Ormans Ode - Part 1 Finale

by **Kor** Sun Nov 05, 2017 1:54 pm

It has been said that those who challenge fate only invite it's prophecies upon themselves...

The world has ended. Only moments ago the end times predicted by the fates of Norway had devastated the very Earth that those Asgardians had sought to protect. Ravaged by the throes of war and a maelstrom of blood and steel – the epicenter of the great conflict was scarred forever. Bodies littered the battleground. Gods, Giants, Humans, Demi-Humans... All of them fallen to the conflict. A battle with no winners and only losers.

Beaches once marvelous to the eyes were stained red with the blood of warriors dead in the end of the mystic cycle. Large tears in the ground that have slowly filled with water (torn open by the mighty swords and axes of the gods) carried lifeless corpses out to sea. Not all combatants had died. Though, none would survive and tell the tale of this epic confrontation – some still laid awake, drawing upon their last breaths. It was among those who lay in the limbo between death and life where she was.

A serpentine tail, patterned with red and yellow diamonds over a brown canvas spread out on the ground. A pile of shattered crystals – broken so thoroughly that their dust mixed with the sand creating a saddening, yet beautiful glow; they scattered from torn flesh where they once melded together to make her left hand. On the opposite side, her right hand had vanished. Her bone and flesh were mangled. Muscle and tissue hung out from her shredded forearm like a freshly filleted piece of meat. Silver locks stained with the crimson inchor of blood were splayed around her head. Her torso had been carved and sundered – red toned flesh painted even darker by the shades of her life water. Yet she lay there awake. Her sea blue irises surrounding her pitch black pupils reflected the gray skies above.

And she felt pain. Though she'd soon learn that like all of the moments she'd been living in, this pain was ephemeral – it still hurt. But that pain was not what filled her mind.

As her eyes stared up at the dismal skies, she could think only of the things she would never see again when the dull blue hues lost their light. Things she'd wished to live for when she succeeded... If she succeeded. More than the agony that she suffered in the physical way, she suffered a pain in her heart that was indescribable.

With what little energy she'd left, she turned her head to face the ocean. Those who'd been fortunate enough to watch the battle from sea and fight from a range were leaving, albeit with untold losses. Among the retreating vessels was her own. The Fer De Lance was leaving her. “Wretched cowards!”, her inner voice roared within the caverns of her mind. Where did they think they were going!? “Ah.. Right.”, the voice echoed once more – now calm. The fight was over. Everything she'd hated was slain. She could not tell if she'd at least accomplished her goal.

Her eyes wandered more, and from their periphery, she could see her. She'd failed. Her sister, her precious sister, her beloved sister... She'd been felled and trapped by that bastard's hammer. All those years she'd spent strengthening herself, gathering an army, finding those two swords of hers (Gram and Tyrfing) were for naught. Jormungandr laid dead. Her sister whom she loved laid dead.

“One day, Kor, everything will end. I will die. And it is your job to make sure all of our kind survive. You will be the next queen.”, she heard her sister's voice echo from years past.

Yes, it was true. Once upon a time, it had been her given duty to uphold the society of lamia that her sister had tirelessly built for thousands of years. But Korsae did not see herself a worthy leader. No, instead she believed that only one queen should rule her kind for the rest of days. Oh, how she regretted believing that as her breath became scarce. Because of this belief, she could not even fulfill the ultimate desire of the world serpent.

Of course, that was par for the course with Korsae. She was selfish! She wanted her sister to live forever so she could always be at her side. And at that moment, the serpent detested herself for that sentiment. Failure upon failure!

“Sister! Sister! Forgive me! If your soul can hear me in Helheim, please forgive me! I couldn't even complete the only thing you wanted from me!”, that inner voice begged and pleaded. Crying for comforting words that she knew would never reach her!

Her heart wrenched at the thought. That vile Hel possessing the souls of her sister, and her less than lovable brother. And possibly her own soul as well. Why? Why was she so weak that she could not live, that she could not prevent the end of times, that she could not fulfill the wish of her sister? Her mortality was ever clear to her as she laid there broken. If gods could not defy fate, then who was Korsae to do so?

