James laid in bed, his sheets brought up to encompass him fully. He was no longer injured, his past wounds healed and tended to. If anything, he was in top shape, almost as if nothing had changed these past weeks. Almost.

He brought a hand to his eye patch, the socket behind it hollow and devoid of any sight. The absence of any visual stimuli would have been enough to drive him mad had depression not taken hold already.

Not long after Lukas' conversation, James had decided to give in to that sense of despair, to that darkness that pulled at his soul. It became clear to him then that no matter what he did, life would find a way to drag him through the dirt and ash.

It was only now that he realized that there was no worth in getting up again. Not when he knew how it would all end.

'No point in trying to defy fate. Everyone is going to end up dead anyway. No point to it all.'

James shifted in the bed, his only eye closing as he tried to find some semblance of peace within himself. He was so tired today, so exhausted. His limbs were heavy like concrete, barely moving as he tried to curl into a comfortable sleeping position. The feeling was familiar to him, somehow. Perhaps he had been in this position before, long ago. He didn't care to remember.

Sleep would still evade him, despite the exhaustion, despite the dreadful air in the room. Yet James still tried to will himself into a slumber, if only to escape reality for a few precious hours. He had stopped trying to contact Faust long ago, instead leaving himself accompanied by the voices of misery and self-loathing. He didn't mind them. They were right.

You did this to them.

Perhaps if you had given up long ago, things would've been better.

No matter what you do, your loved ones will suffer for it.

You couldn't even kill yourself properly.

He lay there, surrounded by his failures. For days, he ignored Lukas, who had done much to try to sway him to consider a plan of attack. Naomi tried after him and backed off once James made it clear he did not trust her.

The truth was, there was nothing more for him to do. To try anything would be to tempt fate and its consequences. No, the best course of action was none at all.

Not even death would fix things, for he failed at that, too. Besides, it would be too good for him.

The door opened, and the voices in his head waned to nothingness. James froze, noticing the sudden silence that perpetuated the room. He turned around, half expecting either Emma or Lukas to come in with food. Probably to try and talk things out with him. They had tried before, with little of an answer coming from the tired Outlander.

Instead of them, however, he saw someone else. They wore the telltale blue tabard of the Yorktown guard, a White Raven sewn into the shoulder sleeve. James focused a little, noting the person's limping figure and bandaged head.

It was a young woman, her narrow face familiar to him. James blinked as he recognized spectacles hanging over her nose. Elizabeth, a town guardswoman who had trained under Harald's guidance back during last Frost. Back then, James had sparred against her during his initial weeks learning the basics.

'What is she doing here? Unless…'

She had been with them during Ivan's betrayal. Wasn't she once part of the Battle for Yorktown, though? Yes, she had fought Ivan's men during then. That should've meant she would've stayed behind during negotiations. So, how did James and Helen look over her inclusion during their preparations?

James almost dismissed her entirely, his hand moving to wave the guardswoman away. Yet he hesitated. Something about seeing that familiar tabard and patch brought back a sense of warmth that drove back some of his weariness. Elizabeth seemed to notice his hesitation and stepped into the room before he could make up his mind.

"Jarl Holter," she spoke softly, her uninjured hand closing the door behind her. "I… I suppose this is a little sudden. However, ever since my wake, I've wanted to come here to pay my respects and best wishes."

James forced himself to sit up, his body almost slumping over as he did so. He had to force his own body to sit upright, his tired gaze moving to Elizabeth. She was once a lanky woman, with gangly limbs that were inexperienced with weapons. Despite being nearly as tall as he, she always seemed small compared to everyone else.

Now, James could see the fruits of her hard-earned training over the months. Even behind the bandages, Elizabeth had visibly grown. Her form was straight, and her arms were toned with taut muscle. She wasn't as strong as Helen or Haggard, but it was clear that she aspired to reach their heights.

"You… You survived?" James asked in a mutter, his voice soft and barely heard.

"I and two others, sir," Elizabeth responded quietly. Her voice was clearly shaking at the mention of the topic. "They are not yet in good enough shape to come see you, my Jarl. I only just recently began to recover enough to walk around. It is only now that they've allowed me to see you."

