Midgard Continent...Olympian Kingdom...Capital City, Chronos...Ymir Calender Year 5516...Day 45…

Beneath the industrial continent of steel and steam, beneath Midgard, lay an ocean emerald green.

Ever shrouded in a dim darkness, trapped under the shade of the land that served at its ceiling, lay a crystal sea.

The Goddess stood in the vortex at its heart, the duchess, Feng.

Her body was clad in an emerald green army uniform, the last lingering bit of evidence that she had once been a Major in the armies of Midas, one with a far from humble career.

The world washed over her, then she roused from her daydream.

Her eyes opened.

Herlinde’s stirring had not failed to escape her notice.

Her husband too must also have perceived it, likely before she did given he was closer to its source.

She didn’t know how badly their plans might be shaken by this development, but they could not be changed at this stage.

She had no choice then, she had to go to Muspelheim, where her daughter waited, imprisoned under Vesta, and after centuries of effort they might finally set her free.

She did not debate on it, only bid to call on the Einherjar who slumbered in her crystal sea.

They numbered tens of thousands, and that number was the threshold.

Without reaching that quantity she could never have stood among the ranks of a Greater Vanir.

By this same logic those of her kind who stood only at the Middling rank had but thousands of servants while those of the Lesser rank had only hundreds.

Near enough none had ever less than this however, for their first servants were offered to them by the slumbering Hertyr.

Now that she was being reborn into an Aesir, the Goddess above them all had had no need of the Einherjar’s lot, it only made sense in her mind that she should release those who had failed to ascend unto the custody of their more successful brethren.

Feng called out to them, to her kin, and bid them to rise from the depths throughout the land.

The emerald sea stirred with many coloured lights, stars burst to the skies above, streams pierced the emerald ocean and bid to rise up through wells above unbarred.

Midgard would heed her will, as it did always.

The Emperor would heed her will, as he had always.

 

O

 

Bright lights bore down upon the cities of Midgard and its Olympian Kingdom.

Within the heart of each such monument to the works of man stood clock towers numbering four in a circular formation.

There was a colosseum-like structure whose walls met each of these, thus creating an inverted dome whose gaping maw beckoned above each a blazing ball of fire.

Chains rang like bells; they restrained these stars who hovered above them, those burning orbs, each of a different color.

Men, women and children from all walks of life gathered at the courtyards in their respective cities to heed the call of their deity.

The winds gathered, clustered above the clock towers, then they descended from on high.

The winds gently formed at the base of every clocktower, all four corners greeted Feng’s chosen messengers.

Gentle was their aura, yet imposing even so, each one was a being you’d dare not oppose.

Those men, those women, all emerged at their Goddess’ request, Feng’s Einherjar, all once mortal men and women, long dead legends of this land and her nation.

They faced the people who worshiped them as agents of god and heroes both.

Their loud, booming voices came to resound, the words were clear for all to hear.

Emerald crystals rained from the sky, Feng’s Beacons, the means to stand among their kind and by her side.

Each Kindred dropped but a handful, yet that was enough to enliven the soldiers set on the march to Muspelheim, to Vesta and to war.

On high then stood the land’s monarch, the Emerald clad Emperor of Olympus who watched it all in silence. The two figures of his mentor and concubine stood with severe gazes by his side.

“So it’s really happening then?” Said the crimson clad Concubine, Belladonna of The Duchy of Aphrodite, “This war, I mean.”

“It would appear so,” Said the Emerald Emperor, Alfrick of the Imperial Chronos, whose gaze did fall upon an emerald glow.

The two maidens turned to notice as he raised his hand with a curious grunt.

Therein lay a Beacon, a glowing green gemstone, proof that Feng was calling him home.

The man almost let a chuckle free from his lips, but he stifled it even so.

That Goddess took him in, it was true, but she also made him swear off his vengeance on those who purged his home long ago.

He turned his eye to his mentor, the Violet Princess, the oldest living Immortal, Priscilla of The House of Gaia.

Once, she was known as Priscilla of the Twenty Sixth School, Omega, in service to Alfod, who was First Among the Greater Vanir.

Her experiments had since condemned her to a cursed eternity.

He would never forget how Abel burned his home to the ground in their search for her.

She found him in her forest that day, right on her doorstep, in truth, and though he had at first condemned, blamed and hated her, it was this meeting that had changed his life forever.

He wrecked her house and garden, but all she did was solemnly pick up the pieces.

Her cursed throat never protested, her lonesome heart never placed blame.

The Emperor could not keep from lamenting his youth whenever he thought of it, and he couldn’t draw his guilty gaze from her visage.

That’s why he saw it before she did; the fact that Priscilla’s broach began to alight with a violet glow.

