The Diary of the Exile: Chapter 5 ~ Give Up Forever

[Jared]

((Closed to The Valkyrie. All bunnies are approved by both parties.))

The year of the Lion, Date unknown +107

The wrong and the right, the good and the bad... Lines between them blur the more I ponder on the predicament that got us this far. If the reasons behind Bryn’s actions are right, then why this... this bitterness inside my gut that keeps burrowing through me like a throng of maggots, urging me to act? If our affection is genuine enough for me to trust that flaring determination in her eyes, then why do I feel necessary to proceed with this ludicrous task? If Eryk’s damnation is so wrong, why does a thought of him burning in the Underworld for eternity feel so satisfying? I keep looking at her motionless body, at the shell that used to hold the dearest thing I ever had, and I can’t deny this anger that makes my hand shiver even as I write these lines. Because she ventured beyond the door I cannot pass. Unless...

***

“This is madness, Brynhilde! It doesn’t make sense and it’s too damn risky!” Jared spoke in a disconcerted tone, his feet making him pace through the dimly lit room like a caged beast that repeated the same walking pattern over and over again. His brow was furrowed, his eyes transcending the physical world around him and peering into the deepest corners of his memory in desperate search for the alternative solution. Because there had to be another option that wasn’t as nonsensical as the one she decided to follow.

If his mind worked optimally, the exile would have been able to ascertain that there was a plausible logic behind the plan that they were about to follow. Bryn needed to get into Underworld and it was logical that she couldn’t do that in her physical form. Consequently, it was logical that she needed to die in this plane of existence in order to emerge in the other. It was logical to think that Yarina’s armor would serve as a conduit, making the transfer between the realities nonmalignant for the Valkyrie. And to end the logical disposition, the assembled armor was supposed to protect her from any and all foes that inhabited the accursed realm.

But love and logic seldom went hand in hand.

He paused his automated motion through the bedroom that the cultist priests provided for them, looking at her tranquil figure sitting at the edge of the bed. He hated how she managed to keep her cool in moments like this, how her rigid philosophy seemed to circumvent every statement that he put up as an opposition to her will. He tried to chisel through that defense for a while now, ever since they started their fateful journey from Fallien to the underground Haidia cave. It was in this realm of demons and constant scarlet illumination that their final step awaited, the leap of faith that would make them or break all of the things they’ve build up from the ground. A cultist group called the Garnet Interlopers, situated in the somewhat secluded town of Vla’toros, was to provide the proper ritual, the demonic priests working under the wing of the White Knights that already encountered the warrior woman that was on a mission to save her former lover, Eryk, from the shackles of hell itself.

“At least wait until the baby is born. It’s only a couple of months away now.” Jared continued, moving to the bedside and taking a seat beside her on the velvety silver sheets. His hand found her own, his eyes looking desperately in the emerald depth in hers and seeing the two people that were about to perish temporarily to save a man from damnation. He wanted to hold her, gather her in his arms and take her leagues away from this frigid chamber and the precarious issue that hovered above their heads like a rain cloud that was about to drown the world. He wanted to purge the intention from her mind, to break that adamant resolve at least once and make her look from his side of the specter.

“Eryk lasted this long. A couple of months is a short time. And maybe we find an easier way to do it during that time. Either way, it’s a risk that we shouldn’t be taking.” the exile spoke, his voice trying the subtle, soft approach of reason to make her concur or at least reconsider her participation in this ritual. For a couple of seconds the only response he got was a heavy silence filled with anticipation of that minute shift in her eyes that would make her yield to his proposition. The walls around them, dark brown from the orange light of the shimmering torches, seemed to close in on their hunched figures, collapsing on their backs like a burden that further amplified the graveness of the moment.

[The Valkyrie]

The calmness she felt should have been impossible with the decision she had made. Somehow though, Brynhilde felt at peace, her hands folded on her rapidly expanding abdomen, a bemused smile on her face. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, but it had turned out to be the only logical one.

Turning her emerald gaze on Jared, she reached out and took his hand, placing it on the mound that was their child. The baby turned against his hand, and she smiled up at him.

"This is something I have to do. I swore that I would save him, and I can't go back on my promise Jared, you know that," the Valkyrie told him gently, "Besides, I have the armor and I've been taking the herbs Jya gave me in Fallien - she promised that those would protect the baby no matter what, and I'm positive she knew what I must do."

Letting her lover's hand drop, Bryn stood slowly from the bed, and crossed to where her armor hung in a large wooden wardrobe. She stood before it, in nothing but a brief linen shift, her bare feet chilled on the slate floor. This was her decision, and she couldn't go back on it, even if the look on Jared's face made her want to give it all up and go live in some little backwater, happily ever after.

