Athena's General - Chapter 335

Nathan Evenhart:

"Why does my mother look exactly like Freya?" I asked Siegfried, my voice tense with unease.

For the first time, I noticed something unusual in his expression. He looked… uncertain.

"That…" He hesitated, furrowing his brow. "I don’t know. I was just as surprised when I saw your mother. I have no idea how that’s possible… and I’m a divine being."

He gestured to a painting nearby—the same one I’d seen in the vision granted by the Aspect of the Soul. It showed Freya holding a baby in her arms, a soft, serene smile on her face. She was the spitting image of my mother, save for the pointed ears. The resemblance was deeply unsettling.

"There are mysteries in this world even we, who touch the threads of existence, can’t fully grasp," Siegfried said as he gazed at the artwork. "You inherited Freya’s silver-white hair, the color she took on when she channeled her Alfar side. Your mother is also a child of Freya, just as you are. Maybe she simply inherited her appearance… or maybe…"

He let the words trail off, his gaze drifting elsewhere. After a moment of silence, he looked directly at me with a piercing intensity that made me shiver.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

A chill ran down my spine. "Is… is that even possible?" I whispered.

"You live every day beside the reincarnation of Sisika."

Relief washed over me—at least momentarily. That question had shaken me more than I cared to admit.

"But… Sisika’s reincarnation was a special power granted by the Aspect of Life. It created a second body while the first one still lived. What I’m referring to is soul reincarnation," he explained.

"Soul reincarnation?" I repeated, curiosity rising.

Siegfried stepped closer.

"A soul that travels across eras… through space… and time… to be reborn in another body. That’s something no one has ever accomplished. When a divine being dies… it’s final. But Freya… she uncovered secrets that even the Primordials never revealed. And a mother separated from her child… well, who’s to say what strength that kind of love can manifest? Freya gave her life to save her child, sacrificing everything. But maybe—just maybe—she found a way to defy fate. Maybe she discovered a path to stay… close to the one she loved."

He went silent for a moment, his gaze distant, as if searching through the depths of memory. Then, with a soft sigh, he picked up a teacup that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Or maybe I’m just being poetic," he added with a smile. "I am a poet, Nathan. And poets tend to get swept away by foolish ideas."

He sipped his tea, the quiet sound oddly peaceful compared to the storm of thoughts spinning in my mind. I stood there beside him, trying to piece everything together. But the more I tried, the more fragmented it all seemed… and maybe that was Siegfried’s intention all along.

He began to walk through the museum again, his pace signaling that he was ready to move on. "Any more questions about Freya? I need to get to the next topic."

I paused for a moment before gathering the courage to ask, "What exactly is a dryad? In my vision, I saw elf-like women with reddish-brown hair, like my mother’s—and like Freya’s. But back in Freya’s time, weren’t there only the high elves? And their hair is silver or gray."

The image of the giant seed in my mother’s garden flashed through my mind, stirring up more questions than I could keep track of.

"Dryads…" Siegfried muttered, deep in thought. Then he turned to me.

"Dryads are spirits of nature—but not like the fairies that once gave rise to the elves. These spirits are born from nature itself. They aren’t born like other beings. They’re… created. Brought into existence by ‘love’ for nature, in the truest sense of the word."

"Love?" I asked, confused. "How does that even work?"

Siegfried let out a sigh, the kind someone gives when they're about to explain something even they find difficult to fully grasp.

"The Alfar... they were the source of that love. They helped the Primordials create these spirits. It was their connection to the essence of creation that allowed the birth of dryads. Think of dryads as nature's guardians. But when the Alfar were wiped out during the Primordial War, that love died with them."

He paused, turning to face the painting of Freya on the wall.

"But Freya... she managed to recreate the dryads. She was the only one left in a broken world who could still feel that kind of love. And she gave those spirits a body of flesh."

"And after she died?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

"The dryads vanished. Only Freya had the power to bring them into being. She was known as the 'Mother of Plants' because she had enough love to turn a simple plant into a living being."