She was clearly nervous and a little distressed, her eyes breaking away from James every now and then.

"Is that it?" James murmured, too tired to say anything more. Yet Elizabeth didn't seem to mind. She took a deep breath, her good hand clenching tightly. She then shook her head.

"No, sir. In fact, I have come here at the request of those who worry," Elizabeth admitted. "They tell me that perhaps seeing a familiar face could help in improving your… state of distress."

James gave a dry laugh at that, his head shaking as he sank a little into his covers. He turned to the window, where snow piled on the outside sill. He watched the flakes converge and pile, his full attention on the outside world. He did not care enough to engage in another conversation about being strong.

James was content with his current weakness. If he didn't involve himself with the affairs of men, he could no longer endanger those he cared for. With some luck, perhaps his loved ones could get out of their situation alive.

Shuffling steps sounded out behind James, the surviving guardswoman making her way to the foot of his bed. James did not meet her gaze. He had no desire to look into those hope-filled eyes, for he knew it would just sink him further into despair.

'Then again, aren't you already at the bottom?'

"Just leave me," James mumbled. He waved a dismissive hand to the guardswoman. "I can't help you or anyone else."

"Sir, if I may be so bold, you have helped me," Elizabeth stated firmly, posture straight as she looked down at him. "You've helped more people than I thought possible. It's truly…"

"Stupid," James answered hoarsely. "Those people I've helped… they're all doomed."

Elizabeth said nothing. James continued regardless.

"I'm sure Lukas must've told you? Or maybe not, considering he waited to reveal the truth to me," James said. He didn't even have the energy to act bitter about it. "Yorktown is doomed, Elizabeth. Sieged by orcs. I saved no one. Hell, I couldn't even save myself in the end."

He rubbed at his neck, where he knew a faint scar lay. The killing blow dealt by Eilif himself. James couldn't even keep himself alive. What hope did he have in doing the same for his people?

The guardswoman was silent for a long long time. After some time, James assumed that she had decided to leave him alone. That was, before she finally spoke.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" Elizabeth asked softly. James blinked in surprise and forced himself to glance at her. The guardswoman stood up straight, her spectacled eyes watching the snowfall. For some reason, James could swear something had changed with the way she composed herself. Her once nervous eyes were now focused and clear, a clear confidence and solemness about her.

"Sure," James said with a dismissive tone. He broke his focus and returned to watching the snowfall.

"I had been wanting to ask this question for a while," Elizabeth said, "Ever since you officially formed this clan, actually. But I never really found the time and place for it. I thought that maybe I could ask once things in the North got moving, but it seems like this world had different plans for you."

James raised an eyebrow at the way she spoke. It was almost as if she switched entire dialects and speaking patterns. Regardless, he did not interrupt.

"Before I ask, I must admit something," Elizabeth continued. "I have been watching you a little closer than most. Probably more than someone such as I should. Then again, since I am still here, I suppose fate has allowed some leeway for this." The guardswoman turned to James, her expression darkening as she locked her gaze with his.

"I must ask. Why Dahlia?"

James blinked at that. The question was enough to throw him off balance, his body tensing at the mention of the Shaman.

"What?"

"Why Dahlia?" Elizabeth repeated. She looked a bit more stern now, her bandages… wriggling? "I suppose she is a sight to behold. Pretty eyes, nice shape, and a tendency to look rather striking in trousers and shirts. But, she is far from a person I would consider 'perfect.' She is brash, stupid, and risks too much for too little. Every bump in your journey can be traced back to her. The summoning, the ley line shatter, and much much more. She refuses to participate in the integral sacrifices required for most shaman rituals and has denounced much of her own culture in favor of 'humane' alternatives. Not to mention her constant need to restrict you in your endeavors and goals.

"Dahlia says she does it to protect, but really, it's because she is too attached, too clingy, to fully accept the harsh truths of reality. That is why you are still here, right? Why you still live in a body accompanied by two other souls?" Elizabeth asked. She leaned in a little, eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. James looked into that gaze, into those dark irises, and saw eternity flash within them.