He wanted her to wait, but that would be four months by her calculations, and that was four months more than she could ever imagine asking anyone to spend in hell. She remained silent for a long while, searching for words to explain to him why she must do this now, and not wanting to sound angry at him. Normally, his words would have made her furious, but the calm that had overtaken her transcended even her anger.

"I can't leave him down there any longer. Four months may not seem long to you, but it would be if you were in the Underworld. And besides," Bryn pointed out, "It would be longer than that - you know that after I had the baby, you'd be asking me to wait until she was older. To wait until I was fully recovered, to wait until we were married, to wait until something else was right. I can't wait any longer."

As if on cue, there was a low rap at the thick oaken door, and the Valkyrie smiled to Jared as she crossed to it, opening it just a crack. One of the cultists stood outside.

"The V'dron is ready to perform the ritual, my lady," the young man said in a hushed tone, his dark eyes seeming black in the dim red glow of the demon world.

"I need just a moment more, if it pleases her grace," Bryn answered reverently. The man nodded, and Bryn closed the door and turned back to Jared.

"It's time now," she said, crossing once more to the wardrobe and pulling out the breastplate and beginning to strap it on - it was uncomfortably tight over her belly, but if she left the last buckle very loosely bound, it was something she thought she could live with.

"Now, are you going to help me, or do I have to try to do this myself?"

[Jared]

“To hell with your promise, your pride, your integrity, your goddamn Eryk! Do you realize where are you heading, Bryn? Do you realize what are you trying to do? Do you understand that you’re crossing the boundary that was only meant to be crossed once? And that you’re doing it with my baby... Our baby?” was just a portion of the cannonade that his heart and mind conjured, insisting on the utterance that might tip the scales towards the path of reason that seemed so obvious to Jared. But though he was utterly bewildered by the ritual that followed his every thought like an executioner’s noose, he bit his tongue because in one glance of her green eyes he acknowledged the futility of such words.

He always knew there was steel inside of her - cold and stoic and dauntless - and he adored her for that characteristic. But right now he hated it, hated the semi-indifferent demeanor and the serenity that borderlined with frigidity as she explained her reasons to him as if he was a student that needed to brush up on his studies. Sure, there was truth in her words, but Jared selectively neglected it, canceled it out because to agree with it would be to agree with a course of action that involved her untimely death and unlikely resurrection after she strolled into the devil’s backyard.

One of the priests tapped on their doors subtly, his hooded figure playing his role as the harbinger of death as he reported that they were all ready to kill his beloved, and the exile felt the need to rip his innards. Unlike him, Bryn managed to find enough benignity to send him away with a tender plea. He wanted to scream, to let go of the emotions that were stacking up inside him, to make her see that she’s being the lamb led to the slaughter. And he wasn’t even talking about the murderous ritual. No, the ritual was just the transportation device. The real horror was what would follow afterwards. And when the agony and the darkness gathered around her like a mist and the dark realm leaned on her back with an intention to crush her, he wouldn’t be there to stand by her side.

He moved to her wordlessly, reluctantly, like a living dead that just rose from six feet under and didn’t know what to do. He didn’t opt to help her with donning of the Yarina armor just yet. Instead his hands found their way around her breathtaking body, holding her gently for a couple of seconds as he looked at her angelic face.

“I... I understand, Bryn. I don’t agree with it, I never could, but I understand. I just... I have to let you go into the worst place of all and I can’t go with you. I can’t be at your side. Life, death, it doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re with me. Promise me you’ll come back. You have to promise me you’ll return to me. Because if you don’t...”

His head wanted to drop shamefully at this display of weakness, but he held her eyes on her own stubbornly, unyieldingly. This could be the last time he would have her in his arms and he wanted to look at her until the imprint of her face burned itself into his irises, hold her until the texture of her skin and the scent of her hair were the only sensation he could feel. Her suave hand made a move for his face and cupped his cheek tenderly, benevolently, as her lips curled into a smile. Jared thought it was as fragile as a cracked eggshell, but it was genuine and he was thankful for it.

“I promise.”

He kissed her. He kissed as if he never kissed her before, gentle and deep and lasting as his hands shivered under the gushing contradiction of his emotions. He wanted to hold on to her more then anything and he was letting her go. He wanted to help her and he was staying behind. He wanted to give her heaven and he was sending her to hell.

