Epilogue
Vereandi
The small child-goddess was not bothered by the chill in the air or the mist that obscured the shapes of the steps before her.
On light feet, Vereandi ascended the steps, gliding across the cracked surface of the palace foyer and deep into the court of the Queen of Death.
The doors of the throne room were wrapped in roots frozen in ice that cracked at her touch.
With whispered secrets, the doors swung inward.
Mist consumed the throne room, hiding the cold stone floor and swirling around Vereandi’s robes. It curled up her spine as if its grasping tendrils could tame the wild flame of her hair. Certain and carefree, Vereandi waved away the fog as if it were a misbehaving pet, and it sank at her touch.
Before her loomed a massive throne composed of black ice and aged by time. Its sharp edges nearly reached the high ceilings. It was massive in its scope, far larger than any human could possibly ever need. Though it was appropriate as the immense woman who sat upon it was anything but human.
“Hello, Hel,” Vereandi called out as she reached the steps before the throne.
The goddess stared down at her out of one burning violet eye.
Her delicate eyebrow rose in scornful curiosity, and her vivid red lips pressed against each other.
Or at least, half of them did. For half of Hel’s face was beautiful, with full lips shrouded in luscious black hair that hung down to her waist, complimenting rosy, glowing skin, but the other half was dead.
The ragged line started at the top of her forehead and cut down her face and neck, disappearing into the fabric covering Hel’s chest. A gaping hole was all that remained of Hel’s other eye, and missing lips revealed the teeth still rooted in her jawbone.
On the dead side of her body, Hel’s hair was white and thin.
She was the physical manifestation of all life had to offer and all death had to steal.
She tapped her skeletal hand against the armchair of the throne. “What do you want, Vereandi?”
Vereandi pouted at Hel’s bored tone, reaching down to pat the mist that gathered at her feet. It parted from her hands and fled at her touch. “Not even your pets like me.”
The woman’s red lips turned up, amused. She beckoned with her manicured hand. The mist raced to her, nestling in her palm. Vereandi could make out the shapes of eyes and teeth within the mist. “They mean no offense. They’re not used to the living, or anything warm, really.”
Hel shook her hand, scattering the mist that howled as it dispersed. She rose from her throne, her body towering over Vereandi and revealing the Jotnar blood that ran through her veins. The other gods had banished her to Helheim, calling her half-breed . Just as they had once called Vereandi.
Hel still wore the same black gown she’d donned during Ragnarok . Leather armor covered the soft fabric. The furs around her shoulders had come from her brother Fenris after his death on the battlefield. To the mortals who passed through her gate, she was a beauty and a nightmare.
Vereandi only smiled as she tilted her head up to gaze into Hel’s face. “Did you get my gifts?”
Hel descended the steps slowly. “Did you mean to send them quite so broken?”
“Don’t most things arrive broken in this realm?”
“Hmm,” Hel replied, reaching the bottom of the steps. Her ragged-edged sword swung at her waist, its tip nearly touching the ground.
“They’re pretty, though, don’t you think?” Vereandi giggled, gazing up at the giantess.
Half of Hel’s face lifted with an amused grin. “I suppose they are. And I’ll have eternity to fix them.”
Vereandi’s smile only grew. “Maybe not eternity.”
Hel’s amusement vanished at Vereandi’s look. “What have you done?”
“We cannot disregard the threads that bind those together.”
Hel snorted. Around her, Helheim trembled, and the screams of souls from beyond her throne echoed as the earth shook. “You are playing a dangerous game, Vereandi.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Vereandi answered, her voice laced with sweet naivety.
“Do you remember the golden blood of the gods as it flooded this earth? The mortals might have brought about the demons, but it was the gods and Jotnar who destroyed this world in fire and ash. They played the game, and they lost.”
Vereandi tilted her chin up. “That’s because they didn’t know the rules.”