He had a dream, a memory, of a temple atop a mountain.

He lived there in solitude, ever overlooking the world down below.

The wind changed directions, a presence approached him, he sensed it appear at his back ten paces behind.

He turned to face her, his coat waved in the heavy breeze, a white coat both were known to wear.

“I figured I would find you here,” She, his twin, said to him.

The man faced her, the girl he had not seen for a cycle.

“We’re awake again,” She said with whimsy, “which means that woman is sleeping, doesn’t it?”

He stayed silent.

Every cycle was the same, forty days awake, sixty days in slumber, when that woman was awake neither of them could be, for they were her Seneschals and this was their duty.

That woman, or rather the Goddess, Authun, spread her power throughout this land like the roots of a tree in normal times to grant her Blessing upon the countless Guardians living across the Continent; now that power lay inert.

“This is our chance,” His 'sister' said, “Tell me, brother...what is your answer?”

The man shot her a troubled gaze, and shook his head.

There was no way he could agree.

She wanted to betray Authun, seal her away with aid from the heretics of Abel.

He refused, and so the girl’s gaze turned cold.

He knew it would, he knew she’d feel angry, but he did not truly expect just how great that rage would be.

Dulled by centuries of peaceful complicity, he was cut down unawares.

“I see,” She said with sword in hand, “Now I get it...the reason why I got to keep our sword...while you only got the sheath. You’ve lost your anger, your hatred is gone...dear brother.”

Her eyes turned solemn as she stood over him.

She raised her blade.

“No...that’s not right, it’s not that you lost it...you discarded it,” She cut him down well and true, his form scattered with the wind, “Because it’s from that hatred...that I was born...isn’t it!?”

___________________________________________________

The Einherjar had lost much of the lustre he had back then, nowadays his form was nothing more than the vague white silhouette of half solid and half mist that Rudolph had thrice encountered.

How many years had passed since that day?

How bored had he become with this miserable existence?

He lifted his body up from where it lay.

With every motion the Ash that constructed his form scattered all the more.

That power filled the chamber to the brim, but it could thankfully not escape these temple walls.

His fogged form slowly stabilised, it solidified as the scattered Ash returned to him.

He could sense that he was not alone, there was an echo of footsteps walking the halls.

This wasn’t his sister, however, for the steps were too heavy, too masculine.

He faced the adjacent wall where a statue stood.

That sculpture depicted the visage of a young woman, the goddess, Authun.

Her hair was long, her smile bright, but what drew his gaze was the sword sheathed away upon her hip.

When she was awake, that had been their form, the shape they assumed as they slumbered in turn.

The Einherjar closed his eyes as the footsteps echoed louder, the foreign presence was drawing closer.

He turned his head to face the hall.

He could not run, would not run, not from this place.

He made his stand.

Wisps of Ash took form within his palm to forge a pitch black rod.

He beheld the unwelcomed interloper, who cast a glance upon that rod in turn.

Rudolph realised that the “weapon” wasn’t a rod, but a slightly curved sheath instead, albeit one with no sword to home.

The Scholar readied his trident, both sides at last could see the look in each other’s eyes; they knew there would be no quarter given.

The mortal took a stance, the Einherjar did not.

He looked so lazy and indifferent, but Rudolph could tell that all the openings that he seemed to be leaving for him were just feints.

He wasn’t one himself, in truth, but he had known great warriors and so the Scholar knew that the greatest of them weren’t the ones who left no openings; they were the ones who let their enemy think an opening was a faint, and a faint was an opening.

“You gave me power when I was young,” Said Rudolph, “No matter your reasons, this has been a great boon to me throughout my life. I am thankful. Hence, I shall be the one to pass judgement upon you for your crimes.”

The Einherjar said nothing, he merely flicked the tip of his sheath across the ground in response to the Scholar’s challenge.

‘Could such a deadly weapon even be called a sheath anymore?’ Rudolph asked himself as the stone floor gave way like mud to that stroke.

The sheath flicked up the dust and crumbled the stone slabs into pebbles as it rose.

The debris fell to the floor, and that was the signal for their battle to begin.

_________________________________________________

The female Einherjar, the “twin” sister, sat among the cliffs beyond the crater’s edge.

She parked herself far from the temple’s walls as her gaze befell the forest that surrounded them.

“I understood that day, Brother,” She said as the black trees waved their branches in the wind.

Their trunks cracked like egg shells as something forced its way out from within.

Upon every tree a crack quickly spread and splinters of broken bole fell to the ground.

Human heads and torsos emerged coated with white membranes.

The first of them were simply deposited upon the ground, they crawled to their feet and tore up the membranes that coated them.

Pale white skin and sable black hair emerged before her eyes, each belonging to a female figure.

They opened their eyes and lifted themselves from the warm fertile ground one by one.

None of this really registered with the Einherjar though, for a being such as she could face even those frightful figures with an utter indifference.

Black clothing formed over their bare flesh and thick black mist smothered the landscape all around the temple.

From every tree one woman emerged, their tiny winged counterparts were born in turn from the falling leaves to flock like locusts all about the crater.

The later groups were aided by the ones who’d come before, the boles of the trees were ripped open and the membranes cocooning them were pulled apart to help the women wake up faster.

The trees continued to grow, expand, multiply and wither until the female figures consumed nearly a third of the space.

Around that time then the Einherjar became sick of looking at them.

She summoned her sword, a curved blade with no sheath, and stared upon its silver edge.

This weapon was a symbol, of her, who she was and what she is.

“You threw your hatred away...but that’s not an option for me, brother.”

Because she was born of it, the hatred he threw away.

His hatred had created her, this, at least out loud, she did not need to say.

That was the reason why she inherited this blade, their original form's tool of vengeance from back in a bygone day.

Finally she ceased her pondering and focused upon the sounds of conflict coming from the temple down below.

Only now did she notice that those humanoid figures amassing around that place carried a power she was not unfamiliar with.

“This thing has some connection to Rognir?” She said, and then she trained her gaze upon the centre of the temple.

Her vision penetrated its walls, and she perceived two figures clashing therewithin.

One was her other half, the second was the master of this black forest of hideous trees, swarming fairies and elven looking women.

She watched with rapt attention, but it didn’t matter who won in the end.

While these two busied themselves with fighting each other she would be waiting to swoop in and claim the prize.

Her sole worry then was what Rognir might be plotting? What little she could expect was that it would not be to her benefit.

After all she was Authun’s enemy while he was Authun’s father, it was only natural for him to be against her.

She was fearful of him, he who was a Vanir, a being as far beyond her as she was above mortal men, but with a scoff and a will of pride, she pushed that fear deep down inside.

Or rather, she tried to.

“It doesn’t matter what he’s up to,” She gave such a statement, but her brows couldn't hide their unease, “He cannot hurt me, cannot stop me, not without harming Authun. The only ones who could help her would be...”

Another Einherjar of Authun.

This she thought, but once more she did not say.

All of Authun’s Einherjar now were dormant save for two: Herself, and her counterpart.

Rognir and Feng had tried to rely on those fools in bygone times but in the end not a single one could best her.

None, not one...except him.

“It’s pretty fitting, is it not?” She said with a smile, “That you and I would be the only one’s left...right, brother?”