Chapter 3 The Mirror of the Dead

The archives of the Divine Records were housed in a crystalline tower that spiraled endlessly into the clouds. Few Valkyries ever ventured here—our purpose was to guide souls, not question their destinies. Yet here I stood, my heart still racing from my encounter with Caelan, determined to uncover the truth.

I had changed back into my ceremonial armor, my wings meticulously groomed to hide any evidence of my journey to Hemul. Appearances were everything in the realm of the gods.

"Freya Valkyrheart," a melodious voice greeted me. "Twice in two days. The records must hold great interest for your current assignment."

Ella, the Keeper of Records, materialized beside a floating orb of light. Her form was more suggestion than substance—a shimmer of silver and blue that approximated a feminine shape. Only her eyes remained constant, ancient and knowing.

"Indeed," I replied, bowing slightly. "The execution order requires thorough understanding of the subject."

"Ah, yes. The fallen spirit." Ella's form rippled with what might have been disapproval. "A complicated case."

I kept my expression neutral. "All the more reason to review his complete history. Both mortal and divine."

Ella studied me for a long moment. I had always respected her, even feared her a little. As Keeper of Records, she knew every soul's journey—including mine.

"Very well," she finally said. "The Hall of Reflections should serve your purpose. Follow."

She glided ahead, leading me deeper into the archives than I had ever ventured before. We passed countless shelves holding scrolls that hummed with contained knowledge, crystal orbs that showed glimpses of other realms, and tomes bound in materials I couldn't identify.

Finally, we reached a circular chamber whose walls were entirely mirrored. The floor bore intricate runes in a spiraling pattern that centered beneath a suspended crystal prism.

"The Mirror of the Dead," Ella announced. "It reveals not just actions, but intentions. Be warned, Freya—the truth is rarely kind."

"I seek only justice," I said, the words feeling hollow even as I spoke them.

"Do you?" Her voice held no accusation, only curiosity. "Speak the name you seek, and I shall leave you to your... justice."

"Caelan Drayce," I said firmly.

The mirrors around us rippled like disturbed water. Ella nodded once and dissolved into mist, leaving me alone as images began to form on every reflective surface.

I saw Caelan's mortal life unfold—his childhood in a coastal village, his rise as a warrior, his loyalty to his younger brother. I saw his death exactly as I remembered it, the spear meant for his brother finding his heart instead. I saw myself arrive, visible only to his spirit, explaining his passage to Valhalla.

The mirrors shifted, showing his arrival in the Hall of Heroes. I watched him feast and fight, laughing among fallen warriors as all worthy souls did. But then the images showed something I had never witnessed—Caelan alone, staring at a feather. My feather. His expression one of longing and loss.

"He remembered me," I whispered, touching the mirror's surface.

The scene changed. Caelan was approached by another Valkyrie—Kara, known for her strictness. Words were exchanged, Caelan looking increasingly agitated. I couldn't hear their conversation, but his body language spoke of disagreement, perhaps even defiance.

More images flickered past—Caelan speaking with other fallen warriors, showing them something I couldn't quite see. Secret meetings. Hushed conversations that ceased when other Valkyries approached.

Then came the scene that stopped my breath. Caelan stood before the All-Father's emissary, accused of spreading dissent among the chosen warriors. His defense was passionate, his gestures emphatic as he pointed to various Valkyries, including Kara.

The next image showed combat—not the ritualized battle practice of Valhalla, but desperate fighting. Caelan, surrounded by Odin's elite einherjar guards, defending himself with remarkable skill but clearly outnumbered. A flash of light—and then Caelan lay motionless, a spear through his chest. Again.

My hand flew to my mouth. "No..."

The final scenes were clinical, detached—his body removed, his name struck from the records of Valhalla, his spirit banished to Hemul with memories altered. All on the order of Kara, sealed with the authority of the All-Father himself.

The mirrors faded back to normal reflections, showing only my stricken face multiplied infinitely around me.

"Lies," I breathed, sinking to my knees. "We sent him to eternal punishment for questioning authority?"

"Not quite accurate," Ella's voice startled me as she reformed in the center of the room. "But closer to truth than the official record."

I looked up at her, anger building where shock had been. "You knew?"

"I know all records, Freya. Both those publicly acknowledged and those... redacted."

"Why?" I demanded, rising to my feet. "Why was he condemned? What threat could one soul possibly pose to the divine order?"

