Soulweaver 74: Epilogue (Patreon)

NOTE: And so we come to the end of arc 2 and book 1! Shorter-than-usual chapter today with the epilogue, but we'll be onto book two on Friday.

A gorgeous woman was seated across from a middle-aged man with slicked hair, dressed in a suit and tie, and who wore polished loafers.

“Will you go?” she asked, delicately sipping on her tea.

“People will die if I don’t.”

“People will die regardless, Richard.” The woman lowered her eyes, staring deeply into the amber tea. “You cannot save everyone.”

“I can at least make a difference,” Richard replied, forming a fist. His own tea sat untouched. How could he eat and drink when the world faced such a crisis? How could he lounge here, amongst the flowers and the trees, when so much strive existed in this world? “You gave me strength. If I ignore this, It’ll all be for naught.”

“You know, Richard, your selflessness was what attracted me to you in the first place. ‘Here is a modern man who retains the sensibilities of the old world,’ I thought. ‘Here is one whose fire burns bright’. Yet, I sometimes worry that you burn too bright. I worry that your flame will be extinguished before your time. Don’t you have an obligation to stay alive?”

Richard froze. “I won’t allow that. I can’t.”

“Then, is it not more prudent to stay?” Passion asked, her expression equal parts smug and sly. “Landing Castles are not to be underestimated, let alone those of Divergence Rank. You have yet to blossom, Richard. One day, you will grow into a stalwart defender of this realm. My Champion. Yet right now, you are like a feeble bud, caught in a maelstrom. Need I remind you of the length of this road?”

“You needn’t. I’ll be the first to admit this course of action might be a tad foolhardy,” Richard replied. “And yet, what use is living if I can’t live with myself, eh?”

He stood up, seemingly mustered his resolve. “Thank you, truly. For all you’ve done for me. I’m afraid this is something I must do.”

Passion set her teacup down and sighed theatrically. 

“I know,” she said. “Then go, with my Blessing. Take my fastest chariots, that you may be the first to arrive. Conquer the Cataclysm. Come back to me alive.”

Richard Rhodes set his face and nodded. “Of that, you have my word.”

— — 

“Ascendant,” Eskil whispered in awe.

Blazing amber fire reflected within Eskil’s sky blue eyes, and unlike those gathered around him who cowered in fear, Eskil stared at the spectacle—not with terror, but glee. To think there were Einherjar capable of such godly feats! To reduce the forces of Ragnarök to rubble with a single blow!

Eskil’s glee faltered. “The glory is taken, then. By this Ascendant Einherjar…”

“Nay, my Champion,” Dominion—dressed as one-eyed Odin—replied. “For they have merely dealt the opening blows. There is much work yet to be done. Vile foes to be slain. You know of what I speak.”

“Ragnarök,” he breathed, a manic grin spreading across his face. “So it has finally arrived.”

Was this not the moment he’d yearned for so long? Was this not the calling for which he’d so long yearned?

Eskil had been prepared to travel to the ends of the earth to find suitable foes. Instead, they had come to him.

“Do you see, Eskil?” Dominion replied. “For so long, you begged for a chance to test your mettle. To prove your worth. I stayed your hand. I promised you the opportunity of a lifetime. Behold!” He stretched his girthly arms wide. “Opportunity.”

“I was hasty, Allfather,” Eskil replied, shuddering as he bowed before his god. “I ask for your forgiveness. I see now that my ax will never want for blood. Please allow me, your Champion, to defeat the forces of Ragnarök. Allow me to bring glory to the Aesir.”

Dominion smiled at his Champion. “Go. Vanquish the enemy's forces in my name. Show to the world the true power of my might!”

Eskil rose. He looked at his fellow Einherjar—his so-called bodyguards. Fearful, the lot of them. One might doubt they were Odin’s finest. One might doubt whether they had sacrificed their lives in the name of battle.

It mattered not. Where his brothers shuddered and shook, Eskil stood firm. Where they crumpled under fear, Eskil would charge forth. Paving the way for the army to follow. The tip of the spear.

“Yes, Allfather.”

When he rose, Eskil was sure of three things. 

That he would defend the nine worlds. That he would vanquish the evil who threatened it. And that Ragnarök would feel his wrath.

End of Arc 2. End of Book One.