"Who… Who are—"

"So I ask, once more," Elizabeth, or the creature posing as her, interrupted James. "Why do you care for Dahlia? Why do you try so hard to protect her? In fact, why do you love her?"

James stammered, his body tensing as he tried to back away. He found himself pressed against the bed's headboard, his head tapping against the wood. Elizabeth just stared at him, unmoving.

"I… I…" He almost said the first thing that came to his mind.

'Because I do. Because she and I had gone through hell together.'

Yet even he knew that it wasn't the full truth. Something deep inside told him that Elizabeth would not accept such a half-baked explanation. So James told the truth.

"Because she saved me," he softly muttered, his voice wavering. "She saved me from myself, alright? I was a mess before Valenfrost, before that car crash. I had to take medication just to get through the week, for god's sake. Even then, I was teetering. So so close to just…" he winced at the memory, his hands clenching as he recalled those days. The bad days, when the medication did little to nothing, and those voices came to haunt him.

"Dahlia saved me," James murmured. "Both literally and spiritually. Sure, Seamus helped as well. Funnily enough, Faust did, too." He couldn't help but force a weak smile, his hand aimlessly wandering near his chest. He gripped his shirt tightly, his eyes averting from Elizabeth's stare. "I don't care about her faults. Hell, I don't think they're comparable to the shit I did, the things I forced myself to do."

James could feel an ugly, sick feeling rear its head deep inside. The guilt, the pain, all of it crushed and buried within the recesses of his soul. It seeped and festered, feeding the despair he already felt. It was as if someone had placed a heavy rock upon his chest, its weight crushing him slowly day by day.

"Dahlia eases your pains," Elizabeth said softly, her expression faltering a little.

"She dampens it," James whispered, admitting something he had been too afraid to confront. "Drives it all away. Makes the days go by easier. That's… That's why…"

"Why you are in distress," Elizabeth finished, her back straightening as she stood upright. "Because you feel as if you have doomed her."

"I have," James said. "I…I survived when I shouldn't have. Because of that, fate will balance the scales." He watched the guardswoman with unease, his gut twisting at the implications of who she was.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, her hands moving behind her back. It was as if she could read the question that had appeared within his thoughts.

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"I see now," she said finally with a look of satisfaction. "You've spoken from the heart, so it's only fair that I repay honesty with honesty. To tell you the truth, Dahlia has little to do with the current fates. While her role seems major, it is not something unforeseen. The fractures were bound to happen, and your summoning was not by her hand. She is just another person thrust into situations that would've transpired regardless of her involvement. Still, I do have to say she is a personal favorite of mine. Though her devoutness has fallen off since her meeting with you. But I suppose that's on me. I did teach the tenets of love once before."

James stared at the guardswoman, whose bandages seemed to wriggle and loosen. Her once-dark eyes now shone with an iridescent glint that seemed to shift colors.

"Are you…?"

"I am not Iendis," Elizabeth said. "I have no relation with that madwoman who calls herself a god. No, I am something else." She raised her hands, the skin of which cracked and blackened. James could swear he could see something wriggle underneath the guardswoman's skin.

"Who are you?" James asked, feeling himself slowly back away despite being in bed. "Really?"

Elizabeth smiled a little, her eyes closing as she spoke, her words coming out in a wisp.

"I am the Wind that guides ships whilst also being the Storm that sinks them. I am the Girnleaf that heals wounds, and yet I am also the Raptorbane that poisons men. I am the Love one feels for another and the Lust that drives them to break such bonds. On my right, I hold Fertility. On my left, I hold Blight. I am the raven's call and the Boatman's toll. I am the natural order." Elizabeth let out a heavy breath, her eyes flashing gold as steam left her lips.

James now had a good idea who he was looking at.

"You… You're Freyja. Goddess of Nature and Fertility." James stared at the glowing deity before him, shock overcoming him. She radiated a compressing aura that brought both Sommar's warmth and yet carried the subtleties of Frost's bite. Every second felt unreal to him, as if he were experiencing something that no mortal had before.

