I

 Aryen’s thoughts shattered as lightning skipped through the air. It was here in these quiet moments, where his fear inflamed. Common anxieties - confined to his personal quarters, stricken from general conclaves - used as bargaining power against his own kind. But now these fears are zeroing into reality. His terrors became the blade of his execution. Aryen was on his way to receive his sentence for a crime he did not yet commit. He idly waits for his father and sister atop the ridge of the mountains, every moment slowly passing him by, he was nearing his debut with the dance of death. This was his birthright.

Aryen stared into the stars overhead as he gripped the pommel of his sword - a family heirloom passed down to the next heir of House Jormun. For nights like this, Aryen would typically be studying history from the other houses, but instead he would be making history for them, his blade would be stowed or even confiscated as all his secret enemies would have him in their clutches for the first time. But there were other reasons to stay his blade. The people of Sheol truly needed to believe that unity inside the gate cannot be sacrificed for those beyond it. Especially for the ones who take pride in collecting artifacts off the dead corpses of northerners.

An ear-splitting shockwave flooded Aryen’s ears- a broken melody of fleeting moments of pride, honor, mystery, and love. The cliffside crumbles as his father and sister soar up from the basin. The most legendary of creatures, the most terrifying of beasts, the dragons of House Jormun. His bang stood up as their pace created an updraft - “I would fear us too.” he whispered to himself as his family landed behind him.

The gentle smile of the North’s most notorious warrior seemed faint in comparison to the massive wave of death that radiated from the scales of his father, Lord of Dragons, and High King of Sheol. Would he be so grimm if the South ceased to exist? The question went unanswered as the grip of Sheol’s most feared Dragoon clutched his shoulder. “Will he ever acknowledge me again?”

-“Brother it is time, the other houses have gathered and await your trial”. 

The anger trapped within as he clenched his teeth, and his true form would not manifest as it did in the past. “Ride with Kelis, I will go on ahead.” were the only words his father spoke before he tore through the clouds. Aryen remembered the air as it swiftly wrapped around his tail and seduced his scales. It had been several years since then, the day the sky turned red. The last things he remembered were the flash of lightning bolts pummeling the ground, a terrible moment of searing heat, and the emptiness in his brother’s eyes, faint of life. Then…silent darkness.

Aryen mounted his sister’s back and she leaped off the edge, wings tucked, diving towards the azure sea beneath. Her shimmering scales reflect the light of the moon. Kelis - Fang of Sheol, most feared warrior of House Jormun, other than the Lord of Dragons. A perfect choice for the bodyguard of the soon to be executed prince. Kelis spiraled as she neared the water, opening her wings at the perfect moment to sail right above the crests of the sea. She was known for that neat trick as it signaled death for those who did not bear the crimson insignia we hailed high over the city of Yggdrasil. She claimed to fight only when she must, but Aryen knew that was a ploy to hide her excitement on the battlefield. The oldest daughter, firstborn of the Lord of Dragons, venerable hero of countless battles. One of the four Visceral Champions, and the strongest. With a single flap of her wings, the concept of sound had been broken, Aryen’s sight grew hazy, and the vast sky became a blur. Within moments she had caught up to father, who left us in what seemed like ages ago. The dragons of House Jormun were approaching the city of Tartarus, the origin point of the entire northern realm and capital of the nation. The dragons circle over a heavily lit colosseum, filled to the brim with people, banners of noble color backing them. Aryen peers over as he sees those that will usher in the age of his impending doom. The dragons land in the center and the echoing chatter of the people of Sheol dissipates. Eyes like daggers pierce into the backs of the House Jormun royal line. Father had already shifted back into his human form and all rose within the chambers. He set his gaze ahead at the four thrones currently occupied - Furthest to the left, brazen in front of a golden banner. Lord Dr.Aluca of House Basara, the Physician of End. Next to him shining brilliantly as ever, the Lord St. Elyon, of House Nephi known to most as the King of Kings. Furthest to the right, elegantly set afront an evergreen banner, the Lady Malefiz, of House Aosi, Queen of the Danann. Lastly, next to her sits a direct heir of the progenitor of all of the northern realm, Lady Persefini, The Dark Soul. The Ladies and Lords of the north are the first to greet their King, but  even then you could feel their haste to begin. Father took his seat in the center and everyone did the same. The bailiff swore everyone in and the conclave had begun.

First to speak was Lady Persefini. Her voice serenading the ears of all her “Children” as she would call them. A gesture of love and humor to some, but there were those who wished her dead. Her ancestors, the proud House Typhon, were known for their glory above all else, some kings were just and honorable while the more popular ravaged the north and had gone mad leaving immeasurable amounts of casualties, generations of bloodshed, classism, and pillaging the spoils of war. None would ever forget the stories told regularly - some scars still festering in the shadows. 

-“As you all know, one of my cousins is on trial this evening, he is cursed, and will one day succumb to the madness that has left our nation in such a fragile state. This madness, the curse of Mad Kings and left all our hearts filled with sorrow!”

The audience remains still, but the tension swelled the room, the stench of resentment travels on the murmurs of pale tongues. Waiting only for the perfect moment to strike.

-”I only ask that we remain fair in his judgment, for we did not know what we do now, he did not ask for this burden, and like the Mad Kings before him…they are my family.

The audience, taken aback by her closing statement, waits in silence, before a man stands up and dismisses her point of view. “The child will be no different from his ancestors, and for us to lie in wake of destruction from the former Prince of Dragons is silly!” 

More members chime in before the fear of the High King fills the room. A majestic flame leaves his mouth and rises into the night sky, as it lingered, one could think dawn had struck. The mighty Lord of Dragons summons and slams his tail behind the thrones.

- “Silence! There will be no comments until all the Cardinal Lords have spoken.

The colosseum becomes quiet once more and the Lord of House Nephi moves to speak.

-”Spare the child, keep him under close watch and away from cities, this way he can undergo his transformation unprovoked. We the Lords of the North, alongside our visceral champions should be able to train him effectively for our causes, besides if it were you lot, you’d all beg for the same mercy…” 

The piercing pastel gaze tranquilizes the audience, his golden aura sets a new tone, as the women fawn over his looks, the men scratch their heads as they ponder what they would do if they were nearly as special as Prince Aryen, let alone near his rank in society. The King of Kings takes his seat, and is followed by Lord Aluca.

-”Let me examine the child, I can open him up and see what the makings of a Mad King look like….rid our nation of them for good.” 

A sadistic grin lights up his face as he fixes his lips to speak once more.

-”Is that not a fair conclusion? I can examine the boy, disable him in the process, remove the curse, and save us one less dragon to deal with in the futu-!!”

Kelis stops him mid sentence, her blade to his throat, slightly nicking a trail of blood. No one saw her move, nor heard the blade being drawn. The only reason the doctor is still breathing is because the Lord of Dragons held a firm grip with his tail wrapped around her waist. 

-”Daughter that is enough, apologize to the Lord and fetch a medic to clean his wound.”

Kelis steps back down, sheathing her short sword. Walking back to her position beside Aryen.

-”Sorry Lord Aluca, I am…as you would say…quite sensitive in regards to my little brother, I will do my best to stay my feelings.”

Tension fills the room, for any second later a civil war would have broken out at the thud of Lord Aluca’s head collapsing into his seat.

“Filthy dragon scum!” A woman hollers from the stands before falling unconscious from a whirling blow to the back of her neck. The bailiff keeps order in the conclave by any means. Next to speak was Lady Malefiz , as she stands the audience claps, eager to hear her proposal.

-” I am a fair woman, probably the fairest of them all, and I will have to argue that we grant this child an eternal slumber, peacefully but immediately. The cost of all the reparations and damages procured by the Mad Kings, let alone one of his magnitude - we are still reanalyzing budgets from the last tragedy, and we WILL NOT afford anymore as a nation!”

The audience is taken aback, no one has ever seen Lady Malefiz so distraught, they can see the stress she hides so well come to light. Murmurs in the crowd seem in agreement, all of the kingdom has spiraled into dismay. Strife has taken a hold on its leaders and the people suffer in turmoil as few attempt to take matters into their own hands.

-”Lord of Dragons, High King Dradin, please…be reasonable…Your choices will decide the future of our nation. The Cardinal Houses are already arming themselves, the opportunity for siege or even worse, a Grand Levely could occur and the entire infrastructure of Sheol can be burned to the ground…sacrifice the boy, make love and birth another son, spare OUR kingdom…”

Lady Malefiz takes her seat, and the audience applauds her performance. She isn’t known to be the most empathetic of leaders but today she has shown a grace to all citizens of Sheol, regardless of the houses they honor. Dradin observes the reactions from the audience, he sees the sweat trickle down the forehead of his only son, his daughter’s tight grip on her sword and spear. He closes his eyes and envisions the two futures: 

A quiet evening with his wife and daughter and the renouncing of his title of High King, a decree marked in the Sheol Constitution, he has reigned for many years and it would now be the time for a new House to lead the kingdom, his legacy covered in blemishes, never completing the task left by his ancestors. The south would remain unharmed, Dragons will be secluded and ignored, or worse - cherished as glorified bounties to finally rid Sheol of the threat they fear most. All power lost for four generations.

