by J. M. Barlog
“An exaggeration,” Kratos corrected.
“I am good with languages. Even ones I have never heard before. But when he talked, I could not understand it!” Atreus said.
“Sadly, few can. He speaks a dead tongue.”
“Oh. Must be lonely,” Atreus added.
The witch walked ahead, entering a rocky cave. “Watch your step. Just along here. Let me show you something.”
Unslinging a bow with a glowing bowstring, she nocked an arrow and took aim at a large crystal embedded in the rock wall above the chasm.
“Are you watching?”
Once certain that she held their attention, she released the glowing arrow into the crystal, which caused it to erupt into a spray of golden radiance, illuminating a bridge of light spanning the gap. Smiling, she slung her bow over her shoulder while walking across the bridge.
“It’s solid! How can that be?” Atreus muttered in amazement. He dashed across to catch up to the witch.
“Elven architecture. My bowstring was soaked in the Light of Alfheim. It can now reawaken the magic of the elves.”
“Wait. It won’t just disappear, will it?”
“Not as long as the light shines free. This way.”
“When you moved those roots back there. What kind of magic was that?” Atreus asked.
“Vanir,” she replied, fully expecting the boy to fail to understand.
“From Vanaheim?” Atreus asked.
“You know of it?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Just stories. Mother rarely spoke of the Vanir gods, just that they are always at war with the Aesir. I guess that compared to Odin and Thor, they are the good gods.”
“There are no good gods, boy. Thought I taught you that,” Kratos said.
“Yes, well, the magic seemed effective against those creatures anyway,” the witch responded.
A short distance ahead, Hel-walkers made their way toward them. Kratos moved to the lead to take on the first to charge.
“I’ll protect you!” Atreus said to the witch.
“How sweet,” she replied, with an edge of condescension.
Kratos quickly mangled each of the Hel-walkers that came within range, preventing any of them from reaching his son or the witch. Atreus fired off his arrows to take out one of them before it could reach his father.
“Are you okay?” he asked of the witch, once all the Hel-walkers had burned up.
“I am now, my protector. You are very brave. The risen dead grow ever more numerous. I fear for the future of this realm. Once, the roads and trails would have been crowded with people. Now, all hide or flee, save for the reavers savage enough to survive such a world.”
“What are those creatures?” Atreus asked. “We heard them called Hel-walkers…?”
“Restless souls denied their judgment and their peace. A plague, caused by a world out of balance. Someone or something has meddled with powerful forces.”
Exiting through doors at the other end of the passage, they advanced onto another bridge, which led them to an array structure with nine separate pathways snaking out in different directions beneath an enormous glowing dome, all of which sat at the bottom of the center of the lake. Inside, the dome housed an ornate temple, almost empty, except for a lone henge in the middle.
“Týr’s temple. Built with help from the giants, and great Týr used it to travel the nine realms in his efforts to keep the peace between them,” she said.
“Those towers around the water—there is one missing,” Atreus said.
“You are sharp-eyed, young one. The Jötunheim tower leading to the realm of the giants has been missing for one hundred and seventy winters. Nobody knows where it went or why.”
She paused at the top of a staircase to wait on them, her look unreadable. What was she leading them into?
“Turn right at the bottom,” she instructed, indicating they were to continue without her. Kratos refused to move, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the knife at his belt.
“Please, take those stairs down and turn right. I will wait here,” she insisted.
They descended the staircase, Kratos uneasy about what they might find at the next level. They discovered as they turned the corner that their path would take them to a broken bridge. Atreus peered at the cold lake surface below, while the witch monitored them from above.
“I think the bridge has collapsed!” Atreus called back.
“Wait there while I reawaken the light.”
The witch unslung her magic bow. Taking careful aim at a large crystal below the gap, she launched her glowing arrow into it. Another glimmering bridge of light suddenly formed across the gap.
Atreus stared in amazement at the shimmering light.
Moments later, when Atreus advanced with a youthful leap of faith to take that first step onto the light, Kratos grunted, snaring his arm to jerk him back.
Was it safe?
“I trust her,” Atreus said, shaking his arm free, advancing undaunted to demonstrate the bridge’s worthiness despite his father’s concern. The light bridge felt as solid as if it were a rock bridge. His father still showed no faith in the witch. Reaching the other side, Atreus and Kratos stopped before an enormous wheel on a giant track, at the base of the great array of pathways.
“What are we doing exactly?” Atreus called back.
“Mending the disrepair. Start by lifting that axle,” she called down.
Kratos complied.
“Good. Now push it back into place. Realign the wheel onto the track.”
As Kratos pushed the wheel, the entire bridge moved from a pivot point under the array, spinning in all directions around the temple in the center.
“Excellent. Now push the bridge along the track.”
“What? The whole bridge is turning! How is the whole bridge turning?” Atreus asked. “You are really strong,” he added, when it seemed it would be impossible for any human to move such a massive structure without the aid of many huge beasts. His father’s strength far exceeded that of the people they had encountered on their journey thus far. What made him so different? Atreus wondered. Appraising the disparity between their bodies, Atreus never expected to become as strong as his father. How could he, with such skinny arms?
