The world ended.
This thought kept repeating in his head like a swirling blizzard that would eventually claim him.
Alone in a forest whose life already passed away, no soul in sight, an image of a land past its glory. Except for one. Lone soul among the dead, still carrying life within, awakes. Perplexed by what has transpired. He thought to himself that he hadn't perished yet…and laughed at it. It wasn’t the end, he still had a chance. Which lead him to conclude that–
The world hasn't reached its course.
As long as he is still breathing, well, the air here is not helping, and his accursed body can still move, thus, he will strive to move forward. Catching his bearings to adjust his surroundings, he laments how his home, the land of high reaches and its white shelter, lost its luster. The snow has long melted, revealing its ugly form: Barren and lifeless. The sky though…it is not helping.
Under the darkness,
He cannot see it well, but can feel it. The world is void of illumination, but he knows what ground he has touched.
His home, Veturheimr, even after the atrocities that he has done to her and the punishment that was given to him, still considers it a home. How can he not? He grew up here. The sights of the northern lights and cold winds that never escape his reach. Where winter rules, his people endured. It was a harsh land, but they conquered it.
Mayhaps, this is a sign. A reminder that his time is short. Within this limited thread he has, he is told to make use of it. He inspected his gears and supplies. Still intact except one spare axe on his left shoulder. Then, he turned his gaze to his location.
He recognized where he had slept, it was the scenery he remembered clearly despite the lack of brightness. Another march to vanquish remnants of his once great cause, but he is impatient at the thought that he will spend the rest of his end following the line of thralls. He grew wary. Mortality has its way to motivate spirit which it did.
He left the pack of thralls he was assigned into and never looked back. His destination is the tree of life, the root of knowledge, The Yggd Tree.
The satchel on his hips still has the leaves he has picked, still glowing. That means it was still here, but away from his sight…unless…
He take a little stroll forward.
The site was clear to see when the snow was here, but now, he is not sure Yggd Tree is one giant root. It doesn't help that it's so dark here, so he might be wrong. His body and mind may have eroded a long time ago, but he recalls the tree still standing with its imposing stonework, glowing branches and the golden leaves that fall to anything close to its pathway.
What appears before him has no branches, no masonry or leaves in sight thanks to lack of light. His curiosity pulls him back to the quest at hand. Only one way to find out what happened.
He fortunately reached the cliffs, but the path towards his goal is missing. There was a bridge here, connecting it to the tree. It is gone and the cliffs are cut clean. No drengr can cut that cleanly nor a butcher. He looked down at what was below. The giant root extends in every direction, but the larger ones seem to be connected to fixed entrances. So many patches of light illuminated around it. The size almost reached the width of the cliff. And that is just one extended root.
He considers his choices. There is nothing to grab to descend. It is ridiculous the cliff can be cut this way, but–
He is not a Jotunn for nothing.
He take a leap.
The terrain is weak to his grip. Even if he is now a thrall whose power is only half of it used to, the arms he has are honed everyday. All in the name of perseverance of mind. Using the flat surface as his hold to make his descent safe, he hops downwards and repeats this to keep his fall without harm. He landed atop of the extended root.
He gazes upon the heart of it all.
With the bright patches that turned to be flowers, the goal showed itself to him.
Standing tall, unassuming and clear of what it is. Perhaps, this is the root of the Yggd tree. Or maybe not, all answers will lead to the center.
The path towards it is surprisingly not treacherous although he has to be wary. There is no enemy or wild life. Instead, he was welcomed by a sight rare to everyone living in a snow-ridden land as he proceeded further. Jumbled together with the luminary patches of flowers is meadows. Green field of grass fills the gaps between each extended root. Each has its own gardens. The air becomes clearer akin to the ones he breathed back home…or what his home used to be. Still,
He grew weary of the lack of opposition. It's either his head that is so used to violence has given him wrong senses or his battle instinct kicking in. This is too easy, he thought to himself. There has to be someone guarding the root. Especially from a thrall like him. Although his doubts grow, thirst for the answers that he could gain from the tree fuels the Thrall to press further.
And before he knew it, Thrall had arrived.
His vision becomes clearer thanks to the entrance's lights. The imposing root, so huge that he felt like a fly buzzing before it.
Is this why the place is sacred?
