#feri altar

[reno-matagot]

New Feri altar, January 10th, 24

Cum hoc Munere Vos Honoro, o Vos Feri Lemniscate Numina!

[moonlithedge]

Everything is an altar

[marianeaparecidareis]

AS FERIDAS QUE MEU CORAÇÃO CARREGA POR SUA CAUSA SÃO MAIS NUMEROSAS DO QUE AS ESTRELAS NOS FIRMAMENTOS DE DEUS. E NÃO TENS PIEDADE DA MÃE QUE TE DEU VIDA.

🌹🌿🌹MARIA SANTÍSSIMA DIZ:

“Quando, na fúria da Sexta-Feira Santa, encontrei Meu Filho em uma encruzilhada que levava ao Gólgota, nenhuma Palavra saiu de nossos lábios, exceto "Mãe!" e Eu disse filho!

“Ao Nosso redor havia Blasfêmia, Ferocidade, Zombaria e Curiosidade. É inútil, diante dessas quatro Fúrias, expor O Coração com suas batidas mais Sagradas. Eles teriam se lançado sobre ela para feri-la ainda mais, porque quando o homem toca A Perfeição do Mal, ele é capaz de cometer crimes não apenas contra os corpos, mas também contra O Pensamento e O Sentimento do próximo.

Nós olhamos um para o outro. JESUS, que já havia Falado às compassivas mulheres, incitando-as a chorar pelos pecados do mundo, apenas Me Olhava fixamente, através do Véu de Suor, Lágrimas, Poeira e Sangue que formava uma Crosta sobre suas Pálpebras.

JESUS sabia que Eu Estava Orando pelo mundo e que Eu Teria querido dobrar O Céu para vir em seu auxílio, aliviando sua tortura pois ela deveria ser cumprida por Decreto Eterno - mas sua duração. Eu gostaria de diminui-lo à custa de um Martírio Meu ao longo da vida. Mas Eu não Pude. Era a hora da Justiça.

ELE sabia que Eu O Amava mais do que nunca. E Eu sabia que ELE Me Amava e que O beijo de sua Mãe teria sido um Alívio para ELE mais do que O Véu da Compassiva Verônica e qualquer outra ajuda. Mas mesmo essa Tortura era necessária para redimir os pecados da falta de Amor.

“Nossos Olhares se encontraram, se Entrelaçaram e se Separaram, Dilacerando Nossos Corações. E então a multidão oprimiu e empurrou A Vítima para O Seu Altar e O escondeu da outra Vítima, que já estava no Altar do Sacrifício e que era Eu, A Mãe das Dores."

“Quando Eu vejo você tão duro, obstinado no Pecado, e considero que nossa tortura dupla sem limites foi inútil para torná-lo bom, Eu Me pergunto o que maior tormento foi necessário para neutralizar O Veneno de Satanás em você e não o encontrou, pois não há maior tormento do que O Nosso."

Desde o momento da Minha Imaculada Conceição, mantive a cabeça de Satanás sob O Meu Calcanhar como A Sem Pecado. Mas, Satanás tendo sido incapaz de corromper Meu Corpo e Minha Alma com seu veneno, ele derramou esse Veneno como Ácido infernal em Meu Coração Maternal e, se é imaculado pela Graça de DEUS, é ferido ao máximo pelo obra de Satanás, que a perfurou mortalmente através da obra dos filhos do homem que são os assassinos de Meu Filho, desde a hora do Getsêmani até o fim do mundo.

“A Mãe diz a você, criatura que Me É querida, que na Bem-Aventurança do Céu as ofensas que você comete contra Meu Filho sobem para Me ferir como flechas, e cada uma delas reabre a ferida da Sexta-Feira Santa. As feridas que Meu Coração carrega por sua causa são mais numerosas do que as estrelas nos firmamentos de DEUS. E não tens Piedade da Mãe que Te Deu A Vida."

“Voltarei para falar com você hoje porque Quero mantê-lo Comigo o dia todo. Eu Sou A Rainha do Céu mais do que nunca hoje e Estou levando sua Alma Comigo.

