into the multiverse and the ramifications of an indestructible angel as a planeswalker.

3. Kaldheim

As a disclaimer: I do not own, nor make any money from anything I post on this website. This is a fun exercise and a creative outlet used for practicing my craft. There are also dark themes and trials that the characters within must overcome or fail. So, if you are sensitive to that kind of story, you've been warned to turn away here.

Chapter 2 - Kaldheim

It was the silence that unnerved Avacyn. No stirring of the air, nor the sound of creatures in the night, not even a creak from the bed frame beneath her aching body. The shadows on the wall shifted, their contours dancing along to a silent rhythm to a song she had a vague recollection of. Every time she tried to push down the memories of her crimes, another sin took its place. Everyone she had slaughtered in the name of "purity" appeared at the forefront of her thoughts. It's a pity she never knew their names. Many of them had prayed for deliverance from her hands or cried for forgiveness for their own misdeeds. Her heart tried to burst out of its fragile cage upon remembering that nightmare. Tears, once thought to be holy, burned her cheeks as they drained from her eyes.

She was a monster, and a monster she'd remain for the rest of her days.

Her breath created small clouds that quickly dissipated in the stagnant air around her. She got out of bed feeling the night coming to a close, a new day was beginning, and she wanted to stop lying around. She couldn't fly away, for her wings were still bandaged, unable to heal without her magic. It would attack her if she tried using it again to heal. She was stuck here for the time being.

Inhaling just enough to have a full breath, Avacyn tried to search for that strange power Sorin had left behind. It came as soon as she called to it and felt the blind eternities at her fingertips. She could feel her home. Innistrad. But as she predicted, something within her blocked her path. She had the power to enter the infinite expanse of new worlds but was refused her own home. The place she truly belonged to. She knew it would be this way, sure, but she wanted to see it for herself.

Letting go of the power, she massaged her forehead in a feeble attempt to push the growing headache away. But as expected, it didn't vanish entirely. Surely there would be a secluded place for her to reside here, far away from any living soul for her to ruin. She had seen mountains during her fall that could house deep caverns to imprison her as penance. Deep woodlands, like the Ulvenwald, were far removed from the grasp of societies. She could find a hidden grove to hide in there.

Something outside herself pulled at Avacyn's mind with a gentle touch, guiding her eyes to the window Sorin had entered from. The latch squeaked as it opened, and a burst of cold wind scattered her hair. Not that she could feel the cold, it never bothered her before, why should it now?

This was a world covered in snow, its wind fierce and unforgiving. Yet it was also brighter than Innistrad despite the darkness of nightfall in some ways. Here, there was a sense of deep and ancient magic rolling over the hills and trees. Not oppressive in nature like back home, but more ominous than horrifying. Avacyn could sense no evil creatures lurking about in the shadows nearby, no festering rot of undeath in the land, nor the scents of fresh blood from a recent kill. It was pristine, yet there was a potent sensation of war upon the land itself. Like a supercharged storm lying deep in the snow, the dirt, its people, and its history. It was frozen over all the land, as if the mana itself was permeated with the cold. She couldn't touch it yet, lest she incur a painful wrath from her own body. The wind drifted along and around the pine trees, whistling in the dark like a geist calling for the lost and weary traveler along the crossways.

Pale blue lights behind a wooden mask drew her eyes, and the looming figure at the edge of the woods shifted like a swaying branch in the wind. A hand emerged from within that shadow, pointing towards some unknown location. Avacyn could almost hear it calling to her, and yet the world was silent.

The rattling of the rafters above, shook her out of her daze, and the mysterious person was gone. Forgotten hay fluttered down from their hiding places as she closed the window. The barn door slid open, slicing through the snow that had been gathering up against the wall of the barn. There, hovering just beyond Avacyn's reach was the angel she remembered trying to catch her. She looked nothing like Avacyn's devoted flights on Innistrad. Where the angels on Innistrad were graceful and grim, this was a warrior, battle-hardened and wise. A thin metal crest framed her facial features, and at the base above her eyes feather shaped spikes jutted out the sides, accentuating her slim face. The long red hair was braided and wrapped around her; the longhorn seemed to be from an impressive beast. That purple magic was immersed in the feathers of her wings which held her aloft with gentle pushes.

She looked Avacyn over with discerning eyes. "You lived," she whispered, as if she couldn't believe it. She drifted down, sending the floating snowflakes twirling away from her.

"Yes, I did," Avacyn said.

