The first sign of life that breaches the deathly silence comes not from below the rubble, but from the heavens above. A hawk of enchanting red and flickers of gold enters from the chasm created by the vying deities. Its screech echoes like a melody as it circles the air, soaring eagerly to every corner of the ravaged catacomb. In its wake, sparkles of light sprinkle from the bird's feathers, granting brief illumination where darkness had seeped and cloaked. The restless minute that carries through the chamber avails to nothing, at first.
Finally, a stir beneath the mounds of rock, coal, and dirt rumbles. Several stalactites shake and shift from a steadily exerted force below, the pile of debris parts and spaces away. Several pushes, shoves, and topples of imbalanced stone slowly reveal what lies under. Several masculine and feminine groans accompany the efforts at last breach the collapse. Atreus and Sigyn resurface, using brawn and enchantments to brush away the aftereffects of divine destruction. Neither one suffered any long-lasting injury from the crash, but most certainly did not rise up unscathed. The many cracks and pops of Atreus's joints and appendages could be heard from several feet away. While stretching and shaking off the pain of his innumerable wounds, he's unaware of the clinging eyes set on him. Sigyn can only stare, silent, at every expectation of Loki continuing to be exceeded by his actions. Yet, she cannot form a meaningful comment, clinging to the memory of his behavior toward her. Even if she did not want to hold it in her mind. But despite this, her trust in him is all she has left. Which is only cemented further by his first following instinct.
"Are you alright?" Atreus asks worryingly, despite the comparison in physical harm being drastically unequal.
A sudden warmth emits from Sigyn's chest, and a brief acceleration of her heart rate channels that comforting heat through her body. Though the harsh comments of bias snare her mind, his actions have begun to deafen the words that haunt her. Whatever confliction had rooted itself in her psyche has been torn out by his acts. No one had ever put their life on the line for her as he had. All her life, she has known nothing but selfishness and vile treatment. Such resurfacing of remembrance only smothers her want to respond, forcing her to close herself off. Her trembling hand clings to her vandalized limb, directing her sights to the past that will never leave her.
And before her eyes, Atreus yet again shields her from harm, but this time from her unspoken history. The red cloth that once was adorned by Kratos, one of the few remnants of Sparta and momentos of his father that has endured, is now put to a new purpose. A gasp exits Sigyn as he takes the fabric to her arm, gently wrapping it across her limb. At the soothing warmness of his sash, the trembling of her body ceases. She no longer holds onto the scars of her past, but the soft gift of the present. The foreign cloth sparks minor intrigue and a fondness she doesn't want to let go of. With a watered gaze, she finally meets his own guilt-filled eyes.
"Let's get out of here," Atreus whispers, taking her softly by the hand to guide her to safety.
"What about Höðr?" Sigyn questions in worry.
"There will be another time to face him, when you don't have to confront your demons until ready."
His words are the final catalyst to open the floodgates of her eyes, causing tears to stream down her face as she leans her head downward. Sigyn caves before the weight of her melancholy, finding both comfort in his words and distaste for showing this tender side of herself. Her grip on his hand tightens, but his hold remains gentle, firm, but soft for comfort. Even though time is limited for them, he cannot find it within himself to eagerly push her to leave while she falls victim to her sorrow. And in all his years of battling, of the damage wrought by his rebellion, this sight triggers something inside him. This is a pain that he never wants to witness, and a weeping depression that he'll strive to never allow her to endure again. But in those seconds of thinning her emotional barrier, she cusps his leading hand, slowly following him as they vacate the chamber.
However, only a few steps into their venture to leave, does a similar rumbling occur not far from them. Out of direct sight, but distinguishably audible to detect, the earth divides and shifts at the abrupt resurgence of the Aesir. His fatigued and peeved groan can be heard from every angle of the cavern, stopping the duo in caution. Atreus, without thought, places himself between Sigyn and from where he believes Höðr may be resurfacing.
"IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE, BOY!" The Aesir spouts, disoriented and deafened by the commotion of the avalanche. His soft laughter resonates following his shouting. "HAS THE WOLF HAD HIS FILL!"
Atreus begins to steadily backstep them to form a distance from the Aesir's voice. He scans every angle of the room, quickly attempting to isolate Höðr's location while also devising a method of escape. If not for Sigyn, he would be beckoning the taunt of the son of Odin, but his conviction ensures her safety is a priority. With a silent gesture of his hand and a tilt of his head, Sigyn silently follows Loki's directions as they steadily step and traverse the ruined mine. But before any solid ground can be made, a startling intervention appears.
The hawk from before, glides down to them, enveloped with a mystical gold light. Although the sorceress steps behind him, ushered by his hand to do so, he holds firm in place. But with the same speed of the bird's arrival, Atreus deduces who the mystical hawk is. Rushing from the wave of energy, the Goddess Freya emerges with urgent unease for their safety.
"Atreus-" the Vanir calls to him.
Before she can finalize her statement, a hasty motion to plead for silence is invoked by Atreus as he, too, closes the distance. The three of them stand absent sounded, directing their hearing to the surrounding room. Still, the echoes of winded chuckling carry in the air and the dust clouds. Freya, at last, takes notice of it, a squint of familiarity in her eyes as she singles out the sound. The remembrance perturbs her, as she cannot deduce why this feeling is chewing upon her blank memory.
"What is going on? What's happened here?" The Vanir questions in a whisper.
