Fallen Máni: Justice

Bil climbed higher and higher in the vastness of Yggdrasil and its countless branches and leaves, until she reached the very top, the realm of the Æsir gods.

She soared across a vast, blue, empty sky, until she found what she was looking for: a white plain, floating in the air. It was surrounded by clouds, edging it and trailing it, blown up by gales to form an endless tail.

But, as Bil's bird eyes noticed, the clouds gradually gave in to a more solid mass. It reminded her of snow, deep and textured in ways that she could almost feel it in her palms, though it didn't look as cold as snow.

She didn't have any intentions of finding that out.

Sitting on this plain was her destination: a massive trelleborg. It was an assortment of three wooden buildings, united in an arrowhead shape. At this conjunction was a gray tower, with the same arrow shape.

The great rune, Bil mused, submersed in awe.

Even by the standards of the gods, the building looked fantastical. The wood that composed it glimmered with a metallic sheen, yet had the texture of still living bark. The tower's shaft was the exception, made of steel.

The tower's arrow-like end itself was rather confusing to Bil. Its roof, made of some glistening ebony wood, bore many parapets and steps ideal for stepping and walking in, yet it bore no windows or doors whatsoever.

Bil was quick to notice why: the arrowhead projections were actually inverse turrets, ending bluntly but subtly on edged platforms. Each contained a blue glass window, standing right at the center.

Curious to test it, Bil flew next to one, then faced herself upwards, her long legs skimming the parapet. She felt a pull towards it, confirming her suspicions.

She turned around, circling downwards, then flying away, towards the other turret. With more momentum she repeated the same maneuver, and felt a stronger pull, allowing her to land.

Air shifted around her, and Bil wondered if she should knock on the window. It did seem fragile, but she saw no other way in, nor any way to alert the host.

Fear and anxiety rushed through her with each heartbeat. As they mixed with her worry and desire to know the truth, they became her drive rather than her fetter, and she crouched, carefully sliding open the glass window.

***

First the trumpeting cry of a swan, then a white dot in the western sky, then finally his form as he landed quickly, before the cypress and its guests.

His webbed feet didn't even touch the ground as he assumed the form of a man. Combat boots met it in their stead, accompanied by the same attire he had worn when meeting Manuel, as he turned immediately to Sól:

"The wolves are coming" he said.

Sól's face stilled; Hjúki, Manuel and Jonathan couldn't help but feel pieces of themselves die.

"How!?" she said, breaking the silence violently like a burst of flame, "How did they find us!?"

"Who found us?" Manuel asked bewildered.

"The wolves" Hjúki said, "Sköll and Hati, the sons of Fenrir."

"Again, who?" Manuel asked frustratedly.

"In Norse mythology" Jonathan interjected, a mixture of worry and fascination painting his face, "there are wolves that chase after the Sun and Moon, right? That, that are are going to eat them at the Ragnarök, right?"

Manuel's eyes widened and his veins felt like they were pumping lead. His gaze shifted between Hjúki and Sól, urging them to answer.

Hjúki, meanwhile, only then noticed Jonathan. He was vaguely aware of who he was, having seen him the few times he joined Sól in her vigil, Manuel's faithful companion. 

On occasion, Hjúki wondered if Jonathan was a replacement for him and Bil, some echo of their companionship in this new life of his. Bil denied it thoroughly, but Hjúki could help but wonder, and envy.

But, in that moment, that envy was replaced by an insight : Jonathan and Manuel were in fact companions, but there was a longing for each other, love. 

Hjúki knew all too well, and watched in silence, urging Sól to answer in his stead with a motion of his fingers.

"It's true" Sól said, hand on her forehead, "Hati the hateful, who chases after the Moon, and Sköll the treacherous, who desires me. They were dangerous, uncontrollable beasts, so the Allfather set them to hunt us, and deceived them into thinking they should devour us to fulfill their purpose."

"That bastard!" Manuel shouted, an underground pulse followed by emergent streams of steam.

"Indeed" Sól said bitterly, "He said that this whole thing was to keep us on our path and to keep the wolves on theirs, but as far as I'm concerned it's just a cruel joke of his. Now both we and the wolves are fated to die, the first casualties of the Ragnarök."

"But you will be reborn in the world that comes after" Hjúki reassured Sól, holding her hand.

"But not him" Sól said, pointing at Manuel.

In shock, Manuel's hands covered his mouth, a frantic nasal breath passing above his fingers. Jonathan hugged him lightly, carefully as to not make him feel trapped, laying Manuel's head against Jonathan's shoulder. 

Manuel hugged him back, but less for comfort as to balance his own weight. The streams of steam returned to water, falling as small drops back into the earthly roots from which they came from.

"If I become a god, I'll be eaten and I'll die" Manuel mused nervously, "But if I stay like this, I'll be eaten and I'll die too. But, every rule of how this thing is supposed to work has been broken already, right?"

Sól's flared, a vicious shout manifested as orange and white rays. A miniscule fraction of her power, enough to set the entire cypress on fire and reduce it to dust instantly, and to melt the building surfaces facing towards her.