OR

A campaign forged in Hell as he burns the constitution and everything it stands for. Enslaving the weak and profiting off the genius of those who live in fear. Castrating the other Houses so they could bear no more Kings. His son, the rightful High King of Sheol, and his daughter finally baring children and living a life of peace. From the ashes of Ojii…two nations would rise with the crimson banner of House Jormun.

-“High King? Your majesty, the people wish to hear your verdict.” 

The bailiff waves his hand as he pulls Dradin back to the conclave. The decision to execute Aryen Jormun is split and awaits the conclusion. The Lord of Dragons stands and walks over to his son. A dagger drawn and held just below the heart.

-“This is what you are asking me to do? To slay my own son…my baby boy? Today I stand before you not as your High King but as the father of this young man. My son Aryen has been given an unfair burden, and will suffer greatly If he leaves this coliseum alive. I know you will attack us, no matter the cost, if he is left breathing by the next dawn because he bears the markings of the Mad King.”

Aryen gulps hard as he feels the sharp point of his father’s dagger coast along his ribs, his booming voice echoes to the audience as he prepares to kill his son. The bloodlust is slowly building amongst the audience, he can feel the anger seethe from his sister's soul. The High King raises the blade to Aryen’s neck and looks back towards the High Council.

-”For the sake of the kingdom, I will do what must be done…What always needs to be done for Sheol to grow from its old regime. I understand that I will only cause more unnecessary chaos if I stay my blade any longer.”

The High King raises his voice and his dagger, the gleaming edge shining brilliantly before the conclave. The High Council slowly edged to the ends of their seats waiting for the boy to be struck. 

-”THE LEGACY OF HIGH KING DRADIN, LORD OF DRAGONS WILL NOT BE TARNISHED BY THE CHOICE I MAKE TONIGHT, MY SON WILL BE GLORIFIED AS THE KING OF HEROES FOR HIS ULTIMATE SACRIFICE, THE SAVIOR OF SHEOL!!!”

The audience stands as his might channels through the High King’s arm, His grin wide and the bloodlust from his glare aimed at the throat of his son. They listen as the force of his swing tears through the still air…Ayren clenches his teeth and shuts his watered eyes before the blade strikes his throat. The room is in awe, the High Council raised out of their seats in shock. The High King makes his final statement of the night.

-”IT HAS BEEN DECIDED!!…I will slay the name of Jormun from this young man, I will abolish his claim to nobility, and I will feed him to the wolves of the Bifrost where he will be under surveillance for the rest of his days. Secluded and hardened as a dog of war to use as we all see fit. But I will not slay my own son, that… I WILL NOT…SHALL NOT…raise my blade to do it. Despite all the pain he has caused me. He is no Mad King, and you will create a worse one if you seek his death beyond this night. If FEAR compels you to attack this boy, may The Enlightened shroud you in armor of light, for the searing might and wrath of House Jormun will cascade upon you and your families for generations on end!”

The conclave felt the pressure of his words, A threat from House Jormun, the sanctioned council of war, also written in the Sheol Constitution…is as good as any promise. The nation will burn ten times over if Sheol’s strongest creatures were to turn their backs on the people. The High Council adjourns the meeting and they move with haste. Lord Aluca, disgusted by the outcome vanishes in a cloud of darkness, Lord Saint Elyon brandishes his golden wings and soars off into the sky, Lady Persefini opens a portal onto the ground and disappears as if it sucked her deep beneath the surface. Lady Malefiz moves to speak with the High King.

-”That was a bold move Dradin, fitting for the Lord of Dragons…but a foolish one. You have forsaken your house.”

Lady Malefiz lifts off into the air as her body shrinks and wings sprout, a shimmering bit of light blends into stars above as her voice fades. Aryen is on his knees, his face wet from the tears, breathing heavily as he processes everything. The bailiff has cleared the stands and leaves the High King to his family. Kelis rests upon the arm of her father.

-”Father, what if Aryen does become a Mad King now that you have spared him?’

Dradin looks to his daughter, and places his hands on her shoulders.

-”Then WE will slay him ourselves and send him to the Valley of Enlightenment  as he rightfully deserves. Until then we will do what we must to move forward. Now grab him, we must make our way back to the castle so I can inform your mother and prepare for war.”

II

Aryen remains quiet during the flight home, the air caresses his face gently as the stars dance on silhouettes of dragons in the sky. Everything he has worked for stripped from him in an instant, No longer does he bear the name Jormun, no longer is he entitled to the privileges of a prince, the consorts, the riches, the respect he had revered for so long is now completely gone. An heir no more, a dragon no more, only a dull blade within the ranks of the Bifrost remains. He will die in no time now, to him his fate wasn’t avoided..simply prolonged for him to endure more agony. Tears no longer sail down his cheeks but the wrath of his former name bellows deep within, scorching the edges of his ribs, filling his lungs with smoke dark enough to block out the sun.

The dragons land on the secluded balcony of the High King’s quarters. Waiting for their arrival is the rest of the royal family. Lady Tresse, Queen of Sheol, Mother of Dragons, Valkyrie of The Northern Stars. She waits elegantly dressed in royal blue silk and snow powered furs, her hair golden, skin fair and soft to the touch. Her sword in hand with a smile alluring to all men. At her side, Towering in a mass of armor, the Bifrost Aegis, Lord Felvic, Admiral of the Dragoon Fleet, Baby brother to the Lord of Dragons. Aryen’s mother, happy to see that her husband spared their son, jumps up and down in excitement. Their uncle reserves his feelings for a firm nod of acceptance. Kelis runs to her uncle and plays jabs as she circles her tower foe. High King Dradin kisses his wife then makes his way to his throne, she can see the tiredness in his eyes. The queen embraces her son as he walks up slowly.

-”Aryen, my love, this is your beginning. Do not hesitate to reach for your destiny. The gods have not forsaken you, but they will test you to see if you are worthy to be king.”

Tresse kisses her boy on his forehead and joins the others at the thrones. Aryen didn’t speak, his head still lowered, and the anger still boiling deep within. His father takes a gulp from his chalice, red wines leaks from the corners of his mouth as he looks over to question his brother.

-“When will dinner be prepared brother, we need a meal fit for kings because war approaches, and our heads are top priority.” 

Felvic signals the servants to fetch the food, and Kelis claps her hand signaling the guards to bring the table in. Tonight was reserved for family and the beautiful night sky they parade through protecting the kingdom that now warrants they be killed or detained The calm night ushers in silence as they stuff their faces. Tearing meat from the bone, swallowing liters of wine, and soaking it all up with freshly baked bread. Aryen has not touched his plate.

“Father…why not just kill me tonight? Instead you will let me rot away in the frigid walls of the Bifrost and await my death, living without glory and honor…a fitting end for the nameless prince.” 

Everyone stops eating and looks at Dradin as he places his utensils down and lowers his head to rest against his grasped hands. Aryen continues.

“I can’t honor you, Kelis, nor mother now, and I have yet to pay my debts to Torgahn.”

Aryen’s voice cracks as he says his older brother’s name. Dradin looks at him with malice in his eyes. The High King slams his fists on the table and swipes his chalice to the wall.

-”Have you not given me enough trouble for one night!? I have devoured armies, and burned many forts who have not left me with this much strife. We are in this mess because of you, My first son is dead because of you, my only daughter is our kingdom's strongest champion and lives with a bounty on her neck ALONE because you could not live up to the reputation. All I hear is “you-you-you” ENOUGH!!!” 

The Lord of Dragons gets up from his chair and walks over to his son and talks directly into his ear.

-”Even now we risk the fate of our family, our status, MY LEGACY!!! All to keep a smile on the faces of the only people who give a damn about you. If it weren’t for the love of your mother and sister, I would have swallowed you whole in front of the entire conclave tonight!”

Aryen lowers his head to reflect on what his father said, his mother and sister remain quiet and his uncle continues to sip the wine from his chalice.

-”I spared you son, and for the sake of our kingdom I have stripped you of your name, that way when you are out in the world no one will look twice, no one will think they can topple our legacy by attacking our weakest link, they won’t know to hold you hostage, they won’t think to hold you for ransome or torture you, you won’t be a thought or worry, as your mother put it to me, you will be safe…”

Aryen raised up and shoved his father, yelling at him in rage.

“SAFE? That is what you think will happen!? You think people will not recognize this face? The armor, my sword? You send me to battle in fellowship with the same criminals I put in the Bifrost myself? I won’t last a month with enemies beyond the gate in front of me, and comrades eager to shove their swords through my back…disguised as allies…Even those who wish me well still hold a grudge that I killed Torgahn..You have forsaken me father…”

Dradin summoned a dragon claw and struck Aryen across the face, slicing clean through the flesh. Enraged by his son’s trivial cries.

-”Have you no shame BOY!?, to place your hands upon me like that, your own father? Tonight, your saving grace? May those wounds be a reminder of all that we’ve lost when you spend the rest of your days in that frigid jail. You have a life still…be grateful. War beckons at our front door and we must all play our part…”

Dradin picks up the chalice and heads to his room, Queen Tresse follows behind him. Lord Felvic finishes his plate and heads back to the balcony to return to the Bifrost. Only Kelis remains. Aryen’s face already healed and the scars left remained as his father promised they would.

