User blog:GamerNerd i/More Than Myth

//Incomplete chapters; will be back later

Quest for Power
Frey had been on edge for a while.

After his mom’s breakdown at the hands of some unknown source, he’d felt doubtful. He wasn’t sure whether he knew his mom as well as he did before. He couldn’t even defeat one-seventh of her power until his dad told him exactly how to beat it. Granted, she’d had the Time Stone, but still. One-seventh of her power. His dad had taken on and defeated four in a row, even if he nearly died doing it.

Now, Frey stood in front of one of the two forbidden gates in Camelot, put in place by his parents. Apparently, these were the worlds that were most important to them (besides their homeworld, of course). They’d spent what felt like months in them, struck with a classic case of amnesia, as part of their training. Afterward, they’d erected these gates as a constant reminder of those experiences. At least, they claimed that the last part was true, but Frey thought it was contradictory to restrict something that meant to serve as a memorial.

One had had its restriction lifted; his sister Azura had broken the rule for his dad’s gate, and he decided to give them permission to go whenever they wanted. Frey had gone once or twice. Zenith was nice. The people were kind and there was no shortage of action.

However, he didn’t feel the same connection to it that Azura did. Her name came from one of the many worlds in that universe. He wasn’t quite interested in the sprawling battlefields and their “absolutely perfect composition” for a landscape. And while he enjoyed spending time with the Heroes’ mounts—Pegasi, wyverns, and horses—he could never see the beasts he really wanted to meet, even if the Heroes said that they frequented the worlds.

Frey wanted to see his mom’s world, just behind the gate decorated with an amalgamation of architectural features from different cultures. She’d told stories of its volatility: a world where ancient myths survived in the modern world, where monsters and heroes walk among the populace mostly unknown. Better yet, at least three different cultural traditions coexisted, and each in relatively close quarters to each other. Monsters from three different civilizations? Now that was something he could get into.

Frey’s favorite pet dragon slid itself under his hand—a Nightfury like Hiccup’s, with eyes golden like Frey’s hair. Frey subconsciously scratched its head.

“I think it’s time, Doskael,” he said. Its name had originally been intended to be “Duskscale,” but little Frey didn’t know how to spell at the time. The name stuck. “Azura did it already. She’s gotten stronger. She could actually overcome the things that scared her. With a little help, of course. But still...”

The dragon growled and gave Frey a questioning look. It was incredibly expressive. One might even say it was rather animated.

“I don’t actually know what’s through there. I just remember mom’s stories,” Frey responded. “That’s why I want you to stick nearby and listen for my call. No one’s around?”

Doskael shook its head, almost knocking Frey over.

“Yeah, I know mom told me not to. But... I feel like I barely helped dad last time. What if...” He swallowed, fearful of the thought. “What if he goes next? Mom had already told me that Dad was hard to kill. And I understand that now.” Frey looked Doskael in the eyes. “He was stabbed, slashed, and impaled about four times. He lost a lot of blood. And he was still breathing, Doskael! We were lucky to defeat Mom without hurting her. But Dad?” Frey shook his head. “No. I really doubt it. That’s why... That’s why I want to do this. Hopefully, I’ll get stronger. That’s what happened to mom, isn’t it?”

Doskael blinked and looked at Frey impatiently as if asking, “So are you going to do it or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. I was monologuing...” He walked to the gate and put his hand on the thin membrane that passed for a doorway. “Listen closely for me, okay? I might need a hand.”

Then Frey pushed through the film, into an alternate dimension where mythology wasn’t actually mythical.

Descent
Frey found himself falling from the sky like a skydiver—except he had no parachute. Soon, the land below came into view: the downtown area of a large city, dotted with some familiar skyscrapers.

New York? Frey thought, surprised at the location. ''I mean, I guess. If it’s not Tokyo, it’s New York, isn’t it? I don’t think this is a kaiju universe, though...''

Frey flipped onto his back and whistled. In a moment, Doskael’s dark form dove through the air. Frey grabbed onto the dragon’s saddle mid-aileron roll, just as he’d practiced several times before in his boredom. The maneuver still got his adrenaline pumping.

