Chapter 33 Aura #2
Her shaky resolve disappears as her gaze absorbs the next body.
Serk.
The grisly sight of his head bashed in while the single chain strangles him is too much. Aura claps a hand to her mouth to keep from retching. Instinctively, she traces a finger along Eivor’s braided luck bracelet.
She knows there are loved ones she has yet to discover along this trial.
As she wades through the trickling current, the shade of the next victims has her clutching her chest as she glances upward to see her uncles: Grim, Slode, and Bertie.
Shocked tears flow freely as she covers her mouth again, forcing herself to swallow back the bile and the emotion flooding her senses. These men guided every aspect of her formative winters. To see any of them in such a state…
Their deaths are only a mirage cast by the forest. They are safe in their homes, waiting for us all to return.
Next are Briny and Maeve, off to the side, their feet almost touching the water, which no longer flows clear.
Blood stains the stones, leaving a metallic scent uncomfortably lingering in her nose.
She stumbles from the crimson brook to confront another stretch of corpses hovering above her head along the beaten road, sloping back to the forest floor. The stench of death is so strong that it overwhelms her senses, causing her to gag.
As she ascends the path, more clanking chains and an eerie silence greet her.
Only these bear her siblings.
Thora’s lovely eyes are missing, and Bjorn gapes, his tongue removed. She walks backward up the path, unable to look away from the horror of their grotesque figures.
Aura screams as her feet tread on something soft. Tears streak down her cheeks as she quivers. Her head tips down to see her mother lying in pieces.
“No! This is not real!” She struggles to accept this as a fear manifested by her mind and the Norns’ seidr.
Disregarding the logic screaming at her from within, she falls to her knees, her hands shaking over Avina’s remains. “Mum, you are safe in Blackwood. This isn’t real!”
“Is she, little Sigvidsson?” A distorted voice answers. “Are any of them safe from me?”
A figure materializes in the growing mist.
“Say what you mean!” Aura shouts at the dark figure.
The shadowy form’s haunting laughter tightens her chest, causing her breathing to increase. Still, she urges herself onward.
If she wants to defeat her fear, she must confront it.
“What is your deepest fear, Aura?”
She swallows, unable to say it into existence. “That I will lose my family.”
“Wrong!” The voice shifts into a disturbing blend of a deep male tone and a husky female voice.
She pushes through the mist, revealing the next body she expected to find after discovering her mother’s corpse.
Her father lies along the path. The recognizable great axe of Freyja cleaves his chest cavity in half.
Father!
She collapses to her knees beside the man she has spent so much of her life desperately trying to please. Hot tears of anger and bitter resentment flow from her chest.
“Failure.” She chokes out as she removes the axe's head from his flesh, brushing his copper braid so it lies beside his head. “My deepest fear is failure.”
“Good girl.” The voice is unmistakable, sultry, and feminine.
When Aura raises her head, she meets the condescending smirk of Queen Lavinia emerging from the swirling mist.
“But am I not your worst fear, baby girl?” Lavinia’s body morphs into Calder, and his deep voice rings hollow in her ears.
“I fear being wrong about you!” Aura screams at him with such intensity that she trembles.
His smile is unnatural.
Most unlike the man who holds her in his thick arms every night as they fall into an unsteady slumber.
“Yes, yes, you do, Princess.”
She blinks away the burning tears of her family’s mangled bodies as Calder joins her beside Sigvid.
Pain threatens to overwhelm her as she glances behind to watch the swinging forms of every family and friend she has ever loved.
Their bodies hang over her like a sickening symbol of failure should Makt defeat them.
“After Isabel, you could be wrong in your judgment of me. Only this time, if you miss the mark, the Draemonium succeeds.” He cups her cheek, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “You can always walk away from this Abyss. We don’t have to tell anyone your secret.”
Her eyes narrow at him as he guides her away from Sigvid’s vacant stare.