The air is fresh, far cry from above. The dull breath that he inhales is clearer. It's so rejuvenating. The colors here exactly contrast where he came from. It was vibrant, with so many lights that even the halls of Aglopyr can't match its splendor. This is bigger than him, Veturheimr, and even the neighboring Aislare.
He kneels, prays, and gives salutations to Allfadr. For before the clutches of the end take him, his eyes can witness this.
With resolute determination he made his way to its entrance. He noticed the engravings. It is…familiar, but not at the same time. Usually, both jotunnar and ljosalfars use the same style of markings. These engravings use the same lines they use, but the symbols aren't.
These are not languages that is native to his tongue and for ljosalfars.
This is…he…forgot. He swears he recognizes this. He cast that thought aside. No use lollygagging here. The answers await inside.
The entrance reacts to his touch. It glimmers for a second before its light points at him. The Thrall, understandably cautious of this. He didn't pull his weapons out yet, but made a mental note to himself to be ready for everything. He heard stories of Yggd Tree’s dangers from naysayers, folk legends, ljosalfars, and such. Though he doubted the authenticity.
With hasty steps he enters.
The world around him turned brighter.
What welcomes him is another…he doesn't know how to properly describe it.
Circular space at its center is a light of various colors shooting up to the stars. Brightening everything around it with many hues. Lines form to the middle, each corresponds to the four entrances, including the one he entered. Clean white floors, metal. Not even signs of wood or stone. Strange contraptions hanging above him, each bearing a thin box that has glasses. On the wall, simple engravings that are quite…uninspired.
"Halt." said a voice. It’s young.
Time stops. The air is still.
He remains animated, but only as an exception.
He worries that he can't breathe, but air is still flowing in.
Another question added to his notes. There is another too. The voice that reverberates this place…
"You might wonder who spoke to you now, it’s okay,"
The voice says, speaking in foreign tongue, but he somehow understands it.
"Good, I take your silence, you are willing to lend your ear. Let's move somewhere else then."
"Wait!" Thrall was too late. He is no longer inside the root.
The world changes, he stands atop the sea sunset hues, a scenery that is rare for his eyes back home. Above is clouded by gray fog and within gaps, the sky reflected where he stood. Far away, he can see someone. The long robe he wears matches this world's colors. He takes it this is his domain, but who is he? For a man who could own a world for himself.
"Welcome to my… sort of realm." he sheepishly said.
He approaches The Thrall and as their distance diminishes, their stark difference in size becomes apparent. The robed man is small compared to Thrall. His height is just below the latter’s stomach. Even the shortest ljosalfar is not this small.
"I am sorry for bringing you here suddenly."
Thrall nods. Looking around him, composing himself before giving a question. "There is no issue here only…curious I might say."
"Curious, huh? Well, how was your sleep?"
"Sleep? Why do you need to–"
The robed man raises a finger. "My question first." his tone sounded genuine.
Thrall gives a thought and tries to recall everything before his awakening.
"Do you dream?" The robed man posed another question.
What kind of question is that? is what Thrall is thinking now. "Everyone dreams," he vaguely answered.
A light chuckle came from the robed man’s mouth. "Of course it is, but I wonder if you are dreaming when you sleep recently."
From the beginning, he was mysteriously taken out. Now that he ponders about it, the circumstance behind his slumber remains unanswered. He remembered breaking from the line of thralls he was put into. Escaping the clutches of a persistent valkyrja. Then, The Thrall triumphantly remembers how he shook her off and managed to reach the edge of Veturheimr where the Yggd Tree came into full view. After that…
He remembered a blinding light. It…came from the tree.
After that, it was empty. There is no single recollection or a faint trace of what he dreamed. Thrall turns towards another soul here.
"Explain." He demanded.
"I guess much," The robed man shrugs. "As you can see, you are unique."
"In what sense?"
"You know what is real and not."
"And this vast realm of yours is not?"
The robed man shrugs again.
"Depends on what you consider real. Nevertheless," he adds. "You are here and your mind can still withstand a fraction of this tower."
"Oh dear, what is it this time they call this place. A tree?" The robed man said while rubbing his temple.
Hidden within his helmet, Thrall raises an eyebrow. He grew suspicious of this character in front of him. The man speaks of riddles. Tower, and the fraction of it?
"Tell me, er," Thrall realized he hadn’t asked this robed man’s name.
"Phrumen." His question was answered.
"Right, before we continue this further," Thrall began. "Explain everything. Or else, drastic measures will bury itself within your flesh."
