Chapter 4 The Theft of Sight
The Temple of Insight gleamed like a beacon against the twilight sky, its crystal spires reflecting the light of a thousand stars. Around me, Valkyries and lesser divinities gathered in their finest ceremonial attire, wings groomed to perfection, armor polished until it caught every glimmer of light. The Blind Ritual was among the most sacred ceremonies in the divine realm—a time when the All-Father's Eye was brought forth to renew its connection to his consciousness.
I adjusted my golden helm, ensuring my face remained partially shadowed. My heart pounded so loudly I feared others might hear it, but centuries of discipline kept my exterior calm, my movements measured.
"You look like you're marching to your execution," Sigrid whispered as she fell into step beside me. Her tone was light, but I could see the tension in her eyes.
"Perhaps I am," I murmured back. "Is everything prepared?"
She gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Eastern alcove, behind the statue of Mimir. But Freya—" she hesitated, "—it's not too late to reconsider."
I met her gaze steadily. "It was too late the moment I saw his name on that scroll."
The great doors of the temple swung open, releasing a wave of ethereal music. We processed inside with the others, taking our designated places in the vast circular chamber. At its center stood an altar of pure moonstone, and above it hovered the Blind Mirror Crystal—the vessel that contained the Eye of Wisdom when not in use.
Kara stood nearest to the altar, her senior position granting her the honor. I watched her from beneath my helm, rage simmering beneath my composed exterior. This was the architect of Caelan's fall, the one who had condemned him to Hemul to cover her own mistake. Her wings spread wide, immaculate white feathers almost blinding in their perfection.
The High Priest of Insight raised his staff, and silence fell over the assembly.
"We gather in the sacred twilight," he intoned, "when the veil between knowing and mystery thins. We come to honor the sacrifice of the All-Father, who gave his eye that we might see beyond the visible world."
As the ritual began in earnest, I caught Sigrid's eye across the chamber. Three heartbeats passed between us—our signal. With practiced subtlety, I began to drift backward from my position, using the movements of the ceremony to mask my retreat.
The High Priest was now invoking the guardians of the vault, who would soon arrive bearing the Eye itself. I had perhaps five minutes to position myself for what came next.
I slipped behind a column, then another, working my way toward the eastern alcove. The temple's design helped me—alcoves and shadows abundant, meant to represent the mysteries of divine knowledge. Finally, I reached the statue of Mimir, the ancient being who guarded the Well of Wisdom.
Behind it, concealed in a small hollow, lay a bundle wrapped in dark cloth. Inside was a replica of my ceremonial armor, but dyed midnight black—the attire of a Shadow Valkyrie, the mythical collectors of souls too complex for simple judgment. Few believed they truly existed, which made the disguise perfect.
I changed swiftly, tucking my golden armor into the hollow. As I secured the black helm over my face, I heard the procession of vault guardians enter the main chamber. The ritual was progressing.
"Odin's eye comes forth," the High Priest announced, his voice carrying throughout the temple. "Let all who seek wisdom prepare to receive its gaze."
That was my cue. From this point forward, the temple would be sealed—no one entering or leaving until the ritual concluded. Unless, of course, one wasn't technically present to begin with.
I activated the shadow-walking charm Sigrid had procured—a small rune stone that would render me virtually invisible for exactly seven minutes. Not truly invisible, but overlooked, the eyes of others sliding past without registering my presence.
Moving with practiced silence, I made my way to the inner sanctum where the Eye would be prepared before its presentation. Two guardian einherjar stood at attention outside, their expressions focused on the ceremony beyond. I slipped past them, the charm ensuring they detected nothing more than perhaps a slight chill in the air.
Inside the preparation chamber, a single priestess worked at a small altar, purifying the vessel that would soon receive the Eye. The relic itself sat nearby, pulsing with a soft blue light. It was smaller than I had imagined—a crystalline sphere no larger than a plum, swirling with mist and energy.
I waited in the shadows until the priestess completed her preparations and stepped outside to signal readiness to the High Priest. The moment she crossed the threshold, I moved.
The Eye seemed to watch me as I approached, the mist within it swirling more rapidly. I had expected to feel fear or doubt in this moment, but instead, a strange calm settled over me. This was right. This was necessary.
"For justice," I whispered as I removed a small silver container from my belt—an artifact Sigrid had "borrowed" from the reliquary, designed to temporarily hold divine essences.
As my fingers closed around the Eye, a jolt of energy surged through me—images flooding my mind in rapid succession. Battlefields. Throne rooms. Ancient forests. The Well of Urd. Faces of gods and mortals, some familiar, others strange. Knowledge beyond comprehension.
With trembling hands, I placed the Eye in the container and sealed it. The connection broke immediately, leaving me gasping. In its place, I left a replica—a convincing fake that would not be discovered until the next ritual, months from now.
My charm was fading; I could feel its power diminishing with each passing second. I slipped from the preparation chamber just as the priestess returned, retracing my steps through the temple. The ceremony was reaching its climax, all eyes fixed on the central altar where the High Priest now stood with arms raised.
I made it back to the statue of Mimir with moments to spare. As the shadow-walking charm failed completely, I quickly changed back into my golden armor, ensuring every piece was perfectly positioned. The black disguise and the container holding the Eye were secured in a dimensional pocket within my shield—a standard enchantment for carrying battle supplies, but useful for other purposes as well.
