My eyes...something wrong with my eyes. I couldn't focus, couldn't think straight, couldn't orient myself enough to know what was in front of me. The stinging grit threw me into panic.

"Help," I mumbled...but did I speak at all? Was it only in my head? I dropped whatever was in my hands and clawed at my face, hoping that might relieve the pain. It didn't. I frantically plucked my lashes and started to shriek in fear that I was hurt beyond repair. My heart raced along with my uncontrolled breathing. "Oh, gods...my eyes! Please, help me!"

Someone said my name. Familiar, but only a little. I didn't care who it was.

"Help, I'm blind! I'm blind!" I screamed.

"Hela, take your hands down," he said, closer than he was before.

"I can't. I can't! It hurts."

His strong, deep voice carried authority that brought me a sliver of comfort. "You have to let the rain in. Tip your head back."

I cried and attempted to do what he said, but every muscle in my body made me want to curl into a ball and protect such a vulnerable piece of myself. "I'm sorry, I can't. Help me!"

Without warning, the man came behind me and muttered to someone else. A second pair of hands went to mine and pulled them down. I struggled, trying to move away despite how badly I wanted to trust them; the pain was too sharp and too frightening to do much more than screech as one of them held my eyelids open.

The same man who spoke before kept trying to comfort me. "Shh...it's the ash. Try to breathe."

I couldn't stay on my feet anymore and surrendered to their support by collapsing. "O-k-kay. Okay."

The cool rain did feel good, though a bit strange. My eyes still hurt, but the panic was lessened. I breathed through my nose and tried to retrace my steps but kept getting distracted.

Ash, I thought, then sensed smoke in the air. Fires somewhere. Was I caught in a fire? My ears opened next. Rainfall and men's slow, unintelligible voices. I licked my lips and grimaced at the bitter, salty, metallic tinge that filled my mouth. Where did I recognize that from?

The men finally released me, and the one who spoke to me first did so again. "Alright, Hela. Blink a few times. Wash them out."

I did as I was told. Everything remained hazy. "I...I still can't see. What happened?" I rubbed my eyes strongly as the panic escalated again. "Gods, why can't I see?"

He patted my shoulder and said nothing to comfort or answer me, letting me spiral with guesses instead. His warm-tone of voice moved further away, and he spoke to someone else.

"Don't move too much now," he said. "Stay awake, Vali."

"Vali?" I reached into the empty air in front of me. "Vali, are you there?"

My brother's unmistakable timbre was thin with pain. "Is she waking?" he said.

"I believe so. Look around—the soldiers are coming to as well."

"Don't ignore me," I cried. "Modi? Where are you?"

"Stop," Vali said, startling me with a tight grasp on my forearm. It had to be him; who else would be so bold? "Modi's gone, Hela. He's gone."

"Gone?" I sniffed and clutched my chest with one hand as if it could affect the pain inside—heartbreak, disappointment, fear. "Thor disapproved?"

The man who found me first spoke again, only now making himself known. "What would I disapprove of?"

I gulped and attempted to position myself on one knee—a challenge for the terrain. "Forgive me, King Thor. I can only recall leaving Modi's chambers to find you. He...we...the two of us hoped to earn your blessing in a union."

"Gods." Vali groaned and released my arm. "Leave her be until I say so. That goes for all of you. I can't discuss this now."

"Stay still," Thor said with soft reassurance. "Help is coming."

"What happened to him?" I asked again. My condition wasn't futile; my vision recovered bit by bit. Things were still hazy and dark, but figures were apparent. One by one, I turned to face any person who I thought might pay me any attention. "Stop pretending I'm not speaking and tell me what's going on!"

"Modi attacked," Vali said strongly, yelling to get me to refocus. A fluster of activity in his direction followed.

Thor's tone shifted down and worried me with its urgency. "What's the status at the Bifrost?"

A new voice—young and shaky—answered. "It's barely functional, Sire. The gateway's been shut down to anyone trying to leave. Entrance only."

I rubbed my eyes frantically, still desperate to clear the mire amid the many building questions. The Bifrost isn't working? Is that Modi's doing, too?

"Someone must have a way to send word to my brother, yes?" Thor asked, sharply cutting off the end like a slammed gate.

"I-I...I don't know—"

"Come on. Think of something. Think!" His yelling made my own panic spike.

I shook my head and braved the rain again, holding my own eyes open this time to rinse them clean and relieve the scratchy remnants inside. A greenish film still masked the world, but now I wasn't certain if the scene before me was reality or a nightmare.

There were fires in the city straight ahead. Billows of smoke fought—and won—against the downpour. The ground below me turned to sickly mud that slipped under my feet. It made me feel dirty, unworthy, self-conscious...so many beautiful men surrounded me, though none of them looked my way. Thor jogged toward the palace and waved a few soldiers to follow him. Whatever their concern was for the Bifrost, I'd have to ask someone else to clarify.

A collection of men stood and knelt to my left around something I couldn't see. While trying to stand, I gasped and fell back again, stunned by the sight of dripping red down my hands.

I shook uncontrollably and turned my palms over and back, almost hoping to find injuries. My blood didn't bother me, but someone else's? The water from above washed some from my right side, but some already dried on my arms and tugged uncomfortably, like I'd been bled over repeatedly.