Their joint efforts donned her armor in silence. To Jared the silence felt like the one that occured in a cell of a convict that was having his last meal before they put his head on a wooden block. And yet, despite the disconcerting atmosphere, he took his time, rechecking, double-checking and doing it all over again. But even that granted him an extension of mere minutes before they made their way out of their chamber and into the hallway. They walked hand in hand, like lovers that strode down the aisle, but nothing mirthful waited them at the end of their journey.

The ritual chamber was a morbid manifesto to the demonic architecture and the obscure religion that the Garnet Interlopers followed. Grand in size – stretching some hundred paces in all directions – the room was enlightened with a myriad of candles that stood against the walls as if they were set on bleachers. The walls were nondescript, their natural gray color repainted by an orange shimmer and a theatre of wavering shadows. In the center of the room stood the altar, surrounded by four metallic staves imbedded in the floor below, their heads glowing with an eerily magical light that fell into the monotony of the xanthous environment with its hue. Six circular steps led to the stone table in the middle of the room where V’dron, the chief priestess, awaited as solemn as a statue made of obsidian.

Jared gulped dryly, his hand tightening around Bryn’s ever so slightly. This was it, the last step on the path to hell. And only she could take it.

[The Valkyrie]

"I promise," she whispered, cupping his cheek and holding his gaze. Brynhilde only prayed that she would be able to keep that promise - was it a pie crust promise: easily made, easily broken? She hoped not, and tried not to think of what it would do to this man she loved if she were never to return.

But he kissed her, and all thoughts fled for the moment, all need to fulfill her responisibility to Eryk, her honor to the gods, her destiny that would allow her to return to Val Halla.

It ended too soon though, and in what seemed like only the briefest of moments her armor was fastened securely, her sword belted across her back, and the Torque of Protection at her throat. It did her no good as a mortal, but still she wore it as a reminder of who she was.

In silence the pair found their way down the desolate corridor, and with little hesitation, the Valkyrie stepped through the massive iron doors into the chamber where the ritual would take place that would send her to the Underworld - possibly for eternity. Fighting off a shudder, she crossed to the V'dron, a woman with straight black hair that reached down to the floor and strangely glowing amber eyes that seemed to stare into Brynhilde's soul.

"You do this voluntarily?" the priestess asked the question of the Valkyrie that she'd asked at least a dozen times since the couple had arrived at the gates of the strange fortress in Vla'toros. Bryn only nodded solemnly, her eyes never leaving the priestess' face for a moment.

"Then you are aware of the consequences of your actions - you will not be rewarded upon your death, but will travel immediately to the place where souls that are not honorable are damned to."

"That, your grace, is the point," the Valkyrie explained for the first time, "Through my decisions to love a man and spare him from death, I've become the reason he's been cast into the Underworld. I come to you for transportation to the land of the dead. The armor I wear will hopefully be enough to bring me back."

Nodding, the priestess lifted a hand, pointing a long finger toward the altar at the center of the vast chamber. Letting out a ragged breath, Brynhilde turned to Jared one last time, taking his hand and kissing his palm.

"I'll be back," she promised once more, then let go his hand and somehow managed not to appear completely clumsy as she clambered up onto the altar, cradling her unwieldy bellly as she did. With a final glance at Jared, and a reassuring smile, the Valkyrie lay back and took a deep breath.

Two priests stood at her sides, and the V'dron stood at her head. Each of the priests had a bottle full of a dark liquid, with a tube coming from the top of it and a needle at the end of the tube. The V'dron held Brynhilde's head between her hands and nodded once to the priests who each took a wrist.

Slowly the priestess began chanting, heavy lids closing over those strange amber eyes. As she did, the priests simultaneously pierced the Valkyrie's skin at the crook of her elbow with the needle. The dark liquid oozed down the tubes like sap from the most evil of trees, and slowly inched its way into her veins. Bryn bit her lip, afraid that the solution would burn, but it did not.

Instead, as it spread through her body, the Valkyrie realized that she could no longer feel her limbs. She fought down a wave of panic as the child within her turned and spun for a moment in her belly and then grew still. Moments later, her entire body seemed to have disappeared, and it was not long before the entire world around her faded away.

Then there was only silence.

[Jared]

“I’ll be back.”

Jared was unable to decide whether he should fear the uncertainty – subtly concealed behind another one of those delicate smiles - or embrace the reassurance that stood as a promise that she would do everything within her power to return. He wound up doing both, standing calmly beside her deathbed and feeling the trenchant desire to jump out of his skin. He was like cocked gun, waiting for the slightest sign of things going wrong in order to react. But nothing went wrong. Nothing could go wrong because all of this – the hardhearted priestesses and the ghoulish underground tomb - was already as wrong as it gets. And there was nothing he could do about it.