“Você é uma menina que sabe pouco sobre sua mãe Maria Valtorta. Mas quando você sabe muitas coisas e Me conhece não como uma estrela distante, cujo raio sozinho é visto e cujo nome é conhecido, não apenas como uma entidade idealizada e idealizada, mas como uma realidade Viva e Amorosa, com Meu Coração como A Mãe de DEUS e Mãe de JESUS, como A Mulher que compreende as Dores da mulher porque as mais atrozes não lhe foram poupadas e Ela só tem que recordar as Suas para compreender as dos outros, então Me Amareis como Amais A Meu Filho— isto é, com todo o seu Ser."

MARIA SANTÍSSIMA – CADERNOS MARIA VALTORTA.

[midwestbramble]

Betwixt and Between Book Review

I read this book in the Pagan and Witches Amino Book Club, that doesn't exist anymore. At the time, the host of the book club was practicing feri and none of us had heard of it so they asked us if we wanted to read this book to learn more. I did a review on that app (that no longer exists), but here's my extended thoughts.

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

Contents:

Synopsis

What I Liked

What I Didn't Like

Overall Thoughts

Conclusion

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

Published 2017

"Faery (also known as Feri) is a tradition of great power and beauty. Originating in the West Coast of the United States separately from the Wicca tradition in England, Faery's appeal is grounded in its focus on power and results. This book provides the tools you need to begin your own Faery-style magical practice. Discover the foundational mythology and rites of the Faery tradition as well as steps and techniques for:

Creating an Altar

Summoning the Faery Fire

Engaging the Shadow

Exploring the Personal Trinity

Purifying the Primal Soul

Working with the Iron Pentacle

Aligning Your Life Force

Developing Spirit Alliances

Journeying Between the Worlds

Exploring Air, Fire, Water & Earth

Enhancing Faery Power

Personal experimentation and creative exploration are the heart and soul of Faery. The rituals, recipes, exercises, and lore within will help you project your consciousness into realms beyond this world, opening you to the experience of spiritual ecstasy."

-from the back of the book

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

What I Liked

The book starts out with the creation myth for the Feri tradition. Not many books on witchcraft traditions/religions do this and it was really refreshing. From there it talks about it's mythic creation as well as it's modern history with Victor Anderson. Seeing both, one after the other, was also enlightening. Faerywolf was definitely taking the creation of this book seriously.

The exercises within the book are very thorough and broken down in a very easy to follow, step-by-step way. There's also some wonderful journaling prompts and art projects once you get into the elemental chapters. These all help the reader to explore the concepts described by the author and decide what makes sense to themselves.

There's a great breakdown of the three soul concept in Feri. Rarely do you see people talk about the conception of the soul and what it means in religion and witchcraft traditions. It's easy to understand how they are all supposed to work together as well as their importance to the Feri tradition. Other traditions have a similar conception of three souls and it's easy to use these to build off of that knowledge.

Additionally there is a chapter for each of the three worlds (Upper, Middle, and Lower). Each chapter talks about spirits found there and how to connect with them. Only one talks about important holidays in Feri such as Halloween and Beltane, relating to the connection of faeries.

The tradition appears to be very accepting of LGBTQ, having special designations for covens that specifically cater to gay men or women if that's something you want to connect to people with. The author himself is LGBTQ so it would make sense that the book is friendly toward the community at large.

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

What I Didn't Like

I don't want to make this book review a review of the tradition itself, however there are a few things that are directly taken from other cultures. Such as Melek'taus, a variation of the Yazidi Tawusi Melek; a peacock angel, labeled as Sheytan or Satan. The Yazidi are an ethnic group in Kurdistan who have been persecuted as devil-worshippers by the Muslims in the region. Some of the creation myth even resembles that of the Yazidis. There's also concepts taken from Hawaiian traditional religion, Victor Anderson claiming to have been Hawaiian in a past life. The book does not shy away from these facts, and lays them out for you as it introduces them.

The whole book ends up feeling like a lead up to the Feri tradition's circle casting. While you do learn about their worldview as well as the iron and pearl pentacles, it's kind of an anticlimactic way to end the book.

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

Overall Thoughts

As an outsider to the tradition, this seems like a good introduction to the Feri tradition. There are similarities to both Wicca and your average Traditional Witchcraft tradition though with a more artistic flair, let's say. There's a lot of focus on the arts and experiencing things for yourself. Which is great, in my opinion.