"I see," I murmured.

So that seed... is it just a plant?

"Freya was known as the Goddess of Beauty, Love, and Fertility," he added. "In every realm, she was believed to be the most beautiful woman to ever exist. Her love was pure, and her fertility was tied to the flourishing of nature itself."

My mother... looked exactly like the goddess of beauty. I guess that explains a few things.

Since I was a child, I’ve always heard people talk about how beautiful my mother was. Even back when we lived in that small village, I heard neighbors whispering praises about her. There were stories that many nobles tried to marry her before she eventually accepted my father.

My mother... looks exactly like the goddess of beauty. I guess that explains a few things.

Siegfried snapped his fingers, pulling my attention back, and a door swung open, revealing another wing of the museum.

"Come on... looks like I’ll have to leave soon, so I’ll speed things up," he said, walking briskly.

"Leave? What do you mean?" I asked.

"My master just summoned me. I have to return to my world." He quickened his pace.

"Can’t you just freeze time and talk with me a little longer?" I asked with a grin.

"Clever... but entering that temporal rhythm doesn’t stop time itself. It just puts us in a dimension where time flows differently. My master would notice if I used it. And besides, entering that space is dangerous."

I hurried to keep up with him. "Dangerous? How?"

"Very few deities awaken the Aspect of Time. It’s one of the most powerful. Those who do may gain unique abilities, but two stand out: one is involuntarily dreaming of the past, present, and future. The other is the ability to slow down the flow of time by entering an alternate dimension where time behaves differently."

He glanced over at me.

"When you stop time, you're not actually freezing the world. You’re altering how time perceives you. That’s the dimension of time. And stepping into it is extremely dangerous."

"Why is it so dangerous?" I asked.

"I can’t tell you everything," he said. "Just know that there are many risks. One of them is crossing a certain boundary and falling into an endless void, which would send you to Helheim, the limbo between worlds. And once you're there, there’s no coming back. That’s why stopping time is only used in very specific situations, and for very brief moments. My master, of course, can stay there for hours. But for you, a mortal, those powers would consume your life span."

I nodded, absorbing his words as we moved through hallways lined with artifacts, sculptures, weapons, and portraits. Some rooms held massive skeletons of ancient beasts, others recreated entire environments.

"How rare is the Aspect of Time?" I asked.

"If a deity is powerful enough, they can awaken either the Aspect of Time or the Aspect of Space, but never both at the same time," Siegfried explained, his tone growing more serious. "However, there are exceptions. Some beings defy this rule and possess both. As for the ability to actually stop time..." He paused and looked directly at me. "There may be only five beings capable of that. And you are one of them. Or rather, your eyes are."

That information hit me hard. I had never imagined it was something so rare.

"That Demon Herald... he was using the Aspect of Time, right? Is he one of them too?" I asked.

"No. He didn’t actually stop time. His power was created specifically to counter yours. His version of the Time Aspect simply prevents him from being frozen when someone else manipulates time nearby. Think of those creatures as designed to oppose us. Their powers are tailor-made to neutralize our own," Siegfried replied.

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly my storage bracelet began to tremble. The Cursed Blade flew out of it and landed in his hand.

"This sword of yours... the moment I saw it, I knew exactly what it was," he said, inspecting the weapon closely.

"This is connected to Jormungandr..." I murmured, recalling what Morvat, the Herald, had told me.

Siegfried glanced at me. "What do you know about the Celestial Aspects? From what I’ve observed, you’ve been skilled enough to use them. But you must’ve realized by now that they drain your lifespan. Still, I want to hear what you know."

I explained everything I’d learned from Sisika, from Cylla, and even from Jormungandr herself — that the Celestial Aspects grant access to powers like body, soul, time, space, life, and death.

"Hmm… so you really did meet the guardian. Very few hosts get that opportunity," Siegfried said before handing me back the Cursed Blade.