They begun to chant, vocalizing the dreadful tune that echoed dully through the room and raised the hair on Jared’s scruff. It made the already heavy ambiance downright unbearable, the sounds somehow creeping through the shadows and invoking the darkest of thoughts. The two priests that stood beside Bryn brought their apparatus to her skin and injected her with a foul liquid. Jared expected some fireworks, some sort of magical explosion that would signify the opening of a portal to the Underworld, but the limbs of his beloved merely shivered a couple of times before they, like their owner, went dead soundlessly. And though he didn’t realize it until now, his hands were balled up so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms.

Brynhilde was gone. Death that came for her seemed in sync with the creepy-crawly chant – it was cold and frightening and despite all the words spoken and preparations done, the exile wasn’t ready for it. He stumbled forwards reluctantly, nearly tripping over the steps as his disbelieving face peered at the lifelessly wan of his lover, before he knelt at her side.

“Is... Is there anything we can do... Anything at all to help her?” he asked the V’dron, his hands barely daring to touch her skin in fear of defiling her, disrupting the delicate balance of the process that sent the Valkyrie to hell. The priestess looked down on him stoically, her golden-hued eyes somehow managing to be colder then the ritual chamber that went dead with the departure of Bryn. How could somebody take a life and be so indifferent about it was beyond Jared.

“The path she chose she must walk alone. You know that and she knew it as well.” the voice came from above him, serene, colorless to the point of annoyance. His luminous azure eyes looked up, radiating with an eerily light as they usually would when emotions raged within him. Perhaps it was this display of inner struggle that softened the priestess because once she continued, her voice deviated ever so slightly from the insensate hue. “But you could pray for her.”

“Pray? Pray to whom?” he asked. His faith in the Creator was in shambles, crushed by the truth he found out in Aletha, and the deities that played with Bryn’s and his destinies didn’t seem prone to listening.

“It doesn’t matter. If the prayer is genuine, it will find an ear that would listen to it.” her voice fell back to the usual flat-lined dullness as she retracted into the shadows with her associates.

“Pray? Sorry lady, I’m all prayed out. I met the gods and they are nothing but a bunch of spoiled brats with magic wands. People can beg and pray and die if it fits their agenda. Pray to that? Never!” his face went grim, his brow furrowing deeply at the thought. Gods put them in this mess in the first place with their who goes, who stays, who gets to go on the ludicrous mission to the pits of hell. They were unyielding, ultimate, and yet even now Jared felt the need to defy them. He looked down at her tranquil face, at the cherubic lips that might never smile to him again, and a sentence that he didn’t finish back in their chambers replayed in his mind.

“Because if you don’t... I’m coming after you and I’ll make the devil sorry he didn’t let you go.”

[The Valkyrie]

It was cold now. And so quiet that her mind kept trying to create sounds. Or was that really laughter she heard? Not happy laughter, like a child, but malicious laughter. With more force than it seemed like it should take, Brynhilde opened her eyes. But there was not even darkness, just a dull grey dimness that sent a shiver through the Valkyrie.

"Did you really think that this would work Brynhilde?"

Emerald eyes fell on the one sight that could make the Valkyrie's heart break. Her former mistress sat before her, a cloak of shadow and spidersilk flowing around her as she sat royally perched on a divanlike throne made entirely of skulls. The eerie laugh could be heard again, and Bryn lifted her chin in defiance.

"I know that this will work. And if it does not..." she trailed off, if anyone could call her bluff, Hel could.

"And if it does not, you will serve me once more, but not as a Valkyrie, and only in eternal dishonor. And your beloved Eryk will remain," Hel laughed, and Bryn realized that the laughter had been hers.

"It will work," she said again, more emphatically this time.

"You may be here, but you will never leave, even if you find the warrior."

The Valkyrie paused, and realized with a glimmer of hope that her former mistress knew nothing of the armor she wore. With only a small quirk at the corner of her mouth, Bryn bowed her head to the lady of death and found herself walking past the throne, into the grey depths of the Underworld.

There was no pattern of corridors, no rhyme or reason to the way she wandered, and she began to wonder if she'd find the warrior, much less her way out. After what seemed like hours of walking down the strangely silent halls of the Underworld, she stopped.

Why was she hearing footsteps besides her own? The Valkyrie took a few steps more, trying to decide if the sound was only the echo of her own feet. But it wasn't, and in exasperation she spun around, expecting to see Hel following her to heckle her once again.