Manuel drew his gaze away instinctively, and summoned a cloak of shadows to protect Jonathan's eyes. Even then, rays pierced the darkness every once in a while, as sunlight normally did on grey cloud coats.

Hjúki shielded his eyes with a bind made of deer leather. His skin burned severely and he swore he could feel searing rays brushing against his bones, but it was nothing that would prove fatal.

He immediately regretted having blinded himself, however, as a small white light began forming inside his mind, a radiance not hot like the Sun's, but stilling and threatening to void his soul again.

"Why are you doing this!?" Manuel shouted, and disengaged from Jonathan's embrace.

He stood between Jonathan and Sól, a thick cloud of shadows being blown away by the sunlight, trailing as a black fog that covered the remains of the cypress, spreading away until it was too thin to handle the light.

"What's wrong with you!?" he shouted again, tears rolling down his eyes and merging with the darkness.

Sól's face was stoic, perfectly still as a statue, white as marble and searing as molten gold. An image of austerity, not swayed by emotions or basic humanity. 

Nonetheless, a glint in her eyes, some small different wave in that ocean of light, informed Manuel that she was concerned for him. It was followed by a small golden tear, and a slight shift in her posture.

"For the longest time I've been denying it" she spoke, a voice of clashing solar flares, "Trying to pretend prophecy still held some meaning. I had to, otherwise all the pain and misery was for nothing."

And it does, the light inside Hjúki's mind expanded, and he winced, trying to shrug it off by thinking of all the things that made him happy, jovial, aroused. All the vibrancy of life, be it under the light of the Sun or the shadows of the Moon.

Instead, all it did was to dull every memory as the whiteness took over them. All happy thoughts became void, the life and joy behind them not even drained, stopped as if the light was a dam. And so was his voice.

"Sis, things aren't going according to plan!" Manuel shouted, water rising once again, forming an additional layer between the shadows and the light, "You have to accept that, and work with what you have!"

Another strange wave in the light, followed an irritated clench of her wrists.

 More tears streamed down her face, eventually enough to cover the soil with a thin layer of molten gold. Her light remained intense, unyielding but redirected.

"I'm going to kill those wolves, Ragnarök or not I will burn them and the Allfather!"

And, with the flare, she was gone, leaving behind fiery devastation. Manuel's water and shadow barriers collapsed in vapor, which he redirected to Hjúki, now severely burned, coating him in a refreshing mist.

"Why did your sister do that?" Jonathan whimpered terrifiedly, walking close to Manuel.

Hjúki opened his eyes, and the light in his mind was gone. He sighed in relief, before letting out a pained scream as he felt the sheer damage Sól delivered to him.

 "Shh, you're going to be alright" Manuel whispered, and slowly massaged the damaged flesh, carefully hydrating it and removing scar tissue.

Hjúki winced, and took deep breaths. With his own divine power, he began regenerating his wounds, and with Manuel's help his flesh was restored and cleaned, though he still felt a searing pain.

As soon as his vocal cords allowed him, he let out a laugh, a hearty sound that warmed Manuel's and Jonathan's hearts, but still unnerved them.

"What's so funny?" Manuel asked.

"Back in Freyja's... house, the prophecy foretold that there was nothing that could be done, that the wolves would get you. Now, the god of Day has been proven wrong!"

"The god of Day?" asked Manuel confusedly. He turned to Jonathan, who similarly shrugged.

"Yes, Dagr" Hjúki said, "He showed me the prophecy, and rubbed it in my face. Guess he's wrong after all."

"But what about the wolves?" Jonathan asked, "Sköll supposedly still will kill Sól, and he has Hati helping him."

"Ah, but Sköll only dares to attack Sól when her guard's low" Hjúki said, "He's sneaky as a weasel, treacherous like that. He rarely faced Sól at her full power, which only her shield prevents from destroying all of the world."

"So instead of the world decaying because of me, everyone gets roasted because of her" Manuel said, "Ah, my flesh and blood indeed."

For a moment, Jonathan stilled with fear, as the threat of an inferno consuming all of reality became a possibility. His heart than began racing at the prospect of that happening, and he hugged Manuel and kissed him.

"Hey, what was that for?" Manuel asked as soon as their lips parted, "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"It's an apocalypse scenario, man" Jonathan said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we should enjoy every moment we got."

"I would prefer if you used that time to fix things" Hjúki grunted, "The time is drawing near. You must become the Moon again, and help your sister.

"Right" Manuel said, focused.

Doubts rushed through him. What about mom? What about Silvia? What about Jonathan? He pushed them all aside; he'd fix those issues after he fixed that mess.

"So, how do we do it?" he asked, zealously as to not think about his family and boyfriend.

***

Bil treaded in a mixture of fear and reverence. She form shifted from human to bird and back and forth, eager to either learn the answers that her mind craved, or flee at a moment's notice.

