Stormguard, Frourós kataigídas, an unholy mix of stygian iron and imperial gold, celestial metals that were never meant to be melded, held together with raw unbridled power.
Yet, it mattered not now, the core of gold was no more, the only imperial gold that remained were the pommel and parts of the crossguard. It's fuller, which had previously been solid gold, was now nothing but a calm flow of pure lightning.
An impossible thing it was, for something as violent as lightning to flow as calmly as water down a slope.
That same sword came down on the monster called Kampe, thunder and darkness accompanying each strike. A pillar of hellfire encompassed them both, it burnt everything it came in touch with.
Kampe was now nothing but a mess of flesh and bones, on the verge of death, yet unable to die. Her essence heald together by the prince of the underworld. She could not die, yet she was not exactly alive. It was like limbo.
There was no thought behind Valen's strikes, only the overwhelming need to make her suffer, the being who had dared to slay his sister.
Down in the underworld, Hades could do nothing but watch, he could not interfere, the ancient laws forbidding him until he was summoned.
Valen was not doing well on the surface, while his body looked as good as ever, sporting a few minor injuries, his soul wasn't.
Hellfire was a powerful ability, and power always has a cost. Every infernal ember he summoned would bring him closer to death every time, until he reached the point where his soul would simply burn itself up.
Valen had crossed that point five minutes ago, his wreath which acted as a indicator to how much power he was using, was burning, reddish orange flames alight on the golden leaves. It was only his sheer willpower alone that kept him alive, that and the sudden onslaught of energy he received from his sword. Albeit, norse magic was incompatible with greek abilities. It wouldn't be long before he used that up, and then, came the blood price.
The caw of a raven cut through the veil of fire, the black avian flying in unharmed. Valen paid it no mind, even as it settled down on his shoulder.
The raven cawed again, and all magic shut down. The veil of fire gone in an instant, and Kampe turned to golden dust.
Slowly and mechanically, Valen turned to face the bird. It hurt to move even a single muscle, he felt as if his flesh had been rended from the inside out. Yet he couldn't even scream.
"Now, now," The raven spoke, it was as if millions of shades were whispering; male, female, old, young, kind, sinister, every kind of voice you could ever think of was there. "I can't let my sole investment die so soon."
Then, reality itself ripped open, a slash in the very air itself. Valen's heart beat rapidly, the things he saw from that one glimpse were indescribable, the worst horrors mankind had ever experienced.
Valen had never been afraid of darkness before, how could he, being who he was? The darkness was where he thrived, his fathers domain empowered him. But now, that belief had shattered, he felt foolish to even think the darkness could be anyones domain, it was untamable, it could not be controlled, only resisted.
He was never in control, he merely had the illusion of it. No, it was always the darkness that controlled him.
"Be not afraid my anchor, the great beyond shall not harm you."
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.
.
The son of Hades stood alone, under the shade of an oak tree at the edge of camp. He mindlessly turned the ring on his finger, remembering the moment the news was delivered to them.
As Chiron walked out of the infirmary, the two boys immediately began pestering him. Chiron raised a hand, bringing an end to their questions. "Bianca has suffered grave injuries, they will heal, I can assure you of that."
Valen closed his mouth, if she was fine, why did Chiron have such a grim expression?
"What are you not telling us?" He asked accusingly.
Chiron sighed, and he seemed to age a thousand years, "Her body may heal, but the brain is a sensitive organ."
Valen's heart skipped a beat, "Wha- what do you mean?"
Chiron turned to face him, eyes full of pity, sorrow and understanding, "She might never wake up."
"What?" Nico whispered. "No," He shook his head, "No that can't be right."
"Chiron," Valen's voice quivered, "are you implying…"
He nodded sadly, "Bianca di Angelo has fallen in a coma."
"No, no, no, no, no. There has to be a way to heal her, there has to!" Nico refused to believe that his sister, the one person closest to him, would never wake up again. That he would never get to see her smile, nor her chiding.
"I'm afraid none of our healers can help her now."