“You must push the bridge all the way to the end for the mechanism to reset,” she explained.
As the witch had instructed, when the bridge reached the end of the track, the mechanism reset with a loud clank.
“Perfect! Come back up! We are ready now!”
The witch waited at the entrance of Týr’s temple.
“Through these doors,” she said, with a sweeping arm gesture.
“Wait. So did the giants or the elves build Týr’s temple?” Atreus asked.
“All races helped with its construction. It was the last great act of cooperation between the realms before peace vanished for good.”
The witch approached another broken path. There she fired another radiant arrow into another light bridge. The glowing bowstring flickered and died.
“Your bowstring has stopped glowing,” said Atreus.
“Its power is now depleted. Only a few nocks of magic remained in the bowstring and, sadly, we have used them.”
Pinching the hemp bowstring caused it to unstring itself magically from her bow. “Your bow, please,” she asked with a hand outstretched.
Atreus watched in wonder as she took his bow, and with a grand wave of her hand, his own bowstring unstrung itself. Then, when she held up her bowstring to the boy’s bow, it magically strung itself onto his bow.
“Listen to me well,” she started, her face deadly serious. “Once you claim the Light of Alfheim, you must infuse the bowstring with its power. Do not forget!”
She returned the bow to Atreus, laying it reverently across his open hands, and despite his desire to avoid it, he felt compelled to examine the new string. What power would he have now? He could only wonder how the bow might help them in the future.
A
treus and Kratos advanced more than a dozen paces across the newly formed light bridge before they realized the witch was not accompanying them.
“You talk as if you are not coming with us?” the lad said.
“I will try, but measures were taken to keep me trapped in Midgard.”
“Why?” Kratos asked, his suspicion piqued. What powers did this witch possess that the gods would restrict her movements? What damage could she cause if left unchecked?
“The gods do not care much for me,” she said quickly.
After a few more paces, the witch scurried up to join them, in defiance of those who sought to punish her interminably. She would show them she could fight their magic with magic of her own.
Continuing their journey, they followed the witch into a dark, ornate domed chamber. Inside, a pedestal with an elaborate table hovered at the room’s center, floating above an inky hole that defied gravity.
“Is this it? It’s so dark,” Atreus said.
“This temple has been asleep, underwater for almost a hundred and fifty winters. It needs only the Bifröst light to reawaken it.”
As Kratos and Atreus approached the hole, tree roots erupted from the edge of the floor to create a bridge over the gap.
“Those roots do not look like your magic,” Atreus said.
“They are not. They are part of the great World Tree and make travel between the realms possible.”
The witch positioned herself beside the table, which contained an elaborate diorama of the caldera.
“Once you commit to this journey, it might be some time before you are back in Midgard again.”
Atreus leaned over in fascination. Kratos, however, maintained a safe distance from it. From where he stood he could observe all the witch had to show them, yet still maintain sufficient distance to allow him to defend them from any sudden attack.
“I can teach you how to travel between realms, but only if you are over there. Come.” The witch removed a portable metallic lamp, housing a faintly glowing crystal. “You will need this Bifröst to create travel between realms.”
“How does it work?” Kratos asked.
She handed it to Kratos, who examined it with guarded interest. Could this small thing actually transport them between realms? And what price did they pay for such a benefit? There was always a price to be paid, even by a god.
When Kratos nodded a willingness to continue, the witch responded by sweeping her arm across the table.
“That will capture, hold and transfer the Light of Alfheim.” She indicated the place they needed to go. “Place the Bifröst there.”
Kratos complied, setting the Bifröst into a power receptacle in the table. Immediately the entire room came to life, emitting a low-level humming sound.
“Every realm requires knowledge of its corresponding travel rune. Absent the proper rune, travel between realms is impossible. This rune is the one for Alfheim. Position the wheel to your destination.”
As Kratos turned the wheel, inside the diorama a bridge rotated around the small model of the temple array. The bridge inside the realm travel room itself also turned in conjunction with Kratos’ efforts.
“Is this moving the big bridge outside?” Atreus asked.
“Correct. Your father is lining up the bridge to the appropriate realm.”
Kratos aligned to the Alfheim selection.
“Good. Now, lock in your destination.”
Kratos did so.
“We are ready. Remember to take the Bifröst; you do not want to lose that,” she said, inducing Kratos to extract the Bifröst from the power receptacle.
“Now the realm travel bridge will align and the path between realms will open.”
The bridge inside the realm travel room automatically aligned itself to the Alfheim bridge door, and in so doing, a Bifröst bubble opened. They stared at a cosmic light shower that transcended all that existed in their realm. A kaleidoscope of colors and strange images suddenly surrounded them—bits of a reality that had fallen between the cracks, lost in this realm between realms.
“So, this is not Alfheim?” Atreus asked.
“No, we are still stepping between the two realms.”
“But we are not moving?” Atreus asked.