-”Worry not Aryen, I know you are mad but this is only the beginning of your future. To be honest, you should be honored that so many people fear you and you have not touched nearly as many battlefields as I.” 

Kelis chuckles as she walks her brother to his quarters. Aryen didn’t respond, only thinking about his fathers lasting words. “All that we’ve lost” . Aryen opens his door and looks around his room to find a bag to carry his things, his sister takes a seat on his bed. She pats beside her to motion him to sit.

-”Let me tell you a story, little brother, one you should never forget, a legend that will remind you that we all have a role to play.”

Aryen tilts head, questioning why of all nights, she decides this is the time to tell him a damn story.

“I don't have time, I must prepare my things for tomorrow morning, I must leave by first light…were you not listening to father before he struck me!?”

Kelis grabbed his hand and pulled him down and gave him the look any good sister would when they wanted to help a sibling.

-”You won’t need anything from here, trust me the Bifrost and Uncle Felvic will provide for you. All you need is that sword. You must remember who you are, and why you are there at all times. Make a new name for yourself like I once did long ago.”

Aryen, confused by his sister's words, his expression becomes puzzled.

“What do you mean “Like you once did” ?”

Kelis' smile softened as she thought about her past, her journey to who she has become.

-“Before you were born, or maybe right around the time you were born, I had just reached the epitome of success as a Dragoon, I had reached the highest rank, won every battle, a kill count over nine-thousand or so. I was sure our father would make me the rightful heir of House Jormun, and even rally for the people to petition for the first High Queen of Sheol. As you know little brother I am unmatched as the Fang of Sheol, for I have never known defeat. I am the firstborn, and the strongest of all of us, no man, no beast, no dragon standing in my way…I’m sure even our father would agree. Our sparring matches never had a decisive victory due to interruptions, and now I see the battlefield way more than he may want to admit. I digress, I thought the world was mine until the coronation ceremony began. The fateful day that left us all in great displeasure.”

Ayren, looks deeply into his sister’s eyes as they both remember that horrible day, the day the world burned, and the ground trembled beneath their feet, spewing up molten rock like a youngling who drank too much milk, searing javelins emerged from the land and spears of fire pierced down from the heavens.

-”That was the day I learned that Torgahn would be crowned prince, that was the day I had been overlooked because I was a girl, that was the day I lost who I was. I bested Targahn in every duel, I know absolutely everything about our kingdom and its people, for enlightened sake I know our enemies just as well..But father thought otherwise or better yet, he had no real faith in me at the time. I pleaded with him, quarreled night and day - even our mother grew tired and attempted to stomp me out in her dragon form. But father’s opinion did not change, instead he sent me to the Bifrost as well, he insisted that it would cool me off and give me time to think.”

Aryen was amazed that his sister spent time in the Bifrost, even furthermore spent months on end traveling the Lost Region with no permission to return until her tour was up.

“What did you learn in your time away?

-”I learned a lot about the world my little brother, I explored the Lost Region, I battled powerful foes, I found love, I learned that there was more to me than simply crossing blades, and melting things. My favorite foods don’t even exist in Sheol. My favorite music originates from beyond the Eastern Gate, from a big piece of wood with strings attached; A small woman in a fox mask played for me…Honestly Aryen, there is so much to learn about our world and yourself…and you have the opportunity to do it.”

Kelis hopped up in excitement, but Aryen was still stagnant. Still wondering if this was truly his destiny or some kind of joke schemed by the enlightened. He questioned the very fabric of existence now.

“If I am no longer a Jormun, what am I?” 

He whispered to himself. The thoughts about the Mad Kings’ history started to unravel in his head. Like them he could no longer access his birth given abilities, all he understood is that something replaced them, something deep within him had the strength to level cities, and none of that power was in his control. The Kings that were able to control their curse went mad with power and eventually succumbed to it, killing everyone they loved. Just as Aryen did to his older brother Torgahn. Kelis could see his mind racing, the anxiety as the terrors he would soon commit or his untimely death because he could not defend himself properly in times of war.

-”Brother, you can choose to be whatever your heart desires, you were never just a Jormun. You are Aryen as well…and now is the time to explore this side of you.”

Kelis moves in to give her brother a hug, and she heads to the door, but before leaving she places a compass on his desk. Aryen recognizes the small intricate device, it reminds him of the one his big brother used to wear around his neck.

“What should I do with this Kelis?”

She smiles softly, holding her own compass while reminiscing about the past.

-”Use this to find me at any time, and anywhere…in the castle, in Sheol, and even the Lost Region. The blue arrow will guide you to me, while the red arrow will guide you home.”

Kelis blows a kiss and leaves the room. Aryen is still analyzing the compass then grips it tightly holding it to his chest. He contemplates what his life will be like in the next few hours. The two heirs spent the rest of the night talking and now only a few hours remain before first light. Aryen finishes packing his belongings into a small bag and heads to sleep. Throughout the night, Aryen tossed and turned in his sleep, as visions flashed within his mind. He could see a figure dressed in black with pale blue skin, walking away from a tower that rose far into the sky, piercing the clouds.. The figure walked towards Aryen shifting side to side slowly, getting larger with each step closer. Its eyes glowed a softened gold, and it made no noise. Bells rang, and ravens flocked to the sky heading north. In the distance, Aryen heard the roar of a dragon coming from the same direction.  Suddenly, a flash of light, followed by a loud bang echoed across the sky. In that instant the figure vanished as it was smothered in clouds of dust from the explosion. The sky burned the fiery hues of sunset and a large figure plummeted through the clouds, heading right towards him. Aryen tried to move, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t budge. As the giant mass was hurtling towards him, the sky’s color shifted once more to that of a starry midnight and a mesmerizing light opened a hole within the clouds. A smaller, more majestic figure covered in ghastly azure flames, descended from them as if the heavens opened up, revealing a guardian from House Nephi.

The large mass finally struck the ground only a few meters away. The land shattered like glass as a crater formed from the impact. Aryen could feel his legs again and hesitantly walked over to see the destruction first hand. He gazed down and It was indeed a dragon, but only someone who has seen them in abundance could tell. The dragon lies unresponsive, barely visible, malformed, and charred to a crisp. Aryen had never seen anything of this nature before, he could not possibly imagine what could do such harm to his kin. A sonic boom broke his concentration as the ghastly flame darted straight towards his position. Aryen only managed to take a single step back before the figure reached him. It stopped abruptly, hovering over the dragon’s corpse. Its form was hard to make out as the wild flames continued to flicker. Different silhouettes emerging and rescinding from the flames. The figure scanned the area and spotted Aryen. The two gazed at each other briefly, Aryen now able to hear the kindling of fire, a light aroma of iron and fruit filled the air. The atmosphere became still. The dragon slayer lands on the ground and walks over to Aryen. Skeptically, Aryen reaches for his sword but it wasn’t there. Fear encroached the nape of his neck. He slowly steps back, cautiously watching for signs of commitment. Aryen waits patiently for the perfect moment to act, analyzing the details of this dragon slayer. A feminine physique, shrouded in blue fire, pitch black claw-like hands with a faint red glow - It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The figure vanished, and Aryen took that moment to run - only to run straight into its grasp. Aryen shutters in fear of burning to death, a cowardly performance for the former Prince of the North; but to his surprise the flames did not hurt, they were warm and soothing. The figure embraced him, caressing his face, slowly leaning in for a kiss. Confused, afraid, but not opposed Aryen leans towards her, his lips within a breath away from contact. For a brief moment, he waited, his eyes closed but nothing happened. Aryen opened his eyes, his gaze fixed upon her lips. He notices immediately that her expression is quite different, its hands have moved to his neck, slowly tightening its grip, a smirk appears as she looks down upon her prey. Aryen struggles to break free but her strength is too much for him. Aryen loses consciousness and his eyes close shut. 

Aryen’s body jolts forward, as cold sweat drips from his forehead, he realizes he didn’t die and that it was simply a nightmare. His breathing returning to normal, he gets himself out of bed and walks over to meet the light of dawn at his window.

“It is time for me to leave this place…even in my sleep it beckons for my death.”

III

Aryen makes his way to his father’s throne room, behind him a pair of the king’s guards. High ranked, embroidered in the finest cloth and most pristine metals. Despite their rank, they snicker like cowards behind the former prince. Word of the council’s verdict finally touched the ears of the countrymen. Anyone could tell that things were about to change. An exiled prince and whispers of war? Only a fool would overlook the possibility of usurping the title of High King. Be it through diplomacy or the extinction of House Jormun.

The lowly guards pushed and shoved Aryen, slowly disarming him of his royal ornaments. Removing his weapon and throwing his belongings into a worn bag. Aryen could have killed him, but his goal today was to honor his mother and to cease any more shame he has brought upon the High King. Footsteps and the gathering of crowds can be heard through the windows ascending to the Throne Room. The people of Yggdrasil wait in anticipation of the theatrics of the Royal Family.

