The Search For Kathea, A Leap Into The Forging of Forever

 The Search For Kathea, A Leap Into The Forging of Forever

      "What do you hope to accomplish in the 'Second'?"

     "Truthfully, initiate the 'Rite of Rebirth' at the exact moment of its destruction."

     "But that would..."

     "Yes, without further intervention, it would send temporal paradoxes up the Timestreams and destroy the 'Third' Creation, before it ever begins."

     "You said without further intervention. There is more involved in what you wish to do?"

     "Yes, I have gained the assistance of the Child of Infinity."

     Wotan again looks at his Ravens, wondering how much more have they missed of these events.

     "At her birth, the Aurbis moved her into another Dimension, to safeguard this one from being damaged by too much power in the hands of just two individuals for the fabric to withstand. But they left in place the birth umbilical, that ties us together."

     "Wait! The 'Child of Infinity' came from you? How?"

     "I am composed of multiple entities, there is Iriisii, Celestial child of Alessia and Talos, a mortal soul born of two ascended immortals."

     "Ah, that I understand at least. Please go on."

     "While still in my mother's womb, I was anointed by Akatosh with a dragon soul to share my body and make me his Dovahkiin, a hero, born to take on tasks which could threaten the Realm of Mundus and its world child, Nirn. The 'Mother' for her own reasons, arranged for the dragon soul to be the soul of the First Dragon of Destiny, instead of the ancient dragon soul Akatosh chose."

     "More comes clear to me, please continue."

     "My people were known as Aasimar."

     "Ah yes, the Godtouched, I know of them, scattered across the Realms, few but mighty in power and strength. Which Gods were the ones who touched your people?"

     "The Gods of Eld."

     "By the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, legendary forbears indeed. I had no idea they had done such. Do you know who is your direct ancestor?"

     "Kthanid."

     "This just becomes more and more of a tangled web, whose threads reach beyond Time and Space."

     "As I grew as an Aasimar, I felt the calling to be a 'Scourge'."

     "Ah, yes, one to walk the balance between good and evil."

     "Yes, but without proper instruction, I had only my instincts to guide me. And so I walked between light and dark."

     "And in so doing walked a more troublesome path than it needed to be. Almost a miracle you survived to see the truth of who you were."

     "Sometimes I have wondered if that was deliberate, to cause me to fail, to 'fall' as so many others did."

     "You were not at fault for that, the blame there lies on someone else. Maybe one day I can help find out who, and proper justice can be met out."

     "When I found out I had gone too far and began to correct myself, I had acquired a separate personality. One that came into being to protect me during the long, grueling, years I was addicted to Black Lotus, and trained as an assassin. That personality is still known by the name, Darkstar."

     "She is known to me, but to find out you and she is one and the same. Revelations indeed."

     "I also found my inner dark side as my power grew, she acquired her own personality, yet we have always depended on each other to do what the other could not when such action was needed. She is called, Shivista."

     "The 'Destroyer of Worlds'?"

     "Yes."

     "The great legends of the past seem to be coming together in you. There was once a 'Dark God' worshipped on a world I visited from time to time, called Shiva. He too was known as a 'Destroyer of Worlds', although I do not know for certain that he ever did, he certainly had the power to do so. I think somehow his 'line' has come down to you, but we can talk of this another time."

     "I also have one more within, a 'gift' from my Vyrkolos. For now, she is known as 'Beast' until she chooses her own name."

     "You have a Vyrkolos?"

     Dettlaff steps forward and bows to Wotan, "indeed, I am Dettlaff van der Eretein, Vyrkolos and wedded mate to Iriisii."

     "Wedded as well, my congratulations then. You are as you truly should be, a bonded pair. That may be why the few others that came about all failed, they did not have the Bonds of Marriage between them."

     "And they have a child. A very special child. Mortal yet endowed with the Wings of Spirit."

     "The 'Spirit Wings! Then the 'Times of Ending' is upon us."

     "That is a huge misunderstanding of the words of the prophecy. It is to indicate not an 'Ending' but a 'New Beginning', a rebirth if you will."

     "I will want to discuss this further, but please continue."

