Abandoned Village, Norway
The Holotome is a useful device, though sometimes Sophie wishes that it could connect to her Bluetooth headphones so that she doesn't need to huddle over it to avoid waking up her teammates. On the flight into one of Norway's international airports, chartered by a private Huntik Foundation jet because they have the budget for it now, she reviews the information on Dante's Holotome and, just to brush up on Norse mythology, settles into her seat with a book from her personal library.
Their latest mission: find a set of amulets used by the Norns, specifically the three rumored to be tenders of the cosmic tree Yggdrasill. Her book only reinforces information that she already knew; in addition to watering the roots of the great tree, the Norns were heralded as interpreters and shapers of destiny, each of the primary three in charge of past, present, and future respectively. Cross-referencing Scandinavian and Sámi records led them to an abandoned village along the northern coast of Norway, separated from major cities by a great distance and a brutal uphill trek that makes Sophie want to vomit half-way up.
Something about the area makes dread sink into her bones, and she shivers, though it isn't from the wind that threatens to worm its way between her winter layers. When Lok presses his hand into her back, pushing her forward with a murmured Are you alright?, all she can muster is a curt nod. The words catch in her throat, and she doesn't trust herself to answer. It happens more often these days; she doesn't know if her teammates have felt loss the way she does—a gaping, all-encompassing hole that steals her breath and reminds her that Sabriel's blood is on her hands—but they've been giving her a wide berth since that night. Taking her subdued demeanor in stride, but one of them always keeping a cautious eye out, ready to catch her if she falls.
Like now.
She waves off Lok's concern. Ahead, Dante and Zhalia climb without a clue, focused on the map scribbled into Zhalia's notebook. Sophie puts her attention on putting one foot in front of the other, stepping into the indents that Zhalia makes with her new snow boots.
When they finally crest the hill and find the dilapidated structures that once comprised a small yet populated village, the rest of the afternoon moves fast. The village isn't as abandoned as they thought, which Dante suspected when they received the debriefing in Venice. Whoever was here covered their tracks well, but in the eyes of the Huntik Foundation's best, it is all laid bare. Unsettled dust, non-native plants, fresh footprints—traces of recent activity that draw them to the center of town where a stone well sits, unassuming. Crumbling stone and a split wood canopy hint at the well's age, but…
"The rope is still wet," Zhalia points out, holding it up for them to see. Sophie presses into it with her fingertips. Too damp to be remnants of the morning dew. "Someone was here not that long ago."
It doesn't take their team long to discover a hidden symbol carved into the mountain side that, once activated with the touch of a Seeker, opens into the mouth of a cavern. They step in, letting the walls swallow them whole, and feel their way through with the help of a few floating Boltflares. As they descend, the feeling in the pit of Sophie's stomach worsens—like there is something that she has forgotten, something important that flits in her peripheral—and when she grabs onto Lok's elbow, he simply thinks that she lost her footing. He doesn't say anything when she keeps her hold on him.
It's only when they reach the end of the path that Sophie realizes what is wrong.
Slight correction: it is when they reach the end of the path and see exactly what they've walked into—that is when Sophie returns to herself and realizes that the dull thudding in her head is the sensation of warning bells honed from survival instincts.
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.
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Underground Cave, Norway
Her eyes dart around, taking in the situation with fresh eyes and an alert brain. The one-way path feeds into a space so large the ceiling melts into shadow, and while there's no way that natural sunlight could permeate the mountains, the luminosity of their Boltflares pale in comparison to the glowing stones that protrude from the ground. Unearthly shades of blue and purple bounce across their faces. Water puddles in sporadic craters, breaking and refracting the light. A skeleton of ancient Scandinavian architecture lines the walls like the protective embrace of ribs wrapped around the heart.
Or in this case, the three crouched figures in the center of the room, peering at the team beneath black cloaks that hide their faces. Despite that, Sophie can't help feeling like they're looking straight at her.
As if sensing the same thing, Lok steps in front of her, and she flattens a palm against his shoulder as a quiet thank you.
They talked about this on the flight; Zhalia, the only one with a passable regional accent, approaches first. Sophie only catches a few words in her greeting—LeBlanche is an excellent language teacher, though, don't get her wrong—but even without understanding what Zhalia is saying, Sophie appreciates what a damn good actress her teammate is. Confident enough to not be a pushover but still reverent, head bowed to the wizened women. One of them jolts forward. To her credit, Zhalia does not flinch.
But the three women aren't the only ones in the room.
"Dante," Sophie says under her breath, careful not to make sudden movements. "There's something to our right."
"I saw."