Aryen, now bare of his regalia, his ornaments, and his power to transform now awaits for the summoning of his king. The crowd releases a large gasp in unison. Shutters of fear and awe echo through the Royal chambers. A ferocious roar pummel Aryen’s eardrums, followed by an immeasurable gust of air swinging the throne doors wide open, leaving the guards submerged in stone. Aryen could only sigh with relief, knowing that his father paid karma in full.

 -”Come Aryen, the final born and last son of the High King!”

The Horns of Heimdall have sounded off , welcoming the prince’s arrival. Aryen walks in slowly, gleaming rays piercing his eyes as he shuns away from the light. His vision returning, Aryen is met with a crippling fist to his ribs. This blow would typically kill a man, and at the least lower the head of the strongest Yggdrasil Guard. Aryen simply clenched his teeth, and kneeled while glaring fearlessly at his aggressor. A massive warrior brandished in silver armor, adorned with black pelts, and glimmering silk resembling the midnight sky. Frosted air leaving the slits of his visor travels down Aryen’s face, subduing his internal pain. 

The crowd sits in patience waiting for his official defamation to begin. The High King raises his hand, the courtyard as still as the ice of a freshly frozen lake. He motions to the warrior to bring his son forward. 

• “Shackle his hands and feet.”

The locking mechanism of the abrasive shackles clicks in place. That small sound would resonate across all of Sheol and set its future into motion. 

• “Have you all noticed his strength!? Many of you would be in need of the healers and shamans. Yet he stands tall, facing his crimes as a man…To kill my own son is what you have asked of your King?”

The High King stands,  overlooking his countrymen, his kin, and gazes outwardly to the gates of his domain…he sets his sight on the enemies beyond it.

“A WASTE! A man who can muster enough courage to show his face to his aggressors, unarmed, and stand against one of our Raiders…Is a warrior we can’t afford to lose in the battles ahead of us. My son will spend his final days repaying all of you with every drop of blood he has left, under the ranks of the Bifrost he will be a thought you can forget as he dwindles away, where he will spend his days protecting, and watching over you all without ever wanting for himself.”

Aryen raises his head to speak, but the glare of The Lord of Dragons silences him. The people mumble among themselves, while the Bifrost Raider waits patiently for his next command. Tears gradually crept down his face, but Aryen’s demeanor held strong. He wiped them away and nodded in submission. He had accepted his father’s judgment. To become a venerable champion like his sister, is something he must do for himself, to survive the Bifrost and whatever peril in his future - he must do this for himself. A soft hand rests gently on his bare back. It was the Queen of Dragons. Her pleasant smile brought him a bit of comfort momentarily, she hugged tightly, holding the embrace for what to him - felt like an eternity. Only a few seconds had passed and she gave a slight nod to the Raider. Aryen rose to his feet and walked alongside The Bifrost Raider, leaving the royal chambers. Aryen remained quiet for the majority of the walk,, but the Raider eventually spoke.

“You’re quite strong boy, tougher than most of these lot round here…Your old man wasn’t kidding…I’ve killed a bunch with that punch. Few of our own even.”

Aryen simply glances at the warrior, feeling no reason to speak. Knowing his father was content with the verdict was enough to harden his heart. 

“Must be tough to be burdened by the curse, eh!? No women to lay with, no brothers in arms, you might as well say you were born to be one of us eh!?”

The raider brayed with laughter, filling the empty halls with a ruckus. Aryen grew annoyed but he steeled his mind.

“Never in all my years would I have foretold that a Jormun boy would have to bend to my will. Clean the barracks! Sharpen my blade! Fetch my armor Jormun boy! They say revenge is best served cold…but this warms my itty bitty heart.”

Aryen is confused by his statement, slowly coming to a stop.

“What revenge do you seek against me? I have done nothing to you.” 

The subtle clinks of his armor stopped a wave of frosted air emitted from beneath his silks, filling the hallway.

”Your uncle forces himself onto my wife...while I rot away in our frigid prison. Your brother ate my youngest son, my eldest daughter slaves away at your mother’s petty whims. Your sister shamed my middle son in battle so badly that no woman will look his way. My lineage was eaten whole by the Dragons of House Jormun…You are my reward for being patient.”

Aryen has heard the rumors, and has embarrassed men just the same, he did not react to the warrior’s words.

“I will not be subjected to your misery, clearly you deserved to be here, didn’t you? The thoughts of malice against my kin are enough to be put on trial for treason and execution! Have you no mind?”

The raider turns to face his former oppressor, hand gripped tightly to his weapon; a Long Axe, gilded and impressive in size. 

“I would be known across all of Sheol if I were to kill a Mad King before their claim to fame. It would be cowardly to fight you unarmed in honor of our code, but no one would fault me for slaying a beast.”

Aryen steps forward, and motions from his shackled wrists for the raider to not hold back. Mockingly, Aryen stands up straight, slightly tilting his head up while gesturing for the first blow.

“Moments like this are as rare as they come, to fight the only Jormun who can’t scorch you to a crisp, or with a mighty swing of a tail, launch you into the bays of Midgard, lady luck has chosen you.”

The raider raises his axe, enchanting the blade with a gleaming frost. The glow of his eyes flare onto the metal of his visor, and inside the veins along his upper body, a trail of fire ignites, enlarging his biceps.

“This must be the Ulfheðnar State, he will be impervious to damage for quite some time…Neither fire nor iron can stop him now.”

A swing of the axes crashes into the wall as Aryen ducks the raider’s attack. Ice crystals forming from the cracks and traveling along the seams of the stone. Another overhead swing slams into the ground as Aryen rolls left to avoid it. The raider releases his axe and swiftly charges at him, grabbing with a bearlike hold. Their eyes meet and the raider grins. THUD! - comes from between the two, the raider had slammed his helm into Aryen’s head, then tossed him into the ice crystals that formed from the second attack. Aryen screams out from the frigid crystals scarring his back, the cold inflicting small amounts of frostbite. The raider rushes over to him, launching his foot deep into Aryen’s stomach. The impact lifts Aryen off the ground over the raider’s head. Standing at 6’3, The towering raider catches a hold of Aryen’s ankle and slams him back onto the floor. Aryen lays on the ground in pain, holding onto his ribs, struggling to get up. The raider stomps on his back and picks him up by his hair, holding his face to his.

“I can hear the pain, but see no damage done. I know I have broken your bones, but you show no sign of weakness, and this look in your eyes still holds the arrogance of the Jormun nobility that I hate so much. Why won’t you die!?”

“You are still inferior to me, no matter the circumstance we are never equal...”

Aryen, struggling to hold his smirk, mutters rudely.

The raider flings Aryen over his shoulder as if he had snatched a child's doll away. Aryen hurls through the air, and crashes near the raider’s axe. This was the opportunity he had been hoping for. Quickly, Aryen pulls his shackles against the edge of the axe and frees himself. Then he upheaves the raider’s weapon and tosses it to him.

“Jormun or not, I’m still leagues ahead of you.”

Enraged, the raider yells:

“þú munt deyja hér skíthæll!!!”

[You will die here bastard!!!]

Charging at full speed, axe overhead, the raider leaps up and swings downward. His berserker energy channeled into the edge that is only inches away from Aryen’s skull. 

At this moment Aryen’s eyes begin to glow pale gold. His vision changes and time seems to have slowed. Aryen sees the room in hues of oranges and yellow. He focuses on the raider’s axe. The axe begins to highlight red and a green mark appears on the cheek of the head. 

“There.”

Aryen releases his strongest punch right in time to connect with the axe, shattering the blade to bits. He uses his other arm to defend from the fragments exploding, missing one that slices his cheek. The raider’s trajectory is thrown off and he stumbles on his landing, barely catching his balance on one knee -still in shock of what he had witnessed.

“That axe was made from the rarest metals, forged by the breath of Dragons, and mounted to the wood of Aosian trees. Obliterated from a single punch!?”

The raider stands up and turns to face Aryen. He discards his shattered weapon and places his hands up, positioning himself in the traditional raider grappling form. Aryen walks up to him and raises his arms up as a sign of peace.

“Let's stop this, I yield, for the honor of both our families.”

The raider, shocked by his proposal, silently lets out a sign of relief. 

“My name is Eskel, Lord Aryen.”

The raider kneels before the exiled prince, reflecting on his actions.

Aryen walks past him, brushing off his clothes heading towards the exit to the courtyards.

“I was never your Lord, Eskel, please don’t mock me…”

Eskel is taken aback by that statement. He stands patting himself down, as if it was hard for him to accept that he is still breathing. 

“This Jormun is different.”

He whispers under his breath and follows Aryen to the courtyards.

IV

Aryen walked down the courtyard steps, discarded his name, relinquished his titles and all his inheritance. Eskel of the Bifrost, criminal reformed, now walks side by side after an exchange of resolve.

“Tell me about the Bifrost Eskel.”

Eskel takes a moment to gather his words, trying to recall all the history he was taught from his entry.

“The Bifrost is an honorable but horrible job. It connects Dragonbein’s Ridge to Central Sheol and the City of Tartarus. It was created by the death of one of your kin actually, and upon his defeat the body merged with the lands beneath the sea. The cool waters must have been a catalyst for his scales, Crystallizing and forming a land mass that pierced back to the open sky. Your ancestors hollowed him out and it is now used as a waystation to protect the borders of Yggdrasil from all peril and doubles as a penal colony for those who are unworthy of the city.”