     "I have also endured the 'Trial of the Ancestors' and lived as you can see. So all of these parts exist within me, working together, but still separate. I can merge them for a short while when needed, but I am not strong enough to maintain them for very long. However the 'Child of Infinity' was birthed with all of those same parts fused and merged into a single soul."

     "By all that is holy, the power that she must have! No wonder the Aurbis moved her, it would exceed anything that ever existed in our dimension before, and they left the two of you tied together?"

     "Yes, I have spoken to her, and she agreed to help me save the 'Second Creation', by having it reborn into the dimension she resides in. Right now, she is its sole inhabitant."

     "A very elegant and brilliant solution. It saves an entire Creation, without endangering the future of any that come after as a result of its destruction. Well done indeed!"

     "We are not done yet, but we are working toward that goal. If it is successful, maybe something like it can be done for the 'First' as well. But I would need something to draw me to it, I cannot simply travel there without knowing the path, otherwise, there is no telling where I would end up, and I would need a suitable destination for the reborn Creation. But there is something I need to ask of you."

     "Please if there is a way I can help you, you need but only to ask."

     "I would ask of he who guards the 'Rainbow Bridge' if his eyes have seen certain events and who was involved in them. I am trying to reclaim a daughter stolen from me years ago at the time called my present. I have no knowledge of who it was that took her from my abilities to find her. She was first taken by political operatives who themselves were murdered on the open sea, their desiccated bodies left floating on their ship, with no sign or trace of Kathea. I had been able to speak with her for a very short time on two occasions where somehow she was able to use some kind of mirror to reach out to me. From where I do not know, only that it is some kind of Fortress built long, long ago, and has been repeatedly claimed by different people other than the builders. And I know not who or when it was first built, or for what purpose."

     "Of course, when you are ready to ask, I will take you to see Heimdall, and we will see what his eyes can see and tell us."

     "Thank you, my Lord, your generosity is appreciated. And now I believe my blade is growing pensive and calls for my attention."

     "May I have the honor to watch you work. I have never seen the like of such materials being used in this way."

     "Of course, I think you might like to see what I intend to do with a pair of skulls that I have acquired. It will make for a truly awesome combination with the weapon, as well as the armor to accompany, that I have yet to make."

     "Perhaps I could assist with the armor, it should take less time with two of us working."

     Iriisii looks to the Forgemaster, who nods his head.

     "Then with the Forgemaster's permission, I accept your offer of help. Do you wish to remove your son from the wall where he is ensconced or let him remain for awhile?"

     "He can stay there and watch. Maybe he will learn something useful from the experience like that women can be whatever they desire to be just as a man can."

     "A valuable lesson, should he ever encounter another as I am, but less inclined to be merciful. And he should know they do exist and they are out there. I have met some, killed a few, recruited more. Hmmmm, maybe I should tell him the story of Boethiah and Trinimac, that might serve to open his eyes a bit to what can happen to a god who thinks too highly of himself." She looks over at Thor, "and you should know that story that I suggested is true, I am acquainted with both of them, and what later happened to Trinimac after Boethiah was done with him. He now goes by the name of Malacath, and is but a shadow of who he once was, and definitely not as good looking as he once was either."

     Thor winces as he digests what Iriisii has just said. Sif takes a good long look at him and says, "you know, I begin to think I like you better this way. You are not getting underfoot so much, and definitely not leering at my maids as much", as she turns and walks off to return to Asgard. Thor wondering how is he ever going to live this down, for he knows Sif will make sure it gets told in every tavern and street corner in Asgard.

     Frea walks up to him, shakes her head at his imploring look, "no, you put yourself there with your own stupidity. I will not ask your father to pull you out before he thinks you are ready. Not this time, you crossed too many lines this time, and Loki had nothing to do with this, so you cannot shift blame onto his shoulders. Take this time to reflect and learn from your mistakes, from what her mates told me of what you said, she had every right to take your head, and she has more than enough power to make it stick. I wonder if she would have turned your skull into a helm, as she intends to do with the Balrog and the Kuurii.

