Chapter 5 Feathers Turn to Stone

Dawn in Hemul was not the golden burst of light known in other realms, but rather a gradual lessening of shadows, as if darkness reluctantly relinquished its hold. Caelan and I sat side by side on a fallen obsidian tree at the edge of his settlement, our shoulders touching as we watched this subtle transformation of the landscape.

"I remember everything now," he said quietly, his fingers intertwined with mine. "Valhalla. The questions I began asking. The warriors who joined me."

"You discovered inconsistencies in the selection process," I prompted.

He nodded. "Warriors who died dishonorably somehow finding their way to the hallowed halls. Others, worthy beyond question, sent elsewhere. When I confronted Kara about it..." His jaw tightened. "She said some decisions transcended merit—that there were 'strategic considerations' in populating Odin's army."

"Strategic considerations," I repeated bitterly. "A pretty phrase for corruption."

"I began keeping records. Names, dates, circumstances of death. I found patterns—certain bloodlines favored, regardless of honor. Others systematically excluded." His eyes met mine, burning with renewed purpose. "I was building a case to present to the All-Father himself when they came for me."

A sharp pain suddenly lanced through my back, between my wings. I gasped, doubling over.

"Freya?" Caelan's voice filled with alarm. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer immediately, the sensation too intense. When it finally subsided, I straightened slowly. "I'm not sure. It felt like—"

The pain returned, more localized this time. I reached behind me, fingers finding the base of my left wing. Something wasn't right. Where there should have been smooth feathers, I felt something hard, cold.

Caelan moved behind me, his sharp intake of breath confirming my fears.

"Your feathers," he whispered. "One of them—it's turning to stone."

I twisted, trying to see. At the very edge of my vision, I could make out a single feather at the base of my wing that had transformed from luminous silver to gray stone, its delicate vanes now rigid and lifeless.

"The price begins," I murmured, a chill settling in my stomach.

"Price? What price?" Caelan moved to face me, taking my hands in his.

"For defying divine law. For stealing the Eye." I met his gaze steadily. "Every Valkyrie knows the punishment for treason—our wings turn to stone, feather by feather, until we can no longer fly."

His face darkened with anger and guilt. "Because of me. Because you came for me."

"Because I chose justice over blind obedience," I corrected him. "This was my decision, Caelan."

Before he could respond, a commotion rose from the settlement. A fallen spirit—a woman with flame-red hair I recognized as one of Caelan's lieutenants—ran toward us.

"Scouts report movement at the northern border," she announced, eyeing me warily. "Divine entities. At least a dozen."

Caelan straightened immediately, warrior's instincts taking over. "Gather the defense council, Lyra. And prepare the evacuation routes we discussed."

As Lyra hurried away, I stood as well, wincing as another feather hardened to stone. "They've discovered the theft sooner than I expected. Sigrid must not have been able to warn us."

"How much time do we have?"

"Not much. They'll seal Hemul's borders first, to prevent escape. Then they'll send hunter squadrons—elite Valkyries trained to retrieve fugitives."

His hand found the hilt of his sword, a grim smile touching his lips. "Then we'd better not be here when they arrive."

We returned to the settlement, which had erupted into organized chaos. Fallen spirits moved with purpose, gathering weapons and supplies, securing structures. I felt their suspicious glances, their whispered comments. To them, I was still the enemy—a Valkyrie who had suddenly appeared with their leader.

Inside Caelan's cabin, he quickly gathered essential items into a worn leather pack. "There's a network of caves beneath the eastern ridge," he explained. "The hunters won't know about them—they were discovered after my banishment."

Another spike of pain shot through me, stronger this time. I stumbled, catching myself against the wall. When I looked back, Caelan's face had gone pale.

"Three more," he said quietly, reaching out to touch my wing with gentle fingers. "They're spreading from the base upward."

I took a shuddering breath. "It's happening faster than I thought. The theft of the Eye must have accelerated the process."

He knelt before me, taking my hands in his. "Then we change our plans. You return the Eye, claim you were deceived or bewitched. Perhaps they'll show mercy—"

"No," I cut him off firmly. "The moment I return, they'll erase what we've done. Your memories, restored by the Eye, would be taken again. And this time, they'd ensure no trace of your true self remained."

"I can't watch you suffer for my sake," he insisted, his voice breaking slightly.

I cupped his face in my hands. "I suffered more in the centuries believing I had lost you than I ever could from this punishment. At least now we face it together."

The tenderness in his eyes nearly undid me. He rose, pulling me gently into his arms, careful of my wings. "Always the brave one, my Valkyrie."

"Not brave," I whispered against his chest. "Just stubborn."

A loud knock interrupted us. Lyra entered without waiting for permission, her expression grim.

"They've sealed the eastern passage," she reported. "And we've identified their leader—a Valkyrie in black and gold armor. They say her name is Kara."

Caelan's body tensed against mine. "Of course it would be her."

"We need to move," I said, pulling away reluctantly. "If Kara's leading the hunt personally, she won't stop until she finds us both."