Aryen takes this information as he takes in his surroundings. Each step closer to the city outskirts, the city of Yggdrasil grew larger, its beautiful architecture sprawled into the sky and its silhouettes foreshadowed his future. The last time he was on this street, he walked proudly behind his father to the Ceremony of Dragons, roaring crowds of noblemen and warriors cheering on the youth where the newest members of House Jormun performed the sacred ritual to showcase their draconic abilities. He made it to the ceremony, performed the ritual - and the prince of dragons did not show promise. 

“We are almost there, Aryen.” 

Eskel called out, breaking the hold of the past on Aryen’s mind.Those simple words helped Aryen break free from the mental prison of that horrific scene. The entire city disgruntled by his performance, his father ashamed and angered at the dishonor his son has brought the family.

Aryen looked around, the streets empty, as his walk of shame became a new rite of passage. As the bearer of the Lord’s Strand. his abilities will threaten the balance of the four realms. In the past, bearers of the strand became obsessed with power, power they could not handle and many lives were lost. Mad Kings of Sheol, they were documented as the worst generations. Aryen was sanctioned to death immediately but his father decreed that he be sent to The Bifrost, trained and released through the Arc Gate to live out his days as a Bifrost Raider.

The two warriors have finally made it to the gates of Yggdrasil. In the distance, a familiar roar catches their attention. A soft smile crept onto Aryen’s face as his sister descended from above. Returning to her human form, she lets off a subtle wave. Eskel stands in attention awaiting to be alleviated or his next order.

“Á vellíðan stríðsmaður”

Kelis gestures for Eskel to be at ease. She points for him to continue back to the Bifrost. Eskel obeys and continues towards the lift. The two siblings walk to the lift and overlook the horizon and the Bifrost at its center. Kelis was a fair skinned woman, with rosy cheeks and crystal blue eyes. Her hair is pink and cut short to keep it from interfering during battle. The armor she wears is light, but made of their oldest brother’s scales. Silver, black, and engraved with Jormun runes. Standing at five feet and ten inches she easily stands out on the battlefield. The Fang of Sheol, the one who has never known defeat.

“Are you ready Aryen?”

Kelis turns to her little brother, waiting to see his resolve.

“I have no choice but to be Kelis, it is the will of the people…” 

Aryen looks up to his big sister, a fragile smirk and his gentle eyes filled with anguish.

“No need to talk about it any longer, I have accepted my fate.”

Kelis nods and leaps off the edge, transforming back into a dragon, Aryen hops onto her back and they fly towards the Bifrost. Kelis dives towards the water, the edges of her wings slicing the wet surface, the light shimmers on her scales nearly blinding the fisherman and patrols.

“This will be our last ride together for a little while Ary, take this moment in and bask in the warm glow of the sun. The Bifrost, despite its location, is extremely cold. The entire site being forged from frost dragon remains allows it to keep its temperatures.”

“I know Kelis…I will, This day will be one of the most memorable days of my life…that I am sure of.”

“Dradin? Sweetheart? My Love?” 

The soothing whisper of the Mother of Dragons caresses the ears of her husband, as he broods in his throne. She gets out of her throne and leans towards him. For a moment, The High King’s gaze was colder than the night halls of the Bifrost. She felt his displeasure travel down her spine.

“If you want to set this kingdom ablaze for the sake of our son, you know I'll gladly burn down wherever that gorgeous gaze of yours sets.”

His gaze did not shift. The queen's facade quickly  breaks apart. She stumbles onto his lap and holds onto his face to regain her balance. Staring into his eyes once more; Differently, than before. The crimson gaze she countered with, had lost its glow, her body felt heavier as if the entire kingdom had placed a hand on her shoulders. That soothing voice, cracking as she struggles to keep her composure.

“Enough Surtri.”

His gaze finally settles upon his wife. His hand wipes the tears from her face. He holds her cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

“I’ve been selfish, I know. You are hurting just as I am. Our son’s life had been a tragedy since birth. We have lost both our sons as of today and our only daughter - the strongest and most worthy of our three children wavers in and out of battle like the waves of the sea.”

Dradin moves his wife to sit back in her throne, gently kissing her before walking down to the center of the room. Setting his gaze upon the directions of the Cardinal Houses. Shifting from west to east , the anger erupts from within.

“DAMNED by our own countrymen, DAMNED by the outsiders; Those banal easterners, those occult westerners, and their “god” and -”

Wrath had already reached his face, his countenance like fire. Veins pulsating from his temple.

“Ugggggggghhhhhhhhhhh -DAMN those conniving heathens from the south! They have forsaken us all..Selfishly choosing to isolate themselves is what has caused this divide amongst men. Now our countrymen subjugate each other, raise banners with the intent to slaughter one another, our children starve, and death waits patiently at the edge of the Gates.”

Dradin paused for a moment, his anger setting into the crevices of throne room walls. Surtri waited patiently for her husband to come back. He looked over to her, raised his hand out, beckoning for her to join him. The two join hands, Dradin now pointing at the Soaring Gardens, 

“They will be the first to attack us.”

He moves his index finger over to the fields overlooked by Visegrad. 

“House Basara, will come in droves right behind them.”

Surtri looks at him again, and points towards Mount Genesis.

“And them?”

Dradin pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply before answering.

“House Nephi will not interfere, they choose to remain neutral to all cardinal conflict.”

Surtri blows a wath of fire off the palm of her hand gently to the center where the great city of Tartarus has stood for centuries. 

“They are our bannermen after all, your cousins.”

Dradin inhales the flames of his wife into his nostrils, swallowing the flames whole, then exhaling the flames into a cascade of embers onto the floors below their balcony.

“The city of Tartarus will burn to ashes if they don’t.”

The High King, Lord of Dragons and Surtri, their mother head to their bedroom.They embrace each other, wine in hand.

“Can you imagine being the strongest warrior of Sheol? Countlessly risking your life for a country that will never truly accept you? The Cardinal Ladies of Sheol, still believe in the old ways. They are comfortable with ruling over their personal domains but the fate of our country should be in the hands of the men that stake their lives for their sake.

I do not, my daughter is mightier than all of us, and if it weren’t for our relationship, she could have usurped me years ago. I have failed her. I value strength, bravery, and loyalty above all else. Kelis, and you, Surtri..are the epitome of this. Her reward should be this throne, and the crown of the kingdom.”

Surtri comforts her husband, rubbing his back and listening to his sorrow. She pours more wine for them both. She turns her head as she hears the armor of the guards clank and shift.

“I understand Dradin, you know I do.”

Dradin, rests his cup aside and looks at Torgahn’s hammer mounted on the wall.

“My eldest boy…a memory now. A leader, a warrior, a trusted comrade and friend. Gone, like silence when we speak. Gone, like thoughts forgotten when we lose track of what we think. I want my son back…I have lost both my heirs for House Jormun, I have forsaken our children. Ones I swore to protect. I have failed you Surtri.”

Surtri’s eyes tear up, her face flushed red as the memories appear in her mind. Torgahn’s platinum locs, and azure eyes in shock as he looked down to see what had pierced his armor so abruptly. The blood leaving his lips flowed like a river…She remembered the nights, Kelis would walk through the city covered in blood, too tired to fly up to their castle, barely able to make it up the steps. Children pointing their fingers, and men too ashamed  to approach her, knowing they would only be in her way. Other women would mock her for her affinity for war. “Some life for a princess” they would utter recklessly. They figured she’d never be loved; A true monster.

Dradin sits idly as the wine courses through his veins, slowly washing the stains of kingship off his fatherly heart.

“What should I do? Our countrymen conspire against us, our allies bolster their defenses and pull their forces from the Lost Region, The Southern Kingdom still prospers, I need to siege that land once and for all - Then our strife will be over.”

The wine begins to settle and his irritation sparks..

“The most powerful beasts of our nation,backed into a corner…I will NOT stand for it!!”

Dradin slaps the empty chalice across the room. 

“If I can’t do this, If I can’t secure this war, If I can’t keep our allies from turning against us, then..it was all for not and I have failed my children as both a king and a father.”

Surtri interjects.

“Everything you have done was for the sake of them my love, do not speak ill of your resolve, do not tarnish the name of our fallen son, nor blemish our daughter’s honor. Aryen has made a great sacrifice so that you may carry on as your grandfather and his father intended…this is your birthright - to rule all of Sheol - no - all of Infinium.”

Dradin’s anger subsides. The two set their sight upon each other, nodding in unison, Surtri wiping the tears off her husband’s face before gently kissing him.

“Dragon tears are a sign of bad luck my love, you need not lose yourself in thought. You made honorable choices and our houses shall be victorious.” 

