VBS - Dawn of the Gods: Prequel ~BL~

(Future Sister)

“Sisters, it is happening.”

My focus switches from the glistening, gossamer-like threads to the serene figure of my Present Sister, where she sits cross-legged upon her large, blue cushion. The indelible runes on the skin of her arms, shoulders and face pulse with a brightness reminiscent of a warm sea over white sand, and her eyes screw up in concentration before falling slack. She is the Norn of the Present. Her magic allows her to see any critical events as they unfold in real time, and this particular one is highly anticipated.

The time magic we can each access plays a vital role in maintaining a balance throughout the Nine Realms. We are uniquely able to view and interpret the distribution of Soul Energy, the element of creation, through the Wheel of Destiny. Turning my attention back to the strings that thread between the rim of the Wheel, I easily locate the tremulous cluster upon which she is focusing.

Ever since we first detected the imbalance, we have been watching Modi and Fjolnir with increasing interest.

“Future Sister, can you see yet?” I shake my head at my Past Sister’s question, but it doesn’t stop her from squinting as she strains towards the Strings.

Except for our magic and the runes depicted on our skin, we’re identical. The three Nornir of Time. Each of us is acutely attuned to a specific plane of time and our magic is inter-connected. But it is a complicated and often frustrating dimension to work with. Time is rarely linear. It requires patience and a delicate hand to observe its truth.

There are many different routes that a single event can take, and although the future is always guaranteed, it is seldom certain. Except upon the occasion of a nexus - the rare point at which a single event causes all three of our magics to align to produce a foretelling. The last nexus was the discovery of an imbalance in Soul Energy throughout the Nine Realms.

The soft red glow of the runes on my Past Sister’s fingers capture my attention. Her grip on the rim of the Wheel of Destiny loosens and she gives me a knowing smile. As the fiery hue slowly spreads further up her arms, she deftly reaches in to weave the Strings at the points where events of the past directly affect events in the present. The daylight that spills in through the window refracts as it catches on the moving threads, presenting the illusion of a single sheet of silken fabric.

When my Past Sister’s fingers are still, she silently slips away from the Wheel to sit beside my Present Sister and joins her in their shared transcendence. A dim, purple aura glows between them, indicating the formation of a destiny that is inescapable. Soon, it will be my turn to see what they do. I wonder which version of Modi and Fjolnir’s future will be chosen.

Usually, we are forbidden from taking an active role in the balancing of the Nine Realms. Our magic is such that any intervention on our part risks replacing free will with inevitability, and then the beauty of destiny is lost. However, there is one occasion upon which we can exert our influence. If all presentations of the future, in accordance with those of the past and present, show the ultimate demise of the Nine Realms, only then can we take steps to ensure the survival of life above all else.

The telltale tingling at the base of my skull is the first sign that I will soon transcend to the plane of the future. The fact that I am last to join eliminates many possible outcomes and, as I take one last look at the freshly-woven Strings in the Wheel, I see Fjolnir’s thread turn a dull shade of grey. Pressing my hands together, the purple of my runes glows brighter, and I gently blow the powdery iridescence onto his thread. If my magic aligns with my sisters’, this will allow us time to choose our level of involvement.

Taking my seat beside my sisters, cross-legged upon my deep purple cushion, creates a blinding white light as I join their transcendence. As we predicted, this event has created a nexus. As always with linked-magic transcendence, we three appear in the heart of the Tree of Life surrounded by the celestial glow of Soul Energy. Here, the threads seamlessly move between the past, present and future as they breathe life into the Nine Realms.

Linking hands, we call Modi and Fjolnir’s Strings towards us. Like Fjolnir’s, Modi’s String is also dimming from its usual glittering rainbow quality into a lifeless grey colour. Treating it with the same magical caress, I stall its disintegration as we discuss what this means.

“Sisters, see the path if we allow these deaths to pass.” Freeing my hands, I draw the sigil of the future in the space between us and the passage of time becomes visible. Starting with Modi and Fjolnir we watch as, like a sickness, darkness grows.

Where the Strings of Destiny should harbour a smooth fluidity as they spread throughout the Tree, they slowly take on a coarse and brittle composition. The House of Vanir is the first to blacken and wither away, taking the entire realm of Vanaheim and their Bloodline in the realm of Midgard along with it.

“Past Sister, show us the events that assured this destruction.” With a nod of her head, the familiar red glow of her magic flashes briefly between us as she draws her sigil. The fabric of the threads surrounding us rearrange themselves, making visible the first connected event.

A conversation between twins; Freyja and Frey are shown not long before the battle of Ragnörak at the end of the last Røkkar Cycle.

“Fjolnir is only a young boy, Frey, he is too young to become the Head of your House. Think of all those out there who would take advantage of him to access your Powers.”