He blinked and realized that the surroundings had changed. He was still in his bed, but the room around him had been replaced by a meadow of emerald-green grass. It reflected light in a shimmering glow that seemed unreal, almost artificial. The glowing meadow expanded beyond the horizon, the sky beaming a bright blue. Not even a single cloud threatened to blot out the sun. James stared at the sight, realizing that it was his first time seeing such a scene in Valenfrost.

He turned to the goddess before him. It now became clear to him that Freyja was leagues above Iendis and Thien, just from the ease it took for her to transport him here without him even noticing.

"I have been watching you for some time," Freyja said. Her voice was different now, every word spoken sounding as if it was shaped by the rushing wind and crackling of creeks. It was almost melodic. "Ever since you were brought here, dropped in the hometown of one of my favorite followers."

"You've been watching?" James asked slowly, blinking at the implications. "Elizabeth was never a real person, was she? It was some sort of disguise."

"Not exactly," Freyja said. "Us deities are limited in the ways we interact with mortals. Elizabeth was more of an… improvised avatar. She was formed out of my own essence, placed to watch over the small island of Yorktown. It was only after the fracturing that I became aware of you."

James swallowed at that. "Well… I—"

"Do not worry about that," Freyja interrupted. "Like I said earlier, the fracturing was bound to happen eventually. You were the tipping point, sure, but you were not the sole reason."

James stared at the goddess, unsure of how to even speak to her. He felt almost naked in front of her gaze. Like his soul was on display.

"Still," James murmured. "I'm not exactly blameless. People died because of me. Because of my actions." He looked down at his hands, recalling the moment he realized that he was the source of the fracture. Even if it was inevitable, he still carried the burden of bringing the abomination to this world. "I was selfish, thinking only of myself and my friends. I thought I could change fate, change everything."

"All men are selfish," Freyja said. "It is the nature of all living beings. Shameful as it might be, do not wallow in such mistakes. You only feed into that nature, transforming it into something much worse."

"So what should I do then? Risk the lives of everyone I care about?" James asked, almost bitterly. "Sitting here and wallowing is the best thing I can do. Getting too close to them… It'll doom them all."

"They're doomed without you," Freyja said softly, her gentle voice flowing like a cool breeze. "In fact, many of them would've died without your intervention, chaotic as it was. James, you must realize that you are but one man fighting against the currents of fate itself. People will die in the end. You must be able to accept this. But what is the value of life if you don't fight to protect it?"

"So I have to accept that people die while also trying to prevent it?" James asked. "That's a little counterintuitive, isn't it?"

Freyja smiled a little, her all-gold eyes glancing at James. "Such fallacies are human in nature, no?"

"Yes, but…" James frowned. "I'm not sure I understand. What do you want from me? Why are you even speaking to me now?"

Freyja did not answer immediately. She only watched the Outlander, her guardsman uniform slowly being burned and stripped away, exposing more brazen skin underneath. Despite this, Freyja had an air of divine beauty about her, every tear in her clothing seeming to fit well with her overall look.

"I have been watching you for some time, Son of Holter," Freyja said, her golden eyes watching James. He felt paralyzed at her stare. "Enough time for me to find an opening within Holy Law. One that would grant me a chance to offer you a Blessing."

"A… A Blessing?"

"A Blessing," Freyja confirmed. "One that will help you, to either protect or kill, is your choice alone."

"To protect?" James asked softly. He felt compelled by the idea of such a prospect. A Goddess offering a Blessing to him? One that could help protect everyone. A deep, darker part of him stirred inside at the thought. It told him to reject the Blessing, for it could mean tampering with fates. And tampering with fates meant his loved ones dying. Yet, at the same time, another part of him told him to accept, for his friends needed him.

James stared at the deity before him, unsure of what he should say.

"I…"

"James," Freyja said softly, cutting him off. "I cannot read your mind, but I can sense your turmoil. Please cast aside those thoughts of misery and think. Listen to your heart, not the wretch deep inside of you."