     Be glad you have not met up either of those in your wanderings, they would have handed you your head on a platter. And your father would not come looking for your body and head, he knows when he is outmatched and either of them would be more than even he could handle."

     Frea turns and follows Sif back to Asgard, wondering what is she to do with two more of her son's bastards, better to start now trying to find a place for them. Maybe they will turn out better than him, one can only hope.

     Iriisii goes back to the Forge, with Wotan watching, and the Forgemaster giving instructions on how to prepare for sharpening and polishing. After yet more time because of the nature of the alloy created for this blade and its natural resistance thereof, it does slowly come about. Iriisii knows as hard as this has been to sharpen, it just might never lose its edge again. As the Forgemaster instructed her in laying a different thread, one so small it had to be viewed through the device used to lay and bind it to the edge she has labored so hard to produce. Once done though it is ready for polishing, and the only material she has capable of doing the job is the 'Catalyst'.

     Beginning the process, Wotan asks what the liquid was, and once informed, he takes a few steps back, not wanting to risk getting any on his skin or even breathing any fumes. As she applies it and before beginning the polishing, the Forgemaster has her heat the blade with her 'fire breath' shout. She shouts, "Yol Toor Shul", guiding it along the length and back. She expected it to be glowing with the heat, but instead, it is seemingly absorbing the Dragonfire into itself, but at least it is taking a polish much easier than she expected.

     Once the polishing is done, she is asked to inscribe the spell from the Quantum Lords one last time on the blade, this time writing it with the 'Poison of Transcendence. As she does this she sees the writing seem to come alive and scroll along the length of the blade. She seals it to the blade with her 'fire breath' shout, one last time. And the Forgemaster declares it is ready to be mounted to a handle. He then produces a sword handle from a locked chest. and gives it into her hands.

     "I have waited until I knew it was time to use this. This sword handle is older than I am. If the story I was told is correct, before the 'First' Creation, a dweller lived in the continuum that existed here. It was something universally feared and respected by all who existed near its boundary. It was simply called 'Leviathan'. There are many mentions in just as many books, scrolls, tablets, that have ever existed. But the denizens they describe are but pale shadows of the first one.

     What hero it was that took it upon themself to go and hunt Leviathan, is not known. His or her name was either never recorded or lost in the shadowy mists of time. But enough of its skin and bone, remained, passed down until the first Forgemaster acquired them, knew what they were, and was gifted a vision of what to do with them. That vision is recorded here on this scroll, since you are to be the one to mount your blade to this handle, you must read the scroll and understand what you are about to create."

     Iriisii gently takes the scroll, unrolls it, and begins to read.

    

     "To the one destined to read of the story inscribed upon this scroll. The last true word of what happened upon that day that the great Leviathan fell. A hero was chosen from among the many who lived in those far distant times and even more far-flung places. The Progenitors had augered and determined that this area where the Leviathan dwelled would become the next crucible, where life would be created, and all that life needed to grow and spread. But first, it had to be cleansed of the presence of the Leviathan.

     For only by the shedding of its lifeblood would the power be released to infuse what would be created here. And thus ensuring that it survives and thrives. No record remains of how the hero was chosen, who it was, what race spawned him, what deity he worshipped. It is only known that he went forth into the realm of space where did the Leviathan live.

     When the battle started, no one is certain, only that the sounds of combat did echo across existence. How long did the battle rage back and forth is not known? For the time that flowed then was not the time that will come after Creation blooms its first blooming. At long last, a cry was heard from where the Leviathan lived. Believing the battle won, the rejoicing began, only to fade as a horrendous mournful cry was heard. A cry that reached into the depths of the Great Abyss, that hides the entrance to a place unknowable to the living. A place where only the damned dead dwell.

     It was said as the damned dead poured forth out of the Great Abyss, that the very Bells of the Damned rang their eerie mournful song. A song of death, of ultimate damnation, of the release of the Wamphyrie. They spread like a plague, a living pestilence that rolled over the Realms, the worlds, the dimensions that held the living. They spread so fast they could not be stopped, and the end of all life was felt to be near. 