"Chiron, Lord Apollo healed me on my last quest, couldn't he do the same here?"
"We don't do favors that often kid." Dionysus said, suddenly beside them.
"What do you need me to do?! I'll do anything!" Nico pleaded.
Dionysus snorted, "Be careful what you wish for boy, the price might be too high."
"I'll do it!" Nico joined his hands, begging, "Please, I'll do anything!"
Dionysys almost looked pitiful for a moment, but it was quickly washed away, "Ask Apollo, not me. I'm not the god of medicine here."
Nico turned to Chiron, "Please, call him."
"I shall go to Olympus to ask for his aid, but until then, there is not much we can do." Chiron put both his hands on Nico's shoulder consolingly.
"What about our father?" Nico turned to Valen, "He could help, couldn't he?"
Nico fiddled with his ring, the sigil of the dead appearing out of the gem, and for the first time in his life, he prayed to his father.
Nothing happened.
"Nico," Valen said gently, holding back his own tears, "Hades cannot help Bianca now, he's the god of the dead, it goes against his being to oppose death."
"But Bianca is not dead! Shes alive, just sleeping!"
Valen's heart crumbled, seeing his brother like this, but there was nothing he could do.
"We cannot do anything to help her now Nico." He cursed himself when his voice broke.
It was that moment that something changed in Nico, something broke. Gone was the hyperactive innocent child, the one who would find a way to be excited about anything. All that remained was a sulking, loathing husk of a being.
He hadn't spoken another word after that.
Bianca was beyond help, he was too late in reaching her. And that fact would haunt him for the rest of his days.
His mother had died for him, and now his sister too was on the verge of dying. It seemed everyone he grew close to would pay the price.
He stared at Stormguard, his eyes drawn to the lightning contained inside. How had he not figured it out before?
It was literally in the name. Thor, the god of storms, greatest warrior of Asgard, protector of humankind.
He laughed at the sheer irony of it all, grandson of the protector of humanity, and he could not protect the people dearest to him.
He shook his head, such thoughts would do him no favors. He had failed once, but he would be damned if he failed again.
He had made his choice.
.
.
.
It was only later that day that Valen walked into Nico. One look at his face, and Valen knew what he had chosen.
"You're leaving aren't you?"
Nico nodded, "I will find a way to cure Bianca."
Valen smiled bitterly, "I will not stop you, just remember not to lose yourself in your pursuit."
Nico nodded, "I won't, I have tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I need to find out. Perhaps that could help me figure out a way."
"Heh, we're on the same path then." Valen let out a small laugh, "I'm going to look into my mothers past, her heritage. She left me with more questions than answers, and I intend to find out."
"Heritage?" Nico echoed, frowning, "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing of consequence," he waved away his question, "Good luck on your journey Nico, and keep in touch. If you ever need help, I am but a single iris message away."
Nico nodded, seemingly dropping the topic, "Goodbye brother."
He turned and trudged off into the woods.
Valen sighed, he figured he should let Chiron know of their departure. But he had another matter to attend to before that.
"I hope you're not planning on staying behind that tree all night, Percy."
As expected, Percy Jackson walked out into the open, "I should have known you would notice me, why didn't you say anything?"
Valen shrugged, "Nico didn't seem to mind your presence, besides it's not like we have anything to hide."
"How long will you two be gone?" He asked.
"As long as it takes to get answers, be that days, months or years." Valen said, staring into the sunset, "I will be back for the war, don't worry."
Percy nodded, his face a mixture of emotions, "I'm sorry."
"For what? I already told you we didn't mind you eavesdropping."
"For Bianca."
Valen furrowed his brows, "You don't need to apologize for that, you aren't to blame for what happened to her. That monster is."
Percy nodded awkwardly, changing the topic, "What happened there, by the way. One moment you were pummeling Kampe in a pillar of black flame, next moment you're simply gone?"
He frowned, "Gone? I don't know what you're talking about."
Percy furrowed his brows, "You were gone for a few hours after the battle, we thought you had shadow travelled away."
