Over a decade has passed since Atreus journeyed to the elven world. Though the enchanting realm possed many marvels, the ongoing war defiles its beauty. Death, carnage, and violence have stained the deepest soils of Alfheim. Even to this day, Atreus wonders which side was in the right? Were the barbarous dark elves fighting injustice, or was the light mercilessly subjugated to their cruelty? One way or another, the Son of Kratos will learn the truth. In doing so, he will accomplish the impossible. Unite the two clans against the Aesirs' reign.
The soothing red-violet lights of the tree and chamber don't affect his tense mindset. Behind those golden gates, and outside the temple, a battle awaits. Unlike before, his actions must be discreet, carefully planned out. Every small mistake could ripple, and cost him potential allies in the war that's to come. Making his way out of Tyr's structure, a pleasant serenity envelops his senses. An unnatural calmness drives Atreus to be even more concerned. Once prying his way to the gardens outside, he draws his bow and arrows.
"By Yggdrasil," Atreus mutters.
A luminescent sight conflicts his mind and heart. Unlike his previous visits, the pillar of light doesn't overflow with a radiance or fade in darkness. Before his eyes, the beam flickers and shifts into several alternative shades of color. The heavens fluctuate as well, neither shadow nor light holds sovereignty over the sacred tower. Before he can make sense of the anomaly, a disturbance brings him to his knees.
"What the hel..." Atreus says with a primal growl prying through his throat.
Voices, dozens if not hundreds, cry out in his consciousness. Chaos, disorder, confusion, and terror all jumble the tones of each pleading spirit in his mind. The pain of their chants stretches beyond his head. Every nerve stings and hardens his body, even his veins swell in agony. None of their words or outcries are comprehendible. Yet, they all signify an infamous force in their realm. Just as the wall of voices crashed into Atreus, they vanish in a second.
"Something's wrong," Atreus whispers, regaining his senses and composure rapidly.
Subtle and reclusive, he traverses through the forests of otherworldly beauty. Arrows are in one hand, and his bow in the other. While the scenery is serene, and the rivers are mellow, something still feels amiss. Not far into his travels, he uncovers the answer to this mystery.
Littering the fields and ruins, are the bodies of elves, and Asgard's soldiers. Odin's forces have placed a foothold on the elven plain. A three-sided war, with Atreus, caught at the epicenter. However, the damage and lingering carcasses are fresh. This conflict couldn't span any longer than a few days. Sadly, the Son of Faye cannot investigate any further. From the forests, clashing of steel, and slashing of flesh reaches his ears. Frantically, Atreus hurls himself over the thick roots of a tree for cover.
A moment passes as he hides, and no further noises are heard. Peeking through a sliver of an opening, he observes the direction of the battle. Immediately, in a panic, a lone dark elf gravely wounded glides and sprints away. Though his legs carry him far, he cannot outrun the swiftness of an arrow. From behind, as if seeking the dark elf, a single gold arrow streaks through the air. Soundless, until striking the elf's skull, slaying him instantly.
From the glistening trees, a golden and bronze-clad maiden emerges. Her hair is fiery red and braided for the battlefield. Much to Atreus's dismay, the girl is only a child, a teen at best. Still, even with her small stature, she dawns an overweighed set of armor. In her iron grasp, is another seax blade, much like Atreus's. Except with a surpassing amount of length, and the sparks of lightning in the metal.
Eagerly rushing from behind, another warrior approaches. This man very much resembles Atreus in physique and attire. A mixed match of grey and ebony fur, leather, and shining steel, shields nearly every part of his body. A bow in his hands and two duel axes, with runes carved into them, rest at his sides. Atreus can make out barely anything through his hood. What he does spot is the hunter has Cyan blue eyes and markings coming down and over his eyelids. The man has no more than a dirty blonde, stubble of a beard with a long flowing head of hair.
"Was that necessary, Ullr?" The girl questions irritably.
"There wouldn't be honor in the kill if I didn't give him a chance," the archer states. "You of all people should understand honor, Thrúd."
As the hunter kneels to examine his kill, another stranger follows behind them. This man stands out among them for several reasons. First is his royal style of clothing, a mixture of black robes and thin, gold plated armor shrouds him. Several sigils are carved, patterned, and marked onto him and his equipment. Upon his back, is a long, pristine spear with similar runes and metal. Accompanying it is a black, longbow, with large claws and scales melded to the weapon. One distinguishable detail is the golden sash over the stranger's eyes. Despite his concealed vision, he found his way through the flourishing forest.
