Hounds Rising

She sat there, gripping bloody towels and sheets. Her eyes stung from the tears that fell down her face, and her blond hair was matted in sweat. The room had no windows, only one door and the walls were made of stone that smelled damp and musty. Her teeth hurt as if she had been grinding them together for hours, and her body felt exhausted, but the anger burned through her and kept her awake.

The only lights in the room were two tall candles on a table near the door, but she was covered in the shadow of a person standing before her. He was a man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with dark brown hair braided in gold and silver pieces that fell below his shoulders. He was close to six feet in height and not overly muscular, except for his arms, which bore the years of strain they took. His hands were calloused, and his blue eye sparked occasionally as if lightning clouds were hidden inside.

Myla was unsure how she knew the man had a blue eye since they were closed, and he faced to the side, away from her. She was inside Helena’s memories, but she must have pushed too deep and was gaining information from a time she couldn’t guess. Myla was watching this memory from Helena’s body and felt everything. The physical and emotional pain was too much for one person to tolerate.

“You must do something…” Helena cried.

“You know I can’t take back something that Freyja did. If I did, the entire truce between the Aesir and Vanir would crumble,” The man slowly answered.

His voice was of thunder, and though it was quiet, it vibrated through her body. Though Helena may have admired that about him once, she hated it now.

“My Lucy… I named her, and they took her from me. She took her from me… and you did nothing, Odin!” She screamed at him, her voice echoing in the small room.

He turned to her, and Myla understood why she only knew about the one eye. An eyepatch covered the other, and she assumed it was lost years ago because the scars looked older than she could imagine, weathered with the age of centuries. He sat at the edge of the bed and reached out a hand to her. Helena pushed his arm away, crawling back into the bed frame and wall. She wasn’t just angry with him. She was disgusted. She was terrified.

“I promise you, on my life and all of Asgard. We will get revenge for what happened today. I swear on it.”

Helena closed her eyes, and Myla could feel reality shift around her. Still determining when exactly, Myla could tell that this shift pushed her forward in time. When she opened her eyes again, it was too much, and she blinked heavily as the sunlight blinded her. They walked down the narrow steps and out the front door onto a cobblestone street. The moment seemed calm, but Helena seemed tense, and Myla could feel it. Behind her, a woman cried out.

“Not my daughter! Please, do not take my child!”

Helena started to turn a corner but stopped. She could feel her pains resurfacing, but she pushed them down. She looked back. The large building spanned three floors, and Helena knew it contained twenty-seven rooms, so Myla knew as well. At the door, an elf, barely of an adult age, pulled against the restraints held by the woman’s parents.

Myla was confused by the scene, unsure of what was happening, until Helena looked down to her side. Next to her, holding onto one of her fingers with a small hand, stood an elven child whose tears shed silently. Helena leaned down and carefully raised the child to her and against her body. Looking one last time, she read over the chiseled stone above the doorway in Elvish.

The Vidblain Manor

As the woman at the door crumpled to the ground in sobs, one of the parents closed the door, silencing her tears. Helena pulled the child away just enough to look into her eyes.

“It’s okay, Onira. One day, you can return. But we must learn more about the curse put on you so that we can speak to your imaginary friend.”

The little girl wiped away her tears and quizzically looked at Helena.

“You mean Asmo?”

“Yes, child,” Helena answered, starting to walk again. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

“O-Okay…”

Helena cast a spell, and Myla could feel the teleportation take hold. Helena and Myla did not arrive at that destination, though. Instead, they found themselves in a past state. As Helena looked around, Myla saw they were in a large building. Past the open doors, she observed that they were high on a mountaintop, and many humanoid figures flew by themselves or chariots as godly titans were at war. She turned away, disgusted by the bloodshed, and watched Odin walk over to a man kneeling on the ground.

The hurt man was barely conscious, fighting to stay focused. He was covered in fresh wounds, and his body swayed with every gust of wind. Helena knew this man to be Zeus. Myla recognized him by pictures she had seen in her past. He had short, curly, blond hair and hazel eyes. He was very muscular and looked relatively young for a deity that had supposedly been around for hundreds of years. He wore a black robe, and Myla saw a golden symbol on his back. An eagle was resting on a nest of clouds, with a single lightning bolt striking down from it.

Odin leaned down and grabbed this man by the throat. Without effort, he lifted the man into the air, high enough that his feet dangled carelessly. Odin whispered into the man’s face, but Helena’s keen hearing caught it.

“Where is it?”

Zeus smiled, even though it looked like it strained him to do so, then spit blood at Odin’s face.

“I will never tell you.”

Odin’s brow furrowed, and his anger grew. Myla could feel Helena backing away slowly. Odin lowered his enemy to eye level, then thrust his arm forward. With little effort, Zeus was thrown through the wall, five feet away, and out into the battle. Helena watched as she realized there was no ground at the side of this building. He hit the ground ten feet down, then tumbled further out. Every ten or twenty feet, he would strike again and again until he fell below the cloudline, and she was sure he had died.

Though Helena seemed to lack worry for her well-being, Myla was terrified. This man, this God, had incredible strength and didn’t look like he had made any effort. When Helena looked back at Odin, Myla realized something was wrong.

As he looked through Helena, Odin raised one eyebrow, deep in thought. He slowly took a few steps forward, then quickly picked her up by her throat. Myla could feel the pain of it, his fingers tightening around her neck, making breathing harder and harder. Odin turned around, and Myla realized she wasn’t inside Helena’s body.

“You aren’t Helena.” He snarled.

Panic set in before anything else. She scratched and kicked, unable to push past his hold on her. She was horrified by him. He smiled slightly, cocking his head to the side.

“This isn’t a memory you can have.”

With nothing she could do to prevent it, Odin raised his other hand and placed it on her head. The world went quiet, and the sound of a bone snapping was the last thing Myla felt as her head was quickly turned to the side, and her vision blackened.

Myla pushed against Helena’s body and fell to the ground. She pulled herself back, digging her fingers into the ground until she reached Ana’s feet. Her heart raced, and she touched her neck, trying to push past the memories and return to her reality.

Time was not on her side, though. As she hit the ground, Helena’s eyes opened as well. Thunder echoed through the trees as the clouds started to form above them. Her eyes sparked with anger, shooting little bolts out from her face as her eyes turned white and glowed. Helena leaned forward, her lip quivering as her rage consumed her.

“You shouldn’t have done that…”