There were no tears however. No, so much life had left her body that her eyes couldn't muster up even the smallest trickle to express her anguish. With a little more of her limited life force, she turned her head to face the sky once more. Thoughts of how those blue eyes would never look upon the stars of night again filled her head. Those constellations which she once gazed at while bathing in the dim light of the moon would be lost to her forever. The thought served as a reminder to her.

Only some days before the end of times, she'd sent away people who were very important to her. Convinced them to travel to another realm. Her mind flashed back to it.

“Why do you insist I leave to my home now, Korsae?”, she recalled the soft yet firm voice of her beloved Scyfer.

“I'm not asking you to leave, my love. I just want you to take Lorelie and Cassiopeia to your home to see what it is like.”, she remembered her reply clear as day.

“Then... You should also join us.”, he'd replied. Her body felt his warmth for a moment as she remembered the way he'd wrapped his arms around her from behind her.

“Ahhh... As much as I'd love to go with you, someone has to stay behind to keep the rowdy pirates on this ship in check. If I leave, I'm afraid I'll come back to nothing.”, she noted.

She remembered how he'd held her in those final moments together before she sent him off. How she'd tilted her head to a side and how he'd rested his chin on her shoulder. As thought it were yesterday, her mind put the image in the forefront of the final kiss they shared before his departure. How tightly she'd held onto him, and how strong his arms felt as they enveloped her. Finally, she thought about her last words to him.

“Don't worry about me. I'll be here when you come back to welcome you with love.”

At the time, some part of her believed that to be true. Part of her believed that she would triumph over the gods and break the mystic cycle. She thought she would live through the events of Ragnarok, and see a world free of the Asgardian's constant attempts to defy the prophecies given to Odin. How foolish!

In every passing moment where she'd thought about Scyfer Grey she could feel her chest tighten and her heart tear to little pieces. But she took respite in the thought that her children were safe.

Her precious Lorelie... The last of her race that would live on after the end times. How regretful it felt that she had left the young lamia with her sister for so long before finally returning to raise her as a proper mother. They'd only come back together for a short time. Korsae had only just begun to forge the bonds of mother and child with Lorelie. Only recently had the two of them enjoyed the love shared between them. It seemed as though every passing moment filled her with even more shame and guilt for her past actions.

Then her baby Cassiopeia came to mind. How young she was. Only two years of age, yet she was more intelligent than half of the men in her crew. That girl was everything she was but better. The thought that she'd never be able to witness with her own eyes what that child of hers who walked on two legs would do forced her eyes to glass over – even if they wouldn't cry for her.

“Thank the stars I sent them away.”, she thought to herself.

Her eyes looked down at her body to assess the damage, still thinking that perhaps there was a way for her to escape this. She couldn't accept her death so easily! Not when Lorelie and Cassiopeia were out there. That was when she saw it. The fractured steel of an ebony sword driven through her own midriff. Cursed magic leaving the blade and filling her motionless figure. Then she saw near her body the shimmering golden sword laying only some inches from what was once her hand.

“Ah, then it's settled.”, she thought to herself as she came to the realization that The Sword Tyrfing had chosen her to be its final victim.

It seemed as though nothing she'd done had been of use. Even her golden blade, The Sword Gram was useless in preventing the end of the world as she knew it. Not even the might of her Talisman would save her now. Solomon's wisdom was great, but Tyrfing's curse was greater. No Sands of Solomon would revive her that day. Indeed it was the end for her.

She lamented it. All the things she'd just thought about had rushed back into her, flashing before her eyes the very images of all the things she'd loved and all the things she'd come to regret.

Images of her sister, memories of her days as a young lamia and how she'd always been cared for by the tribe. Her botched wedding with Jehoel Lorvan, and then time that came after when her spirit was broken by his actions. Elliott, the father of her first born daughter. Where was he? Her crew – all of the times they'd spent together in harmony and in conflict (she'd miss them). Scyfer. Oh, Scyfer who'd given her life meaning. Who lit up her world with what could have been an endless sunrise. Who loved her like no other ever could. And finally, those children of hers. Lorelie and Cassiopeia. How short lived their time together was, yet still filled with cherished moments and happiness unparalleled.