Phrumen raised his hands. "Okay, okay, impatient, huh?"
The world shifts. Both of them are still in Phrumen’s domain. The scenery changes from emptiness to that of shades. They form and it is…Veturheimr! But there are other lands that Thrall did not know of. It shows all this land smashing together.
"You have a bad day, friend," Phrumen says. "You are caught within a world disaster where the three realms of existence collide."
Is he describing what he thinks it is…
"You know what that means, don't you?" Phrumen implies.
Thrall mutters under his breath, "So, The Dyn is happening."
The event where differences were put aside. Where jotunnar and ljosalfars fought together against their common enemy–the dark elves and the orcs–in order to stop their plans in melding their world together. Legends spoke of the invaders' failure when the chains of the ancestors brought back the land to its course. Well, It seems the enemy has succeeded instead. Thrall should have guessed a lot when he awakened in this dark world.
The engravings on the entrance… he remembers them now. From the ruins of the invaders’ failed invasions, lie stones–their remnants–where their symbols and marks are etched. This root's entrance bears such markings.
Phrumen, still standing in front of him, opens his mouth.
"Yes, I can see you catch up on what the implication is now. But, all is not lost. We can still fix this!"
Phrumen took a step back. "I don't mean to assume much, but I can help you.."
Thrall crossed his arms. "And what can you provide, hm?" he said to Phrumen with a challenging tone. "So far you have been vague. Why do you ask me about dreams and speak of The Dyn, and this…tower you mentioned."
"Because you are here, and awake, Solblom." Phrumen replied, alerting Thrall further.
How did he know his name?!
"Time has passed since The Dyn happened." The robed man stated.
Thrall bore a gaze onto him..
Phrumen continued, "Your kind used to roam this… fusion world. They escaped and went back to their realm. Some of them remain."
"For what purpose?"
"To look after people like you who slept while they fought. Suspended, encased in an elaborate prison."
Then…that means that's the reason why there was no one around when he made his way here…
"Where are they now?"
"I am sorry to say that will be the difficult part."
"Surely you knew."
"I am no God. I am not divine. I am merely a guardian."
"Yet you did not know what you were protecting then?"
"I do, it's the world."
"Then why let this…" I motion around me. “Happen?"
"Because I am powerless to do so, I am mortal like you. I was merely granted this…powers that I wasted for so long…"
"Perhaps you are right. If you use it well, this would not happen."
"That's where you are wrong. I failed because I failed to protect my allies. Fail to account for my enemy's strength; Many of my friends have fallen. There are things that are out of my control even if I try hard enough."
"Then what is so powerful that you are cornered here?"
The tale begins when the world was still young. A man draped in sunset awakens. The world moves forwards as always. Soon, Lady of Azure opens her eyes. Only regret and sorrow seen. Her vision is clouded by her faults. Eons of accumulated sadness break her when she realizes her duty will lead her to more suffering.
And so, she abandoned her purpose. Her enchanting azure wiles grab a hold of the heart of her beloved. Once beloved. Soul is a complicated matter to mortals as Phrumen explained it to Thrall, but not for his counterpart. In her heart she sensed it. Thus, she made her pact again with the soul of the unfortunate warrior. Earning another eyebrow from Thrall.
The one she failed to save and now within her presence once more as a chance for renewal.
She chose retrieval instead.
Stuck in the memories of her past, she is willing to control the flow of the world. The light grew its shadows more. The Abyss darkened to only tiny embers. The clouds grow muddier and the world moves to her whims.
The world, the realms, didn't know that they are serving their Azure Matron. In the shadows she plotted, into the light her vibrant virtue grace this world draped in the cloth of lies. For her heart seeks not the salvation of the present.
The past is the way to go.
But the Man Draped in Sunset wishes for redemption. For his sins and the failures of the past. Once again, the guardians of the world fought.
In the farthest west of the world, where the sun collapses, he is named Phrumen.
To the beauty reflected upon our clouds, the azure gleam named her Taleya.
That's what Thrall can summarize from Phrumen's exposition about his mirror. Frankly, the larger man doesn't understand the whole story as he is missing something…a context.
"Why are you…still silent, Solblom?" The sunset robed man awkwardly asks.
"I listen, you speak," Thrall scoffed and stressed the last part.
"Well, I have nothing else to say."