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

Conclusion

It's always interesting to see how specific, established traditions do things and think about concepts in witchcraft and magic. Even if you do not wish to follow said tradition, it can be good to see another perspective. Though we must be mindful of and sensitive to other cultures and their boundaries. If you wish to look at this book further you can find it on amazon, Barnes and Nobles, the author's website, at the publisher, Llewellyn, and others.

[vitvicvi]

Last Goodbye  

Há uns meses atrás, eu te feri, Seu puro coração, cheio de amor, eu parti, É uma dor difícil de curar, Mas o tempo pode nos ajudar.  Deixei uma grande marca negra na tua linda vida, Acredite, eu chorei por arrependimento a cada dia. Meu coração não suportou te perder por uma atitude minha, Eu estraguei a nossa relação, a nossa sonhada vida.  Aos poucos, tudo está mudando, A esperança já está retornando, As marcas estão desaparecendo, Os ressentimentos estão morrendo.  Menos aquela grande saudade, De ter pelo menos, sua amizade. Eu ainda choro por nós não podermos dar um último abraço, Você foi o único homem que realmente esteve ao meu lado.  Você compreendeu todas as minhas dores, minhas carências, Ajudou-me a superar os mais difíceis dos meus problemas. Cantava pra mim, suas declarações de amor, Poderíamos ter sido para sempre, se não fosse pela dor.  De joelhos, no altar da igreja, pedi perdão, A Deus, a luz, a minha alma, ao meu coração, Agora peço a você, seu coração, o mesmo pedido de desculpas, Afinal, a culpa foi minha, não sua.  Te agradeço por ter feito parte do meu mundo, Sou grato pelo amor, pela companhia, por tudo. Você me ensinou como é verdadeiramente, amar, Obrigado por essa lição que sempre irei me recordar. 

[samwisethewitch]

Creating Sacred Space

Very few pagans have access to temples or holy sites. If you’re lucky enough to live in the country where your gods were originally worshiped, you may be able to visit ancient temples or sacred sites, but most of us do not have this opportunity. For most pagans, sacred space is something we have to create for ourselves.

On one level, this is very literal — pagans create physical spaces for their gods to inhabit, usually in the form of home altars. An altar is a table, shelf, or other flat surface that is set aside for religious or spiritual use. The altar is likely home to religious items or tools like candles, incense burners, or statues of the gods. It is the place where prayers are made and offerings are given. It is a place within the home that is set aside for the gods.

Like everything within paganism, the exact setup and uses of your altar depend on your tradition. Some groups, like some forms of traditional Wicca, require the altar to look a very certain way, with a collection of ritual tools arranged in the appropriate places on the altar. Other traditions are much more freeform.

Even if you have not chosen a pagan path yet, you may find it helpful to create a special place to connect with the divine. This could be an altar — even a simple one, like an unused shelf holding a white candle and a stick of incense — or another special place like a yoga mat where you do meditations, a special chair where you read spiritual literature, or a special place outdoors. Having a space set aside for spirituality and religion will help you to literally and metaphorically make room for these pursuits in your life.

To dedicate this space to religious pursuits, simply verbally state your intent to use it for that purpose. You might perform a simple ritual by lighting a white candle and saying something like, “I dedicate this space to the gods and to my growing relationship with them.” (It doesn’t matter if you don’t know yet which gods you want to worship.) Now you have a special place to return to when you want to connect with the divine.

You can also build altars to connect to other types of spirits, such as land spirits or ancestors. We’ll talk more about these kinds of altars in a future post.

Though guidelines for altar setup and maintenance vary from one pagan religion to the next, there are a few basic guidelines that are pretty much universal.

For one thing, your altar should be kept clean and tidy. Don’t pile non-religious items on your altar, make sure to clean up any candle wax or incense ashes left after a ritual, and try to keep dust from building up on your icons and statues. I am a generally messy person, but my altar stays clean as a sign of respect for my gods, even when the rest of my house is a mess. If you struggle to keep your altar tidy, schedule 10-20 minutes once a week to go through and clean it up. Think of this cleaning not as a chore, but as a loving service to your gods.

If you use your altar for food offerings, you should dispose of them after 24 hours or less. As we’ve previously discussed, some pagans eat their food offerings after the gods have had a chance to consume their spiritual essence, while other pagans feel that this is rude or taboo. In the latter case, many people choose a special place outside where they dispose of food offerings (if you do this, make sure the offering won’t harm local plant and animal life if left outside). Another option is to add food offerings to a compost pile — you can use the compost in your garden, perhaps for plants that are sacred to your gods (again, make sure your offerings are compost-friendly).