I swallowed, recognizing the taste on my tongue this time. Like when I first came to, I wiped my cheeks over my lips again and again to clean myself, hardly making any progress and oblivious to everything around me. Where did this come from? Was it Modi? Is he gone, as in...forever? Dead? What about Vali? What about Thor? The Bifrost, Father, Mum...

"Easy there, Captain. Off with this," a soldier said on my right. A minute later, they passed Vali's breastplate across their gathering. Like me, it was covered in blood.

My body wasn't capable of any more surprise beyond a wave of nausea. "Vali?" I stumbled to my feet and lurched toward the group. "Vali, are you all right?"

No one answered me. To them, I didn't exist. Sour emotion without a name poured off them.

"Excuse me?" I pushed against two soldiers. "Let me see—"

"Haven't you done enough?" one snapped. He shot to his full height and towered over me.

"But...but what happened? What—"

"You knifed him. Pulled the blade, and now he's bleeding out. Your choice. Your hands. Look at yourself to know what's going on."

I blinked several times, unable to clear the haze between us, but my body went numb. A wall of defense erected around me. "You're wrong. You must be. I'd never hurt Vali."

"See that?" He pointed slightly behind me, where I'd stood minutes before.

I cautiously turned and squinted toward the ground. Sure enough, a familiar bejeweled pattern stood out on top of the mud. One of Vali's daggers.

"I don't understand," I whispered, yet my right hand felt lonely. Was I holding it? Is that what I dropped?

"He didn't stab himself. You did. If he hadn't just said to leave you to his judgment, I'd drag you to the dungeons myself."

I couldn't breathe; a single gasp, and my lungs then did nothing. A giant horse called reality threw me to the ground in an instant. The soldier who chastised me went back to Vali's side while a few other helpers glared at me. Their ire confirmed the truth that burned all around us.

"But...but how? How could I do that?" I shuddered and stared at my hands again while walking backward and away from them all. For how marred my vision was of Asgard, my mind's eye was equally blind to my memories. When had Modi done all this? Why would I lose myself so much that I would harm my own flesh and blood?

While ambling around, I tripped over a body—another soldier, this one eerily cold. Terror froze on his face, like he died knowing precisely what his fate would be.

I knew that face. Tyr. Why hadn't Modi protected him?

"Gods, I need answers. Please, help them. Help me. Help all of us!" I yelped at the sheer number of corpses surrounding me. Most had slit throats and died quickly; at least, I presumed they did. What was the surest way to kill a man if not to let him bleed?

In that instant, a heavy sense of dread bombarded me. First, it filled my heart, then it moved through my lungs, thick and suffocating. It ran down both arms and, for a moment, my body remembered something my brain couldn't: the sensation of a man in my arms as I stood behind him, and the quick pull of my right arm across his throat.

I grasped hair from above my ears and screamed. Dropped to my knees next to Tyr. Whatever I'd done, it was more than it seemed. There'd be no way to undo my actions. Even if the only thing I'd done was harm Tyr and Vali, that would be enough to doom me for all time; unfortunately, I was far too astute to believe such a thing. The many stains of blood in varying stages of dryness all over my frock told a story of many lives lost while beside me.

The prospect of answering for such crimes overwhelmed me. I lost all logic. Emotion and fear drove me to search for other weapons I might turn upon myself and free the universe of my unworthiness. Yet the only thing in my pocket was a small flask—Modi's flask—something that looked familiar in a far-away sense and posed a riddle.

Perhaps whatever was inside would prove this was a dream. Maybe he gave it to me as the last gift of his love, which was why I found it close to my heart. I couldn't recall for certain if we'd shared a toast before leaving his room to go find Thor and ask for his blessing to wed; wouldn't it make more sense that he saved it with me to drink in celebration once we'd earned it?

I hiccupped through my heavy tears and opened the flask. A strong whiff revealed nothing. It bore no scent at all, though contents still splashed.

In my upset, the draw was too great to resist; on the slim chance that whatever was inside might make me feel stronger, bring me peace, or simply refresh my memory, I gulped down the rest of the flask's liquid, fighting past the nauseating flavor that nearly made me gag.

A hot coal landed in my stomach, spreading through me like my memory of hurting someone earlier. It did give me a moment of clarity after all, but it was far too late to ask for help once I realized my mistake.

Modi told me to drink it. Told me to obey. Told me to turn all the soldiers against... against... the enemy. Our enemy. His rival and his obstacle... Modi wanted to hurt Vali.

He did it all through me.

Like a tidal wave, I saw things when Modi thought I wasn't listening. I simultaneously cleared my system of his influence while succumbing to another; weeks of his assaults, his false remarks, his kisses and his insults stood out like lightning bolts waking me through the rain. It was no dream—it was life. It was this.

I tried to cry for anyone who'd listen, but I'd already lost control of my body. I was afraid, yet willing to pay the price of death to escape the real pain of facing how worthless I really was. It was mercy to have it all end this way—no pain, no awareness, just endless quiet. Darkness took over my vision like a void, and even my inner voice grew quieter and quieter:

Mum, I'm sorry. Please don't mourn me. It was my fault. It was all my fault...