"Uncle, did you see that-" Just as Ullr turns to the spearman, he ceases his question.
An awkward moment of absent noise lingers in the atmosphere. Even the stern maiden shakes her head in irritation. Ullr lowers his head, shameful of his comment.
"No, I'm afraid I missed it," the stranger jokingly replies. "But I will say that it was a little sloppy."
Thrúd, Ullr, and unbeknownst to them, Atreus are stunned by the blind critique. The more this group converses and interact, the more the Son of Kratos worries, and ponders their purpose here. He continues ducking behind the thick roots of the tree. It's quickly become apparent that these three are unlike any of Odin's ordinary soldiers. From the stories told, he recognizes the name Ullr, the Aesir god of sport and archery. The other two are a mystery that he hopes to uncover soon.
"How so?" Ullr questions.
"I can hear the imbalanced shot of your arrow as it whistled through the air," the stranger notes, pointing to his ears.
Just as he states his review, he retrieves his black bow in the blink of an eye. Without redirecting himself, he fires one of his ebony arrows through the air. Even with no incantation, his shot becomes consumed by silent shadow. A pitch dark smoke trails behind it. Despite his blind and unconventional choice in firing, the archer hits his mark. A Dark Elf assassin descends rapidly from the trees, crashing into the sands with an arrow in between its eyes.
"Like the one firing it, the arrow must be unseen, swift, and impossible to hear when going for the kill," the blind-folded stranger claims.
Never has such skill ever been witnessed by Atreus. Not even his mother or father have ever shown to fire an arrow with such precision. How could someone without sight be so well trained to hit his mark so accurately? What was that magic that he used? It was dark, unnatural, nothing that he's ever heard of or seen before. Atreus is frozen in awe, speechless at the sliver of skill presented by this stranger. Even though he and Ullr are fascinated with the display, Thrúd's impatience overcomes her composure.
"You two bore me!" She spouts in agitation. "I'll go on ahead, see if there's anything worth fighting in this backwater realm!"
In an instant, a set of majestic, crimson gold wings sprouts from the child's back. With a single flap, the girl shoots herself into the color fluctuating sky. Her allies watch as she departs with haste. In but a moment or two, Thrúd vanishes. Ullr and the stranger stare up, despite the latter unable to witness it. With what little Atreus has learned, the maiden reminds him of his time as a boy. More specifically, when he first learned of his godhood. Divine hubris must be a common thing, at least he presumes.
"She's without a doubt your father's daughter, Ullr," the archer comments. "Such a temper can only come from one pair of loins."
"Indeed," Ullr replies with a chuckle. "And I have to deal with it every day."
"However, she does have a point... Why have you brought me here?"
"The girl is here..."
At the subtle mention, Ullr has strung both Atreus and his uncle's undivided attention. Even with his gold sash, an apparent look of intrigue manifests on the stranger. Could the Allfather himself have interested in the mysterious girl? Whatever Valhalla's fascinations are, it can only spell out misery for her if discovered.
"Are you certain?" The blind archer questions.
"I've tracked her here," Ullr attests, clenching a piece of her white fabric. "The sorceress seeks something in Alfheim, but I can't imagine what..."
Ullr's expression turns to eager frustration the longer he clings on the thought. Even his hand trembles out of impatience. Without witnessing the display of displeasure, the stranger approaches him. A pat on the Sport God's shoulder ceases his worries.
"I'm impressed that you narrowed her location. The girl has even managed to allude me with her magic," the blind archer says in uplifting passing. He begins pacing the garden, taking in a breath of the enchanting air. "Here, I thought you didn't care to earn Thor's praise..."
The mere mention of the God of Thunder, sparks frigid trauma in Atreus. His teeth clamp shut, and every nerve in his body trembles him. Each strand and tendon in Atreus's muscles tense and flex anxiously. Even in his adulthood, that night, when Thor came to his home has left its mark on him. His whole world crumbled on top of him, stripping him of the last loved one he had. Backtracking on those memories, delusions his mind. A subtle flinch occurs when he mistakes hearing lightning in the distance.
"He's not my father," Ullr states sickeningly.
The Aesir's comment immediately quells Atreus's anxiety. Both he and Ullr share a collective perspective. Despisal for the God of Thunder.
"He's just a drunk sack that shares a bed with my mother," Ullr spouts distastefully.
The stranger smirks in humor toward the insult. A soft chuckle even slips through his teeth. Once more, his hand gently taps the distressed deity.
"Though I will not protest, I will also take no part in insulting my brother," the stranger replies.