"To be honest, it's all very blurry for me, I remember snapping, using way too much hellfire, and I think I remember seeing a raven, but everything after that is blank, as if a portion of my life was taken away."
"Oh," Percy said dumbly, of course he didn't remember, his mind wasn't really intact back then.
"I should probably let Chiron know we're leaving," Valen said suddenly, "Want to come along?"
Percy shook his head, "It's alright, I need to find Tyson."
Valen shrugged, "Alright then."
Chiron took the news well, if sighing sorrowfully could be considered such. He did not seem surprised they would choose to leave, but that didn't mean he liked it. Nevertheless, he knew he couldn't stop them, especially when either of them could escape with relative ease. Besides, Camp Half-Blood was no cell, it was supposed to be a safe haven for demigods, not a place they're kept against their will.
"When the war begins," Valen said, bringing Chiron out of his thoughts, "Iris message me, I'll be back as soon as I can."
Chiron sighed, "Yes, of course. May the gods be with you."
Valen bowed courteously, and left the porch. Before leaving, he headed for the infirmary. Bianca laid completely still, bandages wrapped around her head and under her clothes.
He sat silently beside her, he could feel the palpable aura of death around her, as if waiting for her to pass.
"I'll be back soon," He whispered, grabbing her hand. "I failed protecting those I care about, never again."
"Be well, Bianca." He said, getting up, and out of the camp, not looking back once.
.
.
.
His father may have refused telling him anything about his mother, but he knew enough to know where it originated from.
The journey to the airport was rather eventful, he had encountered a cyclops the moment he set foot outside long island. A mix of shadow travelling and 'renting' cars allowed him to avoid monsters the rest of the way, until he reached the airport that is.
It had been a hassle dealing with the dracaenae and harpy, but he was safe now, high up in the air. But that didn't mean one of the passengers could't be a monster in disguise, so Valen kept his guard up all the flight, every little noise alerting him.
Finally, after over eight hours, the flight touched down on Sweden, in the Stockholm Arlanda Airport.
Taking no more chances, Valen shadow travelled outside, the airport was bound to be teeming with monsters.
A few conversations with the locals revealed the most important norse mythological area in the area to be the tombs of three of their gods, Odin, Thor and Freya. Now, Valen knew better than anyone that one of those gods were still alive, he wouldn't have existed otherwise, but he decided it couldn't hurt to take a look.
A thirty minute ride later, he was there, the Royal mounds. He could feel it, the power hovering in the area, the latent divine power.
Not enough to warrant it to be the resting place of three gods, but it was clear they had blessed the tombs.
But where were the gods?
He remembered there being nine realms, each with it's own races how the hell was he supposed to cross realms?
Something glinted atop one of the mounds, the northern mound. Valen narrowed his eyes, focusing on the human like figure. A shade?
Glancing around for witnesses, he warped, almost startling the spirit when he appeared beside it.
"You, I sense the thunderbringer from you!" The shade pointed it's finger accusingly.
Valen looked at it strangely, "You are?"
"My name has been forgotten to time, call me whatever you wish."
Valen shrugged, "Alright Jack, what did you mean by 'sense the thunderbringer'?"
"You are a demigod, a son of Thor." He guessed, "Much like me."
"Grandson," Valen corrected, "That makes you my uncle then?"
"Bah, it doesn't matter. I'm dead!"
"Yeah, I can see that." He said dryly.
"Why are you here, I thought our kind moved?"
"Moved?" Valen echoed, he had a sinking suspicion of what he meant.
The shade nodded, "Near the medieval era, the nexus of the nine realms shifted with the heart of the west. I think they said something about a place called Boston?"
"Say what now?"
It was surprising to say the least, greek and norse gods living so close together. Maybe that was why his parents were able to meet.
The shade hmm'd in affirmation, "So, why are you here? Did the norns issue a quest?"
"Norns," Valen repeated, "If I remember correctly, they were the fates of norse mythology."
"Pardon?"
He shook his head, "Nevermind, it seems I am lost."
