Fulfilled

[When the full moon turns crimson,

in the celestial soul borne by the last Oracle,

on the night when vile evil invades the nest,

it shall begin.

Foolish ones, eat, drink, revel and sing while you still can.

Once the Egg that heralds the Beginning and the End is conceived and born into the world,

countless deceivers shall weep and gnash their teeth,

and in the end, none shall see the morning sun.

Behold the time when all duchies fall and the great tower rolls in the dust.

The new shall become old, and the old shall become new;

all shall perish and begin anew.

The wrath of the gods shall cover this land,

and the dead shall rise to hold a festival of blood.]

Elin recalled the prophecy she had whispered countless times.

“The night when vile evil invades the nest…”

Elin muttered blankly without realizing, and Yodel tilted his head.

“What did you just say?”

“Once the egg that heralds the beginning and the end is conceived and brought forth…”

“You dare recite that filthy, damnable prophecy before me, your Lord?!”

Enraged, Yodel seized Elin’s head.

“I could make you suffer unimaginable torment this very moment.”

Elin’s sorrowful eyes met Yodel’s. Her delicate lips parted.

“Is there any pain greater than this?”

“What?”

“I am the woman chosen by the Gods. The one who bears the Egg that heralds Beginning and End. The one destined to lose everything I have. And the future of this land…”

“Silence, you witch! Do you know what I, standing before you, intend to do with you?!”

Yodel’s eyes gleamed with a lecherous smile as he dragged Elin, hurling her onto the bed. As she screamed and sobbed, he stifled her mouth and threw his body over hers.

“It has long been said only a god-chosen man may lie with a priestess. Such gods do not exist—but in this moment, I want to believe it! Hahahaha!”

At those vile words, Elin’s eyes widened. Only then, in a world filled with despair and stripped of hope, did the thought strike her: she must avenge her grief, and the death of the man she loved.

And to do that?

Though vile evil had invaded the nest, she must protect the Egg of Beginning and End. The prophecy had to be fulfilled.

While Yodel fumbled to strip off his clothes, Elin’s hand groped beside the bed and seized a wooden candlestick.

Crack!

The candlestick struck Yodel squarely at the temple. She knew it was too late to flee outside, but she couldn’t sit idle—she would have to force open the kitchen window and leap.

As Elin scrambled up, garments still in disarray, and rushed toward the kitchen, Yodel, scowling, lunged and seized her hair.

“You worm-like heretic—you dare strike a duke’s head? How dare you?!”

Yodel hurled Elin to the floor and clamped his hand around her throat. His fury boiled—his lust, as duke of the land, spurned by one so lowly, unworthy even of life.

“What are you, wench?! What is a priestess, that you dare defy me, a Duke?!”

“Kh…krrk…!”

Elin flailed, clawing at Yodel’s hair and face, but he did not release her throat. The madness of one denied what he craved was that great.

As her consciousness dimmed, Elin pictured Ingmar’s face.

‘Still, Glory to Olrun. Thanks to his daughter, Mother of all Priestesses, Manafreya. And may Ingmar, the last Warrior of the Gods, my beloved, be guided by Valkyries to joy in the halls of the Gods’…’

And then she sank into deep darkness.

When Elin’s body went limp, Yodel started and released her.

“Wh-what? Dead already?”

He drew back from her body, frowning, and hurriedly gathered his discarded garments and arms.

“It cannot be helped. So be it—your fate is sealed. Were you not a heretic, I might have taken you to the castle. A pity indeed.”

Her closed eyes brimmed with tears upon her beautiful face. Yodel’s expression wavered.

At last, Yodel stood pondering, then lit straw from the hearth’s embers and set the hut ablaze in every corner before walking out.

As smoke seeped out and startled men rushed to the door, Yodel emerged through it.

“My Lord, are you unharmed? Smoke is rising inside…”

“Mm. The interrogation is finished. She dared seize a blade and rush me, so I cut her down myself. In the struggle, the brazier overturned, nothing more.”