James frowned but did not answer immediately. Instead, he decided to follow her advice. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, searching deep within himself for an answer. An answer that he could be happy with. He shoved away the pessimistic thoughts for a moment. The voices that told him that he was worthless. The ones that told him he was a blight.

He instead listened to the only voice of reason deep within. His father.

"The best way to confront your problems is to do it head first." His father had spoken, expression surprisingly solemn. "Don't give in to the bad thoughts, and don't let your pride overtake you. Keep it balanced, and remember, don't be afraid to accept the help of others. Faith is important sometimes. You can't take the world on alone, son."

James let out a breath and opened his only eye slowly. He looked at Freyja, who had clasped her hands together. She still had the features of Elizabeth, the guardswoman. The guardswoman who had helped defend Yorktown and save Vindis. For some reason, just the fact that she was one of the Ravens helped James in his decision.

"I accept," he said softly, his body relaxing a little. Freyja nodded at that and floated closer to James.

"Your words are accepted," she whispered softly. "But be warned, Son of Holter, for the Blessings of Gods can be construed more as curses. For they can bring the finality of a fate that cannot be changed, regardless of what Iendis says. Will you still accept my gift and chance the consequences?"

James slowly nodded. Freyja gave a small smile, her head nodding back. She then opened her hand and pressed her palm against the right side of James' face. He recoiled a little at the sudden touch, which grew to a great warmth. He held back the urge to flinch as his eye socket started to heat up. It didn't take long for it to grow unbearable, the surge of heat equal to hot coals.

James found himself trying to pull back but couldn't break from the goddess' grip, his voice dying in his throat as he tried to speak. Freyja's voice came in right after, cutting him off.

"Dahlia will be safe, for her fate has been predetermined long before your arrival," the goddess said. "However, should you and her keep close, her branches will intertwine with yours, sharing your inevitable fate. And James, it will catch up to you regardless of what Iendis promises."

James' pain lessened bit by bit, his body shuddering as he tried to process the words. He felt both numb and in terrible pain.

"Such an interesting relationship with the Tree," Freyja muttered, her actions and way of speaking humanlike. It unnerved James deeply. "Perhaps you were brought to my forests for a reason, to a follower of mine. Perhaps to make sure Astellar wouldn't find you. That man had always been a shifty one despite his mortality." She looked at James with an unreadable expression. He couldn't tell behind her brazen and cracked skin, the gold irises showing little emotion.

As the pain in his skull died down, James felt something pulsing within his eye socket. It throbbed with an incredible soreness, warmth spreading from the source. Strangely enough, something about it cleared up his thoughts. Hell, even his emotions became much more manageable. While James was far from having his despair and depression washed away, it became a little bearable. The voices even became quieter.

Freyja seemed to notice this, her gaze narrowing as she watched James. She frowned.

"I should've known his influence would've stayed with you," the goddess said. "Even now, he still manages to reach you despite my domain and Blessing."

"Who is he?" James asked, his brow creasing. "And what is happening?"

Freyja raised a single finger to her lips. "While I am sure he cannot harm us, I would rather not have Nyrkl finding out about my intervention. He might be dead, but he is still a dangerous threat."

"Nyrkl?" James repeated, even more confused. Yet, right after the name left his lips, the voices deep inside his mind went ballistic. He cringed hard, a sharp pain coursing through his head. They echoed repeatedly, the words all in some weird language. Yet there were a couple of words that James heard very, very clearly.

KILL.

CONSUME.

James squirmed and writhed at the pain, his hands clutching at his skull. Before the pain could drive whatever sanity he had left, however, Freyja's hand touched his head. The voices screamed, and they quickly waned to dead silence. James gasped at the feeling, his hands shaking as he tried to process what happened.

"My Blessing should ward those voices off for now," Freyja muttered. "But be very careful. If you allow him within your soul once more, his influence will come rushing back like a flood, Blessing or no Blessing."

James looked to the deity before him, who seemed to glow despite the sunny atmosphere. She looked at him with an almost inscrutable look. As he stared back, the pieces began to click.