"There's another way," Caelan said, turning to Lyra. "The western ravine—is it still passable?"

She nodded. "Barely. The bridge is weakening, but it should hold for a small group."

"Gather twenty of our best fighters," he instructed. "Create a diversion at the northern border. Make it convincing, but avoid direct engagement if possible."

As Lyra left to carry out his orders, I felt another transformation—this time, four feathers simultaneously turning to stone. The weight was becoming noticeable, pulling at my back and shoulders.

Caelan noticed my discomfort immediately. "How many now?"

"Eight," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. "Each one becomes a gravestone."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Every feather that turns to stone bears the name of a soul I guided to Valhalla," I explained. "It's part of the punishment—to be weighed down by those we've served."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by determination. "Then we'd better move before you gain any more weight to carry."

We slipped out the back of the settlement as Caelan's fighters created their diversion. The sounds of battle—shouts, clashing weapons, thundering wings—echoed from the northern border. I tried not to think of Sigrid, whether she might be among the hunters, forced to pursue her closest friend.

The western ravine was a jagged scar across Hemul's landscape, plunging into depths where even the twilight couldn't penetrate. A single rope bridge spanned its width, swaying slightly in the perpetual breeze.

"That doesn't look encouraging," I observed, eyeing the frayed ropes.

"It's better than facing Kara's squadron," Caelan replied, testing the first plank with his foot. "One at a time. I'll go first."

I watched anxiously as he made his way across, the bridge creaking ominously with each step. When he reached the other side, he signaled for me to follow.

I was halfway across when pain exploded through my wings—not just a few feathers this time, but entire sections. I gasped, stumbling to my knees on the swaying bridge. The weight was immense, pulling me backward.

"Freya!" Caelan called out, starting back onto the bridge.

"Stay there!" I commanded, forcing myself to stand. "The bridge won't hold both of us."

With agonizing effort, I continued forward, each step a battle against the increasing weight of my wings. Stone feathers now covered nearly a third of both wings, each one inscribed with a name—a soul I had guided, now a burden I carried.

Just as I reached the final few planks, a voice rang out behind me.

"Valkyrie Freya Valkyrheart."

I turned to see Kara hovering above the ravine, her perfect wings spread wide, her expression cold as winter. Six hunter Valkyries flanked her, their weapons drawn.

"By authority of the All-Father, you are charged with treason, theft of a divine artifact, and interference with divine justice," she announced, her voice carrying across the chasm. "Surrender the Eye of Wisdom and the fallen spirit Caelan Drayce."

Caelan drew his sword, moving to stand before me protectively as I finally reached his side of the bridge. "You'll have to come claim us yourself, Kara," he called back. "Or are you afraid to face the warrior you murdered?"

Fury flashed across her perfect features. "You were executed for sedition, Drayce. Your memories are corrupted."

"My memories were restored by the Eye itself," he countered. "The truth cannot be denied when viewed through Odin's own perspective."

I stepped forward, my movement hampered by my increasingly stone-laden wings. "The Eye revealed everything, Kara. How you falsified selection records. How you eliminated those who questioned you."

"Careful, traitor," she hissed. "Your wings betray your fate already. How many feathers have turned? How many more before you can no longer fly?"

Another wave of transformation swept through me, as if summoned by her words. I staggered under the sudden weight, more than a dozen feathers turning to stone simultaneously.

Caelan caught me before I could fall, his arm strong around my waist. "We need to go," he whispered urgently.

"You cannot escape," Kara called, signaling her hunters to spread out. "Hemul is sealed. Surrender now, and perhaps the All-Father will grant you mercy."

"The same mercy you showed me?" Caelan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I think we'll take our chances."

With a swift motion, he slashed his sword across the remaining ropes of the bridge. The structure collapsed into the ravine, buying us precious moments as Kara and her hunters were forced to circle around the massive chasm.

"This way," he urged, supporting me as we fled into a dense forest of twisted trees.

My wings dragged behind me now, each step requiring tremendous effort. Nearly half of my feathers had transformed, their weight like an anchor pulling me toward the ground.

"I'm slowing you down," I gasped as we paused in a small clearing. "You should go on without me."

"Never," he said fiercely, his arms tightening around me. "I lost you once. I won't lose you again."

In the distance, we could hear the hunters' horns, drawing closer. Kara would not give up easily—not with both her reputation and position at stake.

"Then we make a stand," I decided, straightening as much as my burdened wings allowed. "Together."

Caelan looked at me with such pride and love that for a moment, I forgot the pain, the weight, the hunters closing in. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Today I guard you," he whispered, echoing his earlier vow. "As you once guided me."

As we prepared to face whatever came next, I felt a strange peace despite the stone feathers weighing me down. Each one represented a soul I had guided, a life I had touched. And among them, somewhere, was Caelan's name—the one soul who had changed everything.

The hunters were closing in, their wing-beats audible now. But Caelan stood tall beside me, sword ready, his eyes clear and determined. Whatever fate awaited us, we would meet it as we should have lived—together.