"You are far from home then," He said, and paused, "It's ironic, really."
"I need to go back," he muttered, "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you have gone to the afterlife by now?"
The spirit sagged, "Alas, I am bound to my remains, my fathers blessing aided me immensely in life, but it prevents me from leaving my body."
"And the other two?"
He sighed, "They have faded, something I am quite close to myself. I fear I shall not remain much longer."
"Not on my watch," he muttered under his breath, casting his control over the shade. He could see it now, the core of pure thunder in it's tomb, like a second heart. A single tendril of it trailed up, connected to the shade.
Wordlessly, he brought out Stormguard, it's lightning core reacting to the blessing, flowing out to blanket the entire blade.
"That's a good sword, made from a strange metal yes, but a good sword nonetheless." He commented, "I don't see how it's going to be of any use here, you can't kill me twice."
Valen remained quiet, raising the sword high above his head, aiming for the tendril that anchored the spirit, and then he brought it down.
Night turned to day, and thunder roared with such might, he wouldn't be surprised if Zeus himself had appeared.
He could feel his sword getting stronger, sharper, lighter. He felt the lightning held inside it increase tenfold, the blessing of Thor devoured by the blade of stygian iron.
"Wha- what did you do?" The shade asked, holding his chest as if it hurt, "I…I don't feel the chains anymore, I can move, I-I…"
"You are free now, nameless shade." Valen announced, a dark aura wreathing him, "As the prince of the Underworld, I demand you to pass on."
The shade smiled, his features becoming clearer by the second. He could see the young mans face now, rich red hair and deep blue eyes. A boy not older than seventeen.
"Nathaniel Thorson." He said, "That is my name."
"I shall remember it." Valen nodded, that was a name he wouldn't forget anytime soon. He heard the flap of wings, and a pegasus flew down a girl on it's back.
Wordlessly, she grabbed Nathaniel's arm, pulling him along. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and the same kind of kinship he felt wth Nico and Bianca was reflected back, albeit fainter.
Breaking her gaze, the blond haired woman flew off, not sparing me another glance.
He shrugged, it was not his concern, right now he needed to get to Boston.
Surprisingly, there were few monsters in Stockholm airport, the ones he sensed made no move to come after him. His flight back to Boston was relatively uneventful.
Even in Boston, the number of monsters were minuscule, it was strange being able to walk the streets without a single monster attack. Valen walked aimlessly, hoping he would come across anything viking worthy. He asked the locals as much but the only thing nearby with norse significance was a statue of a guy called Leif Erikson.
He was in the Boston Public Garden when it happened, a pulse running through him. He looked around warily, a monster perhaps.
But no, the source of the pulse was nothing more than nine bronze ducks standing innocently on the pavements.
Valen frowned, sheathing Stormguard as he approached them, why did he feel such power from these ducks, as if they held up the universe itself.
He paused at that thought, nine realms, nine ducks. It was too much of a coincidence. He knelt down next to the ducks, the ducks obviously had no soul, he could not sense if they were really divine.
His eyes flickered, and light glinted off one of the ducks, splitting into a rainbow. Cautiously, he approached the duck, hesitant to touch it. The light glinted off again, and this time, Valen grabbed the small duck.
Nothing happened for a moment, and Valen looked around confused. Then, light exploded from the lead duck, a burning sheet of colours arced into the morning sky.
The perspective of the world seemed to shift, and he seemed to be looking at the duck at a forty-five degree angle rather than a perpendicular one.
"There you are," A man said, his voice deep with a hint of a british accent. "We have been expecting you Mr. Steensen."
Valen blinked, they had been…expecting him? Was he that predictable or was someone keeping an eye on him.
He shook his head, and walked up to the lead duck. Tentatively, he tapped the rainbow bridge, expecting a solid surface, but it was more like poking a real rainbow, immaterial and nonexistent.
Taking a deep breath in, he walked into the bridge. He felt like he was wading through a waist-high field of wheat, if wheat was made of rainbows.