V

-Aryen-

“There it is Aryen,the Bifrost”

Kelis banks around the spire of ice, so that her brother could get a full view of one of many landmarks known to Yggdrasil. The multichromatic bridges that extend from the edges of Tartarus and their home connect at a single point, in the center of the sea. The frosted base had patrols, weapon mounted walls, and war beasts from Tartarus roaming the outskirts. SInce it doubled as a prison until prisoners have been reformed - security was extremely tight. In the waters were Dragoons - powerful warships that can sail both through the skies and the oceans of the world. Adorned in immaculate dragon scales of those who have died in battle, war cannons powered by the magic of the transcendent of House Yager, and mounted runic shields for the most protection. 

Aryen surveys the area, as if he is looking for something in particular. His eyes scan for something unique. 

“Ah there it is, the Krómavörn.”

Aryen had studied about this when he was younger, a beam of light that channels far above the kingdom, connecting to four points to create an impenetrable dome over Yggdrasil. The only way to break through, would be to simultaneously destroy the four generators located at the outposts. Protected by squadrons of Raiders and Dragon Wards; Decorated and formidable members of House Jormun. With four in total, one at each outpost, the Krómavörn was well defended.

Kelis and Aryen land near the docks and are met by Lord Felvic and two Raider guards. Before speaking up, Aryen immediately noticed a drastic change from what he had seen from up above. There were mounds of bodies collapsing into the sea, human sized icicles formed from hung spies. This was no place for someone his age.

Lord Felvic approached his niece and nephew.

“Ahh my beautiful niece, you are the only pleasure I get between the cycles of the realm.” 

Aryen notices the guards were once lowly men who were sanctioned for death during his youth; Their glaring eyes remember the House who sent them to their frozen hell and the smirks on their face imply that they will make him pay ten fold.

“Nephew, I’m not your father, nor am I your friend …I will perform the duties bestowed upon me by House Jormun.”

Lord Felvic rests his frigid hands on the plated shoulders of his nephew, gripping them tightly.

“You can survive this boy, you have to.”

Aryen grabs his gear and heads towards the bridge, only to be stopped by the two guards.

“You are denied access to the Bifrost, state your claim.”

Aryen locks eyes with the men and places his gear down.

“By order of the King I-.”

The guards lower their shoulders and thrust the blunt end of their spears into his chest and stomach.

“The only one who may grant you permission is the Lord Commander Felvic, and you shall remember this.”

Aryen looks back towards his uncle, winded from the unexpected blows.

“Nothing has changed for you boy, and nothing probably will. Be grateful you are still alive to inhale the frosted air of your new home.”

Kelis waves. An awkward look sets on her face because she knew she couldn’t protect him, but she knew he would make it through this just as she did. Lord Commander Felvic, Dragon of Absolution. The only man who could free you of all guilt, and forgive you for your crimes.

He hugs his niece goodbye and turns to walk towards Aryen. Aryen slowly stands up to address his uncle. 

“Was that even necess-” 

Before Aryen could even finish his sentence, a guard delivers another blow to the back of his head, dropping him to the ground unconscious. His uncle now standing over the motionless body gestures to his guards to take him inside.

“Welcome to the Bifrost nephew.”

Aryen slowly comes to, regaining his consciousness after hearing an ensemble of voices.

“If you want food, you must win”

“If you want pleasure, you must win”

“If you want glory beyond the Bifrost, you must win”

“If you want freedom, give up now..”

This chant is how the Raiders start their days and end their nights. 

A guard notices Aryen waking up, already mocking him.

“Sleep well princess!?” 

“Did we ruin your beauty sleep?”

The guard keeps walking past laughing to himself as Aryen wipes the grime from his eyes.

“I guess this is my cell.”

Aryen looks around, and notices that his cell is quite large for just one person. As his vision becomes clearer four more figures emerge from the shadows. 

“I wonder who they are?”

Some more guards appear and they unlock the cell door. The prisoners each get up one by one and walk through, slowly trotting along behind them. Reluctantly, Aryen observes and follows them. 

“Why aren’t we in cuffs like the others?”

The halls of the Bifrost are ice cold, dimly lit and reflect the soul of its inhabitants. The guards dressed similarly to Eskel, and it smells of iron, probably due to the excessive amounts of bloodstains. Each cell Aryen could see had four to five prisoners, but like his own he could not make out who they were. As Aryen walks through each corridor, hands extend from behind the cells, aggressively reaching for him, curses and hateful words reach his eardrums. The prisoners must have recognized who he was. 

“I’d be really careful if I were you boy, these men hate your house, lust for your mother, and want to see your father roast on the pyre and his scales sold for a fortune.”

Aryen didn’t respond.

The other guard chimes in.

“He isn’t even bothered…I can see why he is such a disgrace to his house. I’d send my son here if he won’t even defend the honor of his mother.”

Aryen moves to speak but the person behind him sets their hand on his shoulder.

“Let them be.”

Aryen glances back at the large shadowy figure behind him, their caution reminds him that he will have to steel his heart from here on out.

“Where are we going?”

Aryen whispers to himself. As he is searching for answers. He thought he studied everything he  needed to know about the Bifrost.

The guards take the prisoners to a lift.

Once everyone is aboard, the lift spirals downward slowly. As they circle around each floor’s entrance, all Aryen can hear are cries of agony. The lift stops at the fourth floor and the bronze sculpted door opens, a blinding light is revealed. The guards step aside and motion for Aryen and the others to move inside. 

Aryen and the others step in, their eyes adjusting to the light, the new scenery becoming more clear. Everyone was confused as to how something as magnificent could be compacted and hidden underneath the cold and bloody depths of the Bifrost. The warm glow of a sun, sprawling trees, and a running river stretching for what seemed to be miles. 

The others remove their hoods, and now Aryen can finally get a glimpse of who his cell mates are. 

First was a petite girl, probably a year or two younger than the rest of the inmates. Her hair was platinum blonde in color, eyes as blue and cold as the Bifrost’s walls, with lips shaded like roses. She wore dark clothes that covered her skin and a hood.

“What or rather , who was able to convict and seize a Basarian girl way on our side of the realm?” 

To her left, a young man maybe the same age as him. Five feet, eight inches. Curly, black, mid-length hair. Eyes that resemble fading embers. His ears pointed towards the sky, and his expression was a bit off-putting. A menacing smile with his sharp teeth crept upon his face.

“He is an odd one, I should be cautious of him.”

In front of them a giantess, with cascading scarlet hair sits patiently on a massive stone. Her physique matches that of a warrior, sleek and toned.

“Wait! Is that Brenne?”

Aryen, still partially confused to see his first cousin in prison with him, is shoved aside by the last member of their cell. A slender male, with long, unkempt hair. Magnificent malevolent horns protrude from his head, and a pointed tail follows his every movement. 

“How did they manage to convince one of them to remain in prison?”

The devil makes his way down the hill towards an open grassy prairie. The wind formed waves in the grass, the gentle breeze was unsettling since it was happening hundreds of feet under water. The giantess turns her head towards Aryen and waves her hand. The gentle smile on her face was confirmation that it was indeed his cousin Brenne. She signals for him to join her. The others awkwardly stare as Aryen passes by them to join his cousin.

“Brenne why are you here, what did you do this time!?”

Brenne grabs her cousin closer, leaning to whisper in his ear.

“To look out for you.”

Aryen steps back, confused but under the circumstances he is quite relieved that she didn't do anything heinous. Brenne is notoriously known for running with a crew of thieves from time to time, picking fights with local scoundrels, and the occasional heroic feats of smuggling back Sheol’s prisoners of war, which would be great if it didn’t warrant attention from whomever she stole them back from. She is a rogue through and through, but she brings shame to House Yager as the niece of the Mother of Dragons and the Daughter of Lord Ymir. 

“Well at least I’m not alone then huh?”

The two chuckle to themselves before Brenne hears footsteps coming towards them from the east.

“People are coming from that forest.”

Aryen looks to the east as they emerge from the forest. Several people dressed in brown cloth and bone accessories, weapons drawn, closely moving toward the prisoners. The Gremlin and the Basarian girl start backing up towards the rocks where Aryen and Brenne sit. More people emerge from different directions surrounding the group of prisoners. A young man wielding a spear steps up to address them.

“They must be new to this floor.”

“They are so young.”

“Those three aren’t from here.”

“They won’t last too long.”

The young man raises his spear to silence the others. He then points his spear towards Aryen.

“Find shelter before the night comes, and do not let us catch you.”

The young man and his followers run back to the forest. Aryen and Brenne are confused about this first encounter but don’t discuss it over. The Devil walks off on his own and heads towards a mountainous area out west and the Gremlin follows behind the people who emerged from the forest. The Basarian girl turns to face Brenne, and Aryen.

“Um…uh..um, my name is Cira..wha..wha-what is yours?”

Cira extends her hand towards Brenne and Aryen insisting on a positive greeting.

Brenne grasps her hand firmly and pulls Cira towards her.

“Nice to meet you Cira! I’m Brenne!”

Aryen extends his hand out as well, gently shaking the fragile girl’s hand.

“Hello Cira, I am Aryen.”

Before letting go of Cira’s hand, Aryen looks her firmly in the eyes and asks a question.

“ May I ask how you ended up in the worst prison of all Sheol?”

Cira’s eyes widened, she was shocked about how forward Aryen was. 

“Um…It’s a long story, kinda embarrassing too.”