“What would you have me do, Freyja? It is our tradition that the firstborn son ascends in the event of the Head, and he is already declared as my Heir.”

“Transfer the Powers to Gerd. She can hold them until he is of an age to withstand the pressure of the other Houses.”

A flash of red light moves time forward until Freyja is shown comforting an inconsolable Gerd, her tears mixing with Frey’s blood as his body cools in death.

“You are not alone, Gerd, I will help you as my brother would have. Assign me guardianship of Fjolnir whilst you take your time to grieve.”

“I can’t ask that of you, Freyja, it’s too much of a responsibility.”

“Nonsense, it’s what family is for.”

A final red glow shows Freyja in conversation with Jarnsaxa only several moon cycles ago.

“I know that the House of Aesir will not grant your son titular access to Powers, I may have a proposition for you.”

“Magni is a good boy, his being overlooked in favour of his cousins is an insult!”

“Magni is a good boy, as you say, acquiescent and deserving of title. Unlike Fjolnir, whose stubborn refusal to do what’s best for his House is becoming problematic.”

“Fjolnir is their only option and he is already declared, how can Magni be of use to the House of Vanir?”

“Gerd is lost to her grief, she’s convinced that others will come for her son if he ascends without the backing of a strong family. But he does not cooperate. The best protection for Fjolnir would be for him not to ascend at all. She could keep him with her and name another as Heir in his stead.”

The visions of the past fade and I face my Present Sister as she speaks, “Sisters, the House of Vanir no longer has an Heir.”

“Sisters, it has been picked apart from the inside by a vulture,” my Past Sister confirms.

“Sisters, Fjolnir’s death does not bring the end she desires.

Sisters, Freyja will be banished from the House of Vanir.

Sisters, the act will spare her life, but doom the Realms.”

My sisters nod in agreement with my prediction and we link hands, our heads pressing together. The threads around us rearrange to show Modi’s String bleeding death into the House of Aesir. As the black web grows ever outward, the realm of Asgard, and their Bloodline in the realm of Midgard, are poisoned.

“Present Sister, tell us which event connects Modi to the House of Aesir.”

Silence descends as the aqua hue of her runes lights the space between us.

“Sisters, Modi is Thor’s firstborn son.

Sisters, Thor is unaware his indiscretion sired a child.

Sisters, Modi is without rightful protection.”

Once again, my Past Sister draws the sigil of her magic and we trace back the inevitable destruction of Modi’s String to its conception.

Odin, Head of the House of Aesir, is shown reluctantly naming Thor as Heir to grant access to the Powers before the final battle of Ragnörak.

“He is the strongest choice for the House’s survival in this battle, Baldr.”

“But he is not who you wish to choose?”

“No, you have always been my favourite son, I see much of myself in you.”

“Then name me as Heir, father.”

“I cannot. As my firstborn son, Thor has the strongest connection to the Powers of the House and I must prioritise the House’s survival above all else.”

“But then ascension will eventually pass to Magni, a bastard and not a true Aesir.”

“Never! I will never grant Thor enough Power to declare Magni as Heir! When the Cycle is completed and our House is strengthened, I will find a way to reverse the declaration and name you as Heir in his place.”

A flash of red light ends the vision and I speak of the future that Odin’s greed enables.

“Sisters, Modi’s death exposes his status.

Sisters, Thor will have no Heir that Odin accepts.

Sisters, the House of Aesir will turn on itself.”

The soft voice of my Present Sister resets the Strings of Destiny and she holds Modi and Fjolnir’s dull threads in her hands.

“Sisters, for life to flourish, the Tree must be strong.

Sisters, there is already an imbalance in Soul Energy.

Sisters, with this event, the Tree begins to weaken.”

My Past Sister takes the Strings from her.

“Sisters, an act of violent greed has tipped the scales.

Sisters, two realms are already infected.

Sisters, we cannot allow the third to fall.”

Finally, she hands the Strings to me, and I hold them in open palms.

“Sisters, the realms can be saved if this event is altered.

Sisters, we must choose to use our magic.

Sisters, salvation must begin where it ends, on Midgard.”

We overlay our hands, and the blue, red and purple light from our magic creates a dazzling kaleidoscope effect as we foretell our destiny to all in the Nine Realms.

“We warned of an imbalance in Soul Energy.

The Røkkar Cycle began, but greed has blocked this process.

Soon, three realms will fall, this cannot be allowed to pass.”

Our voices align as one and we become the Fates,

“The rightful Heirs of the Houses of Aesir and Vanir shall be reborn into their Bloodlines on Midgard.

They will be granted access to their Powers, but hold no memories of their allegiance.

They will be your salvation.”