“My secret?” She lets the Calder, a mere figment of her imagination, pull her deeper along the beaten path toward a black marble altar with a lifeless body resting atop. “Who is that?”
“Say it, Princess. Who am I?” Calder presses her front against the side of the stone so she can observe her own features on display. The uncanny appearance is like gazing into a reflection.
“Say it.” He growls in her ear.
Her heart thunders in her chest, and her mouth dries. “I fear…”
“Say it!” His hand wraps around her neck, squeezing tightly.
“I fear you are Makt’s son!”
The tension around her body releases, and she whirls around to confront his glacial gaze, now black as night.
“But the Princess doesn’t care, does she?” His voice is gravelly, distant. “She is content embracing the Demon. The one who will destroy her family.”
She shakes her head. “Even if you are the son of Makt, you are still the man I…,” she hesitates, “care about! I fear being wrong about your motives and damning my loved ones because of my poor choices, again.”
The ground rumbles, and suddenly, the altar disappears. A darkness washes over her, returning her to the forest where they entered.
Aura clutches her chest, glancing around at the swirling sticks at the base of the trees and the chipmunks scurrying comfortably.
She scrambles back the way she entered, but instead of finding the creek and the chains, she uncovers a path of lit pinecones leading to an enclosure of wrought-iron fencing twisted in Skalor knots between the trees.
A thin, towering gate ushers her inward.
Yet, she balks.
None of her companions wait inside, and she cannot hear anyone nearby.
She worries her bottom lip in indecision before finally plopping on the ground, leaning her head against the metal fencing.
She closes her eyes, listening to the faint noises of the forest and toying with the loose snow as she processes her trial and the dead faces she worries she will never unsee.
“Ah, shit!” Edmund’s voice shudders her out of her stupor.
He bumbles through the underbrush, turning at each snow-covered tree as if it were a spiritual guide.
“Cousin!” He kneels at her side, gripping her face. “You passed your trial!”
She chuckles. “I guess there was one trial I could conquer.”
“What a cathartic experience!” He settles onto the ground at her side, draping an arm over her shoulders.
They sit silently, each reflecting on how they overcame their worst fear.
However, there is still time for hers to manifest.
“I am proud of you.” He whispers.
She twists her head to look at him.
“You are a damn good warrior-” he starts.
“Come on, Edmund,” she shrugs him away, not in the mood for his empty words.
“Hear me out,” he raises his hands, “You were the first of us to defeat the horror of your mind. Damn, if that’s not some inner strength.” Emotion catches in his throat, and he quiets.
She sighs and rubs his arm. “It’s over.”
He shakes his head and mutters, “My Abyss is never over.”
Argnier appears next, leaning against a tree, clutching his chest. Edmund and Aura rush to his side, guiding him to the gate.
“Briny’s balls!” He leans his head against a tree trunk as Edmund shoves a water skin into his hand, which he guzzles, spilling over his front.
“What did you face?” Edmund kneels beside him with an intensity in his dark gaze.
“My biggest fucking fear. She is as nasty as I remember.”
Aura doesn’t need to pry.
With no desire to share her fears, she bites her tongue and allows the other two to discuss Edmund’s fear, which involves Gullveig’s hold on his life and the revulsive manner in which he must break himself from her.
After the sun shifts above the treetops, she begins pacing before the gate, worried about what will happen to Calder if he fails.
“Go on ahead.” She directs them.
“What about Ice Prick?” Argnier stands with Edmund’s assistance.
“I am going after him.” She hands Edmund her pack but keeps Makt’s heavy axe slung over her back, a constant reminder of the magnitude of their impending confrontation.
She pauses in the forest, unsure of how she might reach him.
“Aura!” Argnier stumbles over. “He must pass this alone to enter the Sanctum.”
“Everyone deserves support.”
He backs off and joins Edmund inside the gate.
Aura closes her eyes and focuses on Calder. An archway crafted of solid, twisting ice appears in the trees. With a deep breath, she steps inside Calder’s greatest fear.