     What life was left, gathered their voices together and prayed in humility, in hope, and in belief, that the Progenitors would hear their plea and send help. Help, of any kind, in any form, just help to stop the spread of the endless hordes. And when those that were left had almost given up and prepared to fight to the last one. Over the place where the body of the Leviathan lay, a light brighter than any before known appeared. And out of that light, a single armed and armored woman strode forth. Looked with eyes that could pierce any shadow, and darkness, saw the death, the wanton destruction, and desecration.

     She took in hand, something dangling from her neck, and using it, she called to the pestilence, to the Wamphyrie. Calling them back, challenging them to do battle with her, to the very end. As one they turned, stopped what they were doing, some in mid-battle, some in mid rapine, some consuming the bodies of the once-living. they all went back to the place where it started, where she was waiting for them.

     As she saw them coming in ones and twos, she unsheathed a sword from her back, a sword like no other ever seen then or since. The blade seemed to gather both light and dark into itself, and she wielded it with skills that far outstripped any of the heroes that fought and fell against the Wamphyrie. The Wamphyrie that came close to her died, and as they died, others farther away died, without a cut or a slice upon them. And as that unholy leech within the bodies crawled out, they too died, their screeching heard as they melted.

     She never seemed to tire, her blade striking and killing the Wamphyrie as what was around her neck glowed and summoned them to their doom. When the last one died, the bodies turned to mist, dark red as the blood that was shed earlier. A great wind rose up and gathered the mist to itself, flowed back into the Great Abyss, and as those Gates of the Damned closed once more, an unknown voice came from within.

     "The day will come when my children will be let loose from their prison once more. When we will be allowed to roam, to kill, to feed, to do all manner of desecrations. Fear that time when we walk among you once more, for we will have no mercy. For we are the Wamphyrie! We are the Damned dead! We are what lurks within your darkest nightmares become reality. And we will return, this vows the 'Red Mother'!"

     The savior that came to us in our darkest time, said unto us who remained. "They will come forth once more, yet you will be long gone from these worlds you claim. Three times will Creation come and bloom within the darkness that is this place. During the third, they will come forth, they will stretch their curse across time itself. Infecting and destroying the 'First Creation' to make way for the 'Second'. The 'Second' in its turn will fall to make way for the 'Third'. 

     It is from the 'Third' that a hero will once more come forth and do battle against the horde of the Wamphyrie and its allies. For they will not come alone this time but will seek those to help them do battle against what will be drawn to stand against them. And this time they will not simply be killed and returned through the 'Gates of the Damned', but the hero will follow them into their land of blood, death, and desecration. To find, do battle, and destroy the Red Mother, and then seal away the Wamphyrie for all time, never more to come forth again."

     This 'hand' of skin and bone that was taken from the Leviathan, seeking the greatest sword ever forged, that ever will be forged. Together they will bond, and become something that goes beyond legend, into the realm of prophecy. You who set your hand to this weapon, know the fate that goes with it. You will repeat the story above but you are the 'second', not the 'first', and you will fight in the 'third', not the 'before'. The Gates of the Damned can only be sealed from within, and once sealed can never again be opened. There is only one way you can escape from that unholy place, that is with the aid of the 'Fateweaver'. My time is now done, however, yours is only just beginning. Do what must be done, even at whatever the cost may be. May your name be remembered and praised by all those who follow and fight with you, forgotten and cursed by all those who stand and fight against you. So speaks the Spirit of Skelos, may he rest now, his task complete."

     Iriisii stands still, remembering Skelos for the brief time she knew him. Tears start to slip down as she feels his loss deep within her soul. The Forgemaster feels her pain, her sorrow, her grief, and steps to see what caused this. She furls the scroll closed once more, and simply says, "a friend, I knew not for long, but still near and dear to my heart has passed. I never had the chance to know him as well as I wished, and now I never will."

     "I am sorry for his passing, his loss to you is deep, that much is very apparent. If you wish to wait..."

     "No! In his memory, will I finish what I have begun. May he look back upon me with pride for what he has guided me toward."