"How?" the angel asked.

"My body is tougher than a few trees." The other angel pursed her lips as if gauging Avacyn's face. Avacyn tried to remain calm under such scrutiny, but it was possible that something leaked out. She was at a disadvantage here. She was weakened to a state of vulnerability, while her opponents were of unknown strength. The back of her neck shivered as she felt another angel's gaze on her. On the roof behind her was a much darker angel crouching upon the roof of the barn. Her long scythe rested in pale hands, its lengthy curved blade just above the lintel of the open door, ready to strike as needed. In the gray light before dawn, shadows veiled her face, but revealed a grim trace of a smile. The golden circlet topped her head, and long untethered black hair fell before her like blackened silk. Her gilded armor had a significant balance between functional and decorative, with coiling designs twisting along its frame. While the first angel had wings tipped in purple magic, this angel's wings were wreathed in turquoise flames, illuminating her back in an ominous light against the sky. Her garbs draped down, tattered like torn tapestries, inked and frayed at the edges to complete a sinister look. In her, Avacyn saw the darker version of herself, and it unnerved her to no end, yet she had no reason to fear these two.

The darker angel spoke in a harsh voice. "I can smell your fear, I can taste your cowardice. You are no Valkyrie of Starnheim. Only a mortal pretending to be one. The lack of magic in your wings is proof," she released Avacyn from her gaze to look at the other angel. "Firja, I will drag this imposter down to Istfell myself so we can be done with her."

"Ohildr, please," Firja said, placating her companion with an open palm. "Control your bloodlust. This is no pretender, she fell from a great height and survived. There is magic in her, I can sense it, yet it seems to be fractured. She must somehow be a traveler, one who once had great power. What is your name, traveling Valkyrie?"

"I am Avacyn, Archangel of Innistrad," she said, holding her head high.

"I am Firja, shepherd of Starnheim, and this is Ohildr," Firja paused with practiced patience.

"Reaper of Starnheim," Ohildr interrupted eagerly.

"We ask you, Avacyn, of your intentions here on Kaldheim?" She asked.

The darker Valkyrie behind her chuckled, her tone full of disdainful mockery. "Should we kill you now, or later?"

A fire kindled inside Avacyn's chest, rising to burn her face, and she almost challenged her on the spot to try it. She was shocked to find such a potent response to a prompt undeserving of notice. Avacyn had dealt with truant angels before, and single handedly won those battles. Why should one wayward angel spark her anger with a death threat? A deep breath was all she needed to cool herself. "I mean no harm to anyone, unless they wish harm upon myself or others around me. I was wounded in battle against a vampire and wish to remain here. By the grace of my hosts, who have begun to heal my wounds, I wish to repay them for their hospitality, then I'll be on my way."

"By the world tree, you battled a vampire. And lived?" Firja asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you slay it?" Ohildr asked, shifting the roof's shingles by leaning forward.

Avacyn was hesitant to reply, but seeing those eyes, reading more than just expressions, answered cautiously. "No, I did not. But he isn't here anymore, so don't be afraid, sister."

Ohildr scoffed, then grinned with defiance. "Sister!? One vampire is no match for us! I could kill it with my eyes closed while you watched in amazement at my deeds. A Valkyrie who can't slay a vampire is nothing but a weakling to my eyes. And I see all," Ohildr sneered. "If you couldn't kill it, you are unworthy of Starnheim."

The fire returned to Avacyn for the ones she had lost in that battle. "Tell that to a host of angels that, at my call, now lie dead at his feet. I won't stand here listening to you make light of their sacrifice!" She winced internally, for now she knew that those angels sacrificed themselves for a heretic. Avacyn would never be worthy of their worship ever again. "You know nothing of me or my home, so don't pretend to act superior to me," she whispered.

Ohildr gripped her scythe, and magic streamed down to her blade, engulfing it with a cold fire. She leaned far over the edge, balancing on her wings, ready to lunge forward. "Oh, you dare look down on me, wounded bird? I should-"

"Ohildr," Firja interjected. "Remain calm. We aren't here to fight her."

"You aren't. I am," Ohildr said with a grin. "I was made for battle."

