krigets konst jag behärskar

There was no telling exactly what Víðarr had seen, but he thought he knew. He knew he knew, in his heart of hearts. There was no convincing the shadow otherwise. There was nothing that could be done, not by anyone. The statue had touched him in a way that many may try to, and the reassurance of the familiars too… well. Víðarr knew what he saw. That was that. This was this. A shift had come about the shadow, a shift for the better. For the first time in hell if he knew how long, his head was clear. His purpose, his path, all of it was clear. It was clear to Víðarr. He knew what he had to do.

Unearthly bright. Ethereal dark. Víðarr is both, and he is both in the same skin. The slash of his blood against the darkness, what he’d seen from the statue… he knew. He knew. He knew that he knew. The warmth of his brothers, his friends around him. He could feel it. Víðarr could feel it in his sleep, and he dreamt of it often. Now more than ever, he dreamed of the great halls. He dreamed of the glorious death that he’d always ached for, that he’d always longed for. It felt real. Though his faith had never wavered, it was renewed. Stronger than ever. Stronger now than it had ever been in the past. All he could do was long for the company of his family to share it with. Still, the shadow would continue on alone.

With his companions by his sides, he spent the days searching. He spent the days looking for more. He needed to walk among the gods. He needed to be with them. He needed to build something great in their tribute, in their image. Víðarr had always been a believer, but for now, he is a zealot. The shadow’s gaze is keen, bright. Brilliant. Everything about him is brilliant and lively. He would build something beautiful, something great, in the image of the gods. This was the rebirth. Víðarr had touched death, had wrapped his arms around it. He would touch death again. Not only would he touch it, he would embrace it. The shadow knows with great certainty that he will dine in the great hall, and he will dine with his brothers and sisters there.

Raise an army. Destroy those claiming false godhood. Bring together a family, his family. All of it would be brilliant, all of it would be beautiful, and all of it would come in time. The first step? Well, it wasn’t that he was lost, but there was so much he needed to do. There was so much he needed to do, and what step would he take first? Which one? Which one? Fuck. Maybe he could ask for one more bit of guidance. Just one. Víðarr could reach out to the gods, and they could give him some sort of guidance. They could provide him with the answers that he needed to make sure he was going in the right direction. He would ask, and if the shadow was lucky, they’d have the answers.

Víðarr drew his companions in close for the evening. This place had been their home for so long, but with times changing and shifting as they were… well, maybe he’d venture elsewhere. That would be another question for the powers that were, the powers that would be. Víðarr could ask them. The shadow, with his belly full and his companions fed, hunkered down for the evening. A fire crackled cheerfully before him within the small, makeshift dug pit. He heated water, and carefully added a few of the medicinal mushrooms to it. Just a small handful, nothing too… too much. If the shadow wanted to speak to the gods, he’d also like to remember what they had to say. Once satisfied with the tea, Víðarr took a deep breath, and then drank it down quickly.

The effects of the mushrooms were a lot like falling in love. Things happened slowly, at first. The weight of his muscles, any aches and pains and soreness, they all came to the front of his mind. Víðarr was acutely aware of them each, as well as every throbbing beat of his own hearth. Slowly… then all at once. He was sucked under, and it was a beautiful feeling. Drawn under, the world around him melting away. Time melting, ebbing, flowing away from him. He could feel it, he could feel it all. Víðarr could feel it, and he felt beautiful. Calmness. Stillness. Quiet. Through the quiet, the shadow could reach out and he could touch the veil where it was at its thinnest. Softly, in his mother tongue, Víðarr speaks. “I hear you… I see you in my dreams… All Father, may I have your guidance?”


"Viðarr"