Bonds of the Fallen
Chapter 19

Bat’s eyes were glued to the door, her every nerve on edge, each creak and groan of the floorboards sending her heart into her throat as she yearned for answers that were always out of reach. The minutes stretched without end, and her anxiety clawed at her from the inside out. She wrestled with it and fought to focus on the task, but it was a losing battle.

Beside her, Lyell offered a steadying presence during the turmoil that churned within her. The room was steeped in silence, the only sounds being their breaths and the distant murmur of the city beyond the walls.

Lyell cast his gaze around the room, breaking the silence. “This room is something else,” he said. “Mine’s a tad on the drab side. Maybe I should spruce it up, though I wasn’t sure how long we’d be bunking here. Didn’t want to get too cozy.” He made himself comfortable on a plush cushion on the floor, stretching out his legs with a contented sigh. “Back where I am from, I was the odd one out. People can be cruel about things like love. But I’ve noticed the Vampir, and they don’t care about that stuff.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I know the feeling,” Bat said, dropping beside Lyell on another cushion. “I was picked on, too, because of my mom and how she was. She had her struggles.”

Lyell reached over his hand, a warm, comforting weight on hers. “Looks like we’re two peas in a pod, you and me. I’m happy we’re friends.”

“Have you dated anyone since...you know,” Bat asked tentatively.

“Yeah, there’s someone. A human. Speaking of which, where’s your guy, Ace?”

Bat bristled at that. “He’s not mine. And he should have been back by now.”

The shadows in the room lengthened, the day waning. “We’re going to lose daylight if we don’t get a move on soon,” Lyell pointed out. “Should we just call the whole thing off?”

Bat felt a strange sensation stir within her, like an invisible tether pulling at her from the inside. She glanced down at her palms and saw a thin, golden thread wrapped around her fingers, guiding her forward.

The thread vibrated with its own energy, each pulse sending ripples of power through her very core. Her heart raced, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as the pull of the thread grew more vital, more commanding.

“No.” Bat stood, extending a hand to Lyell. “Let’s go. We can’t let this chance slip through our fingers.” She hauled him up from the cushion, a smile playing on her lips as she led the way out of the room.

Stepping outside, the contrast between the world they had left behind and the one that now lay before them struck Bat. The barren, desolate wasteland that had once stretched out before them had undergone a miraculous transformation, bursting forth with new life and vibrancy.

Greenery stretched out as far as the eye could see, a carpet of rich, vibrant color filled with vitality. Birds flitted from branch to branch, their melodic songs a testament to the resilience of life. Small creatures darted about, their presence a sign that the land was healing, thriving once more. The way the land had rebounded was nothing short of a miracle.

As they drew closer, the wood afforded them a panoramic view of the city that lay beyond. It sprawled out before them, alive with activity, a bustling metropolis that stood out among the fragmented, dilapidated settlements that had once dotted the landscape. Bat was awestruck by the transformation that had taken place.

“It’s just up ahead, past the tree line.” Lyell ducked under a low-hanging branch, his voice a soft murmur against the symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls.

An ancient wagon came into view. It appeared to be long forgotten by the world, tendrils of ivy encasing its wheels and binding it to the earth. The weather-beaten and worn wood told tales of countless seasons endured in the open air.

A quaint A-frame cottage loomed before them, its eaves adorned with intricately carved runes that spoke a language Bat could not decipher. Above the doorway, an elk skull hung suspended, its hollow sockets seeming to watch them with a silent warning.

With a creak that spoke of age and disuse, the door swung open to reveal a diminutive figure. A small woman stood framed in the doorway, her form hunched, her hands—gnarled and twisted like the branches of an old tree—clinging to a knotted staff. Her hair, a wild cascade of gray and white, framed a face etched with the lines of countless years.

“Ah, come in,” she beckoned with a voice like the rustling of dried leaves. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Crossing the threshold, Bat felt a ripple of unease wash over her. The cottage’s interior flickered in candlelight, casting the room in an otherworldly glow. Shelves laden with jars filled with mysterious herbs and potions lined the walls, while strange trinkets and baubles hung suspended from the ceiling.

The crone shuffled towards them, her eyes gleaming with a light that pierced through the gloom. “What brings you to my doorstep?” she rasped softly, her voice filled with an underlying strength.

Bat hesitated, not knowing how much to reveal to this stranger. “We seek your aid,” she said at last, her voice steady.

A solemn nod was the woman’s response. “Very well,” she intoned. “Then let us not waste time, for we have much to discuss.”

As the older woman bustled about the room, the sense of unease that had wrapped itself around Bat tightened its grip. In a flash of recognition, she realized the truth. The woman before her was the same one she had encountered at the night market, who had guided her towards the mysterious Dark Valkyrie.

“You… you were at the night market,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

With an almost imperceptible nod, the woman confirmed her realization. “Indeed, I am the same,” she said, placing a plate with food on the table.

Reading the hesitance etched onto Bat’s face, the older woman sighed. “Fear not, young one,” she intoned, her eyes glinting with ancient wisdom. “I am but a seer, a witness to the threads of fate that weave the tapestry of time. My purpose is not to interfere but to guide those who seek my aid.”

The Volva motioned toward an unoccupied chair at the table. Tentatively, Bat lowered herself onto the seat. Fortune tellers and seers who claimed to peer beyond the veil of reality had always struck her as mere charlatans. Looking around at the eclectic assortment of trinkets and herbs that adorned the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps there was a kernel of truth to the woman’s claims.