Brenne slyly chimes in.

“We have nothing but time.”

Cira lets go of Aryen’s hand and points towards the river bank.

“Let’s follow this upstream, and…I..I’ll explain. Ple…please.. don’t judge me.”

Cira’s voice trembles as she starts walking towards the river.

Aryen and Brenne glance at each other, following Cira. The two whisper between themselves.

“They all must have been here before, their movements were natural and confident.”

“It is likely. This one is weak…she decided that numbers were in her best interest, although she more than likely has the strength to tear most people into shreds.”

“And the people from the wilderness?”

“I’m not sure, we will have to be patient.”

Cira looks back to see if they were done talking amongst themselves. She veers off to the left toward a small cave the river was flowing out of. She immediately takes a seat and removes her hood.

“Finally, some shade.”

Cira leans over and scoops some water into her hands. Aryen and Brenne take a seat, patiently waiting for her to finish and explain herself.

“Oh…yes, why am I here? Well you see - I..I am a fugitive in my ki…king..kingdom. I abandoned my post a few mo..months back du..du..during a raid on our town, we lost that battle because of it and some ve..ve..very important items were stolen. I barely managed to escape, but before I could flee beyond the ga..ga.gates, the Raiders surrounded me and imprisoned me here.”

Aryen’s ceased his cold glare, and his tone shifted in his speech.

“You are nothing more than a ransom now. Knowing your people, they probably want you back in a coffin. Now, you're stuck here…several miles underneath the Bifrost.”

“She is screwed.”

Brenne adds in, as she surveys the area. 

“We can make camp here, running water, the cave to protect us from the elements, and the forest isn’t too far.”

Aryen nods in agreement, but continues to question Cira.

“What do you know about this place, Cira? Who are those people, and why is the night so dangerous?

Cira is caught off guard by these questions

“Not to offend you Ar..Aryen, Bu..but how is it that the Prince of Dragons does not know of his own prisons, let alone be stuck in one too?”

Aryen smirks from the slight embarrassment, and concedes his questioning briefly.

Brenne looks to see how the former prince will respond

“This area was not in my studies, and this is the first time I’ve been here.”

Cira was expecting the arrogance of House Jormun to reveal itself but Aryen was calm and took no offense. She then proceeds to ask another question.

“How did the Prince of Dragons end up in his own prison exactly?”

“FORMER prince”

A voice echoed from the depths of the cave, behind it, a soft blue glow and the shadow of a man. It was the Devil that had been imprisoned with them earlier.

Brenne questioned him immediately

“Where did you come from!? There is no entrance back there.”

The Devil ignores her question, and teleports to a higher position above Cira, stretching out his legs, leaving them to dangle over the edge. He stretches and yawns before speaking.

“Are we sharing stories on how we ended up imprisoned in this frigid tomb we call a prison.”

Aryen didn’t respond as the Devil expected, instead he brushed it off and continued to answer Cira’s question.

“I have been exiled from my kingdom, and stripped of all my ranks. The people of Sheol have sentenced me to live out my days as a Raider.”

Cira and the Devil watched the sadness leak from his eyes, but there were no tears, it was almost as if he was relieved to be here. A silence filled the cave and the sun began to set as the group waited quietly for someone to go next.

“I am Lumi of House Nephi. I too was exiled from my kingdom, I committed the ultimate taboo in our kingdom…I fell in love.”

The others all share a glance of uncertainty by his statement. Cira motions for him to continue his story.

“I fell in love with a woman from Ojii.”

Aryen and Brenne share a glance and lower their heads in understanding. Cira, still confused, asks another question.

“Why is that so..so..bad?”

Lumi’s stare sends a chill down her back, his horns begin to glow softly and blue embers fall slowly to ashes from his eyes.

“I honestly don’t know myself.I never understood why my people were against love.”

Lumi replies, brushing the ashes away. He hops down and places his hand on Cira’s shoulder before staring outside the cave.

“But I’m here now, and she along with her killers - my kin…are no longer with us.”

Aryen took a moment to assess Lumi’s story.

Azure flames…

Fully grown horns..

The Tail…

Treason…

Slaughter of your kin…

“You admitted yourself to this prison didn’t you!?

Lumi was surprised that anyone noticed his deception. There aren’t too many soldiers, wardens, or even kings who could confine a fully developed Devil.

“You caught me Young Prince, you caught me.”

Brenne and Cira, shocked at this revelation, ask in unison why a Devil would subjugate themselves to this frozen hell.

Before Lumi could reply, another voice chimes in from the outside

“It’s a home away from home.”

The Gremlin appeared, carrying firewood, and some meat he had hunted since his departure. He tossed the wood in the center of the group, a single finger pointed at Lumi.

“Light this, will you?” 

Lumi smirks, pointing a finger at the pile of wood. A small swirling ball of fire leaves the tip and combusts leaving a large fire. 

“Thank you chap.” 

The Gremlin sets up all the meat over the fire and looks around warily as everyone sits in silence, watching.

“What? I thought we were sharing stories.” 

Brenne notices that the meat is too close to the flame and shoves him aside

“Watch out, watch out you’re gonna burn it! Just tell your story, I will handle this…and thank you.”

Everyone adds a thank you in unison.

“Well my name is Zaun of House Aosi. I was imprisoned because I was falsely accused or murder, domestic rape, and embezzlement…”

Brenne and Cira look him straight in the eyes, as if they could see the type of man he was, prying through his soul in search of humanity, if any left.

Cira smiles softly and moves over to embrace Zaun.

“He is innocent.”

Aryen interjected. 

“How could you possibly know?”

Cira chuckles at his ignorance

“I..I’m a va..vampire, there are very few pe..pe..people in our world who can deceive us.”

Aryen concedes.

“It’s okay Aryen, it is not a skill we announce to outsiders.”

Zaun’s expression doesn’t change even though everyone believes him now.

“It's because I am a Gremlin. We are the lowest ranking branch of our House, the other families despise us and treat us like filth.” 

There was a long pause before Aryen spoke up.

“We were all discarded, we all ended up in the same cell, and now we are being held in this phenomenon of a prison. What should we do now?”

Aryen looked around as everyone processed his question. Zaun was the first to speak up.

“We? No offense Prince of dragons, but what can a failed leader do to help us now? It's not like you can go home and ask for daddy’s forgiveness. The Lord of Dragons punished you himself.”

Cira added to the conversation.

“It’s n-no..not like we came together today because we…we like each other, we…we are only following the rules of the floor.”

Aryen and Brenne are taken aback by their opinions. They look at Lumi to see if he agrees.

He doesn't comment.

Aryen took his silence as an agreement and remained quiet. Brenne took it upon herself to continue the conversation.

“Cira, can you explain these rules?”

Cira scans the ground for a thick stone, and she proceeds to scrape the wall.

“Well as far as we know, there are nine floors. We are on the fourth floor: Dragdim. The rules state we must work together to avoid punishment.  As of now we’ve only seen this floor and then they take us to the barracks, then the training grounds, and finally back to our cell.”

Cira finishes her diagram and sits back down while Brenne examines her work. 

“A simple rotation. Should be easy enough.”

Aryen looks at his cousin, in amazement.

“The punishment is death, you know?”

Brenne turns back to him with a devious smirk.

“That's only if we get caught, Ary.”

Brenne turns to the cave entrance, after hearing footsteps heading in their direction.

“They are coming.”

Lumi snuffs out the flame and tells everyone to be quiet. The people from earlier emerge from the trees and survey the area. Looking for tracks, sniffing the ground, and searching for any indication of their movements.

“Can you all hear me?”

Everyone shifts from the awkward disturbance in their minds.

“That’s right, people of House Nephi can use telepathy.”

The hunters make their way into the cave, a torch in hand. The leader waves the torch wildly, and light floods the area.  Aryen and the others hid quietly behind stones, while Lumi teleports outside and throws an orb of fire into the forest. The explosion sets part of the forest ablaze, illuminating the night sky. Two of the hunters race out to investigate the fire, others gather around the river to collect water to put it out. Finally, the leader discontinues his search to aid his people. Suddenly, a small flicker of light flashes behind Aryen, Lumi appears, leaning against the wall of the cave.

“That was quick thinking Lumi, thank you.”

Lumi nods, and closes his eyes to rest. He takes deep breaths, and feels out his hands and forearms. His veins glow faintly the same blue as his flames, slowly shifting in color from blue to orange as the energy courses through them.

Aryen notices his fatigue as he analyzes Lumi. He thinks quietly to himself.

“This is the stamina of the harbingers of House Nephi? Stories of old say they could go weeks on end causing calamity and chaos, destroyers of evil and progenitors of destruction.”

Aryen moved from his stone and sat beside Brenne who was already sitting down talking with Zaun. 

“You two seem to be getting along quite nicely.”

They both smirk, their faces lit by the low lighting of the moon piercing through a small hole above the cave.

“Planning how to escape without me?”

Aryen says sarcastically.

Zaun and Brenne look at each other briefly before bursting into mischievously soft laughter. At the same time, they respond to Aryen.

“Well actually, yes.”

Aryen’s face slowly showed anxiety and confusion. Brenne had seen this reaction before and quickly followed up to calm his nerves.