Ella's form shifted uncomfortably. "He discovered inconsistencies in the selection process. Questioned why certain warriors were chosen for Valhalla while others, equally worthy, were not. He began investigating Kara's methods particularly."

"And for that, he deserved final death?"

"For that, he was to be reassigned," Ella corrected. "The death was... unintended. An overzealous einherjar. The banishment to Hemul was Kara's solution to hide the mistake."

My mind reeled. Not just injustice, but a cover-up. Caelan had been right to question, and had been silenced for it.

"Who authorized this?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

"The order bears the All-Father's seal," Ella said carefully. "But whether his eye ever saw the true details..." She left the thought unfinished.

I understood the implication. In the complex hierarchy of divine politics, many actions were taken in Odin's name by those with authority to use his seal. Kara, as head of the Valkyrie Order, possessed such authority.

"And my current orders? This execution decree?"

Ella's form dimmed slightly. "Someone must have realized he's beginning to remember. His influence in Hemul grows. If he regains his full memory and knowledge of how he was wronged..."

"He could challenge the divine order itself," I finished. "Or at least expose corruption within it."

Silence fell between us. I had served the gods faithfully for centuries, believing in the righteousness of our purpose. Now that faith lay shattered at my feet like the fragments of a broken mirror.

"What will you do?" Ella finally asked.

I straightened, decision crystallizing within me. "What I must. What is right."

"Those are not always the same thing, Freya."

"They should be," I countered. "Especially for those who claim to embody divine justice."

I turned to leave, then paused. "One more question. The Eye of Wisdom—is it truly Odin's actual eye, as the legends claim?"

Ella's form flickered with surprise. "It contains a fragment of his consciousness, yes. His perspective, his memory. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," I lied. "Thank you for your assistance, Keeper."

Outside the archives, twilight had fallen over the divine realm, stars appearing one by one in the endless sky. I made my way to the secluded gardens where Sigrid and I often met, my mind churning with revelations and half-formed plans.

She was already waiting, pacing anxiously among the luminescent flowers. When she saw me, relief washed over her face.

"By the Norns, Freya! I've been worried sick. Did you actually go to—" She lowered her voice, glancing around. "—to Hemul?"

I nodded, leading her deeper into the garden where ancient trees would shield our conversation from prying eyes or ears.

"I saw him, Sig. Spoke with him."

"And?" Her eyes searched mine. "Was he... is he still...?"

"He didn't recognize me," I said, the admission painful. "Not at first. But then, for just a moment, he remembered my old name. The one from before."

Sigrid's eyes widened. "That's impossible. The memory modifications—"

"Were incomplete, apparently." I quickly recounted what I had discovered in the archives, watching her expression shift from disbelief to horror.

"Freya," she whispered when I finished, "what you're suggesting—this is treason against the divine order itself."

"The divine order is built on lies," I said fiercely. "We guide worthy souls to paradise, only for them to be punished if they dare question authority? We're not serving justice, Sig. We're enforcing tyranny."

She gripped my arm. "Keep your voice down! Even these walls have ears." After a moment, she asked, "What do you intend to do? You can't defy the execution order directly."

I met her gaze steadily. "I'm going to clear his name. Restore his memories. And to do that, I need the Eye of Wisdom."

Sigrid recoiled as if struck. "Have you lost your mind? The Eye is the most heavily guarded relic in all the realms! Even if you could somehow steal it—which you can't—using it without permission is punishable by—"

"I know the punishment," I cut her off. "But what choice do I have? Every moment Caelan remains in Hemul is another injustice."

"This isn't just about justice," Sigrid said softly. "You still love him."

I couldn't deny it. "Yes. And I failed him once by not questioning why he disappeared from Valhalla. I won't fail him again."

Sigrid was silent for a long moment, her internal struggle visible on her face. Finally, she sighed. "The Blind Ritual is in three days. The Eye will be transferred from its vault to the Temple of Insight for the ceremony."

Hope flared within me. "You'll help me?"

"I'll help you stay alive," she corrected. "Which means talking you out of this madness. But if I can't..." She shook her head. "Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"When everything falls apart—and it will—run. Don't try to explain or justify. Just run."

I embraced her tightly, wings enfolding us both. "Thank you, Sig."

As we separated, her expression was grave. "Don't thank me yet. If we succeed, we're both traitors. If we fail, we're both dead."

Looking up at the stars—the same stars visible from Hemul, from the mortal realm, from every corner of existence—I felt a strange calm settle over me.

"We sent him to paradise on a foundation of lies," I said quietly. "It's time we tore that foundation down."