The ancient but youthful witch’s usually unflinching expression broke, if only just briefly, for even she had forgotten that she had ever possessed her long departed Lord’s, The Violet God, Alfod’s, Beacon.

He must have given it to her so long ago, yet its light shone now, after eoms of silence, to finally welcome her home.

The sinful girl creased her brows.

Why would this happen now?

More to the point, would she dare to use it?

She faced a dire conundrum, one which stopped her cold for a time.

There were many reasons for her to feel at a loss.

Dare she go back? Rejoin her friends, her family, her God…and her victims too?

Her gaze drifted to her Lord, husband and self styled apprentice, her final plight was this; that her Beacon was different from his, and therefore so was the place she would go.

The two were so absorbed in their thoughts that they failed to notice how the other maiden in the chamber, Belladonna, was watching them quite closely.

She saw how they were hesitant through the corner of her eye, two people full of thoughts and feelings that had been centuries refined.

The beautiful maiden scowled, then lifted her own crimson red Beacon free from her robes.

This gemstone, sure enough, was glowing like the others.

Once upon a time it had been gifted to her by her god, by The Destroyer, The Father of Dragons, Grimnir.

She stared into it with melancholy, but soon enough her gaze grew firm.

However brief her sentiment lasted, it was still real, and so to toss the Beacon from her grip without any hesitation did take some strength of will.

The sight of that shook both of her companions awake, but her expression alone did not shake.

“Why did you do that?” Alfrick asked her, and she shook her head in silence for a moment’s time.

After that, she bid not to look the pair in the eye.

“Didn’t I say it a long time ago?” She asked him, “Give me a bed, food and clothes, and you can take everything that I am. That hasn’t changed.”

“I never held you to that,” Said the Emperor, “Bell, aren’t they your family? Don’t you want to go back to them?”

The woman stopped her steps, she was halfway back inside the room when she paused at his words.

Finally, she smiled, it was like an epiphany to her, though one she couldn’t think any simpler.

“Who knows then? Maybe, after countless years, even centuries, I might have just grown accustomed to the company that I keep? Would that be so wrong?”

The man stood in silence then as he watched her return to the chamber and the bed she deemed it her duty to warm.

Only in that moment did he realize that she wasn’t just the most beautiful of his “brides”, but rather, in spite of her lazy or perhaps just flippant personality, she might well be one of the wisest.

Despite it all The Crimson Concubine collapsed upon the sheets in an usually slovenly manner.

She had let neither of them see her eyes.

That damned word, ‘Family’ kept haunting her mind, but the only memories she had of that lot was of her craven father.

That was the man who sent her away to wed a “savage” that he had been too afraid to fight off on his own way back when.

Knowing Grimnir, such a coward was probably purged long ago.

Their God was cruel, but fair in his own way.

Nowadays she and her children, the Duke House born to her womb, were probably the last of the proper Nidhogg Royal Bloodline.

She had heard of a descendant named Gudrun who had wandered back to the old Empire in recent years, but so what?

Simply put, that place was no longer their home.

Her real family had joined the ranks of Feng’s Einherjar in death, not Grimnir’s, and that was where she belonged.

Her mind was set then, and she had no doubts or regrets to speak of.

She was decisive, or perhaps just too jaded to think on it further.

Just as she had planned however, The Violet Princess took in Bell’s words and actions.

The muted maiden’s mind cleared up quickly as she turned and looked towards the Emperor who had been her companion, her salvation and her most beloved disciple.

The purple Beacon’s light dimmed to naught. 

She may miss her family, she may feel regret towards her victims, she might even want to atone, but she too had grown fond of the company she kept.

Yes, her Alfrick, even his other five “brides”, as they were nominally known, were people she was quite fond of, though just as often in a love and hate kind of way.

With conviction then she tossed the gemstone over the side to shatter in the streets below.

Her old family would surely understand; she had a new family now.

Her victims had gotten their justice, they were unlikely to hold a grudge against her if they followed Alfod’s teachings, but what did it matter to her?

Now they would never meet again.

Alfrick stood in silence by the side of her.

He welcomed her bright smile with a light hearted chuckle.

He was of the same mind, Immortality wasn’t so bad really, as long as you can spend it with the people you’re most fond of.

He tucked his own Beacon away into his shirt.

Then came the dust, an emerald starlight snowed upon the bed and balcony.

Belladonna raised her head as she felt something form in her palm.

She sat up to see it, and then looked over her shoulder to find Priscilla holding another.

Just like that then two new Beacons had been born to replace the shattered pair, each one glowing Feng’s colors; it was almost as if that had been The Goddess’ plan all along.

Behind the scenes, had the Gods made a pact?

Perhaps they had devised a test?

Whatever their mind, it didn’t matter.

The girls didn’t care at all for the reason why their dearest wish came true.