After she entered the window, she had fallen - and glided down - unto a massive hall, arcs made of golden wood succeeded by radiating beams, from which streamed red banners with white arrows.

Engraved on the wood, be it on pillar, arc, beam or ceiling alike, were scenes: battles, passions and mistakes of the gods.

Chiefly among them was a scene, always set apart at a massive pole, ending on two lateral flanges that made it seem like an arrow. It was located whenever a hallway ended and another began, or at the various doors Bil passed by.

This scene was different from all others, being made almost entirely of arrow-runes, arranged to form a larger picture. Some were deeper than others, allowing the illusion of darker tones. In general, the figures were angular.

This scene depicted the god Týr, young and resigned, offering his hand to the Jötunn wolf Fenrir.

The world devourer, Bil remembered in dread, The monster of the river Ván. The father of the hunters of the Sun and Moon.

Fenrir, the most fearsome of Loki's brood, was terrifying. Its jaws didn't seem to obey sockets or the shape of the skull, rising opposite as if poles of flesh, adorned with serrated teeth and an obscene tongue and leading to a pitch black void.

 Fortunately, the gods just managed to trap him, gathering the most esoteric materials of the world.

The sound of a cat's footsteps.

The beard of a woman (Not that hard to obtain, Bil noted).

The roots of a mountain.

The sinews of a bear.

The breath of a salmon.

The drool of a wren.

All of these were forged into Gleipnir, the unbreakable chain. The indestructible fetters that keep an uneasy peace from becoming the end of the world.

Gleipnir was already placed on Fenrir's paws, but where it began and where it ended was hard to determine as far as Bil was concerned.

Being made of individual runes, the figures always had a somewhat blurred look to them, but it was particularly noticeable on Fenrir's paws where they were supposedly fettered, undetailed except for strange black edges, suggesting smoke.

As if Fenrir was made of darkness and dust.

The scene didn't have an ending. Fenrir's jaws weren't even close to consuming Týr's hand, the toothed poles as far apart as possible, the god's hand hovering in the space between them.

Yet, Týr still looked resigned.

Curiosity consumed Bil, and soon her avian eyes began detecting odd glints on the figures. The runes weren't immobile: they were shifting position amidst themselves, like fish in a school.

And, gradually, they caused larger movements. 

The "free" - as Bil noted, both hands were technically free, but she decided to name the hand that wasn't going to be sacrificed the "free one" - hand moved to Týrs face, met with sobbing surprisingly soft as its origins were obviously the runes sliding against each other. 

Tears - made of two or three runes - soon followed, running down his face.

And, as they run down his cheek, Fenrir's jaws snapped in the fraction of a second.

When they did, reality around Bil crumbled. First, the runes fell in a domino-like effect, blankening and blackening the picture. Then the effect spread to the entire space around bill, as if the entire building was made from more subtle rune arrangements.

Bil took wing, but the runes began to fly, forming a cloud of arrows that brushed against her feathers and just barely ripped out her eyes. She closed them, and opened them to a white landscape, the top of the "snow-cloud".

Her suspicions about it were confirmed, albeit it felt oddly rigid, as if stiffening strings prevented her from being buried in it.

"That moment you witnessed defines me" a deep voice reverberated across all of reality surrounding Bil, "From the Allfather to the shamed warrior."

The "snow-cloud" vanished from beneath Bil, forcing her to hover in the air. It condensed and shaped into a man's head, its details rather vague but with a obsidian-black moustache and goatee, forming his rune.

"That's why I am here" Bil said, "That feat of yours, was it destined to happen? Was Fenrir always going to become evil, were you always meant to sacrifice your hand and demote yourself?"

Týr regarded Bil for a while, then answered gravely:

"It does not matter. It happened, by Fenrir's frustrations and my own obligation. The strands of wyrd might have aligned things as to lead to both of our demises, or they might have not. I may be called to battle once again in the Ragnarök, but the Ragnarök may not happen. Or has already happened beyond my notice, and you're talking to the ghost of a god."

"So no answer, then" Bil spat, furious at herself for leading herself into another dead end and at Týr for his lack of use.

"Take comfort in that" Týr said, a hint of sorrow in his voice, "No matter what will happen, your soul cannot be my hand. I'm not proud of what I did, of what I lost, but I am proud that I made it happen and I advise you to act."

Bil said nothing for a while. Yes, I have to do something, she concluded, fate be damned. But a small worm of a feeling crawled through her mind.

"But" she asked, "I won't have him back."

"And neither will I have my position as the true king of the gods" Týr said, "but even if I feel shame about my sacrifice I know for certain an evil has been averted, even for a while. All acts of benevolence, great or small, must be honoured, and so I will honour the Moon and ease his suffering."

Bil thought of her conversation with Nótt, of how nothing had a meaning, and that granted the freedom to do as one please. What if the opposite is true, that there being no meaning only made them slaves?

But the truth was the same in either case, and she found a certain comfort in that.

"Will you accompany me?" she asked.

Beneath them, the branches of the World Tree extended, and she needed no further answers.