I rejoined the ceremony just as the "Eye" was being presented to the assembled divine beings. No one had noticed my absence—exactly as planned. Across the chamber, Sigrid's relief was visible only to me, in the slight relaxation of her shoulders.
The ritual concluded an hour later, the gathered immortals departing in solemn procession. I maintained my composure until I reached my private quarters, where I finally allowed myself to breathe.
The Eye of Wisdom pulsed gently in its container, like a living heart. I could feel its power even through the enchanted silver—knowledge beyond imagining, the perspective of the All-Father himself. With this, I could restore Caelan's memories, show him the truth of his unjust punishment.
A soft knock at my door startled me from my thoughts.
"It's me," Sigrid's voice came through quietly.
I let her in, quickly securing the door behind her. Her face was pale, her wings slightly ruffled—a sign of extreme stress among our kind.
"By all the Norns, I can't believe we did it," she whispered, staring at the container in my hands. "You actually have it."
"We did it," I corrected her. "I couldn't have managed without you."
"What now?" she asked, sinking onto a chair. "You can't keep it here. Once you use it, they'll sense the energy."
"I leave for Hemul tonight," I said, already gathering essential supplies. "I'll find Caelan and use the Eye to restore his memories. Once he remembers everything, the execution order becomes invalid—he was never legitimately condemned in the first place."
Sigrid looked skeptical. "You think the divine hierarchy will simply accept that? Admit their mistake?"
"They'll have to," I insisted, though doubt gnawed at me. "The Eye contains Odin's own perspective. Its revelations cannot be denied."
"Unless they decide to deny you both," she countered. "This isn't just about correcting an injustice anymore, Freya. You've stolen one of the most powerful divine artifacts in existence. That alone is enough to condemn you to something worse than Hemul."
I paused in my preparations. "I know the risk. But I've served faithfully for centuries, believing in our purpose. If that purpose is corrupted, what am I serving?"
Sigrid embraced me suddenly, her wings wrapping around us both. "Be careful," she whispered. "Return if you can. Run if you must."
I held her tightly, knowing this might be our final farewell. "Watch for signs of discovery. If they realize what's happened before I'm finished—"
"I'll warn you," she promised. "Now go, before someone comes looking for you."
The journey to Hemul was faster this time, my purpose clear, my path direct. I landed near the settlement I had observed before, but made no attempt to hide my presence. I wanted Caelan to find me.
I didn't have to wait long. As twilight deepened into Hemul's version of night, I sensed movement in the forest around me. Then, a familiar voice:
"You returned." Caelan stepped from the shadows, sword at his side but not drawn. "Bold move, Valkyrie."
"My name is Freya," I said, removing my helm so he could see my face clearly. "And I've brought something for you."
His expression remained guarded, but curiosity flickered in his eyes. "What could a divine messenger possibly offer a fallen spirit?"
"Truth," I said simply, producing the container holding the Eye. "Your memories. What was taken from you when you were unjustly banished."
He stared at the pulsing container, wariness and longing battling across his features. "What's your price?"
"No price," I said softly. "Only justice."
Slowly, I opened the container. The Eye rose into the air between us, its blue light illuminating Caelan's face. Tendrils of misty energy reached toward him, drawn to the empty spaces in his memory.
"This may be... painful," I warned.
He met my gaze, and for a moment, I glimpsed something of the man I had loved. "Pain and I are old friends."
The Eye flared brilliantly, its energy enveloping Caelan in a cocoon of light. He gasped, falling to his knees, hands clutching his head. I wanted to go to him, to offer comfort, but I knew the process could not be interrupted.
For what seemed like an eternity, he remained frozen in that position, occasional tremors running through his body. The Eye pulsed rhythmically, feeding fragments of divine consciousness into his damaged spirit.
Finally, the light receded. The Eye returned to its container, noticeably dimmer than before. Caelan remained kneeling, face hidden in his hands.
"Caelan?" I ventured, taking a hesitant step forward.
Slowly, he raised his head. Tears streamed down his face, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, bright with recognition and pain and a hundred other emotions.
"Sylvi," he whispered, using my old name again. Then, "Freya. My Valkyrie."
He remembered. All of it.
He rose unsteadily, moving toward me as if in a dream. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, to touch my cheek with a gentleness that broke my heart.
"You came for me," he said, wonder in his voice. "After all this time."
"I didn't know," I confessed, my own tears falling freely now. "They hid the truth from me. If I had known—"
"Shh," he soothed, drawing me into his arms. "You're here now. You came too late, but you came."
For a moment, we simply held each other, the weight of a century's separation crashing down around us. When he finally spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.
"I still love you," he said, the words both a confession and a vow. "Through death and betrayal and the emptiness of this place, I have loved you."
The kiss that followed was like coming home after an endless journey—familiar yet new, tender yet desperate. His arms tightened around me, and I felt my wings instinctively curl forward, enclosing us in a private sanctuary of silver feathers.
When we parted, his eyes were damp but clear, filled with newfound purpose. "They will come for us both now," he said, not a question but a certainty.
"Yes," I admitted. "But we'll be ready."
As we stood together in the twilight forest of Hemul, divine artifact in my possession and rebellion in our hearts, I knew our path forward would be dangerous. But for the first time in a century, it was a path we would walk together.