The girl which stood before her was the polar opposite of Bryn's former mistress. Tall, with long wavy chestnut hair and piercing eyes that were the color of the sea in summer, the girl smiled almost lovingly at the Valkyrie. Bryn tilted her head in confusion, blinking as though to erase the vision. The girl remained though.

"Who are you?" the Valkyrie asked, stepping towards the beautiful young woman, who seemed almost eerily familiar.

"It doesn't matter, I'm here to guide you," was the only answer the girl would give.

[Jared]

Despite the fact that the room became abysmally frigid after Bryn’s departure, Jared refused to leave. Unlike the V’dron that sought solace in one of the many underground chambers, the exile slumped to one of the circular steps and took out a batch scrolls. He knew them by heart now, memorized all the information about Yarina’s armor and its usage, he even composed a simple melody for the verses that the authors often used to conceal the real clue to the armor whereabouts. And yet he shuffled busily through them once again, seeking at least a shred of reassurance amidst the meticulous drawings and refined handwriting, secretly hoping for a clause that ensured the survival of his beloved.

The two remaining priests murmured a haunting chant, standing on the opposite sides of the Valkyrie, their voices a little more then a caustic whisper of incomprehensible words. Jared assumed that it was a part of the ritual, some uncanny way to sustain the status quo of the body that Bryn left behind, but he dared not to ask, fearing he might disrupt their immersion. But even though his eyes attempted to survey the scrolls incisively, his thoughts haplessly drifted away. And he envisioned a place so dark that it devoured her golden curls. A place so cold that it extinguished the flare in her eyes like a candle left on a windowsill. A place so malicious that it murdered every sign of her gentleness in cold blood. A wretched place where everything ended and nothing begun.

The chanting deviated from the monotonous tone abruptly, sounding as if somebody was somehow stretching the sound until it became so thin, it stopped to exist. Jared picked up his head precariously. The shadows that shimmered on the grayish walls were standing unnaturally still, like black paintings on an already sullen canvas. His head snapped sideways, towards the magical flames that stood mounted on the four staves around the altar. The fiery tongues were caught in a still frame. Before Jared managed to remember that he was in such a situation before, a voice broke the eerily serenity of the moment.

“The answers you seek are not in that pile of paper, Jared.”

The voice was piercing, gallant, reverberating through the ritual chamber with unearthly might. It made the exile rise swiftly, turning his eyes to the origin his senses designated. With his back propped against the wall and his figure clad in an azure cloak that seemed to flow and glitter at the same time, Loki looked at Jared with a careless, almost playful glance. His posture was casual, his hands folded over his chest, his hair like embers seconds after the flames left it.

“Loki.” Jared said and there was about as much enmity in that utterance as there was bitterness. “I suppose you are here to enlighten me.”

“Now, there’s that tone again I don’t really appreciate.” the trickster deity responded with faux contemplation, his feet taking him in a stroll around the room frozen in time. “The time is coming, Jared. You fail to see the immensity of what is taking place right now, but you two are setting in motion something that is going to shake the very foundations of Val Halla.” With the conclusion of his sentence, the emerald eyes that seemed rather bland sparked significantly for a couple of seconds.

“I really don’t care about Val Halla and your ridiculous charades, Loki.” the mortal spoke, finding more then enough defiance to stand up to one of the gods. He was losing everything and like a cornered beast, he would bite and scratch until he either won or dropped dead.

“Oh, I know. But I think you’ll find this story rather interesting. It’s about a woman named Yarina.” The deity kept sauntering and kept that superior I-know-something-you-don’t smirk on. Jared’s brow furrowed, his eyes following Loki more closely now. “I see I got your attention.”

“What about Yarina? Do you know something that is not in the scrolls?”

“Of course I do. I am one of the gods, Jared.” he spoke, his tone condescending and even a tad mocking, as if Jared was a child that asked why was the water wet. It vexed the exile to the point where he wanted to take Loki by his neck and bludgeon a straight answer out of him. “But I thought you should know the ending to the tale of Yarina. Your scrolls say that at the end she saves her own child from the Underworld and that is correct. However, what the scrolls fail to remark is the sacrifice she had to make to save her child.”

Loki moved behind Jared and out of sight, looking like a predator uninterested in the prey, making Jared turn his body in order to follow him. “What do you mean?” the exile spoke, his voice still strong, still unyielding. At this point stories weren’t enough to intimidate him. Or so he kept telling himself.