Keeping your altar clean also includes energetic and spiritual cleansing. Before rituals, you should cleanse your altar to ensure that you aren’t bringing any unwanted energy into your worship. Cleansing protocols vary from one tradition to the next and may include sprinkling the altar with blessed water, wafting incense smoke through the space, or using a special tool like a ritual broom or a bell. If you haven’t chosen a pagan religion yet, simply use the cleansing method that works best for you.

When caring for your altar, keep in mind that this is your gods’ space within your home. You want it to be comfortable for them. Like decorating a guest bedroom for a friend, you’ll probably want to choose items that are significant to the god or spirit being honored on the altar. For example, my altar contains a crow skull and feathers because crows are sacred to several of the deities I work with. Take your time to create an environment that will be welcoming to your god(s) of choice. (Again, if you aren’t working with any specific gods yet, you can still create a basic altar — follow the previously stated guidelines for keeping it clean and welcoming.)

While setting up and maintaining an altar or other special space is an important part of creating sacred space, it isn’t the only part. When pagans talk about “creating sacred space,” we are also talking about cultivating a certain mindset.

Just like you need to make space for the gods in your home, you need to make space for them in your life. It’s all well and good to call yourself a pagan, but if you never pray, make offerings, or think about the gods, are you really embodying pagan religious practice? If you’re going to talk the talk, you have to also walk the walk.

Creating sacred space in your life can take many forms. One of the most common (and convenient) is small daily devotional activities. These activities only take a few minutes and can easily be incorporated into your daily routine. This may include meditation, divination, or reading a few verses from a holy book. Even the act of lighting a fresh stick of incense on your altar in the morning can help strengthen your connection to your spirituality.

It can even be as simple as remembering to thank the gods when you see them at work in your life. I have a friend who is a Roman pagan, and he has a habit of verbally thanking Mercury (the Roman god of travel, among many other things) whenever he finds a good parking space or doesn’t have to wait at a red light. This kind of small acknowledgement may not seem like a big deal, but it works to integrate our worship of the gods into our daily lives.

Take a few moments, right now, to ask yourself how you can create sacred space in your life. What can you do to make the gods feel welcome in your presence? Try to think of a single change you can make in the next 24 hours to create this space. Write it down.

Commit to maintaining this new practice for at least three weeks. At the end of each day, write down what you did to create sacred space and how it made you feel. Do you feel a sense of peace? Do you feel the gods’ presence more strongly? Do you feel a sense of connection to something bigger than yourself? Write down these and any other thoughts on your new practice.

At the end of three weeks, look back over your notes. How did this practice change the way you feel about your spirituality? How did it change your relationship with the gods? If there was a positive change, try to continue integrating this practice into your daily routine.

If there was no change, that’s okay — this specific practice may not be for you, and there’s no shame in that. Choose a different practice and repeat the experiment. Keep at it until you find a way to create sacred space that works for you on your unique spiritual path.

In my humble opinion, it’s important to learn how to hold sacred space before you start investigating different pagan religions. Not only will it give you the basic tools you’ll need for religious ritual, but it will help you to discover your personal worship style and comfort zone. With this, you’ll be better able to determine which pagan path(s) is a good fit for you.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham

Following the Sun by Sharon LaBorde

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

[invoke-parlay]

[buckit-of-charms]

Image one: brand new formal altar for Serious Magic Only (I'm trying it out, ok?)

Image two: Chaotic Shrine to my Three Gods of War, Madness, and Love

I've never been one for ritual and formalities. My magic is often done without tools or lengthy prose. Hell, I hardly ever use candles anymore. But, I've been feeling a tug to get more traditional with my workings, so here we are. An unfinished formal work space with (very) basic tools, completely separate from the chaos and debauchery of my wonderful and heart stirring gods.

Let's see how this goes.