“Flawless execution as always, Doskael,” Frey said. He scanned the cityscape. His eyes came to rest on a small patch of land near the coast that was covered with strawberry fields. He pointed. “There. Mom said something about strawberries. That must be Long Island.” The boy streamlined himself as his dragon dove toward the shimmering fields and the lone house among them.

As they drew closer, the majority of the fields vanished. In their place was a large summer camp. It was a special summer camp and one that Frey’s mother had told him about before. He recognized certain landmarks that caused it to stand out. Most summer camps didn’t have a lava-covered climbing wall and a massive statue of Athena.

“Set down in the woods, just in case. I’ll scout first.” The dragon caught a few eyes as it flew over the camp and into the woods, but Frey figured it wouldn’t be bad as long as Doskael didn’t light the entire area on fire.

Frey dismounted from Doskael as soon as they landed. The woods were really quiet, but Frey’s instincts said that there was plenty of life roaming within.

“Stay here, boy. I’m going to see what this place is like.” Doskael growled in understanding and curled up to take a nap. With that, Frey walked in the direction of the camp proper.

Camp Fires
Frey emerged behind a ring of cabins. He counted twelve main cabins, situated around a large, burning hearth in the center. Each cabin was decorated differently. One looked like the military had created trenches, barracks, and ammo storage all in one building. Another would’ve fit right into a steampunk theme, complete with a mostly copper color scheme. The cabin Frey had come from behind looked like the entrance to a really elaborate aquarium. Other, smaller and less decorated cabins dotted the area just outside the ring.

Twelve main cabins, Frey thought, walking across the central green. ''Mom said something about a summer camp with twelve main cabins. Which was it?''

A girl noticed him as he went. She had a startling resemblance to his mom but had grey eyes rather than emerald green. He read her orange shirt: “Camp Half-Blood.” The name clicked as the girl, maybe six or seven years older than Frey, approached him. “Are you okay? You look lost,” she said kindly. “You must be new. I don’t recognize you.”

Frey instinctively moved his hand into his pocket, ready to pull something out at any time. Most wouldn’t even blink at something like this, but Frey got the feeling that the girl was watching that hand now. “I guess you could say I’m new. I’ve been told about this place before, but this is my first time actually being here.”

The girl didn’t seem convinced but didn’t let it show too much. “Really? Well, I can show you around, if you like.” She extended her hand in greeting. “My name is Annabeth. I’m the head counselor of the Athena cabin.”

Two more names clicked. At least Frey knew who he was dealing with.

“Oh... You’re Annabeth? Mom told me about you. Your greatest strength is your wit,” Frey said, recalling his bedtime stories. “I told her that I wanted to meet you sometime, but I... Never got the chance.”

Annabeth didn’t seem to react, but Frey could see her mind working. “Your mom told you about me?” Her voice was increasingly skeptical. “Who’s your divine parent?”

Frey gulped. He’d be caught in a lie if he got this answer wrong. “My divine parent. Right. I think it’s-“

He was interrupted by the sounds of roaring and a flock of birds fleeing. He turned around, thankful for the distraction but also concerned. "What was that?"

Annabeth shrugged. "There are monsters in the woods, and sometimes a bronze dragon roams around in there too. Don’t worry too much about it."

Frey wheeled around. "Monsters? And a dragon?"

"Um... Yeah. Why do you sound so worried?"

A rumbling explosion shook the woods, scaring off more birds. Annabeth's eyes grew wide. Frey realized that he'd made a terrible mistake.

"No time to explain, but maybe you could get the equivalent of the fire department over here?" He slowly backed toward the woods. "I, uh... May have created a fire hazard."

He turned and ran before Annabeth could say anything else.

Frey dashed through the woods, trying to find his way back to where he'd left Doskael. He whistled frantically, but the dragon didn’t come galloping to him as he usually did.

''Camp Half-Blood. I should have known,'' he thought, scolding himself. ''The statue on the hill—that's Athena. Mom told me that the Greeks were on Long Island...''

The temperature became notably hotter. Girls were literally coming out of the trees to see what was going on. Frey had to be careful he didn't run into them.

Dryads, he thought. Doskael, I swear, if you’ve started another forest fire, we're so done.