The Jotunn groaned at that. "I take it this 'Taleya' is the one to blame for The Dyn?"
"Yes, but I am still scratching the surface here. Her connections are vast. Including the three realms. She orchestrated this. Your kind managed to stop it before. Well, not so much now, isn't it?"
So what's the meaning of all of this then? Is this just the machinations of a madwoman? Then those who died and their sacrifices meant nothing. It's just a casualty, a necessary one for her. Unacceptable. Lives are precious. It shouldn't be discarded that easily.
For eons she has orchestrated The Dyn.
He was told it was an honorable battle. The time of rebirth. Where petty squabbles are put aside to form stronger bonds and to begin a new era. To think it was just a plan to reclaim as Phrumen puts it, the past. What even this Taleya needs to claim. Is she so desperate she resorted to this?
"Phrumen, tell me, what does she truly want?"
"The happy memories, all the good times, and just…bliss."
"A bliss will end, and trials come after. Does she know this?"
"I can say she does. After all, I am the one who inflicted all the suffering she endured."
At that, The Thrall noticed something amiss. "You are hiding something from me."
Phrumen raises his hands in defense.
"Look, you have my word that I will definitely protect this world, but I can't tell you more. But back to point, I need you. Someone who doesn't dream."
"Dream...what's the importance of your question before?"
He looks hesitant for a moment when Thrall asks him that question.
Phrumen sighed in defeat. "Best I show it to you, come."
The world returned to where both were before. The multi-colored beam at the center comes to Thrall’s view again. For Phrumen, though, he walks towards a downstairs that leads to halls of metal. Thrall struggled a bit to fit in. Once inside, the light is dim, and it's more dull than the root’s interior and even outside now. The contrast between the sterile and otherworldly center of the root and the suffocating halls they step into is strange. Both are so foreign to the larger man’s understanding that the next set of surprises even boggles his understanding.
A metal circular coffin? Or whatever it might be called with ropes attached to boxes that show scribbles the Jotunn cannot comprehend. It emits a sound within an interval. He does not know the point, but there is a rhythm that emulates heartbeat. He knows it because he could hear breaths coming from the coffin. It is simultaneously in sync with noise coming from the boxes.
Phrumen stands beside the strange machine. Heeding Thrall over to him. And there he saw it through a small window of glass.
Inside the coffin lies a woman.
From her features she is clearly not a Jotunn and neither is a Lljosalfar. No, even if Thrall had never participated in The Dyn proper, he can guess pretty much from her features based on witnesses and books.
Ashen skin, horns on her forehead, hair that has seen winter. What is missing is a sharper face. Every note he has read always mentions that. Their pointed jaws make them look sinister when they grin. What he finds instead is a rounder face with a soft expression. It conveys so much innocence that he never thought after years of reading everything about them.
"Why do you keep a dark elf here?"
Phrumen shakes his head.
"Don't call her that. Her people have a proper name: Dokkalfar."
"Dokkalfar…" Thrall repeated. His large hand wipes the window of the coffin to get a better look.
"As you can see, she is sleeping."
"And she is dreaming."
Thrall turns towards Phrumen. "Your point?"
"I am getting there," he says. "Taleya, through her agents, subjected people to wander inside the Dream Realm." he touches the coffin. "They will be found asleep in the real world while their consciousness lives whatever lives they had on the other side."
"I take this…dokkalfar is one such example?"
"Yes, although for her case, she willingly put herself inside."
"Another soul who can't accept reality I presume."
"No," the answer was defensive. "She goes there to protect people inside. To rouse them from their dreams."
"Why would she do that?"
"People who dream cannot awaken normally. You have to sever their ties from The Dream Realm."
He was silent for a moment after that.
"You seem hesitant there, Phrumen." saying the shorter man's name felt natural somehow.
"Ah, sorry. It's just that… to sever the ties, you need to be aware of the choice. She has been here for a long time. I am afraid there is something wrong…"
There was sadness when he said that. Thrall cannot fathom dark el–er, dokkalfar not being a vile as they were said. "You trust her so much, but who is she really?"
"Princess of The Dokkalfar Kingdom. A friend, my ally, just like you."
"I haven't accepted your proposal."
He chuckles a bit.
"I know, but well, she is like you actually. She doesn't dream and thus, she is one of many who rebels against Taleya."
"And what about me dreaming as you said before?"
"You don't dream, after The Dyn happened, you immediately awake. To you, it felt like that, but others? Not so much."