Of course he did; he's Dante Vale, after all. The team watches as a woman emerges from seemingly nowhere, then two more in other corners of the space. They're young, probably around Zhalia's age, but their features are uncanny, caught somewhere between the decades. Just in case, Sophie slides a foot back, readying her stance.
"Welcome, Seekers," the first woman says, voice scratchy. She clears her throat. There's a deathly pallor to her skin, her long hair equally as pale. "What brings you to our home?"
Zhalia throws a glance at Dante, and he takes over now that they're speaking the same language.
"We apologize for the intrusion, ladies," he says with a disarming smile and placating hands, turning up the charm. "I think we're lost—things get confusing with all of the snow. We were just searching for something…perhaps we could trouble you for some information before continuing on our way."
She tilts her head. "And what is it that you search for?"
As Dante talks with who seems to be the leader of the group, careful to not reveal everything about their mission, Sophie keeps an eye on the other two. They say nothing. Their gazes remain on the figures in the center, who haven't moved either. At this distance, Sophie sees that the three women wear necklaces tucked under the collars of flowing white dresses, and while she can't make out the shape, the fact that there's three of them isn't lost on her. The amulets, perhaps? If so, why do they have the amulets and not the Norns?
"Very well," the one in the far back suddenly says in response to Dante's question. She has more color than her companion, both her skin and hair carrying a red tone that reminds Sophie of fire. "You may proceed."
The three women move towards the middle, and though their dresses cover their feet, Sophie realizes with a start that there's no ripples on the puddles' surfaces as they pass over.
"C'mon, Soph," Lok says, nodding.
He slips off his gloves and pockets them. Then he follows after Dante and Zhalia, and she's about to do the same when one of the cloaked figures hisses and points a finger at her. The last woman snaps to attention.
"Except you."
Sophie bites back her automatic Excuse me? so what tumbles out of her mouth instead is a flabbergasted, "Huh?" Elegant. LeBlanche would be proud. But she does stop, stuck at the entryway with one boot by the water.
"Only untampered souls may cross the threshold," the woman says, eyes flashing in warning. "You…your soul has been tampered with."
Tampered? "What does that mean?" she sputters.
The woman floats—Sophie is sure of it now—closer to the entrance, and though she is looking straight at Sophie, her gaze is unclear, focused on something beyond this plane. "Your soul energy," she explains faintly. Her brow is furrowed. "It's unnatural. This isn't right; the end of your life is burned away."
Sophie can't hold back her scoff. "What do you mean the end of—?"
Wait.
Soulburn, Sophie remembers, startled. The Casterwill spell she used in Prague.
Following the foiling of the Professor's plan for world domination, the Huntik Foundation tried to pick up the pieces. Sophie remembers little from that time, other than the fact that it passed by in a blur of boarded flights, speeding boats, and moving cars. There was much to do, after all, and being part of Dante's rag-tag turned all-star team meant putting in more hours than the average Seeker. There was no time to address the actions they all made—questionable under normal circumstances—to prevent the end of the world.
…it feels like an excuse.
Despite Sophie's extensive vocabulary, one she often dangles over Lok's head as he groans, she struggles to come up with an explanation, so in the end, she settles on the simple truth: she forgot. She didn't think that it'd come to light like this.
"Sophie?" Lok is confused. So are the rest of them, though they hide it better. "What is she talking about?"
She can recall that fight, clear as day. The desperation in her cry as Sabriel's amulet crumbled to dust in her hands. The wrath in her tears as she faced the man responsible for months of torment. The conviction in her heart as she decided that she'd do anything, even burn away her life force in a brilliant display of pink and white, to strike back.
This must be why she felt dread as soon as she heard about the mission, even if mourning her loyal companion eclipsed her own sacrifice in her memories. Norns, interpreters and weavers of destiny, would recognize the difference in her soul energy immediately. But if this woman could see that, then she must be…
"Skuld, seer of the future." Sophie turns to the other two, understanding dawning on her features. "According to Völuspá, you two must be Urðr and Verðandi."
Dante catches on instantly. "If you three are the Norns, then those must be—"
Right on cue, the three figures in the center throw back their hoods with a howl, revealing sleek hair and milky-white eyes that shimmer iridescent in this lighting. Titans. They rise to their full height, easily towering at eight feet tall, and charge straight for Sophie as their Seekers screech about the Tampered! and Sullied! soul in their midst. Historically, Norns have been both benevolent and malevolent, depending on the situation, and Sophie had hoped that they'd be the former.
"Honorguard!" Sophie yells out, throwing her arms in front of her face as Dante invokes Caliban from the other side.
Her orange shield flickers as the Titans slam into it, the impact forcing her to take a step backwards, but just as cracks spider across the surface, Caliban slides into view, slashing at the Titans until they retreat with furious screams. Lok and Zhalia jump into action, too, calling upon their Titans. Soon, Kipperin and Kilthane take the field, matching the Norn's Titans in number.