"Ohildr," Firja said firmly. "Enough. Even without her magic, she would destroy you. I can see it." Ohildr reluctantly backed off, standing up straight and relinquishing her flames. Firja continued. "You are strange, Avacyn. Take heed of our warning; do not cause trouble for us. We see all that occurs in these realms, both good and bad, and will judge accordingly. There may be many realms for you to hide in for a time, but we will find you should we need to. We will be watching. And though I foresee honor in your future, glory as well, I also see fear and death follow you everywhere you go. Farewell Avacyn. It seems your path to Starnheim is yet closed to you. But take heart and know that your battles will shape the future of Kaldheim."

Firja ascended with a powerful push of her wings, and Avacyn couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the Valkyrie's freedom to fly. She turned to see Ohildr still looking down at her. The growing light revealed her from the darkness. "I do hope we meet again, so that I may kill you as I intended. Firja says your path to Starnheim is closed? Istfell, remains wide open for you." Ohildr smirked and followed her partner up towards the light of dawn on the horizon.

Avacyn was alone again, there in the clearing, contemplating the angels. No, the Valkyries, and their dire warnings. Looking around her, she saw that she stood in a fenced in clearing surrounded by pine trees. There was a quaint little pinewood hut with shuttered windows off to one side of it, a small shed adjacent to the barn she had exited with stacks of firewood lined up beside it. A long-knit piece of cloth interwoven with leaves protected the wood from getting wet from the snow. There was a long stretch of land that had raised bowls filled with dirt, most likely used for planting vegetables and the like along with empty grounds for farming during warmer seasons. It was strange to see such a small settlement in the woods. Normally, folk would gather themselves and build up a village or town as a way to protect themselves from the dangers in the woods. Only hermits of great power or criminals would choose to seclude themselves. There was a life to be had in the trees which was worth the risk of danger, to have only a single house likely spelled trouble. Above the tree line on the horizon, the mountains reflected the growing light of day. Exploring the grounds further, she discovered two small stone obelisks about the size of a poor man's headstone back in Kessig.

The thought of headstones made her think that these were here to mark a pair of graves. A soft sorrow filled Avacyn's heart as she remembered many encounters where families had lost a loved one. More often than not, she had saved her petitioners upon her arrival, but on that rare occasion where she could do nothing, she informed the family instead of handing it off to a flight Alabaster angel.

She knelt down to brush the snow off and said a quiet prayer for their rest to be undisturbed. And as she prayed, she felt no power being exerted from within, so nothing happened but a slight tingle as the pins and needles threatened to return. As she stood up, the door to the hut opened and a man walked out. He was tall and built like a lumberjack, his head was clean shaven and covered with tattoos. He had a wide face with a beard wrapped around his chin, his green eyes were groggy with the early morning. His tunic and trousers were worn with use, yet clean as if they'd been washed recently. His fur-lined cloak repelled the snow and cold, while the woodcutter ax in his hand was well maintained. He stiffened, noticing Avacyn for the first time near the stones. He looked down to see that she had cleaned them, and relaxed, smiling.

"Good morning, traveler!" He said, his jovial tone didn't match his mostly attentive eyes. He was wary of her, but friendly anyway. A completely different response than she expected from a stranger. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he came to pay his own respects. After a few moments, he broke the silence. "So, how are you feeling?"

Avacyn took a long breath, which would have hurt more, but it seemed that her ribs were on the mend. Much slower than she anticipated but recovering from her battle was a slow process, it took days if she absorbed too much pain. "I seem to be much better now. Whoever healed my wounds did an excellent job, even if it was unnecessary."

"Unnecessary? Helping someone who is clearly in pain is our duty. Though I admit, I'm surprised to see you up and about. Anyone else who was in as bad of shape as you would take far longer to begin moving again," he paused. "But you are a Valkyrie, so I'd have to expect you to be different from the rest of us. It is a pleasure to meet you, I'm-"

With a creak, the door opened again, and a large wolf bounded across the clearing in a few steps and stood between them. Avacyn stepped back, ready to defend them both, but the wolf never attacked. Was it possible that this man could tame wolves? The wolf stood proud, arching her head up, her tail held out behind her wagging furiously. One of her eyes was scratched out, and an ear was clipped at the tip. Numerous scars tattered her otherwise elegantly groomed fur. She looked much larger than the average wolf, and Avacyn got a sense of faint power within the wolf. It was said that wolves could spread lycanthropy, but the myth was never proven, and Avacyn could not sense anything from this wolf. The man placed a hand on the wolf's neck unafraid of its power and scratched gently behind an ear. "This is Livyrsa. She has been the guardian of my family's humble abode ever since she arrived. My daughter has taken a liking to her, and it seems she is quite fond of us. Don't worry, Livyrsa doesn't bite, usually," he said. "Anyway, my name is Viggo. My wife and daughter are inside, still sleeping for the moment."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Viggo, I am Avacyn, Archangel of Innistrad," she answered back, still wary of the wolf. It posed no danger to her, but the wolves she knew about were usually hostile. Seeing a wolf willingly live with humans who weren't werewolves was odd, and not a comfortable feeling to have.