     Then three voices sounding as one are heard coming closer, "the hallowed words recorded at the last have been read by the one intended. It will be by the strength of her will that she goes forward and acts as he foretold. To complete the work that he set her hands upon, she will require one last artifact. And we, the Three Norns, have been keepers of that artifact for all the time we have existed. We have come to give it into the hands of its next keeper, that she should use it as it needs be, to fulfill the last prophecy of Skelos, Prophet of Acheron."

     The brightly glowing figure comes closer to Iriisii, its hand outstretched, something in it. As she looks into its face, she sees first a young maiden, which shifts into a middle-aged matron, and finally an old crone, before starting over. She looks into the hand before her, its palm open, to see an incredibly ancient stone needle. As her fingers reach for it, she feels the power residing within it. 

     "Take the 'Needle of Ages Past', use it in the manner you best feel it needs to be used. Know that it has chosen you to be its keeper, may it help you in what is to come, that the Life that is Creation, wins overall."

     Iriisii takes it in her hand.

     "Know that this day, this change is willed forth to be done. The tomb created by Iriisii Dovahkiin, to hold her brother, 'War', along with the memorial to the people who gave their lives and which she immortalized within a tablet written in Dovahzul, will be transported to be given over to Shai-Hulu'ud, and there he will see them placed within the Central Spire that is to be the Place of Honor for those who fell or passed while in service to her. This Scroll will have its place there to honor one she loves so close to her heart. So has the Mother decreed, so have the Norns set in motion."

     Iriisii bows to the Norns whispering her thanks.

     "It is we who should bow to you. As you complete the blade you have come here to forge, know you will have passed beyond legend, and with that blade in hand will become a 'Force of Prophecy'. What will follow you is this, that which you bind, will be bound 'forever'. That which you release will be released 'forever', those who you bless will be blessed 'forever'. And those whom you curse will be cursed 'forever'. Finish the blade you will call "Forever', and it will be a part of you, 'forever'."

     Iriisii gives the scroll over to the Norns, takes the blade and its handle, and joins them together. She hears the sound as it mates and binds itself to her. Then she feels an overwhelming urge to declare to all existence,

     Behold wa pah wa koraav                     Behold to all to see

     lingrah lost zu'u toiled                           Long have I toiled

     wa heim dii zii                                      To forge my spirit

     kotin daar tuz                                        Into this blade

     wa heim dii sus                                     To forge my blood

     kotin daar tuz                                        Into this blade

     wa heim dii fen                                     To forge my will

     kotin daar tuz                                        Into this blade

     daar tuz ahrk zu'u                                 This blade and I

     los nu ol gein                                        Are now as one

     zu'u name nii mahfaeraak                    I name it Forever

     mahfaeraak ziistmaas mu reign           Forever may we reign

     

     She raises the blade high over her head, in a single hand, "I declare thee, Mahfaeraak!" Pouring the power of her Thu'um into that declaration, the sword taking it and expanding it, strengthening it, sending it to all the places that have ears to hear, that have senses to feel, that have eyes to see, from the timeless depths of the past to the limitless heights of the future, all now know that Mahfaeraak has been forged, claimed, and is now active.

     The Forgemaster, in a voice full of pride, awe, and satisfaction, "it is done. Now when Death comes for me, I can go with my head held high, and hear the acclaim of my ancestors for this day."

     Wotan, his eyes aglow for having been a part of this, comments, "never have I seen the like of a weapon such as this is. Not even Thor's hammer can compare."

     Rigmor and the others come running up, "we heard, is it...?" and all fall silent as they see the blade. Luminous threads of black, green, red, surrounded in a nimbus of violet-black. The Dovahzul runes of its name blazing with undisguised power on one side, the silvery script of the spells folded into the metal thousands of times, cascading along the length of the other side.

     Sanshae's only words are hushed, "it is beautiful."

     "What did you name it?"

     "Its name is 'Mahfaeraak', in Tamrielic it means 'forever'."

     "An apt name, to mean one thing to friends and allies, but something completely different to enemies."

     Wotan tilts his head, listening, "if you want to try it out, Jotunheim is on the move, Frost Giants are massing on the border. I must go and lead Asgard's finest to rout them."

     Iriisii doesn't even have to look at the others to get their answer, "then what are we waiting for, an engraved Imperial invitation?"