"Each deity may be lucky enough, depending on their lineage, to awaken more than one Aspect. All deities naturally awaken the Aspect of the Body, which allows them to shift between their humanoid and animal forms. But any additional Aspect they awaken is random, influenced by talent, life experience, and the nature of their soul. These factors can unlock a unique and personal power — or one of the more common Aspects," he explained.

He pointed to the sword.

"There are certain documented abilities. I’ll explain one tied to the Aspect of Death. This ability allows you to 'kill' a soul. Think of it as a way to damage a divine being at its very core. That’s what the Herald did when he wounded Sisika. When he activated that black blade, he was channeling the Aspect of Death. Your sword is forged from the metal extracted from one of Jormungandr’s fangs. When she activated her Death Aspect, her fangs would turn black."

He continued.

"Jormungandr was so powerful that even after her death, the Aspect of Death remained partially active in one of her fangs, giving birth to a new, enchanted type of metal. There are many metals and natural resources in existence that originated from creatures like her. The material used in your blade is a lesser version of her power. It weakens the soul but doesn’t destroy it. That’s why your sword can disable magic or paralyze someone — because it’s striking their soul directly. You may have noticed it already, but understanding that this metal is born from the Aspect of Death gives you clearer insight."

I thought about it. When I use the Aspect of Time, my magic gets blocked, but the enchantment in my sword never fails… Could it be that the blade is somehow aligned with my eyes?

"I want you to explain later how you got your hands on a piece of Jormungandr’s fang. It was stolen long ago and hidden in Svartalfheim," Siegfried said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Shouldn’t I explain it now?" I asked.

"No. For now, just listen. There’s something far more important I need to teach you first."

We walked together into a massive chamber filled with enormous tables. Each one held a sprawling, animated diorama with different environments: fire, ice, lush forests, and above them all, a floating city wrapped in clouds.

"I brought you here to show you the time when harmony existed across the Nine Realms. Here is where we begin our lesson about Ragnarok," Siegfried announced.

The chamber was vast, and we stepped inside.

“I told you about the Nine Realms,” said Siegfried as we walked through the grand corridor. “Asgard, Midgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Niflheim, Muspelheim, and Helheim. Each one was inhabited by a different group of deities. Thousands of years passed after Yggdrasil split into nine, and societies began to flourish. Human civilizations grew, elven societies took root, and so did those of demi-humans, dwarves, infernal creatures, and immortals. You must understand, there’s a difference between mortals, immortals, and divinities. In my world, there are many immortals, but not all of them are divine.”

I listened, trying to absorb the information and compare it with what I already knew. The divine structure of this world was vastly different from what I was used to. Here, the gods lived in harmony, united under a single structure. In my world, although Olympus served as a neutral ground, each god ruled their own isolated territory. Poseidon governed the oceans, Hades the Underworld, and Zeus the skies. This separation wasn’t just geographical—it mirrored their disunity. Each god was more focused on protecting their own realm than working together.

“There are beings who live forever,” Siegfried went on, “but that doesn’t make them deities. The Primordials created many creatures, like spirits and fairies. These are what we call Immortals. But being immortal doesn’t make them gods. You understand now?”

I nodded.

Siegfried pointed toward the base of the great tree—Yggdrasil—where shadows swirled in thick, heavy darkness. “In that abyss fell the corpses of several Primordials… along with Nidhogg. The Chaos Hydra, one of the Primordials, was gravely wounded in the war and near death. But he survived. He couldn’t maintain himself the way beings of Order did, because he lacked the power to create life. He could only destroy… or corrupt. Even so, he found a way to create something. In his final moments, he divided himself. Just as the Primordials created the Celestials, Nidhogg split his essence… and from those fragments, he created his own version of Celestials. Or rather… Demons.”

From the darkness, shadowy figures with red eyes and twisted horns emerged.

“One of them was Surtur,” Siegfried continued, and at his gesture, a massive statue of a flaming demonic figure appeared before me. “That’s only a fragment of his true size, but don’t worry. He’s dead.” Siegfried snapped his fingers, and the statue vanished.