Frey approached the clearing, and the heat became even stronger. As a safety precaution, Frey hummed a severely overplayed song as he blasted bolts of cold at any flames he saw. He let go of his rhythm as soon as he ran into the clearing.

As it turns out, it wasn’t Doskael who had started the fire. Technically it was the robotic metal dragon. Frey managed to conjure a snowstorm in an attempt to stem the fire. It didn’t really work, but the blue magic caught the eye of someone riding the bronze dragon.

“Hey kid! Is that your dragon over there?” shouted an impish Latino boy riding on the bronze dragon. “I think I woke him up! My bad!”

“You think?!?” Frey shouted back. He whistled. Doskael, who had been poised to attack again, turned his head in Frey’s direction. “'''Kav’g! Dek bau! O raj’k uai gar ra errez’x myam’ja v’sa vex’y uai!'''” The dragon slunk to Frey’s side after being scolded in its own language.

“What... Was that?” The other boy said. The bronze dragon tilted its head in curiosity and blasted Frey with fire. “Festus, no!” The child countered with a beam of frost. He heard rustling in the forest behind him. We need to go, he thought. I can’t be blamed for this. An orb of sheer cold began forming in his hands.

“Dude, whose kid are you?” The Latino kid asked. “That was cool!” His mischievous smile indicated the intentionality of the pun.

Frey gritted his teeth. The rustling was getting closer. “My mom beat two goddesses of magic at their own game. That should tell you who I am.” The boy’s impish smile faltered in confusion. “Anyway, I should make my exit. It’s not easy to hold magic like this. So I guess it’s about time that I... Let it go.”

The rustling stopped as Frey released his orb and the blizzard howled with renewed strength. The forest fire and the bronze dragon’s flames were snuffed out. The temperature dropped several degrees. “Doskael, let’s go! Up and out!” The boy and his dragon fled the camp in the midst of the chilly chaos they’d created.

Airborne Boat
The two soared over Long Island. Behind him, Frey could see how powerful his snowstorm had become. It covered most of the woods now but was still stronger in the center, where he’d released the blast.

I hope that’s not an endless winter like the one in the movie, he thought. ''Mom said something about the barrier having some weather magic, anyway. That should counteract it... Eventually.''

Doskael growled discontentedly.

“Hey, don’t blame me for what you did,” Frey said sternly. “I’ve told you so many times before that you don’t blast fire at whoever’s waking you up unless they’re actually attacking you. Your fire is far more dangerous than most other dragons.”

The dragon rolled its eyes.

“Don’t sass me, you cheeky lizard. This is your fault, not-“ Frey’s instincts flared. “Doskael, down. Someone’s coming.” Doskael obeyed. The dragon turned a corner and took cover in the shadow of an AC unit. Frey dismounted and peeked cautiously at the passersby.

A dark-skinned boy and a blonde girl soar by on a flying boat, pulled by a strange creature. Eagle’s head, wings, and talon; lion’s body, tail, and back legs, Frey observed, assessing the beast. ''A griffin! Wow...'' The unusual carriage went by quickly. “FREAK!” the griffin squawked as it flew away. Doskael growled defensively. “Not now, boy. Geez, you need to be less aggressive.” Frey mounted again. “Follow them, quietly.” The dragon dove off the building in pursuit of the flying boat, staying as hidden as a pitch-black dragon in broad daylight could try to be.