"Nice to meet you." He bent his knees to reverently touch each of the stone obelisks in turn. "I was about to cook some breakfast for my family," he said, leaving the stones for the firewood. Avacyn absentmindedly picked up some wood as well in case he needed more, and stepped in tandem with him as he walked, staying on the opposite side to the wolf. "Would you like some?" He asked.

Avacyn shook her head. "No, I don't need food, but thank you for offering."

He chuckled. "No food? Not even the gods decline a free meal. Are you sure you're alright?" He cleared the firepit of leftover snow and began building himself a wood stack. Livyrsa took the opportunity to sneak in close and sniff inquisitively.

The wolf backed off when Avacyn stiffened. "Is this normal? Wolves living with humans?" she asked. Humans on Innistrad weren't friendly to wolves for obvious reasons, but he just shrugged his reply. "Well keep an eye on her, I don't put much trust in wild wolves."

"Ah, sorry." Viggo patted his leg. "Liv, stay." At his command, the wolf backed away, growling quietly in protest. "She isn't a wild wolf, but it seems she doesn't trust you yet. You are a stranger to her after all."

"And we're not strangers?" Avacyn asked.

"Of course not! I'm Viggo, and you're Avacyn." He chuckled at that, but Avacyn didn't really see what was so funny. He pulled out some tinder and some stones to start the fire. "So, now that we're acquainted, how are your wounds treating you? Are you in pain right now?"

"No," Avacyn said. "No, I'm just worried about the state of my wings. They took the brunt of the fall and I'm worried they aren't healing right. I don't have access to my magic, so they aren't healing as fast."

Viggo lit the tinder he was working on and quickly set it under the wood stack to feed the fire. He leaned down close to the fire and gently breathed life into it so it could grow. When he was satisfied with it, he sat back and pulled out a stick to poke the fire and adjust the burning wood as needed. "My wife is our healer, so she'll most likely help you out with that after she wakes up and completes her morning hunt."

Avacyn looked around, seeing the pine trees surrounding them and realized she had no idea where they were. The Valkyries said this was Kaldheim, but she had no idea where on Kaldheim she was. She knew Innistrad like the back of her hand, but of this world, she needed to learn. "Where are we? I'm not from around here," she explained.

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "A traveler eh, well you're just inside the Aldergard forest near the Feltmark." He pointed out westward, "there's a small town about a mile that way," he said. Then, he flipped his hands towards the mountains. "The Tuskeri clan live up in those mountains over there. They're a feisty lot that we've got to watch out for."

"Are they dangerous?" Avacyn asked.

He scoffed. "Everything's dangerous here in Bretagard."

"Bretagard? I thought this was Kaldheim," Avacyn asked.

He laughed. "Ah, the ignorance of a traveler. Bretagard, is one of the ten known realms that live on the World tree. All the realms are a part of Kaldheim, and the World Tree, that huge looking branch over there, is the heart of all the realms. Anyway, the Tuskeri tend to raid villages and cities rather than lonely huts like ours. Less loot to take, or stories to make. They usually bother the Kannah clans, but some parties venture out here as well and find us instead. There's also the Skelle to the far south; when they raid villages, watch out. They're crueler than most normal folk from the other clans. Suffice to say it, but we're a buffer of sorts to the village nearby. We try to warn them of any incoming dangers or raids when we can."

Avacyn was relieved to find out that there were normal people out there, protected by walls not made of flimsy branches. "How do you do that? You have no bells here," Avacyn said. Normally when a village on Innistrad was in trouble, they'd ring bells to alert the parish militia and pray to her for deliverance. She'd send an angel to their aid, and if the need was greater than a single angel's help, Avacyn would go herself. But if she couldn't do either of those things, she would grant them a tithe of her power to protect them instead. Things must work very differently here.

"Bells? And warn those raiding parties that we live here, alone in these woods? Are you crazy? The village knows of our Livyrsa, and we send a message by her swift feet. Livyrsa can usually sense when the woods are quieter than normal. She warns us, and we send a message tied on her neck to the village."

