Chapter 6 Exodus from Valgrind

The forest grew denser as we pushed forward, ancient trees with bark like polished obsidian closing in around us. My wings—half-transformed to stone now—dragged heavily behind me, leaving a trail that even the least experienced hunter could follow. Each step became a battle against their increasing weight.

"They're surrounding us," Caelan murmured, his warrior's instincts alert to every sound in the forest. "Kara's deploying them in a standard encirclement pattern."

I nodded grimly. "Standard Valkyrie hunting formation. They'll close the circle gradually, driving us where they want us to go."

"Then we don't go where they expect." He pointed to a narrow ravine cutting through the trees ahead. "That leads to Valgrind—the ancient gateway between Hemul and the outer realms."

"Valgrind is sealed," I reminded him. "Has been for millennia."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Not completely. There are... imperfections in the barrier. My people have been mapping them for decades."

My heart swelled at his words. Even in exile, stripped of his memories and honor, Caelan had never stopped fighting, never accepted his imprisonment as final.

Another wave of transformation swept through my wings, the weight nearly bringing me to my knees. Caelan caught me, his strong arms keeping me upright.

"How many now?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern.

"Too many to count," I whispered. "More than half."

He studied my face for a moment, then made a decision. In one swift motion, he sheathed his sword and swept me into his arms.

"What are you doing?" I protested weakly.

"Carrying my Valkyrie," he replied simply. "Like the old tales where warriors bore fallen angels from the battlefield."

Despite our dire circumstances, warmth bloomed in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, careful to balance the weight of my wings so as not to overburden him.

"I'm not exactly light anymore," I warned.

"Good thing I've been training in Hemul for a century," he countered with a strained grin. "The gravity here is heavier than Valhalla's."

He carried me through the ravine, his breathing growing more labored but his stride remaining steady. Behind us, the calls of the hunter Valkyries grew closer, their horns signaling positions to one another. Ahead, the ravine opened into a vast clearing where a massive stone archway stood—ancient, crumbling, but still radiating power.

"Valgrind," I breathed. "The Gate of the Slain."

Caelan set me down gently before the archway. "Once, all souls passed through here on their way to judgment. Before the Valkyries, before the selective process for Valhalla."

The archway seemed to shimmer as we approached, as if recognizing something in us. Runes carved into its weathered surface glowed faintly—not with the bright gold of divine power, but with a deeper, older magic.

"How do we activate it?" I asked, running my fingers over the ancient symbols.

"Blood of the unjustly condemned," he said, drawing his dagger. "The gate recognizes those who've been wrongfully judged."

Before I could protest, he drew the blade across his palm, blood welling up dark in the twilight. He pressed his bloodied hand against the centermost rune.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a low rumble shook the ground beneath our feet. The space within the archway rippled like disturbed water, colors swirling where only empty air should be.

"It's working," I whispered in awe.

A voice called out behind us—sharp, commanding. "Stop where you are!"

Kara emerged from the ravine, flanked by two hunter Valkyries. Her perfect wings spread wide in an intimidation display, her spear leveled at Caelan's heart.

"Step away from the gate, traitor," she ordered me. "Return the Eye, and your punishment might yet be mitigated."

Caelan drew his sword, positioning himself between me and the hunters. "She's no traitor. She's the only one among you with the courage to stand for truth."

Kara's expression hardened. "Truth? You speak of truth, fallen one? You who spread dissent and chaos in the hallowed halls?"

"I asked questions," he shot back. "Questions you couldn't answer without revealing your corruption. So instead of facing justice, you had me killed and my memories erased."

The two hunters with Kara exchanged uneasy glances—clearly, they hadn't been told the full story.

"Lies," Kara hissed, but uncertainty had crept into her voice.

I stepped forward, despite the crushing weight of my wings. "The Eye doesn't lie, Kara. I saw everything—Caelan's investigation, the falsified records, the unauthorized execution. All of it, through Odin's own perspective."

"You stole a divine artifact," she countered. "Used it without authority. Its revelations cannot be trusted."

"Then why fear them?" I challenged. "If I'm deluded, why not bring me before the All-Father himself? Let him extract the truth from the Eye?"

Her hesitation told me everything. She knew what the Eye had revealed was true—and she knew exposure would mean her downfall.

With a cry of rage, she lunged forward, her spear aimed at my heart. Caelan intercepted the blow, his sword meeting her spear with a clash that sent sparks flying in the twilight air.

"Run!" he shouted to me. "Get through the gate!"

But I couldn't leave him. Despite my burdened wings, I drew my own dagger, facing the two hunter Valkyries who now moved to flank us.

The first hunter approached cautiously, her expression conflicted. "Freya, please," she said. "Don't force us to harm you."

I recognized her then—Hilda, a younger Valkyrie I had helped train centuries ago. "I'm sorry, Hilda," I replied. "But I cannot obey orders I know to be unjust."

The second hunter attacked without warning, her blade slicing toward my neck. I parried with my dagger, the impact jarring my arm. The weight of my stone-laden wings threw off my balance, forcing me to compensate with each movement.

Nearby, Caelan and Kara fought in a blur of motion—his mortal skill against her divine training. They seemed evenly matched, neither gaining advantage.

"You fight well for a fallen spirit," Kara taunted, spinning her spear in a complex pattern.