Sabriel would've been just between them.
Caliban nods at Sophie before launching forward into a flurry of sword swings, weaving unpredictably between the three Gaia-Titans. The team's goal isn't to make enemies, but as always, trouble seems to find them wherever they go.
"We just want to talk!" Dante tries to reason between Touchrams. His plea falls upon deaf ears as Skuld throws back a Boltflare that forces him to roll behind a crystal. Another one shatters his hiding place in a shower of sparks.
With Kipperin wrapped around his shoulders, Lok flits about in the air, shooting off Raypulses that bounce against the walls. "Remember, you're the ones who attacked first, not us!"
Sophie steps across the threshold, calling on a Hyperstride to join the fray, but as soon as both her feet touch the water, the Norns scream, doubling over as the hems of their dresses darken. Some of the glowing stones pulse erratically, and the cave shakes, sending down loose dirt and stone from the ceiling. Taking this opening as an opportunity, Kilthane and Caliban crush two of the enemy Titans, returning them to their amulets.
"Sophie, watch out!"
Lok dips from the air to pull her into a princess carry, and they hover, waiting for the Norns to calm. In seconds, the Norns grow quiet, chests still heaving but the environment stabilized. The stains in their dresses bleed out slowly, returning to a pearlescent white.
With one arm looped around Lok's neck for stability, Sophie chews on her thumb as she mutters, "According to some records, there are several Norns that served in villages, sometimes acting as midwives or visiting newborns, but the primary Norns stayed at the foot of Yggdrasill, watering it with the well Urðarbrunnr. I called them by name earlier, but it is possible that they're regular Norns and not the ones we're looking for. If we could check…" She snaps her fingers and points to the ceiling. "Get me up there!"
Lok follows her direction, traveling upwards in a spiral in case more projectiles come their way, but they needn't worry. On the ground, the women—the Norns—catch their breath on hands and knees. The last Gaia-Titan had been recalled, and Zhalia and Dante stand off to the side, wary.
"Boltflare," whispers Sophie, lighting up her palm as they grow closer. It's just as she thought. "Lok, do you know what this means?"
Lok winces as her fingers dig into his shoulders. "They have a cool rooftop garden?"
"No!" He adjust his hold as she turns to him. "It means that Yggdrasill isn't in Gamla Uppsala like people thought! Or maybe it was at some point. Being the Sacred Tree, it's possible that it could've been moved to protect its sanctity, like the Temple of Thor. Somehow, our archives correctly located it."
She takes in the gnarled tree roots protruding from the ceiling, the ends crawling along the sides of the cave. She's tempted to reach out and touch one—seeing powerful magic up close never gets old—but recalls what happened earlier when she stepped into the water. This means…this means a lot of things. Her mind races, thoughts slipping past in fragments. Part of her doesn't want to believe that this is the tree of legends; it almost seems too easy.
When they land at the bottom of the cave, Sophie catches the firm set of Dante's shoulders and the smirk he tries to bite back. Ah, so that's his angle. She perches carefully on a nearby stone, feet hovering over the water. Not touching it…
…as long as their hosts cooperate. Lok goes to join the rest of their team, slotting himself right in between the older Seekers. Dante flicks his trench coat behinds him as he bends to one knee, putting himself eye-level with the first Norn. She glares back.
"So ladies, maybe we can start over," he says. Sophie's sure that his smile is downright infuriating. "I think we're lost—things get confusing with all of the snow. We were just searching for something…perhaps we could trouble you for some information before continuing on our way."
.
.
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International Airspace, Europe
The private plane back to Italy is just as nice as the first one. At one of the tables, Zhalia rolls a newly acquired amulet between her fingers as the Holotome scans another one, bathing it in amber light. Valkyrie, the device dutifully reports, rattling off stats that get recorded into its internal database. The Norns were willing to part with some, but they were very insistent on keeping everything in even sets of three.
A porcelain cup clinks down in front of Sophie, and across from her, Dante sits with a cup of his own.
She perks up. "Thank you. Did you add the—"
"Yep."
"And the—"
"Got that, too."
She smiles, taking a tentative sip. Her favorite tea and just the way she likes it. Took him a few tries to get it right, but dare she say, he makes it almost as well as LeBlanche now. She curls her hands around the cup, soaking in the warmth and pointedly ignoring the weight of Dante's stare.
He takes slow, steady sips of his drink. Neither of them are willing to crack first.
It's Lok who interrupts the silence, falling into the seat next to her with a groan and an open can of soda.
"So are we going to talk about what that lady said?" he demands.
