Hel Lokisdottir's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Hel rode Fenrir back through the portal to her cold halls. Baldr's name burned in her mind. She knew the god who would die. She did not know the moment. The raven fed her every death across the nine realms, but a death not yet fallen stayed hidden. If the fatal blow struck while she looked elsewhere, his soul could slip past her gates. Then his death would go unclaimed, and Ragnarok would come loose. She had to be there the instant his heart stopped. She pressed the raven to her chest and closed her eyes. The thread of Baldr's death still glowed, warm and bright. But it did not tell her when. She followed it anyway, out of her halls, back across the bridge, into the shining places of Asgard. The thread led her to an open field of golden grass. Baldr stood in the center. Light poured off his skin. Gods circled him, laughing, throwing stones and spears for sport. Every weapon curved away or bounced off his chest. He caught a thrown axe and grinned. He did not know he could die. No one there did. Hel landed the wolf at the field's edge. She was too close now. If the blow fell here, she would catch the soul the instant it left him. She only had to wait and watch. She fixed her eyes on the radiant god and did not blink. Then a shape swept down from the sky. A woman in gold and silver armor rode a white horse through the air. Her hair streamed behind her. She carried a spear, and she flew fast, low, searching. The valkyrie who gathered the slain. She too had felt the death coming, and she meant to reach Baldr first and carry his soul to the halls of the gods. Hel understood. If the valkyrie claimed him at the moment of death, Baldr would go to Odin's hall, not to her realm. The rider was her rival for the same soul. Whoever stood closest when he fell would take him. The valkyrie circled the field and hovered near the laughing god. Hel could not fight her here, not with all the Aesir watching. But she did not need to fight. She closed her eyes and let the raven's gift pour into her. She reached for the rider's own thread, her name, her hour of death. Hel opened her eyes and spoke the valkyrie's name aloud. Then she named the day the woman would die. The rider went still. Her horse reared in the air. She stared at Hel with white terror, then wheeled and fled the field. Hel stood alone at the edge, closest to the light. She could not stop Baldr's death. She no longer wanted to. She would claim him herself, the instant he fell, and no rider would take him first. Now she only had to learn the hour.