The two tracked the flying barge to an abandoned industrial area in what Frey assumed to be Brooklyn. Flying low among the unused structures, he caught sight of a mansion sitting on top of a warehouse. The architecture was impossible and, quite frankly, hilarious. Well, at least this tells me who these two are, Frey thought. Why the Egyptians live in a mansion on top of a warehouse is beyond me. The barge landed on the roof of the mansion. Doskael set down nearby, behind a large metal container just outside the warehouse fence. Frey watched as the two riders disembarked. One vanished into the house. The other tended to the griffin and followed shortly after. Frey patted Doskael. “Bring me to the side of the roof so I can jump on,” he instructed. The dragon growled. “Oh, shush. I’m not taking my chances with you this time. Just glide around the complex or something until I call.” Doskael mimicked Frey’s voice as best as his draconic vocals could. Frey rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should have found a Monstrous Nightmare after all,” he muttered. Nonetheless, Doskael obliged and brought Frey level to the roof. The boy landed as softly as possible, and the dragon flew away until later. Frey looked around the roof. On his left, a large, empty gateway stood dormant, not unlike the gateways to the different worlds in Zenith. On his right were a set of stables, although the only occupant seemed to be the griffin. The barge lay to the side of the stables. Frey tread lightly out of habit, his worn sneakers so silent that he caught the distracted griffin off guard. “FREAK!” It screamed, recoiling in surprise. Frey attempted to calm the creature, but couldn’t decide to calm it the way he would a bird or a quadruped mammal. “FREAK!” The griffin called again. Frey stroked the creature's feathers soothingly, to little avail. “FREAK!” At this rate, he'd get caught. Frey's pendant, a gift from his mother, glowed softly. "Come stop your crying, it will be all right,” he sang quietly. “Just take my hand and hold it tight.” The griffin fidgeted, but stopped calling. It attempted to claw at Frey’s hand. “I will protect you from all around you. I will be here, don’t you cry...” The pendant stopped glowing its sea-green color. The griffin was still nervous, but at least it wasn’t treating him as a hostile. He began to inspect it closely. “You’re a magnificent creature,” he said, feeling the down of its powerful wings. “How long have you been here? You’re not a new arrival by any means.” The lion’s coat was shiny and well-groomed. In Frey’s experience, wild fur didn’t get shiny until at least a week of thorough grooming... “Hey, you!” A sharp British accent called behind him. Frey inhaled sharply and cursed himself for being so careless. “Step away from Freak, whoever you are!” Frey raised his hands in surrender and backed away from the griffin. The girl he’d seen riding the barge earlier had caught him. He did a double take for the second time today. Seeing her up close, he was again reminded of his mother: blond hair, fair skin, and bright (albeit blue) eyes. She seemed older than him by two or three years. Like his sister, she had highlights in her hair and wore blue denim pants. An amulet in the shape of a ring hung around her neck. On her hands were a staff and what looked like a boomerang, neither of which were particularly threatening at range, but Frey wasn’t going to take his chances. Even further, she radiated a familiar aura... “I meant no harm,” Frey started. “I’m just-“ “That’s what they all say,” the girl interrupted. “Who are you, and how did you even get here?” Even her temper was strangely similar. “I saw- Pardon me a moment.” Frey turned away and mimicked a cough. “Doskael! Help!” The language was naturally harsh and raspy, so it wasn’t hard to disguise it as a cough. Frey cleared his throat and looked back at the girl. “Sorry, something got in my throat. As I was saying, I saw you flying in your boat. I have a great interest in mythical creatures, and I haven’t seen a griffin like yours before.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “That’s brilliant and all, but tells me nothing.” She took a step forward. Frey took one back. “I’m gonna ask one more time. Who the dickens are you?” Frey stepped back a little more, still holding his hands up in surrender. He was dangerously close to the edge of the roof. “You know, I think I remember what my mom said about you. You’re Sadie Kane, right? The girl who hosted... Isis?” Surprise formed on the girl’s face. “Cool, I got it right. Mom beat Isis I think—in a friendly competition, of course.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doskael’s dark form fast approaching. He placed one foot over the edge behind him. “Well, it’s been nice to meet you, Ms. Kane. But now, I must-“ Sadie suddenly thrust her boomerang hand out. “Tas!” She commanded. Frey found his limbs and mouth bound by red magic ribbons. Unable to balance himself, he fell ungracefully off the roof. Panic kicked in as he free-fell for a few moments. Frey shut his eyes to avoid seeing the concrete coming at him. With a jerk, his velocity changed direction. Frey opened his eyes to Doskael’s face smiling smugly at him. The dragon clutched his bound body in its claws. The ribbon gagging his mouth dissipated. “Thank god!” Frey called out at first. “...You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Doskael laughed in dragon and kept flying.