“Let me answer your question with another question. Why is there no mention of Yarina after her heroic endeavor? Why is there nothing in recorded history about the fate of somebody so dauntless, so unbelievably courageous?” Loki stopped his circular motion, slowly climbing up the handful of steps and leaning over Bryn’s lifeless body to peer into Jared’s eyes that no longer looked so stoic and adamant. “I ask and I answer: Because she had to sacrifice her life for the life of her child.”

“Poison. You are poison.” the exile nearly growled through his teeth, his hands crumpling up the ancient scrolls. “The armor is there to protect her, to take her there and bring her back safely. I don’t know what kind of sick game are you...”

“You’re only half right there, Jared. The armor will take her there safely. But Underworld rests on one simple rule: Nobody gets out. The doomed souls are doomed forever. Unless, or course, some mortal gets the foolish idea to trade places with a doomed one. Yarina did that, sacrificing her own life and condemning her own soul to eternity of pain so her daughter could live.”

Though Jared couldn’t see his own face, he could feel it become as pale as Bryn’s, paler even. The scrolls fell from his hands, unrolling at his feet soundlessly.

“So now we come to the predicament. Do you think Brynhilde will do the same for her former lover? Does she even know of the price she has to pay?” Loki kept speaking nonchalantly and Jared kept sinking to desperation like a rock.

“You... You bastard. You bastard! You should’ve told us! You should’ve told her!” Jared’s voice started with a whisper and ended with a bawl as he lunged towards the deity with a powerful hook. But even as he came in the proximity of the azure-clad god, an invisible force pushed him away so ardently, his body flew about ten paces backwards before rolling on the stone floor like a sack of wet hay.

“I could’ve told you, but that wouldn’t work well with my plan. If I told you, would you have let her proceed?” the deity spoke from some distance to Jared who lay on the cold floor feeling like a broken marionette. “Remember what I told you back in Fallien, about the choice you’ll have to make? That time is coming soon.”

And just like he appeared – stealthily and effortlessly – Loki faded away into the darkness and the fabric of time returned to its usual flow like a broken record that just found a route to the next track.

[The Valkyrie]

"Guide me..." Bryn echoed, looking the girl up and down, "You're a servant of the Dark Goddess then?"

A soft smile lit the girl's face, sparkling in those strangely bright aquamarine eyes even in the chill darkness. She shook her head, the chestnut curls falling around her face as she did.

"No, I'm not hers. But I do know where Eryk is," she told Bryn, holding out her hand to the Valkyrie, "Will you let me take you to him?"

Brynhilde stared at the girl, not sure what to do or say to this woman-child that stood before her and seemed so familiar. Her heart told her that she knew this beautiful young woman, but the Valkyrie couldn't recall how.

"I suppose I have little choice in the matter do I?" she said softly, taking the girl's hand. Her guide looked down at Bryn's stomach, and took a breath before beginning once more down the long corridor that supposedly led to Eryk.

"You always have a choice. You are mortal," the girl said softly.

"I just hope this is the right one," Bryn answered several moments later, looking at the girl, "Isn't there something I can call you, you must have a name."

"There is no right or wrong choice here," the girl replied, as they walked along the hallway, its ceiling extending so high above them that it disappeared in the grey darkness, "I have no name, not yet."

Bryn walked slowly beside the girl, wondering how it was she had no name, and what she meant by "not yet". This place was so strange, and nothing like she'd expected. They'd seen nobody yet, least of all dishonored warriors or damned souls, only what seemed to be miles and miles of vast stony corridors and vaulted cavelike ceilings. Her hand wandered to her belly as she walked, an unconscious habit that had comforted her as she'd traveled to this moment with Jared.

Her stomach was flat though, no soft rise, no flutter of movement, no pull at the stays of her armor. Panic rose as it had when she'd breathed her last breaths, but now she found it difficult to fight down. Looking down at her abdomen, she clenched her jaw against the sob that choked her.

"Your child is fine, Brynhilde, you just cannot enter the Underworld in the state you were," the girl explained calmly, meeting Bryn's frantic gaze and holding it steady. Something tugged at Bryn's mind, telling her there was something important she was missing, but she pushed it away with the urge to panic and scream.

"You're with child?" an all too familiar voice asked, and Bryn turned to find herself face to face with the man she'd come to the Underworld to save. Eryk raised his hand to rest against her belly, looking at her with a mix of wonder and horror. "But you..."

"I'm not with child here, but yes, I risked that to come and release you from ... this thing I've done," Bryn replied, trying to keep her calm. Somehow Loki's words came to her at just this moment, reminding her that perhaps she was wrong to haVe risked this though - what if Loki was right about Eryk's love?

"I knew you would," Eryk said, lifting his hand to caress Bryn's face. But the Valkyrie only shuddered at his touch, pulling away and looking down at the stone floor.