“Nidhogg’s body became many pieces. Some versions of the story say there were eight demons. Others, nine. There are even tales that say he sent each of his creations to claim one of the Nine Realms.”

He led me to a darker corner of the hall, where small statues were gathered in a ring, each with piercing crimson eyes.

“These beings, while far more powerful than most gods, were few in number. Less than ten. They would lose in a direct war against the Nine Realms. In fact, they would lose just to the Aesir alone,” Siegfried said. “But one among them… he was different. He climbed the tree Yggdrasil instead of gnawing away at its roots like his brethren. He retained the largest share of Nidhogg’s original power. While the others were content to destroy, he observed. And he thought: why destroy… when you can rule?”

The figure took shape—draped in a black cloak, seated atop the tree on a throne, mask covering his face, hand outstretched toward the Nine Realms beneath him.

“This demon felt contempt for his kin. He called them beasts, slaves to their primal instincts of chaos. He watched humans, elves, demi-humans, dwarves, spirits, Vanir, and Aesir. He wanted to rule them. To become the god… of gods.”

Siegfried turned to me, eyes intense.

“His name was Loki. And yes… you saw him in your vision.”

My mind spun. “But… I saw him speaking with divine beings. If the demons were enemies of the gods, why was Mimir treating him like an equal?”

Siegfried touched the miniature statue of Loki, and its form shifted. The demonic exterior faded, transforming into different forms—Jotun, Vanir, Aesir.

“Because Loki wasn’t like the others. He was a master of the Celestial Eyes… the most powerful user of the Aspect of Body the world had ever seen. His skill allowed him to shapeshift into anything. To become anything. A Jotun. A Vanir. Even an Aesir.”

Siegfried moved around the living models of the Nine Realms.

“Loki wandered through all these worlds for a long time. The more he learned about them, the more he longed to rule them,” Siegfried explained.

“He walked among humans and understood their desires, fears, and weaknesses. Common men craved riches. The wealthy craved time—more years to live.”

He paused in front of a new set of maquettes.

“Loki visited every realm, even walked among the gods themselves while disguised, hiding his demonic essence. He wanted to rule over the divine, but he didn’t know how. United, they would defeat him. Divided… he could conquer them.”

Siegfried stood between the miniature worlds, now arranged around him.

“He began sowing discord between the divine tribes: the Vanir, the Aesir, the Jotun. Taking on their appearances, he stirred conflict among them, setting one against the other.”

I studied the models, my mind flashing back to something from my vision.

“What is the Song of the End? Mimir mentioned it when I had that vision,” I asked.

“That… is Ragnarok,” Siegfried replied. “Beings blessed with glimpses of the future through the Aspect of Time—or humans like the Norns, born with special eyes tied to that Aspect—wrote poems and songs about a war that would bring the end of all things.”

He approached the part of the museum that depicted Alfheim.

“It was in Alfheim that Loki found something that captivated him. He learned how Freya, a half-Celestial, had managed to create life—more precisely, to give bodies to spirits and help fairies become elves. He was fascinated. Freya was obsessed with rebirth and the creation of life. She dedicated herself to unlocking the secrets of coming back… even after death.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

The woman who looked exactly like my mother… had studied reincarnation?
My heart started racing.

Was it just a coincidence that I was born from a woman identical to that goddess? That both of us came from her bloodline?

The more I thought about it, the tighter the knot in my chest grew.

Is my mother… actually her?

“Loki devoted himself to understanding these life-creating arts by watching Freya. But as a being of destruction, he couldn’t create. He could only corrupt or twist. So he began experimenting. On magical beasts. On humans. On elves. He created orcs, goblins, the undead, trolls, skeletons, kobolds, werewolves… all sorts of monsters,” Siegfried said, his tone growing grim.

“Don’t tell me all those things still exist,” I muttered.

“They do,” Siegfried replied. “They live in what is now called the Dark Realm.”

