Cold Touch

4

The sky remained picturesque; a bright blue canvas painted with wisps of white clouds. Bright sunlight warming the bloating corpses that lay in piles beneath its rays. Cries and groans from the last few living warriors echoed in the open space; the day was mocking the fallen warriors that littered the tainted ground with a gentle complementary breeze.

There was blood everywhere. Iron soiled the air as Valhalla stood wide eyed and terrified in the centre of the field. Heavy pants pulled themselves from enervated lungs.

Adrenaline raced through her system, dulling the tremendous throbbing from the left side of her face. Charred skin adhered to her throbbing skull leaving, in the wake of her eye-socket, a melted pool of flesh.

Twisting around; feeling the squish of blood and other bodily excrements beneath her sandals and between her toes, Valhalla continued to search for something.

Dread and bile had built up in the back of her throat and tears were beginning to streak across inflamed skin as one eye darted from body to body.

She had failed. This was where everything would end. Under a new tyrant, the world would be rebirthed in flames, and she would be the only one left alive to watch it burn.

Life seemed futile at that point. Dropping down to her knees, a stream of tears slid from the only eye she had left. This was the cost she paid in the end for a burden she had bestowed upon herself. This was, despite the protests of her heart, all her fault.

Sitting upright in an unfamiliar bed, Valhalla gasped loudly for air.

Throwing off emerald silk sheets, the Valkyrie threw herself from the plush mattress onto the marbled floor beneath her, wings flailing about as gasps of air frantically escaped pale lips. A heavy sweat had broken out across her brow, leaving an imprint on the bed and cooling searing skin.

Slender fingers flew to her face, expecting to feel and smell the seared skin clinging to her skull haphazardly. Slowly beginning to realize that there was nothing to be found, she took deep calming breathes, closing her eyes and resting her head in her hands for a few moments. Allowing the thundering in her chest to slow to a more acceptable pace.

Exhaling harshly; running a trembling hand through tousled hair she started to notice a delicate sweet smell wafting leisurely through the room.

Rising to her feet slowly, unsure of her own stability for the moment, she wondering away from the plush bed that had been pressed into her back. Cold feet soundlessly padding across the smooth stone floor as her body quivered with every subtle movement.

A single red door starkly contrasted the emerald, gold and black color scheme that decorated the room was just ahead of her, and also seemed to be the source of the intoxicating smell. Slowly and nervously she twisted the intricate brass door knob, pushing it open to see an overly illuminated green house that seemed utterly foreign in this place.

Frosted glass walls seemed to create an intense light of their very own, as if enchanted. Hundreds of magical herbs and spices, plants of all shades and origins lined the walls and floor. Each looking as though, in recent years, they had been allowed to grow wild and unkempt. Within the jungle of a room, framed by a black thorn bush and a white free floating water Lily, stood the thin, frail god of mischief.

Working with swift hands and an expertly delicate tough, the man worked his magic over the thick green stalked flower. The pot it rested in was a sky blue, ruins of some unknown language decorated the slopped sides. Briefly, as she moved closer to the dark slumped figure, she realized that the ruins were glowing as his scarred lips quickly formed silent words.

Moving even closer, now a mere foot away from the silent figure, she realized his movements were frantic. This plant, with its iridescent petals, seemed to have some sort of sentimental value, and she stood, watching as the stalk slowly rebuilt the decaying sections of itself. Spider-webbed sections of green tendrils slowly encircling the magic flowing from the trickster's fingertips.