By connecting the pieces here, Thrall thinks he can grasp what Phrumen meant. Those who dream are ensnared by Taleya's clutches. They can't differentiate which is real and which is not. Thus, they will live in ignorance, not aware of the fallacy around them.
He tell Phrumen of this only for him to say,
"The dream is there to ease your kind's transition to this new realm. They need time to adjust their senses. Why else can you feel fine after you wake up?"
"If the dream is to ease then why do I not?"
"Your case, just like hers, is peculiar. I don't know the answer," Phrumen adjusted his hood. "But, if it makes you feel any better, I can guarantee you are resilient against her illusions."
Thrall sighs, not satisfied with that answer.
He came to this tree, er, root not for some stranger to rope him into a quest. It was supposed to be simple. Go here, and he will have answers. The fact that the one who lives here doesn't have all means he is stuck. All this Taleya business while it entices him to take a fight against her, Thrall is still in the dark.
He is just a cursed Jotunn. What can Phrumen gain from him? All he seeks is simple:
He is living on borrowed time. Death is closer than ever. Phrumen says it as much, time has passed. Who knows how much. Before he awoke here, ninety two winters left is his count and concluding from what the robed man’s said, Thrall might be left with little time. He prays that isn't the case.
So, he put everything on the line with this question.
"Do you know of any cure for my condition?"
"You know my name, and so does my condition too, yes?"
"Of course, yes…yes, I do. The moment you step inside, the tower reads you. That includes your history."
"Do you have an answer or not?"
"No. Your condition is not your body, it's your soul which I am afraid is not what I can help."
"Then what are you doing here besides keeping the 'Dokkalfar' safe?"
"Um, keeping Taleya at bay."
Not a good answer.
"What happens if I seek Taleya? You said she knows the matter of soul."
Phrumen when stiff from Thrall’s words.
"You don't know what you are doing."
The giant pulled his axe and hovered it above the boxes.
"Hold on, don't do this, okay? Let me…um, show you."
The world changes to the sunset seas again. The empty, haunting realm. Shades begin to form. It ranges from people to buildings. No, it's more than that. This is a projection like before. Thrall looked beside him, Phrumen procured something from his pocket. A black mask with green lights. He hesitantly puts it on. His hands tremble with every motion.
When it is placed, the shades grow clearer. It's no mere shadow now, Thrall is seeing a memory. The feelings emanate around him. It was Phrumen’s
There he stood against Lady in…wait–
There is no mistaking it. Phrumen kept associating her with Azure. In front of them is one. She wore the same hooded cloak as him. In front of her is a warrior equipped with plate armor. Three of them share the same size.
"Begone, Phrumen!" Says The Warrior.
"No, this world's destruction is necessary. We have to go back, leave this fantasy."
Taleya steps forward.
"You don't understand, Phrumen. This is the reality now. You can't turn back the world!"
"NO!" Phrumen snaps. "I did this! It is my responsibility. I have thrown you all into this false reality. I am the one who starts and I will be the one who ends it."
"You got it all wrong! Your mistakes breed the new world! How can you not see it?!"
"Shut up! How can you know how I feel, Chief!"
"I don't, but you can still fix this."
"I know what to do."
The world started to crumble. The warrior took a last stand as Phrumen gloated over both Taleya and him. Behind them, a large pillar emits light, it blinds Thrall’s eyes.
The vision ends. Phrumen took off his mask.
"What am I seeing?" Thrall pointed his axe. "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" a bitter laugh. "Someone who regretted too much. I don’t think I can repent it all in this lifetime."
Thrall didn't respond, merely trying to soak in that sentence. The world reverts to where they are before.
"I am sorry that I am not trustworthy enough for you," Phrumen admits. "You can leave if you want or visit me here anytime. Whatever suits you, I won't stop you."
Thrall slowly turned his heels back towards the root' center. The machine's noise grew quieter as it was replaced with silence. He opens the entrance to outside, the pitch black sky begins to fill his vision, and after that, the vibrant colors of the root's exterior welcomes him. The air is clear again, he can breathe well.
But his mind is not.
He pondered on the encounter recently. Did he make a mistake by not accepting his assistance? Or is he too preoccupied with his goal to find a cure that he is willing to turn down anything that doesn't give him progress?