Yodel’s bruised temple drew Kraf’s suspicion; he peered through the open door.

Through the smoke, he glimpsed Elin sprawled as if dead on the floor. As he leaned to see more, flames roared up at the doorway, cutting off his view.

“Hmm… The witch is surely dead, yet as leader of this Tribunal, I regret not completing the Rite of Judgment. She was likely the last heretic hidden in this holy land.”

“But is it not as the sacred scripture says? Her own sins and deeds became fire to consume her body. In a way, it was a burnt offering.”

Yodel spoke more smoothly than usual, and his reasoning had weight—none could break through the blaze to recover the body.

“Well…perhaps so.”

Kraf nodded reluctantly.

Leaving the flames behind, Yodel ordered a full withdrawal.

As the Tribunal vanished into the forest, the deep red moon shone upon the blazing hut and Ingmar’s mutilated remains.

What broke down the kitchen wall was an impossibly large brown bear.

As the last torch left the yard, the bear emerged from the cliff’s shadows, smashed the wall, and cradled Elin’s limp body in one paw.

Carrying her out into the yard and laying her down, the hut was immediately engulfed in flames.

As if its task were done, the bear vanished, and three silver wolves emerged from the darkness.

They sat before Elin, guarding her, gazes fixed on the surroundings.

The red moonlight bathed their fur as if red energy rippled across it.

And after a moment.

“Haahk!”

Elin’s body convulsed, and she gasped for breath.

After heavy coughing and ragged breaths, her eyes opened slowly. The silver wolves pressed closer, wrapping around her as if to shield her.

Elin knew the silver wolves, like the brown bear and blue reindeer, were messengers of Olrun. Without fear, she hugged one and stroked its fur with vacant eyes.

Her gaze drifted to the red heap in the yard’s center.

Atop the grotesquely mangled pile lay Ingmar’s severed head.

“……”

Elin staggered up, eyes empty.

The wolves rose with her, blocking her path anxiously.

But she walked past them quietly. Blood-tears streamed down, staining her pale face and silver hair as red as the blood on the ground.

Her trembling hand reached for Ingmar’s head.

She caressed his cold cheek, closed his lifeless eyes, and gently lifted the head to press her lips upon his.

“Ingmar… Ingmar… The man who cherished me as the fairest and loved me most in this world.”

Elin murmured faintly as she cradled the head, her blood-tears dripping onto Ingmar’s crown.

“May the Valkyries guide you to the Gods’ garden. I shall soon follow by your side.”

Placing Ingmar’s head down gently, Elin heard one wolf bark—“Kehng!”—and move toward the cliff, as if to tell her to leave.

But Elin did not move, only gazed up at the moon, symbol of Manafreya.

The crimson moonlight sank into her red eyes.

‘When the full moon turns into the red moon…’

Kehng!

After staring long at the red moon, Elin staggered away into the darkness at the wolf’s urging.

The other two wolves pressed her from front and back, nudging or tugging at her clothes to guide her.

Like a tale from olden days, under red moonlight and led by wolves, Elin staggered along the cliff’s base.

Her agonizing walk ended only near dawn.

With bloodied, limping feet, Elin reached a small gorge cave she had never seen before.

The wolves that had led her drew close, task complete. She stroked their heads, they licked her hand, and all three trotted back into the dark.

Awaiting Elin in the cave were reindeer glowing blue.

They brushed against her, nudging with their heads as if urging her to lie down.

Yielding, Elin lay among them, and they pressed close, covering her with their soft fur.

The reindeer embraced and licked her, soothing wounds beyond measure, borne for prophecy’s sake.

‘What now shall befall me? And when will I go to Ingmar’s side?’

One reindeer lifted its head, staring at her as if to say: not yet.

‘Yes. All is as Olrun wills.’

Within their warmth, Elin drifted into deep sleep. She longed to forget, yet knew she could not.

But at least, in her dreams, she hoped to see Ingmar’s smile once more.