“Thank you again, Doskael,” Frey said, continuing on a straight course. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The dragon grumbled deeply. “Mothra? What? No!” Frey stammered. “Mothra is terrible to ride! She’s slow, bulky, and has a lot of dust. Moth dust sucks. Not to mention that I have to tolerate her two fairy... guardian... people...” Doskael brought up something else. “I’ll admit, I considered the pterodactyls, but their physique isn’t as useful as yours. Their wings are flimsy and there isn’t much room on their backs. They don’t have fire or claws either.” Doskael suggested on final thing sarcastically. “Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous.” Doskael’s laugh came out like a low growl. Frey took out his phone. “Anyway, I should check where we- Holy hand grenade, Boston? How in Hitchcock did we go from New York to Massachusetts that quickly?” His dragon shrugged indifferently. Frey put away his phone. “Well, either way, I think we’re close to the- DOSKAEL, LOOK OUT!” The dragon spun into a defensive aileron. Frey looked back. An Arab girl with a green scarf around her neck pursued them. “Flying girl with an axe,” Frey observed, “Yeah, that sounds about right. Although how did she know we were coming?” He inhaled deeply. “Unless... They’re all in constant communication? No, that makes no sense. These cultures have no reason to interact normally.” The mirage of a blue arrow appeared on Frey’s forehead as he blew a mighty gust toward the girl. She spiraled out of control and vanished among the clouds. Frey suddenly felt lightheaded. He almost slumped right off Doskael’s back. Doskael buckled to keep him on board and rumbled. “You’re right, I am stupid sometimes,” he admitted, wheezing. “I forgot about the thin air at this elevation. Take us down, buddy. Hopefully we won’t run into Ms. Valkyrie's friends." Doskael obeyed and gently glided toward the surface.

They touched down in a wooded area. Frey dismounted and took a deep breath. “Right among the plants. Perfect,” he said. “I doubt anyone is out here right now, considering that it’s not exactly hiking season and we’re pretty far from a path.” Doskael snorted and started chewing on a leaf before spitting it out. “What have I told you about eating plants? You’re not meant to eat them. If you’re hungry, just ask.” Frey pulled a fresh fish out of nowhere and fed it to Doskael. The dragon ate it and spat the bones into the underbrush. The bush rustled more than a few bones would move it. Doskael turned and hated his usually hidden fangs. Frey’s preferred weapons materialized on his arms—a set of steel claws worn by a particular turtle-hating ninja. A German Shepherd trotted out of the underbrush, tail wagging. Frey relaxed a little. Doskael didn’t. “A domesticated dog, all the way out here... Not the strangest occurrence, I guess,” Frey said. He knelt and petted the dog. Its tail wagged faster. “You don’t have a tag, my friend. And your eyes are... Heterochromic...” Frey stood and staggered back as he remembered a certain description his mother had given him. “Doskael, we need to-“ The dog suddenly became aggressive and leapt onto Frey, pinning him down. Doskael clamped his jaw around the hound and threw it away. It landed with a thud in the brush from which it emerged, eliciting at least two human responses. Frey dashed away, beckoning for his mount to follow. Doskael rumbled questioningly. “I know I usually prefer to fight under cover, but we don’t have our usual recon advantage. I only vaguely know what we’re up against.” Frey glanced behind him. “Down, boy!” Doskael stopped and flattened himself. A golden blade zoomed out of the woods, narrowly missing his scales. Frey caught it between his claws. The sword continued to apply pressure despite the fact that no one was holding it. “Sorry señor,” the blade buzzed, “but my friend has a friend who wants to stop you so she can scold you about what you did to her other friends!” “Talking, flying sword,” Frey muttered, gritting his teeth. “Jeez, Mom’s acquaintances are weird.” “Not just any talking, flying sword, I’m the talking, flying sword! I’m... Jack!” Jack paused dramatically. The pressure on Frey’s claws lightened. “Wait, did you say mom?” Frey pushed the blade away. In one movement, he grabbed its hilt and drove it into the floor. “For a weapon, you talk way too much.” Frey and Doskael ran away, leaving the golden blade angrily humming in the earth. They fled into a clearing, then turned to face their assailants.