Smooth. Out of the corner of Sophie's eye, she catches Zhalia closing the Holotome, and though her teammate crosses her arms and closes her eyes, no one believes for a second that she's taking a nap.
"The end of your life is burned away," Lok recites perfectly. This is the same guy who forgets his lessons as soon as the teacher finishes a sentence. He levels earnest blue eyes at her—a veritable weapon, his gaze; he knows that she has a hard time saying no when he looks at her like that. He continues softly, "You know you can tell us…tell me anything, right?"
Dante still says nothing, figuring (correctly, it seems) that Lok's prodding is enough to get Sophie to speak. If he wasn't afraid of disturbing the tension, he would've joined Zhalia on the other side of the aisle.
"It's not I didn't want to tell anyone," Sophie insists, attempting to make eye contact with everyone, and it's true. No matter how testy she was when the team was formed, she wouldn't hesitate to follow them to the ends of the Earth now. "With everything that happened, I just. Forgot."
She winces and pushes down the urge to slip into old habits. It used to be easy to brush things off with a few well-chosen words and a haughty flip of her hair, but they deserve better than that. At her hesitation, Lok sets down his soda to offer his hand instead, palm up and waiting. He has always been like this—giving her the choice to make the leap and catching her if she fell.
"What happened, Soph?" he asks gently. Make the leap.
She takes his hand and stumbles through the story as best she can. The team had known that the battle with the Professor in the heart of Prague—on his home turf, no less—would be difficult. So difficult that the Huntik Foundation withdrew their support; that was how much people expected them to fail. She thought that, hey, at least the team would be together, right? But as the fight went on, she found herself face-to face with the Professor. Alone.
Three Legendary Titans and the Professor against her and Sabriel. Honestly, for a second, she wondered if she'd make it out alive.
"And I don't blame any of you," she's quick to mention, brow furrowed. They found valuable information in their own corners of the castle—Lok in the room with his father's things, Zhalia and Dante in the lower floor with Eathon—but when she found herself between a rock and a hard place, she realized that she had nothing else up her sleeve. "So as a last resort, I used Soulburn."
She raises her head to meet Lok's confused gaze. "A rare Casterwill spell," she explains carefully, letting the weight of the words sink between them, "that exchanges your life force for more energy."
Dante inhales sharply, and even Zhalia shifts in her seat, a frown marring her features. And Lok—if Sophie didn't know better, she'd say that he looks angry, but his hold on her is still gentle.
"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" she demands. They'd do the same thing in a heartbeat; you don't get this far without taking risks, not when you're a world-renowned Seeker team. And this was a necessary risk. "It was either that, or watch as Overlos helped the Professor take over the world. Besides, it bought enough time for you all to show up." She throws in a signature Casterwill smirk. "What's done is done. We saved the day, didn't we?"
The plane cabin is silent.
Then, Zhalia's eyes flutter open.
"Well, thanks, Sophie," she says nonchalantly. Her attempt at keeping things light, Sophie supposes. "You probably saved the day with that extra bit of time, but it's nice of you to share the credit."
"Did—Do you feel any different?" Dante asks, scanning her like he could see her aura. "Does the reduced life force manifest in any way other than a shortened life span? Just in case, you should get examined by a specialized doctor back in Venice; there might be lingering effects that aren't obvious. And this goes without saying, but don't do that again."
"Yessir, I'll try my best to avoid supervillains from now on." She gives him a fake salute. Then, she turns to Lok who still hasn't spoken; he's burning a hole in their joined hands with how intently he's staring.
Zhalia not-so-subtly clears her throat before giving the fakest yawn Sophie has ever seen. "Wow, is it already this late? That trek downhill really tired me out," she says almost mechanically. "Dante, why don't we go to bed, hm?"
"Oh yes, I'm exhausted," Dante says, nodding as he rises from his seat. "You two take your time, alright?"
The two older Seekers shuffle into the separate living quarters. The door closes behind them with a click, and Lok still hasn't moved from his spot.
He squeezes her fingers. "I'm glad you're still here."
Her shoulders slump. "Me too, Lok. Me too."
a/n.
Here it is, letter U of my decade-spanning alphabits project! According to my tumblr (find me at aerysian), this idea has been bouncing around in my head for at least four years, possibly five. It's taken on many forms, but as I narrowed down the myth and setting, I found myself settling on this. Even though it's not quite what I imagined in the beginning, the core of it is the same: the fact that Sophie used Soulburn is revealed, and the team had no idea. I'm glad to finally be able to share it with you all. Thank you so much for reading! Please drop a review if you enjoyed!
p.s. PLEASE IGNORE THE LACK OF CHERIT. I LOVE HIM, I SWEAR. I JUST FORGOT HIM.
aeris