Atreus lays his belly firm on the ground, continuing to peek through the roots of a tree. The best he can do is remain hidden, having numbers and potentially power stacked against him. Even so, his hand instinctually grasps the handle of his Seax. Internally, his body is ready to engage in combat, with his thoughts and rationalization locking him at bay.
"Perhaps if you succeed, the Allfather will give you your well-earned recognition instead," the Stranger comments assuredly. "Now, let us continue with our hunt."
With the two at last departing from the area, Atreus crawls steadily away. To his ears, no sound emits to compromise his location. However, while Ullr moves on ahead promptly, the stranger remains firm in place. For the moment, the Son of Faye dismisses his attempt to skulk from the garden. His eyes are glued on the archer, especially with what he does next. The Blind Aesir's padded feet shift in the sands, directing towards him. The rhythm of Atreus's heartbeats shakes his ribcage. He closes his throat to shield the noise of his breathing. Yet no matter what he does, the stranger gazes to his location.
Inhumanly fast, the archer draws his bow and let's loose another arrow. This one, however, possesses no dark, magical quality. Yet moves with the force of a hurling boulder. Atreus throws himself behind the tree, the sound of his action being muffled by the piercing shot. Which, shreds through the rooted oak like a blade through paper. Now out of sight, and shielded, Atreus lowers himself for cover. The stranger stands, nodding with intrigue. Ullr in haste returns after hearing the ruckus.
"What is it, uncle?" He questions, looking in the direction of the damage.
"Curious..." The Blind Aesir comments in mild fascination. His nephew, despite how far out he looks, doesn't glimpse any trace of Atreus.
"Is it more of the elves?" Ullr asks.
"It's no elf..." The uncle replies. "We must be on our guard, we're not the only ones who have come to Alfheim."
Indecisive, the Aesir god of sport glances back and forth between his uncle and the trees. The ominous answer only adds more confusion to his senses. Still, his unfaltering loyalty sways him to obey. He steadily marches down the same path, glimpsing over his shoulder repeatedly until out of sight. With the other Aesir gone, only the blind stranger remains. Atreus boldly tilts his head out to see his attempted assailant. His heart pounds even harder when they hone in on one another.
The unnamed Aesir smirks in his direction. Even without the ability of sight, he knows full well that Atreus is near. This message of bravado shakes the Last Son of Sparta to the core. He can only hold himself at bay carefully as the Aesir takes his leave. Drawing his gold and black spear, the blind archer smacks the nearest solid object. An ear-piercing echo screeches through the air, even ringing in Atreus's head. With no reason to stay, the stranger follows the lingering sound out of the garden.
After a handful of soundless seconds, Atreus creeps his way out of cover. Though his enemies have left, his hesitance is absent when arming himself with his bow. The threat level of the realm has escalated far more than he could have anticipated. A war on three fronts, with enemies around every corner. However, this could also work to his advantage. Atreus now knows his objective, to push back Odin's forces to earn the trust of the elves. Though this will not win their favor, it will be a start.
First, he must find his way to the dark elven clan. They will prove the more difficult side to earn trust from due to their already natural hostility. Before the Aesir can return, Atreus rushes onward in an alternative route from the war gods. While moving towards the flourishing trees and brush, a thought looms over him. How did such a skilled archer miss him? The blind stranger's expression, his steady departure, and prolonged stance all point to one theory. The attack Atreus averted, was nothing more than a warning shot.
(Author's Notes)
Hello, everyone! I hope you're still enjoying the story thus far. I appreciate all the support, comments, and feedback, as always. I do apologize for releasing such a short chapter, but there's a reason for this.
The next few chapters will be very long and eventful. To try and add this with one of those chapters, might be too long and take a lot of time to complete.
I wanted to tease the next climax of the story. As I may have mentioned before, I over plan things a lot. This arc in Atreus's Future has been on my mind for some time. I've thought up several different variations of how this part of the tale would go, so I'm glad we've all made it this far.
I didn't want to keep anyone waiting for too long. As you may have noticed, I don't post very often. I tend to overwhelm myself with too many projects, which takes up a lot of my time. So while this chapter may not sate the hunger of reading for some, I do believe it's a nice appetizer.
I will still continue to aim for one chapter (at the very least) every month, maybe two if I'm on writer's block with my novel. I still love working on the story and haven't burnt myself out yet. There's still so much to tell, and I've barely scratched the surface of Atreus's journey. A lot lies in store for the Son of Kratos, and his war has only just begun. If anyone has any questions, feel free to leave a comment. I thank you all again for following and supporting my work. I wish you all a great day and wish you all the best during these dire times.