Fallen Máni: Pear-Tree

Amidst the branches of Yggdrasil, the Moon was a flower.

Manuel learned from his sister, and now could feel it himself. Reality as he knew it wasn't so much peeled as blossomed, an eruption that connected him to nine worlds, strengthening him and in turn nourished by his nectar of dreams and darkness.

And they lapped hungrily, starved as they were for the presence of Máni.

He could see fathomless branches of a bark that wasn't bark, filled by a sap that wasn't sap, connecting to him like tendrils. Yet, his movement was unimpaired: he flew as if they weren't there, fluttering amidst the canopy of Yggdrasil.

A wind carrying the scent of every flower that had ever existed blew around him, even clung to his form. Creatures run up and down the branches, sometimes hiding amidst the crevices, ranging from normal woodland creatures to forms as alien as they were familiar.

One in particular caught Manuel's eye: a large red and black blurr, five times larger than himself, moving up and down the branches at a remarkable speed. It stopped occasionally, revealing itself to be a massive red squirrel with black runes etched on its back and grey eartips.

The critter seemed to pay him no mind: when it stopped, it simply looked around as if puzzled by something in the tree, or gnawed a planet or a star. It always looked desperate to keep on the run, never sitting still and seemingly even pained by its quick stops.

Manuel knew who he was: Ratatoskr, the climbing tusk, the driller, the grinder, the liar, the instigator, he who insulted and caused friction amidst the inhabitants of the tree. 

And he knew what he was: a being a thousand times older than even him, who tried to gnaw at the blossom that would become the Moon.

Manuel fluttered about hesitantly, but he wanted to talk to him. Ratatoskr would know what to do, and he just seemed like someone you would want to talk to anyways.

Manuel knew what Máni knew, and did as the Moon once did: he took the form of a weasel, black and white with deep crimson eyes, and waited amidst the branches.

Lie easel said Manuel, a dark whisper with no sound that etched itself into Ratatoskr's mind as shadows moved in the lightless corners of the skull.

Ratatoskr was summoned immediately, appearing in front of Manuel. He was clearly pained to be sitting still, but there was a strange sort of gladness to him, which the Moon found endearing.

"What is it that you want now!?" he whispered in a shout.

"I don't know what to do" Manuel confessed, "I thought everything would just magic itself away now that I'm the Moon again, but I left my family and friends and Sól is dead and Hati's still after me. I want to ask help from the gods but I don't think they're even capable of processing what happened so far."

"Well, that much is true" Ratatoskr snickered, "Most of the Æsir and the Vanir are still a mess, they didn't know how to react then and are still cobbling the pieces now. Well, until you became yourself again, now they don't have to cobble anything and are even more confused."

Ratatoskr motioned towards the branches, and Manuel noticed stave etchings in the bark, leaking sap. They were now closing, his shadows suturing them, but they had been expanding until very recently and weevils still pried them open, slowing their healing further.

"As for your friends and family, they're okay" Ratatoskr said, head twitching electrically, "Your boy toy and sister are with the swan guy, they're heading for Asgard. Your daughter's down in Hel, though."

"What!?"

"Yeah, she felt too bad about the wolf bait dying so she dropped off there. She'll probably get back up, if Nidhogg doesn't get to her first."

"Then its settled" Manuel said, "I'll go get her."

"I'll take you there myself!" Hati shouted, his jaws emerging from beneath them.

Manuel just had enough time to evade to the left, and still the jaws bit off his right foot, bleeding black blood into the etchings, closing several of them. Swarms of frustrated weevils got in Hati's way, his mad tangent granting Manuel the chance to become a stag and run away.

Even as the foot healed, the pain of Hati's hatred still struck Máni's legs, and he had to stop, hiding in a crevice. Naturally, Ratatoskr met him there.

"No, go to Asgard and make your case there for the other gods" the squirrel said, "Hati now knows you're heading there and if that happens you will surely not get out."

Manuel nodded, and soon thunderous paw steps filled the air. Ratatoskr then bit Manuel's ear off, drawing gallons of his blood.

"What was that for!?" Manuel asked in a panic, but he soon realised as he saw Ratatoskr coating his fur in it.

Before he could protest, Ratatoskr darted outside of the branch, and Hati followed, too frenzied to notice he was chasing the wrong target. Soon enough, Manuel felt a nausea in his chest, a feeling all too familiar to him by now.

Manifesting a chariot and ever-shifting horses, Manuel left the crevice, and hastened to Yggdrasil's uppermost canopy.

***

Bil woke up in a realm of darkness. But rather than the blackness of night, it was the cold void of the grave.

She crawled into herself. That she grieved was bad enough, but she was in the realm of grief, and every moment of her existence was filled with a drive to stay still, to wallow and stagnate. Nothing could be more dire, and yet every second she realised just how desperate she was.

All of her feelings of insignificance were justified, but now the realisation that she could have averted all that happened weighted on her like an anvil. She could have mattered, she could have saved the world, and yet she did not.

Around her, the chorus of ghoulish wails echoed across the abyss, formless yet solid as blackened granite. The ambiguity in the realm of death made Bil's sense of self decline further and further, until she was one with the void.