Three figures emerged from the forest, none of them looking particularly pleased. On the left was the girl who Frey had blown off course. Her scarf was still around her neck, but her hair was all over the place. The glowing spear in her hand contrasted with her darkish complexion. A golden bracelet on her hand caught Frey’s eye. Didn’t his mother tell him something about an emergency bracelet for Valkyries? On the right stood a teen whose gender was... Ambiguous. His/Her color scheme of lime green and hot pink was constant throughout both her outfit and the dyes in his ruffled hair. One shoe was green, the other pink. The colors alternated in a zigzag on her jacket. Even his eyes reflected the duality—heterochromic, just like the German Shepherd from earlier. Her hands held a potter’s cutting wire (Frey once asked Azura why potters used a wire instead of a blade; Her response was, “The same reason why people were hung instead of beheaded.”) that Frey felt might be even deadlier than his claws. Lastly, the middle figure made Frey do his third double take of the day. If people were to call him “golden boy” it would be for good reason. He had dirty blonde hair to his ear lobes and frightening, although familiar, grey eyes. Jack the sword buzzed in his hand, probably saying something like “That’s the guy! Get him!” Frey stared at the boy opposite to him. Something about the kid seemed really familiar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but a name jumped out at him. “Kurt Cobain?” Frey said skeptically. The boy with the sword muttered inaudibly in exasperation. “I mean, you guys are dead anyway, right?” Frey said, keeping an eye on their weapons. “Well, two of you. Cobain took his own life, so it wouldn’t be the most unusual thing that’s happened to me.” The Arab girl lowered her spear a little bit. “In which case, you don’t know how the Norse afterlife works. He wouldn’t be an einherjar. He’d be in Helheim with the other dishonorable dead.” “Oh.” Frey had forgotten that part... His mom hadn’t elaborated on it too much. “Well, sorry then. That means you three are... Yeah, I think I remember Mom’s story about you three.” His opponents’ guard dropped considerably at “Mom.” “One of you... I think it’s you, miss,” he said, pointing to the Arab girl, “is a valkyrie. Your name was... Sam... No, Samirah!” Her stance didn’t change, but her eyes flashed in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t believe Mom when she said that a contemporary Muslim was a valkyrie, but I guess I have no choice to believe her now.” The boy seemed taken aback. The other person only looked fiercer. Frey laughed despite his nervousness. A certain unfortunate businessman’s amber-topped staff rose out of the ground under his right elbow. He leaned against it casually (at least, as casually as an 11-year-old can be while being threatened by three teenagers). Doskael looked at him questioningly. “Let’s see... What else do I know? Uh... You.” he pointed to the teen dressed in bright green and pink. “I remember your name since I have a friend who shares it. He’s Alexander, but you’re Alex: the gender neutral version. This is going to sound rude, but may I ask what you’re identifying as right now?” No response. The angry eyes didn’t change, but the ferocity on the face weakened. Frey shrugged and kept talking. “Well... I tried. I should also say, you two are the children of Loki, right?” Both tensed up at the name. “Yeah, I understand that he’s not a nice guy, but I really admire his wit. Personally, I wish I could take a lesson or two with him...” The green-and-pink clad teen readied her garrote. Doskael blasted a warning shot at his feet. Frey put his hand on the dragon’s back to restrain him. Not yet, buddy... “And then there was one...” He eyed the boy in the center uneasily. “It’s strange. Magnus, right? Mom said you’re a son of Frey. But uh...” he cleared his throat nervously. “Jeez, I just realized that I’ve been talking about you guys but I haven’t even introduced myself. Well...” he signaled to Doskael to get ready. “The name’s Oisinoid. Frey Oisinoid.”

