Fallen Máni: Birch

At the town’s outskirts, on the outer side of a hill, facing the dense forest expanse, was a shack.  It was made from black wood, polished so much as to glisten under the midday Sun. 

A small house, square-like and with simple triangular roof. Only two windows existed on its sides, made by dark emerald-like glass, and a single, simple door with a simple stave, composed of a cross with trident ends.

To Hjúki, it seemed more like an elaborate doghouse than the home of any human or god.

Nonetheless, he regarded it with cautious interest. It had been a while since he had met its owner, and he didn't know how she'd react to him.

The god tugged on  his bow's string and approached, sight glued to the stave and each footstep burying a boot deep in the acidic forest loam. Uphill, the conifer-needle soil still continued, even without a tree to create it.

At midway in his ascent, the door creaked, opening ever so slightly. Hjúki tensed, and a coarse chuckle came from within the shack.

“Just as I came back” the chuckling voice said.

A calico cat left the door, trotting downhill to nuzzle against his boots. Hjúki paid no mind to it, scanning the darkness within the shack.

"I have questions to ask you, Freyja."

The door opened further, and several more cats came out. Some joined the calico's example, swamping Hjúki's movements, while others hissed menacingly. Others still just stood, watching curiously, filling the air with a cacophonous meowing wave.

They were followed by their master, who wore the same cloak as when she warned Manuel the previous night.

“So, what do you want?” she asked, though by the tone of her voice Hjúki could tell she knew why.

He paused. A cat pawed at his boot, urging him on.

“I’ve come for a reading” he said reluctantly, a hint of shame in his voice.

“Come on in" Freyja said, motioning her arms in invitation.

The cats moved aside, opening a path for Hjúki. Reluctantly, he walked it.

Time was running short. Máni was still a mortal, and in spite of Sól’s best hopes, Hjúki didn’t believe the Nine Realms would endure much longer without the Moon. Even a matter of days could be catastrophic.

He had to find something, anything, to do if everything went wrong.

Freyja moved aside, letting him step inside. 

The shack was almost pitch black, and even to Hjúki’s divine eyes it was rather dim, lit by a single small green flame and thousands of cat eye reflections, that still amount to almost nothing. 

This was because of its size: a hallway stretched before him, a cave whose roof was higher than any mountain.

Entire forests worth of stands adorned the walls, filled with everything from wooden masks to animal pelts and bones to all kinds of sewing equipment that have ever existed.

Four distant hints of corridor entrances could be made out as even darker voids on opposite sides of the chamber, almost as tall as the hall. Small breezes came forth from each one of them, carrying every floral scent that had ever existed and would ever exist.

Hjúki overwhelmed with nausea, holding back with a fist. A cat nudged him, as if trying to make him throw up.

In the center-most space between the spaces were the windows: lightless, minuscule green squares in cracks between book stands, and almost invisible even to Hjúki, who only noticed one by accident.

And at the center of it all was an emerald cauldron, above which the small green flame floated.

“It’s very fortunate that you seek this now” she said, walking next to the cauldron, “as the wolves are coming.”

Hjúki’s eyes widened.

“Already!? They already know where he is!?”

“They are on their way” said Freyja, “because they have a spy among us, their ‘benefactor’.”

She opened her hand and produced several small pieces of wood. Each was made from a different tree, bearing various textures and colors. 

And each had a single rune, the carved space filled with dried blood. 

Freyja then threw them into the cauldron, where they fell softly in spite of its stone bottom. Most fell randomly, either facing downwards or sideways.

One, however, faced perfectly upwards, and it began glowing in an intense white light. It was a pair of triangles joined together by the tip, roughly in the shape of an hourglass.

The light instantly spread in a blinding flare, consuming that chamber's shadows in an instant. 

Hjúki screamed, his sight consumed by the whiteness. It burned deep in his soul, and soon the scream died out, the pain and fear behind it gone.

In that whiteness many images raced on his mind, memories of his life and worries about his future. Sometimes these were just off-white images, just barely distinct in the light, while other times they burst with life and color. 

But even the most complete of them lacked any sound.

That was a maddening experience for Hjúki. It was like living a parody of his own life, intensity perfectly matched by stillness, making him even doubt if he was even aware.

Hjúki was at the complete mercy of the light, unable to do nothing but desire for darkness and its chaos.

In that state he couldn’t perceive time. At once it felt like an eternity and at once it felt like a second. Through its duration he began to see some patterns, some images that started to be repeated ad nauseam.

First it was the moment Hjúki and his sister ascended to godhood. This moment occurred three times, each shorter.

Another was a moment in Asgard, at the great Valhalla halls, when he first celebrated with the Einherjar fallen. This scene played out only once.

Another was in a peace treaty with the Vanir gods, which occurred seven times. The last two focused more intently when he first saw Freyja, then young and vibrant, the only moment of life in that still light.

Yet another was when he and his sister first faced Hati, his gaping maw at once darkness beyond terror, fire beyond destruction and wilderness beyond control. Only twice did he see this, and it terrified him the same.