Avacyn nodded and had a sudden thought. "Do these Tuskeri people wear wooden masks? I saw one of them earlier this morning."

His eyes widened with shock. "No, that was a changeling from another realm. They're tricksters at the best of times, and murderers at their worst," he warned. "Do not follow them."

"Oh, it seems you have a lot to keep track of here on Kaldheim."

He shrugged again, seemingly forgetting his previous worries. "Eh, I'm used to it. I live here, and this is normal to me and mine. There are many realms connected to the World Tree. Bretagard is the realm we're in and the place I call home, much like Innistrad is the place you call home. Many things that would be normal to me here would be strange to travelers like you, and such would be the same for me there as well." Livyrsa grew bored and dashed off into the woods, leaping over the fence in a single bound.

"How did you know I'm a traveler," Avacyn asked, then turned to her wings. "I mean, besides the obvious."

"Your armor. It was like no armor I've ever seen. Plus, the fact that you have no idea where you are? I put two and two together to make four." Avacyn looked down to see that she wasn't wearing her armor. "Feyra, my wife, removed your armor to heal your wounds better. It's inside the house right now, so don't worry about that."

"I see," she said.

"Do you have any plans for when you can fly again?" Viggo asked, his question prompted her to think for a moment. Sorin had forbidden her re-entry into Innistrad, so she was stranded for the time being. She had no purpose, no tasks to complete, and no prayers to answer. She had nothing to do except exist here. For she felt no compulsion to go anywhere else.

"I have no plans. But if you're willing, I'd like to stay and repay your kindness in turn," Avacyn finally said.

"I'd be happy for you to stay, but my wife… Well, she's a bit more stubborn than I, she may have her own words to say about that."

The door creaked again, and out came a little girl wearing a thick coat and a hat, hugging a stuffed animal. She was followed closely by her mother carrying a tray of uncooked food. By all accounts, she looked like a regular human woman, except that her ears were much longer and pointed at the end. She had narrowed dark brown eyes, fierce with the intensity of her gaze, and her light brown hair cascaded down her back in a large braid. She was a fit woman with a heart-shaped face and a battle-hardened frame. Slung on her back was a bow with a quiver of arrows, her green tunic wrapped in a warm green mantle, light and easy to move in. The child was rubbing the sleep from her eyes until she saw the archangel. A broad smile cleared her face of any sleepiness as she skipped over. Each step crunched the snow beneath her tiny boots. "Hi!" she chirped, grabbing onto Avacyn's trousers with her free hand. "You're awake!"

She had enthusiasm that only a child could have. "Yes, I am, little one," Avacyn said. She bent her knees to meet the child at eye level. Avacyn placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder to keep her at arm's length, but it was futile by the way she gripped her trousers.

"And you are as well!" Viggo said. "Ambreya, this is Avacyn. She will be staying with us for a while."

"Wow! Both our names start with the letter A!" She laughed in her high-pitched voice.

"Yes, they do," Avacyn said, falling back into her monotonous voice. This girl brought out a pain in her heart as she continued babbling and giggling, and Avacyn was not ready for it. Seeing a child so happy and carefree reminded her of all the lives she had taken away who could have had such happiness if not for her. She would never be completely free from that feeling of sorrow, so shoving them aside and burying them deep seemed to be the only way she could interact with the child without breaking down again.

Viggo stood up to meet his wife and kissed her on the cheek, grabbing the tray of food in the process. "And how are you, my love?"

She kissed him back. "I'm awake and ready to hunt, Viggo." She turned and glared at Avacyn, who recoiled at such hostility from out of nowhere.

"My name is Ambreya," the girl said, recovering Avacyn's attention. "But you can call me Amber. Everyone does. I'm five years old!' Ambreya boastfully proclaimed, holding out her open hand. "How old are you?" Ambreya wore her light brown hair braided behind her, and her eyes matched her namesake being a sparkling amber color. Freckles dotted her puffy round face from a lot of time outside, and looking closely, her ears were subtly pointed at the crest much like her mothers were. She came up to Avacyn's mid-thighs in height wearing a home-stitched green dress, wrapped in furs to ward off the cold that she was quickly outgrowing, and she wore boots that were worn out from her constant skipping.