He gestured toward a new set of paintings depicting hideous beasts—ones he hadn’t mentioned yet. There were monstrous hounds, sea serpents, flying terrors, and massive, deformed spiders.

“He built an army out of them. But that wasn’t the worst. There were three creations more dangerous than any of them. The ones we call the World Destroyers.”

I instinctively touched my face, remembering the vision of the serpent that slept within darkness.

“These three were special,” Siegfried said. “Because Loki succeeded in replicating the Celestials’ reproduction process.”

My breath caught.

“How did he manage to create three divine beings?”

“It took him years. He whispered lies to gods and mortals alike, inciting wars and betrayal. The major divine tribes were drawn into conflict—Aesir against Vanir, against Jotun, against Muspell. In the midst of that chaos, Loki approached Angrboda, Queen of the Jotun. Her kingdom was under siege, and he came to her disguised as a powerful Jotun warrior.”

Siegfried paused, gaze drifting toward the massive world tree at the heart of the chamber.

“No one knows if she truly understood what he was… but the tale says they had three children. Loki gave her fragments of his soul. But he also… did something else.”

He pointed to the lower roots of Yggdrasil.

“While performing experiments on the corpses of the fallen Primordials, Loki discovered something—something he shouldn't have. He learned how to condense that power into a Mana Core. He split it into three pieces and gave one to each of his children with Angrboda. That’s what made the World Destroyers so dangerous.”

He turned to face me directly.

“Each one carried a fragment of a Primordial inside them. That’s why they were gigantic. That’s why they could use all six Celestial Aspects.”

From the marble diorama, a massive serpent slithered between the worlds, a colossal wolf roamed the snowy lands of Jotunheim, and a bat the size of a mountain soared through darkened skies.

“In the beginning, Loki did truly love Angrboda,” Siegfried said. “But when he asked her to become queen of all creation beside him and revealed his ambitions... it all fell apart. At some point, they quarreled. She sealed off Jotunheim, cutting him off from his children and locking him out.”

He stepped toward the portion of the model representing Asgard.

“Meanwhile, the major divine factions had reached a ceasefire. The wars among the Aesir, Vanir, and Jotun cooled… but conflict broke out elsewhere—among the elves.”

“Why did the elves go to war?” I asked.

Siegfried shrugged.

“There were many factions. Some elves—descendants of the original spirits—discovered their true origins and were furious. They felt their right to choose had been stolen. They had lost their families to mortality, condemned to death in bodies they never asked for. Others fought in Freya’s name, believing she would one day be killed, as foretold in the Song of the End. These loyalists wanted to trap her in a safe dome to protect her, even against her will.”

He paused for a moment, as if recalling ancient sorrow.

“Some even allied with dark forces, thinking if they stood on the winning side, Freya’s fate could be avoided. Others, poisoned by envy when she bore a true child, let their love curdle into hatred. That’s how the elves fell into civil war.”

“And what about Loki?” I asked. “Where did he go after things ended with Angrboda?”

Siegfried stepped closer and stopped beside me.

“He allied himself with a god from Asgard—a powerful one who coveted the throne. Gods are immortal, Nathan. Once crowned, a king never relinquishes his seat. But this god wanted more. Loki used that ambition to his advantage.”

He turned to the model of Jotunheim, its snowy peaks now ominous in the dim light.

“Loki couldn’t step foot in Jotunheim. But that god could. So they devised a plan… and Angrboda was assassinated.”

He lowered his voice, solemn now. “She was killed before her children’s eyes… by an Aesir.”

“That was the spark,” he continued. “That death ignited the chaos. Every soul Loki had ever twisted—every seed of doubt he had sown—erupted at once. Every world, every race, every realm had a reason to burn the others to ash. And then…”

He turned to me with a weight in his eyes I hadn’t seen before.

“Freya was murdered. By Loki himself, disguised as a Jotun. Her death was the final blow.”

Siegfried walked forward, the echoes of his footsteps swallowed by the silence.

“And that… was the moment Ragnarok truly began. Not a war between gods and demons. But the end of everything.”

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