What bothers him is the implication, Destroyer of Worlds. It sounded outlandish, but he can't help, but admit that is likely. The memory he was shown felt real. Phrumen is willing to reveal his darkest part of himself. Not many would do that. Even Thrall didn't. And, Phrumen refers to him by name. It's something that he hasn't heard for a long, long time.
"What to do then…."
"Maybe we can talk about that, eh?" a new voice comes to his ear.
He saw nothing within his vision. A hand tugs at the hem of his cloth.
There she is.
He has to crouch to even barely look at her at eye level.
"Jeez, this is why I hate tall people."
"My height aside, who are you?"
She wore a hat that has…ears. He doesn't know how. Her baggy clothes reach her ankles. Her shoes are as big as her head. Regarding her upper parts, her features are strange indeed. Two big eyes that perpetually scowl. Well, other than that, her clothes are marred with blue, lighter shade of it. If he looks at her again, her proportions are unnatural.
How can someone be born that short?
"I don't like that look, pervert."
"I am assessing you. Throw your assumptions away for dinner."
"Well, I don't know what time for dinner is because this scary realm doesn't have ANY!"
He swears this feels like talking to a squeaky wolf.
"Putting that aside, name's Taleya."
"Hellooooooo? Where are your manners, big guy?"
"You…" Thrall slowly took a step back. "...are Taleya."
She cheerfully nods while munching a snack she pulled out of thin air.
Thrall backed off from her immediately.
"Man, why the long face, wait, I can't see yours because of that thick mail with your helmet."
"Coming here to claim me? Putting me in your fantasy world for your collection?"
She rolls her eyes.
"Good ol' Phrum, must've been filling you with dumps, huh?"
"Answer me, woman!"
The world changes, this feels similar to what Phrumen did.
"Familiar?" Taleya asks.
"What trickery is this? Both of you own a realm. Phrumen claims he is no God, but only those who have higher power can wield this."
"Grumpy Phrum won't tell you, but I can."
Thrall’s attention returns to his surroundings. Unlike Phrumen's world that was full of mere shades and shadows, hers is concrete. As the realm was finished forming itself, his vision was assaulted by a barrage of colorful flowers. Once it dissipated, in front of him was a humble abode. It is a simple house. No bigger than the longhouse. Well, his large stature can't seem to fit inside. Are Phrumen's people really that short?
"Eh, you are too big, let's just talk over there." says Taleya while pointing at the field of flowers.
The same kinds that welcomed him before with the exception of light flowers.
Thrall smiled. "Impressive."
"Isn't it? I have kept it for twelve cycles."
He turned towards her.
"I like that expression, well, even though I cannot see it, but I can guess you are giving me an eye."
They walk towards the field. He was a little hesitant to sit. Thrall doesn't want to ruin such beauty. Taleya doesn't seem to care. She plops onto the ground like it is soft fur.
"Come on, big guy, join me." Her voice is muffled.
Thrall complies and waits for her to talk.
After a while, she seems to ignore him.
"I am not here to sit, Taleya. You have an explanation to do."
"Five more minutes," says she, still facing the ground.
While waiting for his esteemed host as she is still face planting herself, Thrall took in the scenery around him.
Taleya's realm truly differs from her counterpart. Hers was fully realized. The Azure sky, the meadows from afar, the field of flowers, and the distant hills that begs to be approached. The abode she had too is simply gorgeous while being simple. His eyes may not be as they used to be, but he can see beauty clearly enough.
Such humbleness that it evokes is enough for him to consider lying down and…
His eyes are getting heavier.
His breath is getting slower.
It's too strong. With all of his willpower, Thrall barely held on. He mustn't close his eyes. Or else she will ensnare hi–
"Come ooooon, lie down, big guy." a tiny hand snake its way onto his shoulders.
"Everything is going to be fiiiiine…"
He can't focus.
Her words grow more into a lullaby. It is soft and enchanting despite her poor attempt at softly seducing him.
"O soul of the doom,
hear my plea,
Come onto me,
Enjoined in struggle,
Till' the end."
Thrall mustered everything to say no, but the weariness grew on him. His head swirls between reality and this realm. Vision is blurred, and he is afraid, will falter sooner or later.
"Aw, don't fight it, man."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU FUCKING DID!"
"Well, I'll meet you in your dreams. Gonna share with other y'know,"
"Welcome to Valhalla you bastard."
Her cheeky grin etched in Thrall’s mind as his vision darkens.
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