She had an innocence that was unmarred by the outside world. She had absolutely no fear approaching Avacyn. If she knew who Avacyn truly was, deep inside, she would have run far away from her at that very moment. But how could she know? She was a child. "I don't know," Avacyn finally answered. "Age isn't something I usually kept track of. Eight hundred years? Nine? Maybe more. I don't really remember, nor do I really care about such trivialities."

Ambreya's eyes lit up with wonder, her gasp of shock revealing many growing teeth in her smile. "Wooow! Eight hundred years!?" she said in wonder. "That's a big number! More numbers than I have fingers! You're old! And you're tall! But not as tall as dad! Where'd you get wings? Can I borrow them? Can I sit on your shoulders? Can you take me to see Starnheim? Can I-"

"Ambreya!" Feyra snapped. "Stop pestering her and come here!"

The little girl protested, looking back at her mother. "But-"

"Now!" The protective woman's eyes never strayed even as she held Viggo. She was unwavering in her vigilance, especially in regard to unwelcome guests. The wolf appeared as if from out of nowhere between Ambreya and the Archangel. Livyrsa lowered her head, growling, and bared her fangs as if her mistrust had finally been rewarded with a chance to act. Ambreya pouted and rushed over to her mother's side. The wolf followed her after a moment. Ambreya poked her head out from behind her mother's legs to watch Avacyn with a curious expression. The wolf was watching with her one eye, the fire behind her gaze revealed an intelligence which made Avacyn reconsider her previous dismissal of lycanthropy. This was no normal wolf.

Viggo kissed the woman's cheek, gently recovering her attention. "Feyra, she's our guest, and it doesn't seem like she's hostile now, so…" She looked up to meet his eyes. "Please be nice."

Feyra nodded, smiled at him, and then they separated. She turned to scowl at the angel who blanched at the open aggression. Usually only those who were Avacyn's sworn enemies would dare to openly defy her in this manner. She had to keep herself from confronting the woman, since Viggo had said that it was this woman who was her healer. "Keep this fire hot," she commanded her husband. "I'm going hunting." She unslung the bow from her back, which was gilded with twisting coils of gold inlaid inside the wood along the limbs of the bow. "I'll be back with lunch and dinner."

Viggo called after her. "Feyra, be careful, okay? I heard in town that there were some strange tracks left by something big up near the mountains. If you come across it, please don't try to kill it by yourself." The woman nodded as she hopped the fence and vanished into the woods. Smiling, he sat back down to poke at the fire. After a few moments, Ambreya bounced over beside him, with Livyrsa.

"Daddy why did Mommy want me to stay away from the Valkyrie?" she asked, kicking at the snow.

He chuckled. "She wants you to be safe and going up to a person you don't know isn't safe for you." He patted her head with a gentle and loving hand. Ambreya looked up at her father, who nodded. "Okay, you can talk to her while I'm here, and be nice to the Valkyrie. She is our guest."

The girl skipped over, kicking up snow and nearly dousing the fire. She was just a bundle of questions for the next twenty minutes or so. Avacyn did her best to answer each question, but the girl's bombardment made it hard to focus on any single one at a time. Viggo chuckled at times. In truth, Avacyn had always fared better with children rather than adults. They were simple minded, curious, and innocent. They were easier to understand. Children needed protection, guidance, and a safe place to grow. A shield around them, and a family to nourish them. Children, for the most part, were a delight to be around. Which was good for her soul. Until memories began to surface again, memories of violence and bloodshed. Avacyn hardly recognized herself in those nightmares, Ambreya was so pure and innocent like many of the children back on Innistrad. She was afraid for the girl's safety. Afraid that one day, she'd slip back into the monster that she hid underneath the surface. She had to try and hide it, for Ambreya's sake.

Viggo interrupted her string of questions with a laugh. "Amber, why don't you go play with Liv, but don't stray too far okay? Stay within the fence."

"Yes Daddy!" she giggled as Livyrsa lowered her head. Ambreya wrapped her arms around the wolf's nose, and they raced away, leaving behind the dropped stuffed animal, which was a furry elephant with multiple soft tusks. Avacyn watched the pair of them play and noticed that the wolf's eye was much more reserved now, even playful. Craning her neck, Livyrsa hoisted Ambreya up into the air causing the little girl to laugh even louder. "Weeeee!" she cried out in glee. The wolf and child continued to play in the snow piles, roughing up the clearing wherever they landed.