Her soul was restless. Lingering attachments clung to what was slowly dying. And finally, as the lamia exhaled one final breath and her eyes went dimmer, dimmer, dimmer, and finally dark... As the sun set on her world, she died. Finally, she'd joined those who fought alongside her, and against her. Finally, on the fifteenth day of the first month of 1513, her legend ended..

ＰａｒｔＯｎｅ－Ｆｉｎ

The Fates. Once again had they succeeded in their mission. The Norse Gods were dead, and they would be reborn once more to a time that knew not of their previous existence as nothing more than sages who called themselves deities. It was how these lords of destiny – True Gods hidden in the shadows cast by the world of men kept the balance in their favor. But not all were so sinister.

The Goddess Siaramis was not so evil as to just destroy the world of men in its entirety. After all, she created those that lived upon her earth and in her stars. And that battle was no different.

As she combed the dead for survivors, she found none. How saddening. Not a single soul had lived through the conflict this time. Her brothers had become more and more determined to destroy their heirs. So much so that if all life would be eradicated, they would not care. Siaramis was infuriated by such a thing.

As she turned away in her anger, she felt a strong feeling of resentment towards the world coming from the departing souls. A feeling of agony, sadness, regret, hate, love! Everything that could give one reason to die for a cause in one spirit. She was fascinated that one of her creations could be so passionate. What great lingering emotions.

As all souls departed for Helheim (the only bastion of a true god that morals knew of), Siaramis stole away the resentful one. Hel would not have her way that day. None of the True Gods would. One day, this resentful creature would lay waste to all they were...

Ｅｐｉｌｏｇｕｅ - ２０ＹｅａｒｓＬａｔｅｒ

The miracle of birth. It was in a small cottage in the hills of the kingdom of Nibelein where a young married couple experienced the joys of this wonderful occasion.

Within the cottage a small gathering of people celebrated the birth of a new Drakon into the world. The father, Nielsen stood by his wife's bedside – gazing at the small face of his newborn son. His wife, Adeleide held the baby as she recovered her ragged breaths. This birth was a miracle as any other birth in the kingdom of Nibelein was. Since the tragedy of Ragnarok, demi-humans had been culled to only a small number – all of which retreated to the kingdom of the Drakon. This baby's birth, and the birth of all other demis was proof that their kind could one day bounce back.

Nielsen was not an average drakon. He was no farm hand, nor was he a builder. He was a knight. One of the Drakon Knights of Nibelein. A proud soldier with a duty to protect his people and the people of the demi-human races from danger. And so when word that his wife was pregnant reached the streets of the small village on the hill in which he lived, the people rejoiced that they would have another youth to protect them in the future. But all of that was so distant to Nielsen.

At that moment, his duties as a knight were not important to him. No, instead he fawned over the birth of his son. His life had once again become that of someone else. No longer was it his, no longer was it Adeleide's. It belonged to the babe his wife cradled in her small arms.

Adeleide too felt the same. She may not have had a prestigious post as a knight, but as a wife and a mother, she felt that her work would all be for the child she'd just birthed. Her eyes gazed down at the baby's little form.

His skin was a reddish color. It seemed peculiar to her, but perhaps somewhere in her heritage, or Nielsen's there was someone with the trait. What little hair he had was snow white. And his eyes were a fierce blue color that she'd never seen before. He was beautiful, and she knew her son was destined to live a wondrous life.

Nielsen placed a hand on his beloved's shoulder and asked her a single question. “What shall we name the newest addition to our Aberdeen family?”

Adeleide looked up at her husband, and then to all the guests who eagerly awaited her response to his inquiry. Many names rushed to the surface of her mind, but only one stuck with her. Only one name would be good enough for this little one.

“Kornelius. Kornelius Aberdeen.”

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