Another still was when Odin tricked him, forcing him to partake in the most hideous war mankind had yet devised. His ravens taunted eight times, though at least he didn't have to hear their mocking caws.

Another was the last night before Máni disappeared, when he descended to retrieve a mirror he requested. He only relieved this once, and it became blurrier than ever before, almost as if the light was burning it away.

Finally, he saw Máni, as Manuel, in that café. His hazel eyes seemed more prominent than ever, and for a second he could see the faintest glint of silver in the irises, before it was drowned just as quickly.

That was the end. 

The light disappeared, and Hjúki was hit with darkness, sound and awareness. 

He screamed and fell, his head hitting the cauldron before being greeted by the ground. As he winced he was quickly surrounded by cats, who clawed at him idly, as if to make his readjustment harder.

“Are you back to your senses?” the old woman asked, a whisper that seemed like a thunderstorm.

Hjúki only winced, a sound akin to a hurt bear's whining.

“What was that!?” Hjúki asked back, getting himself back up.

“The light, Hjúki" Freyja answered, "He gave you the answers you wanted."

"Hel of an answer!" he said.

"Indeed" Freyja answered.

Confused and exhausted, Hjúki sat on the ground, the cats opening a space for him. They nuzzled and purred at his sides, and he felt relaxed. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to relieve his memories truly.

He held on to the memory of Freya’s hair, glowing as if it was composed of fiery whips. That vibrant gold was the opposite of that white light, vibrant and alive, and he felt himself healing. 

The purrs certainly didn't hurt either.

Freyja crouched before Hjúki, offering him a hand. He noticed the wrinkles, how desiccated her skin was, and it hurt deeply. He took the hand meekly, holding on to her. 

She still felt strong and rigid, carrying his weight effortlessly, but he noticed an underlying strain. Effortless as it was to support him, she had other battles to fight within, and she was losing.

"I'll do whatever it takes" Hjúki muttered, barely containing his guilt, "I'll fix everything."

"Do you even know what your reading meant?" Freyja asked dryly.

Hjúki tried to answer, but he found himself unable to speak, and looked down, a hand on his neck. Freyja sighed.

"We don't have a lot of time to figure it out" she said, gently shaking Hjúki.

He grumbled, standing on his own. His legs felt oddly strong, rigid as stone. He took comfort in that, and held himself straight, thinking of how to recount his vision.

"The rune" he began, "it was the day one, right?"

"Yes."

Hjúki nodded. A smirk crept on his face.

"Then he's the one who delayed the message. The one who knows how to stop it."

"Most likely" Freyja nodded, "what was that he showed you?"

Hjúki took a deep breath, and detailed what he saw to Freyja. As he spoke, it felt as if a weight was lifted from him, and he couldn't help but feel more confident about his prospects.

Freyja listened through intently, hand rubbing her chin. 

She weighted Hjúki's words, and at times it seemed like something disturbed her. Hjúki paused once to ask her what was wrong, but she raised her hand, urging him to continue.

Even after he finished, she kept on meditating for a while. The cats around her looked at each other, confused, and Hjúki began to feel nervous.

"So?" he asked tentatively.

"All those instances you described" she paused, "He's telling you tell that your efforts will fail."

Hjúki's heart dropped.

"He compiled some of the worst memories in your life" Freyja said, concern bleeding into her voice, "some of which relating to Máni's defeat. He also placed some of your best, as if to say that your attempts are pointless."

Hjúki, fists clenched and tears running. Freyja laid a hand on his shoulder, and he laid his on hers. The cats stood silently, their heads hanging in mourning. Seeing them like nauseated him, and he shook his head.

"No" Hjúki scoffed, "This can't be it. It just can't."

"Hjúki-" Freyja started, but was interrupted, her hand gently removed.

"I'll find him" Hjúki continued, "I'll make him talk to my face."

Freyja sighed, her fingers meeting the spaces between the wrinkles in her forehead. She raised her other hand, pointing towards the door.

"Get out."

At once, the cats began hissing.

"Thank you for everything" Hjúki said stoically, and turned, walking out as the hissing cats cleared up a space for him.

As he did, he realized that the door had never been closed, and though dimmed within Freyja's hut its visage still hurt Hjúki's eyes. As the light hit his eyes he briefly felt his pain and fear burning away, replaced with nothing.

Furious, Hjúki strode out, countering the light's reach within him.

The moment he left the hut, the door closed sharply behind him, making him jump. He scoffed, and stared at the Sun.

"Sól, the reading's done."

Just then, from the sunlight came a faint golden figure. A simple echo, shifting and glimmering weakly.

"Good" Sól said, "I'm talking to Manuel, you should come as well."

Hjúki thought of Manuel's face, of his eyes, and felt his heart race.

"Something's wrong?" Sól asked.

"I'll be there soon" Hjúki blurted.

Sól nodded, and vanished.

Wasting no time, Hjúki made the air surround him in a cloud of white feathers. As a swan his launching was cumbersome, but he quickly gained speed, bolting through the air and shaking the trees with his wing strokes.

On one particular tree, a raven clung on to the branch, talons wrapping around it tightly. It flapped his own wings to keep balance, enduring that brief but intense wind.