[starlitboys]

Lista Maestra

NU: Carnival

Introducciones:

Trama

Eiden

Aster

Morvay

Yakumo

Edmond

Olivine

Quincy

Kuya

Garu

Blade

Dante

Trama:

En progreso... (Capítulos 0/7)

Prologo

Capítulo 1: Empujado a Un Nuevo Mundo

Capítulo 2: El Clan del Gran Hechicero

Capítulo 3: Mantenimiento del Altar

Capítulo 4: El Amado Sacerdote

Capítulo 5: Profundo en el Bosque

Capítulo 6: Fantasía del Bosque

Capítulo 7: (El) Pequeño de la Manada

Capítulo 8: Inocente Protector

Capítulo 9: Señor del Sol de Solaria

Eventos:

White Storm

Zest for Life

Mystical Banquet

Klein Star

Idol Fest

Chase the Rainbow

Astral Duo

Ferie Escapade

Classy Altair

Festive Glimmer

Silver Miracle

Forest Carnival

SSR:

✿ Eiden ✿

Galatic Mist

Allies:

✿ Yakumo ✿

Homecoming

Cocoa Liqueur

Ocean Breeze

Crimson Phantom

✿ Edmond ✿

Knightly Night

White Lover

Sweet Aroma

Elite Instructor

Spring Chaos

✿ Olivine ✿

Holy Confession

Aqua Bloom

Radiant Admiral

Frosted Virtue

✿ Quincy ✿

Ancient Ceremony

Buckeye Miracle

Distant Promise

Artict Warden

✿ Kuya ✿

Fallen Leaves

Kitsune Dream

Lakeside Spark

Afternoon Daze

✿ Garu / Karu ✿

Master’s Gift

Endless Banquet

Howling Cyclone

✿ Blade ✿

Explosive Recall

Idol Apprentice

Lovable Enforcer

✿ Dante ✿

Blazing Coliseum

Eternal Hanabi

Icy Equilibrium

SR:

✿ Aster ✿

Familiar

✿ Morvay ✿

Familiar

✿ Yakumo ✿

Shadow Serpent

✿ Edmond ✿

Vice-Captain

✿ Olivine ✿

Man of God

✿ Quincy ✿

Forest Guardian

✿ Kuya ✿

Foxy Rogue

✿ Garu / Karu ✿

Wild Wolf

✿ Blade ✿

E-Droid

✿ Dante ✿

Sun Lord

R:

✿ Aster ✿

Vampire

✿ Morvay ✿

Incubus

✿ Yakumo ✿

Model Citizen

✿ Edmond ✿

Knight

✿ Olivine ✿

Sacred Teacher

✿ Quincy ✿

Hermit

✿ Kuya ✿

Echanted Fox

✿ Garu / Karu ✿

Human Conquerer

✿ Blade ✿

Mystic Humanoid

✿ Dante ✿

Vernal Successor

N:

✿ Aster ✿

Tycoon

✿ Morvay ✿

Master Spy

✿ Yakumo ✿

Timid Youth

✿ Edmond ✿

Young Noble

✿ Olivine ✿

Priest

✿ Quincy ✿

Outcast

✿ Kuya ✿

Fox Espirit

✿ Garu / Karu ✿

Wolf Pup

✿ Blade ✿

Pure Machine

✿ Dante ✿

Ruler

[nabastalarunika]

Kalau bisa, tidak perlu lagi harus ketemu sama mas ferry. Kalau bisa, nggak perlu lagi mas fery ngabarin aku. Kalau bisa, anggep aja gak terjadi apa apa. Aku mau melupakan semuanya hari ini. Dengan siapapun aku pernah menjadi rumah untuknya pulang.

Aku ingin menjaga perasaan dia yang nantinya sampai membawaku ke altar dengan gaun sederhana yang kita pilih berdua diboutique dekat seberang jalan lama nomer 52.

Tuhan, terimakasih sudah memberi banyak hal untuk setiap kedewasaan ini. Hari ini, biarkan semua kenangan masalaluku bersama orang orang yang menyakiti tanpa henti melebur jadi satu dengan hujan di sepuluh april waktu siang ini. Aku sudah ikhlas.

Tuhan, lancarkanlah niat baik ini untuk beribadah sepanjang usia. Semoga kelak segala kurangku akan dicukupkan dengan dia yang dipilihkanmu untuk menemani sisa usia.

Tuhan, terimakasih. Aku percaya kuasamu 😇

[reno-matagot]

Luci'Feri Altars, October 2024

[howler518]

FAYE x KRATOS CH 14: THE ENDLESS

PREVIEW:

"Sto kalo, sto kalo...kala nea na me feris," Kratos murmured. Nevermind that he was praying, more he was thinking about the souls of the lost. Would they still hear him so very far from home?