“Look Ary, Zaun is a Gremlin, they have the natural ability to break down…well..just about anything. This is why they are hated amongst their noblemen. Which means our exit strategy is secured. All I need now is the schematics of Bifrost.”

Aryen is still puzzled, not by Zaun’s gift but by his motives.

“Why help us escape? You have the ability to escape on your own. What do you need us for?”

Zaun pauses for a moment, and looks at them both.

“Well I was hoping that we could come to an agreement of sorts? Maybe you scratch my back and I scratch yours?”

Zaun’s usual smirk fades as he waits for an answer.

Brenne elbows her cousin’s shoulder, egging him to at least hear his proposal.

“Not too long ago, you were just saying you didn’t even like me, why in the five realms would I help you now?”

Zaun’s smirk finds itself back on his face; A little wider than before.

“It’s quite simple, Prince of Dragons, you need friends.No one cares for you nor myself for that matter, we might as well team up…besides, it was the scrawny little girl who said she didn’t like you. I only mentioned how pathetic you were.”

Zaun chuckles and shrugs his shoulders as he waits for the prince’s response.

Aryen pauses, His sentence within the Bifrost glazes his mind, and his gusto vanishes.

Brenne notices his blank expression and speaks up.

“What did you have in mind Zaun?”

Zaun’s grin spreads wide across his face.

“I need to clear my name.”

His grin fades.

“There is no other reason other than being a Gremlin, that my name has been tarnished. My father’s honor - disgraced, and my mother shamed for loving her husband and son.”

A wisp of cool air ushers in a moment of silence. Three stare blankly at one another before Aryen finally gives his decision.

“It seems we share a similar fate, and yet…fate has brought us together as well. 

Aryen positions himself to rest, Brenne right beside him. Cira and Lumi are already asleep. Zaun is still waiting for an answer.

“Let's make it back to our cell Zaun.”

Zaun releases a heavy sigh, then takes a seat in a smaller corner, leaning back just enough to see the stars peering through the hole at the top of the cave. Right before falling asleep he softly whispers.

“That wasn’t a no..”

VI

“TIME TO  MOVE MAÖHAR!”

The loud boisterous voice of a hefty raider echoes through the cave. He wildly clanks his shield and sword together causing the birds to flutter outside.

Aryen wakes up suddenly out of his slumber and looks around grogley. Zaun, Cira, and Lumi are already up and in line. He looks over to Brenne still passed out.

“Brenne get up. Wake up Brenne.” 

Aryen beckons in a drowsy voice as he nudges her to move.

She slowly opens her eyes to see the raider towering over them.

“Oh hey sunshine, top of the mornin to ya.”

The raider raises his sword and prepares to swing downward. He slams it down but only to meet the stone. Brenne rolled over and sprung up in haste.

“Okay, okay, I’m up…Sheesh.”

Aryen and Brenne fall in line and follow the raider back to the hills they arrived at. A door appears and inside, two more guards await.

“Take them to the barracks, we need all prisoners present for today’s announcement…The Commander says we may have a crisis on our hands.”

The two guards nod in unison and step on the button to activate the lift.

The group’s suspicions are raised and they wait patiently for the lift to reach the barrack floor.

As they get  closer, the walls rumble and you can hear large splashes of water coming from above. The guards look at each other and begin murmuring between themselves.

“We need to hurry, and man the cannons..It seems like the king’s prediction was accurate.”

They both glare at Aryen.

“All this over the damn prince!? We should kill him now and be done with it.”

The lift finally reaches the floor of the barracks, The guards grab Aryen and shove him out, and point for the others to follow him. As Aryen stands up he looks around to see that everyone is waiting for them to join before they commence with the meeting. A room filled with many hand carved wooden tables. Runes engraved and painted in gold, the floors' ice cold stones shimmer as if they were cleaned every hour of the day. Prisoners on one side cuffed and chained together and newly sworn raiders on the other, armored and prepared for battle. The Commander stands at the podium in wait.

“Nephew…fall in line.”

The commander clears his throat amongst all of the explosions outside the barrack walls.

“Hem, hem, uh-hem. This is much sooner than anticipated but it seems my brother, the High King was correct about the impending wars to come. As we speak the first wave of attacks is upon us. Some of you have already been here long enough to survive this war, and sadly the rest of you won’t. But even knowing that, I will arm you, and treat you as our brethren today because today we fight for our lives and the sake of our kingdom. The enemy does not see you as people of Sheol but as followers of House Jormun...If you seek aid from them I will cut you down myself. If you seek to aid our cause I will reward you myself.”

The prisoners look around at each other in silence, slow murmurs go between them. Lord Commander Felvic raises his sword and the newly sworn raiders raise theirs in unison. A few prisoners raise their fists as well and confirm their resolve. Those that did not were immediately apprehended, throats slit and left on the ground. Aryen walks over to his Uncle and kneels before him, Brenne quickly follows suit.

“Lord Commander, what will you have us do?”

Lord Felvic observes his kin, and looks over to the other three who seem not to know their place.

Aryen looks back and gestures to them to bend the knee.

“Don’t fret children, they are kin to our enemies. They expect to die here no matter who they align with.”

Lord Felvic signals his family to follow him to the main floor. 

As they walk down the corridor, they hear the screams of warriors, and ships crashing into the water.

“Listen you two, the enemy is House Basara. We are looking into how they were able to breach our barriers without defeating a Warden. The Wardens are holding off enemies at their gates, and a fleet of Basarian warships are heading directly towards us. Your father has already sent Riders, Warmongers, and Visceral Champions into the country to punish those that commit treason against the High King.”

Aryen’s attention is immediately triggered

“That means Kelis will be leading the charge.”

“Worry not about your sister Aryen, she is far more prepared for this battle than you are. You need to focus on your challenge today. There are approximately seventeen ships, filled with ravaging bloodsucking fiends and savage wolves who attack on command. But three of these ships wave the banners of the Tepes Children. 

[Brenne’s eyes widened as horrid visions of her visit to Tartarus replayed though her mind. She was only there to collect a bounty, but her target was also their own. The eldest sister Anora, a proud swordsman and war strategist dismembered her bounty right before her eyes. The eldest brother, Drang, a brutal berserker who destroyed a small village over a bad drink. The younger brother, Yharna, a scoundrel to say the least, with a total disregard for life. He is known for abducting women and children for their Lord’s experiments.]

They are Lord Aluca’s generals and they are not known for their mercy.”

The Lord Commander and his kin reach the bridge where a raider reports the current situation.

“Lard Commanda, I have a message from Admiral Soljer: She says that we have multiple fleets attacking from north and south. They are converging to the middle to regroup with the Tepes Warships. I have lost most of my fleet and will return to the Bifrost for a fresh crew. I will hold them for as long as I can.”

A second raider reports to the Lord Commander

“Commander Felvy, It seems like Admiral Mannis is en route to pick up “fresh meat” to aid Soljer on the frontline.

Aryen and Brenne snicker at the playful nickname their kin received by the woman. Felvic’s brow raised in annoyance as he glared at the youth.

“Take these two and the three outsiders to board Mannis’s ship. They will prove their worth today.”

The Lord Commander walks off, shouting commands to all his warriors, pointing and swinging his sword. The woman walks to another lift nearby, gesturing to the two to follow .

“You must be special.”

Aryen and Brenne respond in unison.

“Why do you believe that?”

The woman turns to them as the lift makes its way down.

“There is no logical reason for the Lord Commander to send five teenagers to be with the first and second Admirals during a full scale siege of the city.”

Brenne gestures her strength.

“Hey lady, I’m the first daughter of Lord Ymir, I may be the strongest Giantess around, and this is the Prince of Drago- Well actually he is the next Mad King.”

Aryen side-eyes his cousin for spewing those outrageous claims, and questions the woman.

“Why do you believe he would do such a thing?”

The woman chuckles at her silly remarks before answering.

“Child, you two will die if you believe those titles mean anything during a war. Honestly being the children of two of the mightiest warriors of all Sheol, you’d think such nonsense would never leave your mouth.”

Brenne’s demeanor changes and she remains quiet to listen to the woman.

“I figure Lord Felvy wishes to see the two of you safe, he knows you both are quite capable of defending yourselves from harm in the city. But out there, beyond our barriers, beyond those gates…Only death awaits the unprepared.”

The lift finally stops. Each boarding it one by one.

“My name is Gersemi, I’m the War Master. I coordinate the squadrons of all Bifrost Raiders and second in command under Lord Commander Felvy. Your squad or cell mates in this case, will join Admiral Mannis in flanking the Tepes ships. Be sure to listen to all his instructions or Lord Felvy will have all of our heads.”

They reach the floor where Lumi, Cira, and Zaun wait. Zaun is the first to speak, while Lumi attends to Cira.

“Well? What will they have us do?”

Aryen looks past him and sees Cira shaking on the ground. She is bundled in a corner gripping her own shoulders tightly. Eyes widened, eyebrows raised and flared nostrils oozing mucus down to her lips.

“What in the four realms is happening to her!?”

Lumi stands to address his question.

“She realized this attack was being led by her kin. She started