"It's Höðr," Atreus replies in an equal volume.
The mere mention of the Aesir is enough to swipe the breath within Freya's lungs. A shivering gasp is her first unconscious reaction, with her hand acting freely and being placed upon her rapid, rhythmic beating chest. But for the Goddess, keeping her composure well enough to prevent concern is manageable at the moment. Although Atreus can glimpse a sliver of this disturbance within the Vanir, the dire circumstances there distract him from grasping it entirely.
"Höðr, the one you mentioned before, the son of Odin?" Freya recalls, trying to ignore her unwelcoming sensation of Deja Vu.
"Yes, he caught me unaware," Atreus explains hushedly. "But the damage from our fight is a good enough distraction to give us a chance to escape."
Although Freya has witnessed Atreus's capacity for devastation as a man, his notion still baffles the Goddess. This is an evident sign that she shows when glancing rapidly at every angle and in the visible direction around them.
"You caused all of this?" Freya asks, shocked and disappointed in his tendencies like a scolding mother.
"Wasn't my plan to wreak havoc within the mountain!" Atreus replies with a higher-volume whisper. "Fighting gods isn't exactly a delicate activity! And it's not like I'm hellbent on destroying everything that comes into my path. I had to do what was necessary to protect Sigyn!"
During their bickering, the Wolf of Midgard's mention of the sorceress halts Freya's subsequent comment. The moment she lays eyes upon the former slave of Odin, the Vanir squints with a stern look. Like a child scared of their parent, Sigyn shields herself further behind Atreus, unable to bolden herself to meet Freya's glare. Who only shakes her head out of disarray for what to think about her and Loki's relationship. Talking down to the girl would do nothing but stir debate, considering all the Wolf of Midgard has done to protect her.
"I was worried you'd be endangered if you followed her," Freya admits, rubbing her tired eyes. "Do you truly trust her, explicitly?"
"Wholeheartedly!" Atreus replies, defined by the word spoken.
A flutter in Sigyn's chest spikes her heart rate at his unhesitating response. Unable to keep her eyes away, she looks up assuredly content at him. His conviction is spelled clearly in his serious expression, and his arm remains raised to protect her at any given notice. Unknowingly, her hands are already pressed and grasping his arm, pulling his limb closer to her. The sorceress's body reacts without her, expressing her solace without a thought to do so. And Freya's once severe look diminishes as she glances at this detail. The fondness, the gentle kindred care for one another is not something she had known in many years. While flattery and comfort take hold around Atreus just as Sigyn does, so too does an assurance. And with the arrival of the Vanir, a new notion comes to his mind as well.
"And now I need you to trust me," Atreus remarks on her questions. "I need you to get Sigyn out of here, while I deal with Höðr!"
Without allowing an answer or object, Atreus begins marching away from them. Yet, both Sigyn and Freya unanimously disregard his desire for them to escape. The sorceress tightens her hold while the Vanir latches a firm hand around his other open wrist.
"I will not let you face one of Odin's sons alone!" Freya objects, refusing to let go.
"And I won't leave Sigyn alone!" The Wolf of Midgard retorts. "If Höðr is here, that means Ullr and Thrúd could not be far, and she's too injured to deal with two Aesir alone."
"And what happens if they come here instead? You're too injured to fight three of them!"
"It doesn't matter," Sigyn interjects with a timid tone.
Though her pitch comes nowhere near to comparing to theirs, her subtle comment suffices to interject their debate. With both their eyes set on her, much more of her timidness takes over. Her stance is enclosed and tightly positioned, removing herself from Atreus's arm and standing idly in ponder. But through the handful of seconds that pass, she emboldens her resolve to speak. And although her words stagger and are drawn out, Sigyn manages to converse her thoughts.
"The Aesir will continue to pursue us, especially Höðr," she claims without any doubt. "But if we defeat Odin's son, Thor's children may be deterred from following without sufficient aid. Something that the Allfather won't risk when Ragnarök draws near. Which may explain why he hasn't intervened directly, because he's bolstering his defenses for the final war."
"Sigyn, are you sure about facing him?" Atreus questions, unsettled by her previous encounter with him.
"I'm scared..." Sigyn confesses, struggling to contemplate the potential outcome that may befall her yet again. But instead of clinging to the brutal reminders of her past, her hold once again makes contact with the fabric of Atreus's father. "And I don't want to be afraid anymore... So long as I live and Odin reigns, I'll never be free."
The meaning carried behind her words is as subtle, and elusive as her magic. Atreus and Freya both acknowledge what she entails, and sympathy is shared between them in pitying sighs. The Vanir Goddess herself shakes her head, effortlessly able to recollect the hardship of her marriage with the Allfather. Shame carries in her expression and motions towards her own failings in the Aesir Vanir conflict and now towards the sorceress. This pain is unique, one that only those who've endured similar torment could understand, and see within another.
"Then let's end this hunt, once and for all," Atreus says with conviction as he draws his Seax.
As Atreus begins cautiously but eagerly stepping into the mist, Sigyn follows with equal care. Freya, with a mesh of conflicted emotions, is briefly halted in thought. The sensation invoked upon hearing the Aesir's name steadily lingers, like embers to a dying flame. She knows it by heart, but it is absent in her mind for reasons she cannot fathom. Her resolve to slay this Aesir is shambled by her desire to uncover this mystery that harasses her spirits. Regardless, she eventually motivates herself to trail behind them, but in wavering confidence.