"Nyr— He is the thing that's reanimating dead bodies, isn't he?" James asked softly.

'And his influence has been infecting my mind for god knows how long.'

That made him shudder. How long had that abominable thing been hiding within him? Was James at risk of turning into one of those creatures?

Freyja seemed to notice his internal conflict and was quick to answer.

"He only influences you through those voices, perhaps some of your dreams," she said. "But his grasp does not go beyond that. Something about your body prevents him from doing such."

"What the hell is he?" James asked with gritted teeth, half angry and half terrified. "What is that thing? Am I actually going to get a straight answer for once?"

Freyja looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite place. Dismay? Hesitance?

"Nyrkl is… something else beyond my understanding. I am not sure of his true nature," the goddess admitted. "Or even what it is. Nyrkl was just a name that we placed upon them in hopes of perhaps understanding. We were wrong in trying."

James shivered. To see a literal deity question something such as the abominable creature—called Nyrkl—filled him with an even worse sense of dread than before.

"Can… Can it be defeated?" James whispered, the words coming out almost instinctual. He didn't mention the thing's name for fear of calling it back into his mind.

"It can. This isn't the first time it has been released," Freyja confirmed. "What troubles me is your body. You've come in contact with Nyrkl's touch many times, yet it does not control you." Her eyes flashed gold for a moment, and for the first time in his life, James saw a god raise their eyebrows in surprise.

"I see now…" she muttered. "You are -------'s ------"

James' eyes widened at that, his lips moving as he tried to speak.

"What?"

"Yes. It seems like ------- ------ --- -- ---. How strange. Perhaps giving you the Blessing could prove to be a mistake. Perhaps not. It is a gamble."

"What… What are–"

"The time for our talks has passed, unfortunately," Freyja stopped James, her hand pressing against his chest. He felt as her palm grew hot, like when it had when she bestowed his right eye back. "As a precaution with Holy Law, you will start to forget this meeting not long after you wake. Only remnants and pieces shall remain within your memories."

Before James could protest, the goddess waved her left hand. The world around him crumbled as her voice rang in his ears.

"I will leave you with my Blessing, and its warning. May you escape defeat twice more, but no further, for there is no escaping nature and the inevitable outcome it brings. May you continue to protect the ones you love, their eventual ends coming as fate intended instead of the consequences you bring. May you defy death and its grasp, but live long enough to accept the fate you were meant for. You shall live to see your Kingdom prosper and shall watch it fall, your every achievement burned to ash. Only once you are laid to rest shall the White Raven fly true, its people living on in your legacy. I bestow upon you the courage to fight and the tenacity to keep going. I bestow upon you the wisdom to choose, and the strength to make the right choice. This is your fate, Son of Holter. You are Blessed."

Those words echoed in James' mind as darkness encompassed him, the Goddess' domain whisking away. For a second, it felt like he was asleep again, his body heavy and the exhaustion apparent. His meeting with Freyja grew distant within his mind, the memory slowly dissipating like she had told him.

"Before you return of course," Freyja's voice whispered. "There is someone who wants to see you."

The world around James shifted in pressure, the darkness fading as a small distant light made itself present. He stared at the peculiar light, his hand inching closer to it. Not even a second later, and he was basked in the sun's warmth. James blinked and noticed that the entire scenery had changed.

Even his clothes were different, his infirmary rags exchanged for dark green and burgundy robes. James stared at his new clothes, his hand running through the fabric. Before he could even question it, the sounds of bustling crowds surrounded him. He looked up and found himself sitting in the middle of a large city square, crowds of people in colorful clothing walking past and buzzing with life.

James stared at the sudden change, body stiff as he tried to process it.

"Hey, James!" a familiar voice called out. "You ready?"

James turned to the source, a pit forming in his stomach as he saw a man clad in shining steel, a bright yellow sash wrapped around him. Gold pins dotted the red mane of his helmet, which hung off his belt alongside a swaying gladius. This man looked more alive than he had ever been, his grin wide and his dark eyes glinting with excitement.

"Well?" Faust held out a beckoning hand. "Let's get going."

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