"Tell me the truth Eryk. Is what Loki said true?"

[Jared]

The chant of the priests returned to the regular monotonous hum as if nothing transpired – as far as they were concerned, nothing did. The obscure shimmer of the torches danced once again with same unrestrained vigor. Only Jared was out of place, sitting on the cold tiles with disbelief in his eyes and cold sweat bathing his back and forehead like a rain. Loki’s words were long gone from the hallowed ritual chamber, but they echoed in the exile’s mind as if they were spoken seconds ago. The sacrifice. Life for life. Nobody gets out. And round and round they went like a carousel, prompting him to do something to save the sleeping beauty that lay on the altar before him.

“But what? What can I do? She crossed over and only she can bring herself back. And if Loki is right, she won’t do that. Damn her stubborn honor. Will she really give her own life for him?” Jared wasn’t certain, but that was disconcerting enough. Because that uncertainty left a possibility that she just might choose that course of action and entrap herself in Underworld for eternity. And that was a risk that the exile wasn’t ready to take. When it came to Bryn’s life and the life of his progeny that she carried in her belly, maybe just wasn’t good enough.

He got up to his feet hastily, like an athlete that fell a couple of feet from the finish line, and ran out of the hall and into the adjacent passage. He had to find the V’dron. The priestess was a frigid hag that made every conversation a trial of patience, but her knowledge in the Underworld was vast. Jared found her in what looked like meditation chamber, smoking wooden sticks spreading conflicting scents through the simple room with no ornaments and a single chair. She seemed undisturbed by his bullheaded entrance.

“I... I need to talk to you, your grace. Something terrible is about to happen and I have to stop it.” he spoke in a frantic tone, and only seconds after he finished he could see a trace of life on her hooded figure. The priestess picked her head up only slightly, her hands gathering in her lap.

“You are talking about the sacrifice, Jared?” she said flatly, as if it was common knowledge, making Jared think how come everybody knew more then he did. “There is nothing that can be done. I asked Brynhilde was she aware of the consequences and she said yes.”

“But we didn’t know. I... I didn’t know!” the exile insisted, his words once again failing to find a sympathetic ear with the V’dron.

“That is no longer relevant. We can’t bring her back unless she decides to return.” the priestess spoke from the shadow of her hood, her dark scarlet robe falling over her frail frame as if there was a skeleton underneath.

“I can bring her back. I will bring her back. You just have to send me on my way just like you did with her.”

“The armor chose her. Only she can use...”

“To hell with the armor! I don’t need it. Just send me on my way.”

Silence crept into the room after his words, his eyes luminous and her breath paused in contemplation.

“Are you aware of the consequences?” she finally asked after what seemed like minutes, her tone still unwavering. “Without protection you will be exposed to...” but he cut her short again. Usually she would get aggravated by such insolence, but his determination was adamant, unyielding.

“Listen to me. Bryn is down there and she’s walking into a goddamned trap. I won’t let her give her life for Eryk! Just make the transfer so I can get her out.”

“You don’t understand, Jared. Without protection there will be no way out for you.” the V’dron spoke, this time a touch of what seemed like patronization in her voice.

“I will find a way.”

“There is no...”

“I WILL FIND A WAY!” he shouted, taking a step closer and peering into the inky darkness that was her face. They stood in the stalemate for a couple of seconds, neither of them blinking, neither drawing breath, his resolve clashing with her reason. But he knew that forfeit was not an option. His life didn’t matter. If there was sacrifice to be made, he would gladly do it to make things right, to right the wrongs, to save her and his child. The V’dron could read that in his eyes as if they emitted it through his stare that bore into her skull.

“Very well. Follow me.” she simply said, seemingly undisturbed and casual as she stood up and let the way down the hallway. The last time he went down this corridor he walked with an enthusiasm of a convict. Now he was a convict and yet he didn’t want to waste a single moment on tarrying.

As the V’dron did the preparations and summoned the priests that would aid her in this ludicrous task, Jared sat at the stairs and wrote what he was certain to be the last entry in his journal:

The year of the Lion, Date unknown +107

The wrong and the right, the good and the bad... Lines between them blur the more I ponder on the predicament that got us this far. If the reasons behind Bryn’s actions are right, then why this... this bitterness inside my gut that keeps burrowing through me like a throng of maggots, urging me to act? If our affection is genuine enough for me to trust that flaring determination in her eyes, then why do I feel necessary to proceed with this ludicrous task? If Eryk’s damnation is so wrong, why does a thought of him burning in the Underworld for eternity feel so satisfying? I keep looking at her motionless body, at the shell that used to hold the dearest thing I ever had, and I can’t deny this anger that makes my hand shiver even as I write these lines. Because she ventured beyond the door I cannot pass. Unless...