For once in his life, Frey may have bitten off more than he could chew. Magnus’ sword lunged at him as soon as his first name left his tongue. He deflected its strike with more difficulty than before. From the corner of his eye, he saw Doskael defending him from a leopard. “Okay, seriously?” Frey said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t really fight a sword on its own, so he was stuck defending himself against the blade. “All I said was my name! Don’t you guys want to hear my story or something? Wouldn’t that be fair? I mean, I just-“ “I know your stories!” The blade buzzed angrily. “I was your weapon before! Until you gave me away for that giantess!” “Wh- what? No! I’ve never used a sword in my life!” Frey continued to block attacks, but he was getting tired. “Swords are overrated! I fight better by fang and claw... Or just claw in this case.” Jack continued to rant furiously. “Fang and claw, huh? How about your deer antler?” “Why on Endor would I use a deer antler?!” Jack didn’t respond, but the speed and power of the attacks just increased. Magnus apparently couldn’t do anything about his angry sword. At least Samirah was trying to get Alex off Doskael’s hide. This is getting stupid, Frey thought. Talking isn’t working, and I can’t keep this up forever. As to demonstrate this point, a strike grazed his shoulder. He felt the pain and warm liquid leaking slowly, but couldn’t tend the wound. Frey prepare to defend against the next barrage of strikes. It never came. Jack hung in what was probably the sword equivalent of stunned silence. Frey checked his bleeding shoulder. The liquid oozing from the cut wasn’t pure red. Bubbles of his blood, like drops of oil in a pot of water, were gold. He made an effort to patch the cut as Jack spoke in surprise. “You’re... You’re not him,” the blade said, hovering closer to observe... Pointy end first. “The one thing that isn’t golden about that no-bro is his blood. The only people with golden blood... But that’s impossible. They... They went so long ago.” “Maybe you should talk to Mom, then,” Frey said, bandaging the cut. Once absorbed into the fabric, the gold took on a more sickly shade of yellow. “I know for sure that I didn’t get that from my dad.” Doskael, meanwhile, was still locked in combat against Alex. Frey knew he could hold his own, but he was more concerned for the shapeshifter than Doskael. It was a miracle that Doskael hadn’t started breathing fire yet. As he stepped toward the fight, a bright light flashed from the sky. Frey was forced to look away, but he knew exactly what that light was. “Oh boy,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m really in for it now.” When he looked up, the two animalistic combatants were being held in individual bubbles. Doskael hissed in a crimson bubble, while the bestial Alex sat in the other indigo one. A girl stood between them, both arms raised as the rings on her fingers generated the bubbles. She glared at Frey. The boy gulped. “Hi, Mom.” Alex immediately shifted back into human form. “Waitwaitwait, did you just call Nadia mom?” “Yes, Alex. He did,” Nadia said. “He’s not supposed to be here, but he came anyway.” She released Alex and pointed to Doskael. “Is this yours, Frey?” “Yes, Mom. I... I don’t think I’ve introduced you yet. His name is Doskael.” Nadia lowered her hands and the bubbles dissipated. Frey rushed to his dragon before he could start attacking anyone. Alex limped toward Samirah and leaned on her. The shapeshifter winter as Magnus touched her wounds with a golden light. Frey looked at his mom as she did the same thing to his cut. “Wait, that’s his power?” “I didn’t make this up on my own. Didn’t future me tell you that all my magic was learned?” “No. Well, yes. But you never specified where you learned it from.” Nadia sighed. “I guess I would withhold that information, wouldn’t I?” Her face became stern again. “Either way, I warned you against going in here. I haven’t returned in a while, so no one knows about you.” “Is that why you told me to stay out?” “Of course it is. I’ve been meaning to return, but things have gotten hectic and I never had the opportunity.” Nadia turned to her friends. “I swear I’ll come back and explain all this. But before I forget, I want to show Frey something. Thank you again!” Nadia began walking away. Frey followed at her heels.

They came to a statue of ducks in a row. Doskael started sniffing the metal. Frey looked confused. “This thing?” Nadia shook her head. “Not quite. Watch your step.” She jammed her staff into the base of the statue. With a flash of light (it was always a flash of light with his mom), the grass under their feet changed to hard wood. Frey looked around. They stood on a massive branch. In front of him, the tree’s trunk stretched impossibly high above and below him. “Yggdrasil?” Nadia smiled. “Good to see that I taught you well. Just make sure you enunciate the y a little bit more.” She began moving quickly. “Quickly now. Ratatosk will be here any moment. You don’t want to-“ A loud squirrel’s bark sounded from below. Frey tensed up as a vulgar rush of insults flooded his hearing. Doskael hissed aggressively. Nadia staggered onto one knee, covering her ears. “As I was saying,” she recovered slowly. “You don’t want to meet him. Let’s move before he catches up.” Frey and Nadia climbed onto Doskael’s back. Nadia directed here to go. They flew up the Tree until Nadia instructed them to stop. “There,” she said, pointing to a tiny crack in the wood. “Fly through that one.” “What? There’s no way we’ll fit in there.” The squirrel barked again. Frey became more agitated. “Okay, fine.” They flew into the crack. A flash of light engulfed them as they entered a realm much brighter than Midgard. Alfheim’s light shone around them. Nadia instructed Frey to fly straight, but she seemed distracted by the neighborhood below. Frey didn’t ask.