Viggo chuckled to himself, then went back to keeping the fire alive. Avacyn sat on the other side, contemplating their humble life here. An emotion surged forth as she watched the girl and the wolf play in the snow. Happiness. She knew in her heart that she didn't deserve to feel it, but she did. So many families were destroyed by her hands that it felt wrong to be around them. These emotions of hers were causing severe whiplash. It was never this bad before she came here. Did it have to do with her planeswalker spark, or was it something else?

"So, Avacyn." Viggo's words broke her out of her thoughts. "It's clear to me that you had a visitor last night, one who smelled of death." Avacyn sat upright. "I need to know now, for the safety of my family. Who, or what was it? And what did they want?"

Avacyn's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure how he'd react to everything, but she knew she needed him to trust her, for now at least. So, after a deep breath, she explained everything. Her creation, her fight with Sorin, and her 'death' at his hands. She left out her killing spree out of fear that Viggo would find that mortifying and send her away.

He dropped more wood into the fire, sending a burst of embers up to the sky again. He didn't say anything for a while, but he was conflicted. "This doesn't make sense," he said. "A vampire creating a Valkyrie? The only vampire I've ever heard of was a legend from Immersturm, but it vanished long ago."

"Well on Innistrad, there are many vampires that live in our mountains," Avacyn said.

His eyes widened in horror, before clearing his throat to continue. "That… That is terrifying to think about. But why? How?" He sighed, shaking his head of any worries. "No matter, it wasn't here when we woke up, and it didn't kill anyone, thank the Skoti." Avacyn shifted in place after a few moments of quiet. "Is there something else you wanted to ask me?"

Avacyn held her breath. She didn't know if it was appropriate to ask, but she was far too curious to back out now. "Is… Is there something off about your wife?"

"What do you mean?" Viggo asked.

"Her ears," she said, pointing to her own for reference. "No human I know of has ears like that." He shook his head, smiling in amusement. "What is so funny?"

"Well, that's because she's a wood elf," he paused. "From Skemfar."

"Oh," she said. "So, her ears are normal?"

Viggo nodded, smiling. "Yes. Yes, they are. Are there no elves on Innistrad?"

"No, not naturally. I have never seen an elf before," Avacyn said. "Was that a rude question to ask?"

"Not to me, but you're fine," he said.

Ambreya rushed over and grabbed his arm, she had a scared look on her face which caused Avacyn to stand up and turn to face whatever scared her. "Daddy, what is that?" she asked.

Viggo picked her up and looked to where she was pointing. There on the edge of the fence, stood that lone familiar figure, clear as day. Avacyn stepped between the family and the intruder. The flakes of snow swirled around it like a thin and wide vortex, as if every step it took unleashed a gale of wind that circled it. Pale blue lights for eyes behind an intricately carved wooden mask looked upon them, its hood reached down around its head and met the gorget on its shoulders and curved upwards into the hooks on its pauldrons. The dark clothes contrasting against the white snow rippled from the wind it created in its wake. A long and twisted wooden staff was held in one hand, while the other pointed to Avacyn, then out towards the forest.

"What does it want with me?" Avacyn asked, rubbing her arms.

"I don't know, but don't go near it," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder as if holding her back. "Many who have, never returned. I wouldn't trust them, and neither should you."

Avacyn didn't get any of that from the changeling's demeanor. She thought that this being wanted to communicate with her, maybe to help her. But she couldn't trust her own emotions at the moment. They roiled within her, constantly battling for the damnation of her soul, if one even remained inside her. And yet, looking upon this stranger in the woods, these emotions calmed. Almost to nothing. It felt freeing, like back in the days when all she had was her duty to uphold and her oath to fulfill. These things are what drove her forward, and if she couldn't do that, she'd break down. For now, though, Avacyn trusted Viggo and stayed back. But if she was correct, this changeling could help her bring her emotions in check. It could help her return to normal.

Author's note

So originally, I was going to do this story in first person, but as the scope for the future began growing and more characters were added in, I figured that I'd switch it to third person to allow for other characters to enter the mix and offer their perspective. (Such is the life of an experimental writer) The plot hasn't changed much, but I hope to delve into that soon. For now, I've crafted the setting. I am a writer who likes to use references to guide my writing, and a lot of backstories, so I'm a bit lore heavy in this chapter. If you didn't like that, I apologize. However, there is so much on my mind and so much more that I wanted to include, that I ended up rambling here. I hope this chapter made sense to you, I know it's a lot, and I hope to ramble less in the future and focus on Avacyn's growing story. If you enjoyed this latest inclusion, dear reader, look forward to the next chapter.