The colors made his eyes throb like twin hearts. The heat seemed to swirl a millimeter from his skin. Underneath him, the bridge made a low-pitched rumble like the recording of an explosion played on a loop.
Behind him, the cityscape of Boston became an indistinct blur. The sky turned black and full of stars, a familiar view in an unfamiliar plane.
He walked for so long, it felt like he had crossed the country, and there was no end in sight.
Gradually the darkness grayed. On the horizon rose the skyline of another city: gleaming walls, golden gates, and behind them, the spires and domes of the gods' palaces.
And standing on the bridge in front of him, his legs planted wide, was a tall warrior with a huge sword. Rams horns adorned his helm, and his pupilless eyes seemed to reflect the bifrost itself.
"Valen Steensen," He acknowledged, "we have been watching you."
Definitely not creepy at all. Valen thought with a grimace. "You must be Heimdall, the all seeing."
He nodded, "It is good that you have finally contacted us, I assume you have come to connect to your norse roots?"
"Yeah," Valen nodded, "I've recently learned of my ancestry, and wished to train in the norse arts."
"Good," Heimdall said, "Go then, the Allfather awaits you."
"The allfather…Odin?" Valen said, he wasn't the sharpest when it came to norse myths.
"Yes, you'd best not keep him waiting."
"Alright," Valen said, walking past the god. "Wait, how do I know where to go?"
"The tallest, largest castle you can see. That is the palace, and where Odin is." Heimdall answered, not once taking his eyes off the bridge.
"There will be no need for that."
Valen jumped, he had not even noticed when the man arrived beside him. An old man with long, greying hair and a single eyepatch. His beard could rival the likes of Gandalf, and his winged helm reminded him of the ones he saw Thor wear in his movies.
"Allfather," Heimdall got down on one knee.
"No, no, none of that," Odin grabbed him, pushing him up, "I have told you multiple times that you do not need to kneel."
A shadow of a smile crept up Heimdalls face, "You know that will not stop me."
Odin sighed, "Yes, I shall still try however."
Heimdall shook his head, "Of course."
"Anyways," Odin cleared his throat, "Walk with me, will you, Valen?"
"Of course, your majesty." He said, tilting his head down in respect.
"Did you not hear what I just told Heimdall?" Odin deadpanned at him, "Treat me as you would a friend."
Valen nodded, as if it was that easy.
As they walked through the city of the gods, Odin began speaking, "I know your connection with the greeks is stronger than your connection with us,"
A girl, not older than seven, waved at them from a window. Odin waved back with a gentle smile. "And I know that you have come to us for training you in our methods."
Both of those statements were true, and Valen knew it.
"When you die," Odin said, not waiting for a reply, "You will not go to Valhalla, nor hel, nor folkvangr. No, you will go to your fathers realm, the underworld of the greek pantheon. You will not become an einherjar, you will not fight with us on ragnarok."
Odin stopped and looked him in the eyes, "So tell me, why should we train you?"
Valen gulped, he could not refute those points. He could offer to become one of the einherjar, but that would be little better than selling his soul to the devil, besides he would rather stay with his friends in Elysium than be in Valhalla amongst strangers.
"I can see the conflict in your eyes," Odin stated, relaxing his posture, "You do not wish to give up your afterlife in the underworld, yet you need our aid to get stronger."
Valen sighed, "You're right."
"Then allow me to ask of you a different question," Odin said, sitting down on one of the benches, and beckoning Valen to do the same.
"What do you think strength is?"
Power. Was his first thought. To be faster, to hit harder, to have unparalleled skill.
But he knew that would not satisfy Odin.
"To have the mental fortitude to back ones physical vigour, that is strength. It is not just being able to hit harder, one must be fast beyond comprehension, be skilled enough so as to not be predictable, and be cunning enough to catch the enemy off guard. Simply put, strength is not simply having power, it is the application of that power."
He stopped and took a breath, he had gone on longer than he expected.
Odin clapped, making him yelp, "Masterfully said, bravo!" Then, his demeanor switched completely, "And why do you desire that power?"