Soon, they came to a palace that somehow shone brighter than the rest of Alfheim. A security guard stopped them at the gate, but upon seeing Nadia, he hurriedly let them pass. “Are people scared of you here?” Frey asked. “To some extent. I’ve... Well, let’s just say that I have quite the resume,” she said casually. “People tend to whisper about you once you’ve challenged a god and won. I did it... Three times?” Frey blinked. Of course! His mom had told him about those challenges. Somehow it hadn’t hit him that it happened three times. “You’re... Really strong.” Nadia smirked. “Not really. Just smart.” They were given access to the throne room. On a chair wrought from branches and gold sat a man radiating a warm light. As he came closer, Frey recognized the energy as his mom’s healing light. The man leaned forward as they approached. If there was a contest for most handsome lumberjack, he would’ve won hands down. Nadia stopped a few feet from the throne and dropped to one knee. Frey was shocked as she pulled him down too. Who would his mom possibly have to kneel to? “Nadia,” the man began. His voice was more regal than Frey had anticipated. “it’s a pleasure to see you again. This isn’t a business call, I hope?” “No, milord. I wanted to introduce my...” Nadia struggles to finish her sentence. “My son to you.” The man is taken aback. “A son? At your age?” His blue eyes fell on Frey. “You, child?” Frey nods nervously and scoots a little closer to Nadia. “I haven’t returned in some time. He is one of a number of things I wanted to catch people up on.” The man nodded in understanding. “As you say, then.” He beckoned to Frey. “Come here, child.” Frey looked nervously at his mom. Nadia’s body language said “go ahead, the glowing dude doesn’t bite.” He rose and approached the throne. The warmth only intensified, but not to an uncomfortable level. “What is your name?” “I... I’m Frey.” There was something familiar about him, but Frey couldn’t quite put his finger on it... The man questioningly glanced at Nadia. “Frey? Interesting. Has your mother told you why?” “It’s the name of a god my mom once met. She told me that I looked like... Like...” Realization flashed in Frey’s eyes. “Like you! You’re Frey! The god of summer!” The god smiled warmly. “Indeed I am. It would seem that your mother has taught you well.” “Things make sense now!” the boy said thoughtfully. “The glow like mother’s healing, Mom’s explanation about my eyes, the reason Magnus’s sword was so mad at me for no reason-“ “My sword, once,” Frey said wistfully. “Sumarbrandr never got over my mistake, but I’m glad to hear that my son still has him.” “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Young Frey’s excitement wore off a little. “Well, I guess Mom is going to take me back home now,” he said sadly. “It was nice to meet you, sir.” Frey felt Nadia’s hand on his shoulder. “I still have things to do here,” she said, placing a bracelet in his hand. “Use this to go back to Midgard. Apologize to the others and wait for me. We will go home when I’m done.” Frey’s eyes widened. “You’re... Letting me stay?” “For the time being, yes.” Nadia said sternly. “But don’t push your luck.” Frey took the bracelet and jumped into his mother’s arms. Slowly, Nadia returned the embrace. He began running to the door. “Thanks, Mom!” He called, beckoning to Doskael. “Come on, boy, let’s go!”

As the boy and his dragon vanished, Nadia turned to the smiling god of summer. “For one so young, you make an excellent parent,” he chuckled. Nadia waved him off. “Please. You should see his sister. She’s three times as problematic. Only Aidan can keep her reigned in.” “Twins?” Frey murmured in fascination. “You really do have much to tell me.” “Yep,” Nadia smirked smugly, despite the fact that she was speaking to a god. “And I’d be willing to bet a few red gold that in all your eons of existence you’ve never heard of something like it.”