"What's that you said?" There was the familiar bite of suspicion in Faye's tone. "Just now, to the ravens. What did you say?"

Kratos shifted to her, but not before looking back at the sky one last time. It was too late - the ravens had all flown away. He released a long breath and wondered if his beloved's still waited for him at the banks of the River Lethe before their final crossing into the afterlife. Before they forgot him completely.

"Fly and bring back good news," Kratos translated. Faye did not sheath her dagger.

"Why do you bid the ravens to bring you news?"

Kratos noticed her grip tighten on the weapon and she maintained her distance from him. He shook his head, not in the mood to entertain interrogations with the hunter.

FAYE

BEFORE

Salka informed the Jotuns of the entrances to the Undir that had been hidden across Midgard. Immense caverns that turned into narrow, submerged cave-systems and passageways that stretched for endless distances. Odin had designed the labyrinth for the worst of his enemies and the most heinous criminals so that they would spend eternities wandering the unknown.

That was until Rán birthed her daughters there in the ocean beneath the world. It changed them. Molded them into twisted, cursed shapes. When young giants come of age in Jotunnheim, they could choose which shape they may take - be they human or beast. These daughters had no choice in the shapes they took. The Undir decided for them while they were still in the womb. In their different bodies they were able to withstand its crushing pressures and swim through its rushing currents. With their changed eyes they were able to navigate their way through the impenetrable depths. And with the stolen knowledge they inherited from their mother, the daughters of Rán eventually freed themselves from their imprisonment and claimed dominion over the seas of Midgard.

Seafarers attributed many names to the monstrous creatures. The Drowned Exiles. The Nine Maidens. Wave Daughters. Keepers of Hidden Treasures. These were tales told to Jotun children to fill their imaginations with lost hoards of glittering riches or feed their nightmares with toothy creatures with snapping, hungry jaws. The naughtiest children were threatened with watery punishments, others learned to be wary of what lurked below.

Salka led the Jotuns to a steep mountainside, where a horrible gash had been made in the snowy crag. The wide mouth of the cave yawned open. Hana inspected the massive, monolith at the entrance. She ran her slender fingers along the weathered surface of the stone carvings. The details had been washed smooth by time and the elements. Her brow scrunched together as she made out the inscription.

"Well?" Yrsa stood close behind with her hands resting at the head of her warhammer, grey eye scanning the shadows inside. Frode had his back to the cave, poised against the forest behind them with his sword and shield drawn. Barren, crumbling earth shifted beneath the Jotun's steps. They could all sense it. The unnatural magic that created the Undir was hewn from raw, primordial chaos. Corrupted. It hung in the air with a low, unyielding thrum that set them all with unease. Like the beat of a ravenous, hateful heart.

Faye stood even further from her companions. She swayed slightly with the dizzying tumult of desecrated magic. Her teeth were clenched so hard it made her jaw ached. The others had barely spoken to her through their trek to the mountainside and they kept their distance. Faye's only company had been the Aesir. It was an acute irony that not even her own kind would have her.

Faye wrung the chain between her hands as she watched Hana translate the ancient words carved into the monolith's surface.

"Yfirgefðu vonina, þér sem hingað komið," Hana said and turned back to face the others. Her serene features were marred with dread.

Abandon hope, ye who enter here.

The utterance of such an execration sent a wave of apprehension over the Jotuns.

"Well," Yrsa said, hefting her warhammer over her shoulder, "This is the right place."

"No kidding," Frode muttered. Faye shifted, the feel of this place left a sour taste in her mouth and a nauseous grip in her stomach.

"Do you know what we will face once inside?" she asked Salka. Unlike the Jotuns, the Aesir stood in reverent awe of the structure. Faye could tell the archivist's ruined hands itched for charcoal and parchment to document this trove of knowledge. She shook her head.

"Only those cast to the depths truly know," Salka said, "We will be the first to tap its secrets."

Faye shot the Aesir a doubtful glance.

"Surely there have been others."

"Maybe so," Salka said grimly. Faye ground her teeth down with a heavy breath. If there were others, they never returned to speak of what they'd seen.

Faye turned away with a tight grimace and watched the sun dip lazily below the bleeding horizon. Time was already growing short and they couldn't spare any more of their efforts searching for another path.