“All nine realms occupy the same physical space, only on different planes of existence. The Yggdrasil tree cuts between those planes; its roots exist in all nine realms at once…”
Atreus could not fathom how anything could exist in more than one realm at a time. If it were here with them, how could it be in a different realm at that same time? They would travel from one realm into another, and once they arrived at their destination realm, they would no longer exist in the realm they departed. Or would they?
The witch read Atreus’ confused expression.
“The magic of the realms is far beyond that which any man can understand. It is acceptable that you fail to understand what you are now experiencing. But you do not need to fear it.”
In the next moment the light barrage faded, but they remained standing in the same room.
“It didn’t work. We’re still here,” Atreus said.
Kratos summarily dismissed his son’s assertion. He knew better than to trust only what he saw.
“Follow me,” the witch said, with a proud smile and chin raised in defiance.
Kratos remained exactly where he stood. “The Bifröst is dark.” The crystal he held had turned dead black.
“Unfortunate. This trip was its last use. There is no going back now until it is replenished with the Light of Alfheim.”
“Witch, are you saying we are trapped in this realm?” Kratos snarled.
“Someone of your ability should have little trouble getting back to Midgard.”
“And then we can make the Black Breath go away?”
“With the captured Light of Alfheim, yes.”
Kratos didn’t feel the confidence that the witch clearly felt.
However, as if to rebuild his faith in her, the witch took the first step out of the Bifröst bubble into Alfheim beyond. Feeling safe, Atreus exited next without hesitation, putting his complete faith in her. Kratos hesitated still, exiting last, his hand ready on his axe. His hawk-like stare scanned the expanse, darting quickly in all directions to catalog everything around them.
“Where are we?” Atreus asked.
They exited the temple doors to see a long bridge stretching before them, disappearing at the horizon. The bridge stood in the exact same location as the one in the Midgard realm, but instead of spanning a lake, it now spanned a jagged chasm. Thick, gnarled and twisting trees blanketed the bridge, unlike any Kratos or Atreus had ever seen. Their towering presence proved intimidating.
“Welcome to Alfheim, gentlemen.”
“Witch, that sword you carry across your back, can you fight with it?” Kratos queried, uneasy about what he saw around them.
“A spell from an angry god prevents me from wielding my blade against any living creature.”
“If you cannot use it, then why do you carry it?” Atreus pressed.
The witch advanced in a determined stride, running her hand along an overhead branch that sprouted small white flowers at her touch. They became the only flowers to be seen in the landscape. The surrounding vegetation, as far as the eye could see, appeared wilted and drooping, or in various stages of decay or death. The tree branches, along with the stems of the plants beneath them, lacked the turgor normally present in all vegetation. Not a single verdant plant existed; all had deteriorated to a sickly brown color. She and Atreus marched into a spacious vista beneath a slate sky, that kept the realm in a twilight state. A cautious Kratos came last off the bridge.
“To remind me…” She paused midsentence, as if searching for the proper word. “Think you can… spot…” she choked. Her smile faded, and her tongue went still as she stared blankly into the distance.
“The light. I can barely see it. Something is wrong,” she said, her tone so alarming that it stru
ck fear into Atreus. A pasty look took over her face. She pointed to a shaft of light emitting a faint glow upward from the ground, penetrating the colorless sky.
“See that light column on the horizon? It is housed in the heart of a ringed temple. We will find what we need there,” she said to Kratos.
“Why did you say something is wrong?” Kratos said.
Then he noticed her hand disintegrating. A sudden cacophony of a thousand screeching creatures pierced the air. “No, no, no, no, no! Dammit, not yet—” the witch muttered to herself. Fear, anger, and desperation swarmed her face.
“What is happening?” Atreus demanded, too frightened to reach out to help her, although he wanted to assist her.
The witch’s body convulsed violently.
“No!” Atreus yelled. Fear kept him paralyzed.
Some unseen, powerful force seized her at the waist, dragging her back toward the temple.
“What is this?” Atreus said in a frantic voice.
Kratos had no idea how he might aid her. The forces that had control over her were far more powerful than any he had experienced before. If he took hold of her, would he be dragged along with her? He remained frozen in place. Yet he couldn’t allow her to be spirited away.
“Father, do something!”
“The elves. Beware as you travel their realm… They can hel—”
Atreus had to take a chance. He had to help her in some way. He shot a hand out to grab hers, but her hand disintegrated before he could latch on to it. Losing his balance, Atreus toppled backward, slamming to the ground.
Kratos lunged over his son to reach the witch’s arm. Immediately her skin dissolved into a thousand tiny cracks beneath his touch. But instead of the skin flaking off, the bits of her were mystically pulled back toward the temple.
“To restore the Bifröst’s magic, you must step into the light. But be very careful not to get caught up in—”
“No!” Atreus screamed, his sight blurred by tears.
She vanished as every part of her disintegrated. Only a ghostly afterimage of her silhouette remained in her place, fading slowly into nothingness.
“Come back!” Atreus cried out, his voice fading.