"And you fight dishonorably for a divine servant," he retorted, countering her attack with practiced precision.

I blocked another strike from my attacker, then used the weight of my wings to my advantage, spinning to create momentum that knocked her off balance. As she stumbled, I struck the pommel of my dagger against her temple, sending her crumpling to the ground—unconscious but alive.

Hilda hesitated, her weapon lowered slightly. "Is it true?" she asked quietly. "What you said about Kara falsifying records?"

"See for yourself," I replied, reaching carefully into my pouch to produce the container holding the Eye. Its blue light pulsed softly between us. "Touch it. Just for a moment. It will show you what I've seen."

Her eyes widened. "That's forbidden—"

"So is executing souls without proper judgment," I countered. "Which is the greater sin?"

After a moment's hesitation, she extended her hand. The moment her fingers brushed the container, she gasped, her eyes going distant as the Eye shared its visions.

When she returned to herself, her expression had transformed from uncertainty to resolve. Without a word, she turned and flew toward Kara, intercepting her next attack against Caelan.

"What is this treachery?" Kara demanded, barely blocking Hilda's strike.

"Justice," Hilda answered simply.

With Hilda engaging Kara, Caelan rushed to my side. "The gate is fully open," he said urgently. "We need to go now, before more hunters arrive."

I nodded, returning the Eye to its container. Together, we moved toward the shimmering portal within the ancient archway. Behind us, Kara broke free from Hilda's attack, her face contorted with fury.

"You won't escape me!" she screamed, hurling her spear with divine strength.

Caelan saw it coming. Without hesitation, he pushed me aside, taking the spear in his shoulder instead of my heart. He staggered but remained standing, breaking off the shaft with a grunt of pain.

"Caelan!" I cried, supporting him as he swayed.

"I'm alright," he gritted out. "It's not deep. Go—through the gate!"

I helped him to the portal, both of us stumbling under the combined burdens of his injury and my stone-laden wings. As we reached the threshold, Kara's voice rang out once more.

"This isn't over, traitors! There is nowhere in the Nine Realms you can hide from divine justice!"

Caelan turned back, his eyes meeting hers across the clearing. "This isn't about hiding," he called. "It's about exposing the truth. Your truth, Kara."

With those words, we stepped through the portal together. The world dissolved around us in a kaleidoscope of light and sensation. For an endless moment, we existed everywhere and nowhere, our bodies stretched across dimensions.

Then, suddenly, solid ground beneath our feet. We collapsed together onto a field of silver-blue grass that swayed gently in a warm breeze. Above us, unfamiliar stars dotted a violet sky.

"Where are we?" I whispered, helping Caelan sit up so I could examine his wound.

"The Borderlands," he replied, wincing as I carefully probed the injury. "Between realms. Neither fully in Hemul nor in the mortal world."

I tore a strip from my tunic, binding his shoulder as best I could. "Will Kara be able to follow?"

"Not immediately. The gate requires time to reset after use." He caught my hand, his eyes serious. "But she will find a way eventually. Kara's nothing if not persistent."

I nodded, settling beside him in the strange grass. Another transformation swept through my wings—smaller this time, just a few feathers turning to stone, but enough to remind me of our precarious situation.

"We should keep moving," I said, though exhaustion weighed on me as heavily as my wings.

"Rest first," he insisted. "Just for a little while. We're safe enough for the moment."

I relented, allowing myself to lean against him, careful of his injured shoulder. The warmth of his body beside mine was comforting in this alien landscape.

"You didn't say goodbye," I found myself saying, the words emerging unbidden from some deep reservoir of ancient pain. "When you died. You never said goodbye."

He was silent for a long moment, his arm tightening around me. "I didn't think I needed to," he finally replied. "I thought I would be with you forever in Valhalla."

I turned to face him, reaching up to trace the scar that now marked his once-familiar features. "I searched for you. When you disappeared from the halls, I searched everywhere. They told me you had been reassigned to another section of the divine realm."

"And you believed them?" There was no accusation in his voice, only gentle curiosity.

"I had no reason not to," I whispered. "Until now."

He leaned forward, his forehead touching mine. "I would have found a way back to you, if I'd remembered. Even across realms."

"You did," I reminded him. "You built a life, a community in Hemul. You survived. You thrived, even without your memories."

"But not without you," he corrected softly. "There was always something missing. A hollow space I couldn't name."

The tenderness in his eyes undid me. Despite the weight of my wings, despite the hunters surely regrouping to pursue us, despite the uncertainty of our future, I felt a lightness in my heart that had been absent for a century.

When his lips met mine, it was like the first rainfall after an endless drought. Gentle at first, then deepening with a century of separation and longing. His hand cradled my face as if I were something infinitely precious, while mine curled into the fabric of his tunic, anchoring myself to him.

We parted only when the need for breath became too great, resting our foreheads together in the violet twilight of this in-between realm.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked, reality intruding on our brief moment of peace.

His eyes met mine, determination replacing tenderness. "To find allies. To gather evidence. To build a case that not even the All-Father can ignore."

"And if he chooses to ignore it anyway?"

Caelan's smile held a hint of his old confidence, the warrior who had once captured my immortal heart. "Then we create a truth too loud to be silenced. Together."

Under alien stars, wounded but unbowed, we held each other close as we planned our next steps in a rebellion that had begun with a single question and now threatened to reshape the very foundations of divine order.