The forest had grown so still with the heavy fall of snow. Animals retreated to their dens. The pines and birches were slumbering with their roots entwined with each other, holding on til the thaw of spring. Faye savored the last bits of fresh, clear mountain air. The gentle whir of the wind past her ears. The chill in her lungs with each breath. Closing her eyes, she imagined the tall peak of Jotunheim reaching up into golden skies.

"We will return," Faye said, more of a promise to herself than to the Aesir. They would retrieve Tyr and she would bring them back home. And at last, there would be hope for the dark days ahead.

I will not fail, Faye told herself. I cannot.

Faye gave the chains a gentle tug, leading them forward.

"Come," Faye urged the Aesir.

The others parted before her, offering Faye a wide berth as she made the first steps into the cave's mouth. Faye and Yrsa shared a look as they passed each other. Faye's stomach lurched, still sick with shame. She couldn't hold Yrsa's gaze for longer than a moment. She could not blame them for their coldness toward her. Not after Faye had been so willing to sacrifice them on the altar of her vengeance. How willing she'd been to pay any price for her cause. It was only right that she lead the charge.

The rest of the Jotuns filed behind Faye as they ventured inside. Their footsteps were careful and measured.

Mineral formations, like razor sharp teeth, stretched down from the ceiling and jutted up from the rocky floor. As if they were entering the belly of a great beast. Wind whipped past the entrance and elicited a low trembling moan from the throat of the cave. The Bifrost at Faye's hip provided a small glow of bluish light but it would not be enough to withstand the dark. Once inside, she fought against every natural impulse to flee. To cling to the light, to the day.

Though Salka seemed to admire the structure at first, there was a growing hesitancy as they moved in deeper and the light shrank at the imposing darkness. She slowed and looked over her shoulder, face paled in the last vestiges of light reaching into the cave's mouth.

"Shouldn't someone else lead?" she squeaked and gestured to Hana and Frode. Frode shoved her forward.

"Don't forget your place, Asgardian," he snarled. The chains rattled and their echo shattered down the cave's gullet. They all stopped and seemed to take a collective breath as they listened to the hollow, endless echo. There was a long bracing moment as echo faded into the dark.

"We ought to keep quiet," Yrsa said, "We wouldn't want to disturb our hosts."

When the light of day extinguished, Hana took Yrsa's satchel and pulled four torches from within. It was dwarven-made, making it larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Contained within were all of the field supplies they would need for their journey to the undersea. Including the Asgardian disguises they would use once they made landing in the realm of Odin's kin.

Hana laid four cuts of wood before her with flint stones in hand.

"Edlur." Hana said, cracking the stones together and the torches roared to life. Light filled the shadows around them and penetrated the heavy miasma of discordant energy. The air cleared somewhat, breath came a little easier to their lungs.

Yrsa strode over to Faye and passed her a torch. The warm glow of the fire danced over Yrsa's stony face. The wound that claimed her eye was healing well. A slice of red stretched out from under the cloth. It cut through her eyebrow, reaching her forehead and down her sharp cheekbone. Faye gave a curt nod of thanks. She didn't trust her spiteful tongue with speech. Yrsa placed a hand on Faye's shoulder, squeezing as she leaned into Faye's ear as the others gathered themselves. Faye's heart began to gallop in her chest at the closeness. Juniper spice washed over her senses and she found herself leaning into the warmth of Yrsa's hand.

"I will be right behind you," Yrsa murmured. The low gravel of her voice anchored the unsettled tides in Faye. She swallowed hard over the growling lump in her throat. She should say something. But what words would be enough to undo the damage she'd done? There would come a time for all the things she wanted to say and do, but it wasn't here and it wasn't now. Faye gave a stiff nod and continued forward.

The passage of time faded as they continued on. There was only the impenetrable dark beyond the light of their torches. Off the main road were several small, damp corridors and tunnels spreading out into the deepness. They walked what felt like eternities measured in the steps of their feet against the gravely stone and the mixture of their breaths in the dank air. The air was thicker with every step and moisture dripped from the stone. The steady drip drip drip bounced off the walls and swirled in their heads like a spell. The oppressive weight grew heavier on their chests as they went on.

"Hold." Yrsa stopped at a heap tucked in between two jagged stalagmites. She lowered her torch.