As soon as Hjúki left, it took launched, following him like a distant shadow.

***

"So, like, do we have to do a ritual or something?" Jonathan asked.

The two stood outside by the cypress. The opposite side of the building was cast in shadow, so Manuel figured they should go to the brighter area. It was also more shielded, and so less likely to be spied on.

"I think" Manuel pondered, "I think I just have to call her?"

"So, do it?" Jonathan shrugged.

Manuel grumbled.

Many starting questions rushed through his mind: Uh, hey, sis?, Sól?, Sun?, Hey, uh, about what you said, can we talk?, Like, now?, Oh God, I look so stupid, I shouldn't have worn that pastel shirt.

"Please?" he said meekly.

And just then, the light before them coalesced, momentarily blinding Manuel and Jonathan. As they blinked their sight was restored instantly, and before them stood Sól, wearing an orange woolly sweater and jeans.

"Yes?" she asked, beaming.

Manuel and Jonathan stared in disbelief, glancing at each other.

"Well?" Sól asked, barely hiding her amusement.

"Seriously?" Manuel asked in disbelief.

"What, its warm" Sól teased, "Besides, we can't draw in too much attention."

"And dressing up like my grandma won't?" Manuel asked, crossing his arms.

"She actually knows how to be conspicuous"  Sól said.

Jonathan snickered, and Manuel nudged him. Jonathan moved to push Manuel playfully, but then he noticed Sól's expectant gaze.

"I, uh" Jonathan stumbled, "Nice to meet you, your... highness? S-sorry, I don't you know how I should address, well, the Sun, so I'm sorry if I offended-"

"Just call me Sól, Jonathan" she said warmly.

She extended her hand, and Jonathan shook it awkwardly. He felt a warmth in her touch, and he relaxed. The warmth remained even after the handshake ended, fading only when he looked back at Manuel.

"So, how can I help you?" Sól asked, "Other than just being here, of course."

Manuel smiled, and rolled his eyes. His demeanor quickly soured, however, as worry washed over him. So did Sól's, and Jonathan's soon after.

"Lately we've been harassed by some gods" Manuel said, "They go in our minds and start rambling things. It's scary."

"There's like three of them" Jonathan said, "Sockpuppets?"

"I see" Sól nodded, "The gods can interact with mortals' minds, though their range varies and not all do it. I myself am fairly limited in that department. Like Bil said, I just know when I'm wanted."

"Right" Manuel said, thinking about her bitterness when she said that.

"What about Manuel?" Jonathan asked, "Could he talk in people's heads?"

"Better than all others" Sól said, "He was the master of the mind and the subconscious, after all."

She then realized something.

"Manuel, if you can still control water and darkness, maybe you can will their voices out?" Sól suggested.

"Sorry, don't know how to do that" Manuel said, before he too realized something, "Wait, the last one kept nagging for me hours, but then I stopped hearing her voice. Did I do it?"

"Maybe" Sól said, "Can you describe who it was?"

"Some weird cat lady with a sewing thing" Manuel said, disgust dripping into his voice.

"Freyja" Sól responded, "I'm surprised, yet not really. I just sent Hjúki to talk to her, maybe she'll say something to the matter?"

“Freyja?” Jonathan asked, “The norse goddess of love?”

“And warfare, magic, sewing, vegetation, jewelry, cats, among countless other things” Sól said, “She was the goddess, for a time.”

"She’s also annoying and creepy" Manuel said, “and has a lot to explain.” 

"If she does, we'll know so right now" Sól said.

"What do you mean?" Jonathan asked.

For a moment, Sól's form flickered, and it seemed less physical. However, just as Manuel and Jonathan exchanged glances, she spoke:

"Hjúki's coming."

***

As the door closed, Freyja cried. Her hands cupped her face, tears of red gold streaming down her arms. Her cats nuzzled at her legs and meowed, trying to comfort her.

But it didn't last.

Soon after, they all turned towards one of the enormous halls, and fell into silence. Only the sound of Freyja's crying filled that immense vastness.

Until a shriek pierced the air, followed by wing strokes.

The cats hissed, a droning sound that still didn't drown the wing flaps. These were now rarer, however, as their creator glided down, remaining aloft for the longest while in that vastness.

"What do you want?" Freyja spat out, wiping the last of her tears and turning around.

Still in midway in its descent was an eagle. It had feathers so dark that it made the surrounding darkness and the four voids bright in comparison, and a single milky white eye.

It produced an odd call, akin to that of a seagull, that Freyja recognized as a cruel laughter. Otherwise, it remained silent until it finally perched on the cauldron, its final wing strokes extinguishing the green flame.

Only its eye, glowing with the faintest light, remained.

You won't make even if he returns, it said in her mind, a voice like spears piercing flesh, I'm just here to watch, to witness you death.

Instantly, the cats jumped at the eagle, but they hit an empty cauldron. Countless cat bodies filled it in a matter of seconds, the sound of heavy thuds replaced by pained screeching and hissing. 

It was gone, as was it eye, leaving Freyja's realm fully dark.