Unless I proceed with this. Unless I save her. If it means my own damnation, then so be it. I owe it to Bryn. I owe it to the child that she carries. They can keep on living without me. But I could never keep living without them. If you’re reading this, Bryn, I want you to know that I love you. And if you don’t, then at least we’re suffering eternal damnation together.

“It is time.” the V’dron said, her words the last ones he would hear in this plane of existence. Jared closed his diary swiftly, tossed the pen aside and climbed onto the altar next to Bryn. He didn’t feel last minute jitters because there were so many and they made him sweat profusely. His thoughts came in such a rapid succession, they numbed his mind, turned into an incomprehensible mush. He was never afraid of death, but nobody was until the grim reaper got so close, you could feel his cold breath on the back of your neck. But he took her lifeless hand and detached himself from the doubts, the panic, the mind that told him to reconsider, to ponder some more on the matter.

But the time of pondering was over. And time to prove he was worth a damn was now. And as the poison entered his veins, he clung to the mental image of her smile, hoping it would guide him through the netherworld and into her arms. And to whatever damnation they had in store for him.

[The Valkyrie]

Eryk only looked at Bryn, didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge that she'd asked him a question. He strangely didn't even seem to notice the girl who had been guiding the Valkyrie to this point. He only stared at Bryn, his hand still slightly uplifted as though her face pulled at his hand beyond his ability to resist.

"Eryk, please answer, I need to know the truth," she urged him, taking his hand and pushing it down to his side. The warrior stepped away from her and frowned.

"The truth always changes everything," was his answer after a long moment of silence, "Besides, do you really WANT to know the answer to this?"

Bryn looked away, emerald eyes searching the barren stone floor as though for some clue as to what her heart needed to know. After all, what would she do once she knew the truth? What would happen if Eryk didn't love her and never had? Would she simply leave him here as punishment for his lies? Or would she cling to her honor and do her best to take him with her from the Underworld. It didn't matter, she finally decided, looking up at him, her brow creasing in thought.

"It does change everything, but... and I may not want to know the answer, but I believe I need to know. Eryk, tell me the truth, I demand it."

The warrior pulled her to him once more, violently pressing his lips against hers, his hands cool against her skin. She struggled against him, trying to push him away, but he only kissed her harder, holding her arms to her sides. It was as though he wanted to devour her.

"Jared has come," the girl said, standing nearby and staring into the darkness of the corridor they'd only emerged from moments before.

"You wanted to know the answer," Eryk said, as he finally released the Valkyrie, leaving her gasping for air. "Well, remember, the truth hurts sometimes. I'll tell it to you now, and only be happy with the fact that no matter what you decide, you won't be leaving here without me. If you even leave at all."

"Stop stalling," Bryn said angrily, part of her not even caring if he said he'd never loved her. "Just tell me the gods be damned answer and get it over with. It doesn't matter now, I just need to know the truth."

"No."

"No what? No Loki was lying? No you never loved me? What is no?" she raved at him, her rage overcoming her. She was beginning to hear whispering, seething, and she didn't know what it was. She wanted to make her time here short, she wanted to find a way out and go back to Jared, to her life with him. Her fists clenched at her sides, and it was all she could do not to throw herself at him, drawing her sword and holding it to his throat to force the answer from him.

"No. I never did love you. I coveted you, I desired you, I wanted you more than anything I ever wanted while I was alive. And I realized that you had the power to spare me from death, the power to turn me into a legend, a hero. But I never loved you. I needed you, and I didn't ever intend for this to happen. But once I was here, I had to keep up the charade, or I'd be here forever," Eryk paused and a look of regret came over his face. "I never ever meant to hurt you though, that was never my intent."

And somehow, for some reason, it didn't hurt. Bryn stood there shocked, blinking in disbelief. But it didn't hurt. She found that she could let the words slide from her like the cool water of the Oasis in Fallien.

"Of course it wasn't. And of course I believe that," she said sarcastically, turning away from him and seeing Jared emerging from the shadows.

Her heart blossomed, and she realized that she had never been more relieved in her life. Shaking her head at Eryk, she smiled and ran to Jared, taking his hand in hers.

"But it doesn't matter if you did or not, because although you may have hurt me once, this doesn't hurt now," she paused and turned to Jared, then frowned, "You shouldn't have come here... what have you done?"