Are you done moping yet?

"Nótt!" Bil screamed in a burst of joy, life defying the void with a thunderous applause.

Like, did you really think I would not show up here? It goes without saying, really.

Bil got up, the black granite now serving as a guide to her sense of perspective. She realised she had not actually felt her surroundings before, and even as she tried she could at most mutter the cold and wetness of the rocks, neither of which freezing, just soggy in a depressing way.

Pain began to flash around her right arm, the side where she had fallen, yet it was a dull pain that simply refused to go away, more akin to a headache than severe injury. Hel resisted all forms of vibrancy, even agony, and for that Bil was thankful.

"I'm not dead, am I?" Bil wondered.

No. But still, leaving this place will be difficult. Hel is a hoarder like that.

"Well, then I guess I just want want to be hoarded" Bil said.

It sounded better in your head.

Bil thought about becoming a crane and flying out of there, but in her sightless state she decided to not risk hitting anything. She took slow, deliberate steps, feeling as much as she could with her feet. She tried to feel the wind in her fingers, but the air around her was still and stagnant like water.

"Where to now?" she asked.

Follow your happiness. The less depressed you are, the further away you are from her.

"That sure is useful."

Nótt didn't respond. Still, Bil knew she was around her somewhere, as the night coiled around her like a serpent. In a world devoid of light, different types of darkness enveloped upon themselves, strange energies of void itself.

As she stumbled, the wails grew louder, and she felt a strange coldness, a spot of living need. It passed like a stalking cat, eyeing her and waiting for a moment. A moment that never came, as Nótt pushed it away.

Draugr. Keep moving.

"You don't need to ask twice."

As the undead came and gone, Bil grew disturbed. She could have ended up as one of these things, here in the sunless realm, had the Moon not saved her.

Yes. You could have also become Odin's slave or Freyja's toy. Or reincarnated. Or gone to the holy mountain-

"Yes, I know" Bil said, "But I could have ended up here."

It wouldn't be so bad, though. You'd still get out on Halloween.

"Not worth it."

They kept walking in silence, for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Bil began to notice how her grief felt lighter, and began hasting her pace. She felt her heart beating faster, and even as she tripped on the rocks - or foul things she couldn't see - the dull pain didn't stop her.

Nótt still coiled herself around Bil, preventing her from seeing anything. Still, she had an impression of something a great distance away from her: a great entrance way, a bridge to the roots of the great tree. 

Around her the dead still moaned, and stranger beings gathered forth, primeval powers following the whims of death herself. Some were coldness and void, others were more malignant presences instead, as if the dark spaces were full.

She won't let you go easily. I'm trying my best but I think it may not be enough.

Bil turned into a crane. She opened her wings and took to the air, just as she heard a stilling screech, muffled by Nótt's presence. The air felt cold and heavy under her feathers, making each stroke much harder than usual.

She glided for a short while, but she could feel herself losing altitude at a much faster pace than usual. Yet, it seemed like she wouldn't reach the ground for a while, as if that would rush things at an unacceptable pace in that dead world.

Bil steered, following that sensation of levity. It was much harder to do so on the air than on the ground: it seemed as though she was moving away from the exit with one small direction turn. She flapped and turned for an eternity on end, until she found the correct path.

As she approached, she felt a particularly heavy presence above her. It was a great expression of void and presence at the same time, a dark maleficence that exuded a feeling of utter dread, eclipsing her orientation. She flapped frantically, lost in that darkness.

A roar was then heard over even the night, a scream that made her blood into ice and her heart into ash. The air around her felt like daggers piercing at her skin, the faint imprints of the approaching teeth.

 Níðhöggr.

The night stirred, and Bil felt the form of a horse manifest above her. It kicked at the great dragon, pushing its maw away from Bil. An hideous bellow echoed in the air, followed by the sound of jaws snapping limbs and Hrímfaxi whinnying in pain.

Bil landed, and her bird talons felt dead, crumbling wood. Bark slid and slipped between her toes, forcing her to flap her wings to shift her weight. As she positioned herself, she felt a sudden downturn, bark and wood crumbling down to it, forcing her to flap frantically to regain her perch.

A tooth mark.

The battle raged on above her, a thunderous clash that still begged to be silent and still. She knew she wouldn't have much time; either Nótt would truly keep fighting for her, or she'd get bored and wander off. Her whims were endearing to Bil, but they wouldn't help her for long.

Bil reached deep within the roots. At first, a small pulse, that quickly grew stronger and more vibrant the deeper she went. A green sensation began forming in her mind, like an afterimage when the eyes are closed, first a series of small knots like slime mold tendrils, then a stream, then an all engulfing burst like a green Sun.

The stillness of Hel no longer had a hold on Bil, who now felt and saw and heard and laughed and winced in pain and joy and sadness and anger all at once. She nonetheless felt a creeping presence, the lingering festering of decay urging her to stay.

She responded by directing the flow of Yggdrasil, life flooding the death realm and striking at the dragon and the other abominations. It was a distraction, but also a gift, healing Nótt and keeping the monsters sated, at least long enough for either of them to escape.

Not wasting a second further, Bil climbed up the roots, and began the long journey towards life.