That was a question Valen could answer, "To protect. I realize that as a demigod I cannot hope to surpass deities like yourself, but even then, I wish to protect those that I care about the best I can. I have already failed my mother and half-sister, I will never let that happen again."
Odin nodded thoughtfully, "I see where you're coming from, but remember power always corrupts mortals. Your intention may be pure, yet the power will corrupt you in one way or other."
"I'm willing to take the risk." He said, unflinching when Odin bore his gaze unto him one more time.
"Hmm," Odin mused. "Alright," he stood up, "Shall we agree to a compromise?"
"What compromise?"
"You go to your fathers realm after you die, but when it is time for Ragnarok, you will aid us."
Valen narrowed his eyes, those were acceptable terms, but should he trust Odin?
"When Ragnarok happens, everyone will die, even your pantheon. You will be involved in it whether you like it or not." Odin said, noticing the look on his face.
Valen sighed, "Alright, I accept those terms."
"Brilliant, now say as I do." Odin said, a ritual bowl and two golden rings appearing in his hands. Valen furrowed his brows at the blood in the bowl, he was not comfortable with the idea of having to do anything with human blood as the catalyst.
"It's Ox blood," Odin reassured, dipping both rings in the bowl. A red sheen hung to the rings when he brought them out, handing one to Valen.
Taking the ring, Odin hovered it above his finger, "Upon this ring, I do so swear,"
"Upon this ring, I do so swear,"
"To uphold the terms of our argument to my fullest capabilities."
"To uphold the terms of our argument to my fullest capabilities."
"Should I break it, willingly or not, may the worst of punishments fall upon me."
"Should I break it, willingly or not, may the worst of punishments fall upon me."
In tandem, the two oath holders brought their rings down, a red glow encompassing both their arms. When the glow died, Valen felt a knot settle in his core, a chain to keep him binded to the oath.
"Well, that was the hard part." Odin said, diffusing the tense atmosphere, "Now for your training."
"Uh yeah I have a few questions about that." Valen said.
"Yes?"
"How long will it take, and who will be my instructor?" He asked.
"Seeing how you are adept in basic swordsmanship and can use a polearm to some degree, I would say anywhere between ten to twelve months." Odin rubbed his beard in thought, "As for your teacher, I suppose Sif would be the perfect candidate."
Valen paused, his blood freezing in his veins. Oh no. If the stories of Hera and Zeus' children were anything to go by, he was screwed.
"Relax, Sif isn't as vengeful as the Queen of Olympus, she treats the children of Thor as her own children." Odin patted his shoulders, "Come, I shall introduce you to her."
And in a flash of golden light, they were gone.
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.
.
It was the most lavish room Valen had ever seen, and that's coming from someone whos been in Hades' palace.
Above them, a ninesided glass pyramid let in the daylight. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the chamber, giving them a penthouse-level view over the rooftops of Asgard.
The chamber they were in seemed to be an interior atrium. Ringing the circumference were nine trees with slender branches, clusters of red berries just ripening in their green foliage. In the center, in front of a raised dais, a fire crackled cheerfully and smokelessly in the hearth. And on the dais was a chair elaborately carved from white wood.
Sitting on the throne was a woman with elvish features and long hair of red gold, rich and warm and lustrous. Her orange-red dress was clasped at the shoulder with a green-and-silver brooch.
"Allfather," She tilted her head slightly, before turning her gaze to Valen, "Valen Steensen."
Valen gulped, hoping his father would allow him to come back from the dead when he dies."
Surprisingly, she smiled, "I have longed to meet you grandson."
"This young man has come to us to ask for guidance in our martial prowess." Odin explained, "Train him well, as he may fight with us on Ragnarok."
Sif raised an eyebrow, "Made a deal with him, have you?"
Odin grinned coyly, "Why, of course?"
And then, he left, leaving behind no proof of his visit.
Sif stood up, studying Valen as she walked down, drawing the sword from her hip, "So, how good is your swordsmanship?"
Valen gulped again, for entirely different reasons, hoping he would survive whatever training she had planned for him.