The Volva reached for a plate piled high with food and took a thoughtful bite. “Others...I cannot vouch for their authenticity,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a knowing glint. At a nearby seat, Lyell had already helped himself to a chair, eagerly sampling the assortment of dishes.

“My name is Moja,” the old woman offered.

A flicker of curiosity ignited within Bat at the woman’s words. It was as if she were being pulled by an invisible string, one that was linked to the enigmatic old seer before her.

In the meantime, Lyell poured himself a glass of a deep, crimson liquid. He gave it a cautious sniff and recoiled at the scent. “What is this?” he asked.

Moja’s laughter filled the air, a rich, musical sound reverberating off the cottage’s walls. “Why, that’s deer blood, my boy. If you grow weary of human blood, the deer of the World Tree, known as Dain, offers a suitable alternative. Their descendants are known to sustain your kind. But beware, for there are also creatures that would not hesitate to make a meal of you, given the opportunity.” She winked.

Lyell’s eyes widened in shock, the glass of deer blood forgotten in his hand as Moja’s laughter rang out again.

When she regained her composure, Moja turned her attention back to Bat. “You have come seeking answers, and I must provide them.”

A hesitation lingered in Bat’s voice as she began to speak. “Something is...wrong. The Ceremony of the Valkyrie didn’t...it didn’t work.”

Moja rose from her chair, moving toward a hearth where a fire crackled and popped. She filled a kettle with water and set it over the flames. As the water began to boil, she added a handful of herbs, their scent mingling with the steam from the kettle. “My dear,” she said softly, turning back to Bat, “there is nothing wrong with you. Everything is unfolding as it should.”

“Why am I not a Vampir? Why do I see these golden threads? Could I be a witch?”

Moja’s smile didn’t waver as she deftly set the kettle on the table and laid out three cups. She poured the steaming tea with practiced ease, the liquid’s warmth spreading in the air. Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a leisurely sip before peering at Bat over the rim. “The ceremony proved futile because you are already cloaked in immortality. It is an impossibility to transform something into what it already embodies.” Setting her cup down with a soft clink, she leaned back in her chair, her gaze unwavering on Bat. “You do not carry the Volva lineage as I do. Instead, you are Norn.” Her head tilted slightly to the side, an analytical gleam in her eye. “That is the extent of what I am permitted to reveal. My gods have yet to pull back the veil on your story.”

Lyell choked on his food, the morsels spewing from his mouth. “She’s a Norn?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Moja offered a silent nod, her focus entirely on Bat. “The gods have granted me glimpses of your tapestry, woven from the threads of fate that encompass you. When our paths crossed at the market, recognition flared within me, for they had already acquainted me with your image.”

Bat’s hands wrapped around a cup of tea, the heat from the ceramic seeping into her palms. “You can see the threads too?”

Moja’s eyes took on a far-off look as she leaned back, the chair creaking softly under her weight. “The gods bless me with visions, glimpses into the web of fate, and prophecies stretching before us. They are inconsistent entities, both the visions and the prophecies.”

With a curious tilt of her head, Bat leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Are you also immortal?”

A chuckle escaped Moja’s lips as she shook her head. “Alas, the boundaries of mortality still ensnare me. However, my craft affords me a longevity beyond the ordinary.” She paused, her gaze shifting to Lyell. “I would be honored to guide you in harnessing your abilities. Lyell, would you be so kind as to spread the word that Bat will remain in my care for the next few days? We wouldn’t want to arouse any concern. Return in two days, and you can escort her back.”

Lyell’s shoulders slumped, his disappointment evident as he reluctantly nodded.

“Can you make sure to let Ace know where I am?” Bat glanced around the tiny room, a flicker of worry crossing her features.

Lyell chuckled, his voice light and playful. “So, you get to play witch, and I’m relegated to the role of the messenger.” His eyes twinkled as he shot her a teasing grin.

Bat wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. “You know, Ace. He’s as stubborn as they come. He’ll put the blame squarely on me.” Her gaze once again took in the confines of the room.

Lyell mimed, slicing his throat with a finger. “As long as he doesn’t shoot the messenger. I’m not quite ready to test the limits of my immortality.”

Moja picked up on Bat’s unease and offered a reassuring smile. “Worry not, dear. This cottage may appear small, but it holds more than meets the eye.” With a mischievous wink, she added, “Now, why don’t you lend me a hand with this feast? I’d rather not have an army of squirrels siege to my doorstep.”

Once Lyell departed, Bat circled back to their earlier conversation. “You claim not to interfere, yet there are others who do. A friend suspected a Volva had used magic to separate us at the market.”

Moja sighed, a note of sadness tingeing her voice. “I fear your friend may be right. My sister, Hedda, has a penchant for meddling. She’s cast her lot with those who’ve sworn allegiance to the New God. I was in the market that night, searching for her.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes, I’m drawn to places without knowing why.”

Bat’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They mentioned that my mother might be with those followers.”

Moja’s eyes held a world of sorrow. “I can’t confirm that, my dear. But it’s within the realm of possibility.” She walked over to the back door and turned the knob. The door swung open to reveal an expansive kitchen with adjoining bedrooms. “Things are often not what they seem.” Her smile was both mysterious and reassuring.

Bat’s jaw dropped in amazement as she stepped through the doorway. The cabin was far too small to house such spacious rooms. Moja guided her to a cozy room, its interior adorned with plush animal furs, bottles of herbs, and vibrant flowers. “You’ll be staying here. Get some rest, my dear. Our work begins at first light.”

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