It was a skeleton with ancient armor still clinging to its form. She squatted down and inspected it, Frode coming beside her while Hana guarded their flank.

"Fuck's sake." Frode poked at the remains with his sword. "See those little marks? There, on the skull."

Yrsa's features twisted in a grimace.

"Teeth," Hana agreed from over her shoulder.

"There's more," Faye said, lowering her torch toward the floor. Strewn across the length of the corridor was enough remains for a company of soldiers. Faye tried to count their exact number but it was hard to tell. They lied in scattered, dismembered clumps. Faye ground down against the dread pulling in her guts.

"Perhaps they went mad with hunger and took to eating each other," Salka gulped. Faye shook her head, lowering to inspect a piece of rib. Clutching it between two fingers, she brought it to the firelight.

The tiny scrapes were too small for the teeth of men.

"Rats maybe?" Salka's eyes darted around the dark corridors leading beyond, shifting uneasily from side to side.

"I'd like to see the rat that can do this to grown warriors." Frode scanned the floor. They were tightening their ranks. The quiet around them became imposing, like the deep breath before the plunge.

"There are no battle wounds upon the bones," Hana said, "They were not killed by arrows or blades."

"Look at this," Frode pulled a chest piece up into the light. It was slashed across the front, the metal and leather shorn apart. Peppered with more of those tiny scrapes. The cut was too jagged for the slice of a blade. Faye took a knee and sampled the moist earth between her fingers. She sniffed then prodded her little finger with her tongue.

"Bears?" Salka kicked a piece of a skull away from her. Faye spat with a tight grimace. Certainly not bears. The scent in the air was a sour musk foreign to Faye's knowledge of the Midgardian creatures. Even the fouler sort like wulvers and tatzelwurms.

Faye hovered her palm over the stone and recoiled. There was the faintest bit of warmth.

She shot up and saw with renewed eyes with where exactly they were standing. They had stumbled into a den, the feeding ground, for whatever lived in these caves.

"You know as well as I," Yrsa said with a side-glance down to Faye. She had a white-knuckled grip on the warhammer.

They were being hunted.

"Are we even going the right way?" Frode snapped. "The Aesir could be leading us to our deaths!"

"Keep your voice down," Yrsa hissed.

With that, Faye tugged the Aesir toward her and undid the chains binding her wrists.

"What are you doing?" Salka shot a nervous glance at the other Jotunns.

"Too noisy," Faye said, eyes scanning the dark as she lowered the chains to the floor. "She will not stray far," she reassured the others.

"Oh? And why's that?" Frode said.

"We have the light," said Faye. Still, Frode was eyeing Salka the way a gyrfalcon sized up its prey. Ready to dive at any moment, sickle-like talons drawn to rip through flesh.

Yrsa began digging in her pouch for their rations and she stuffed them into a separate satchel. Frode gave a dissatisfied sigh, knowing what Yrsa was up to.

"There is still the hardtack and forage," Hana said but it did little to soothe his disappointment. It wouldn't be as appetizing or as filling but it would have to do. Yrsa drew their jerky and salted meats from the pouch and shoved it into the satchel. She passed some to the rest of them.

"Eat it quickly," she ordered. Faye tore off a chunk of her portion and fed it to Salka.

"Shame." Frode sighed and took one last greedy mouthful of jerky.

When their rations were secured in a separate pouch, Yrsa reached up and fixed it to a low-hanging stalactite with rope.

"Should keep them off our tail for now," she said.

"Do we know what 'them' is?" Hana asked, considering the swaying bag of meats hanging from the cave ceiling.

Faye prayed to the ancestors that they'd never find out. Faye turned back toward the main path, looking to Salka. Her wrists were red and irritated from the chains, bleeding in some places.

"How much farther?" Faye asked.

Salka paled further than Faye thought possible for the wisp of a woman.

"We need to move. Now," Yrsa urged.

They were all too eager to depart that wretched section of the path. But as they moved on, Faye couldn't shake the sensation of many eyes on her. She could feel them from the offshoot tunnels and passageways, the darkened corridors leading off into the unknown. Her only comfort was that she was not alone. Hana and Frode were following close, and Yrsa was just behind her as she promised to be. Her massive stature was a shield at Faye's back. Her entire presence was like a balm to Faye's uncertainty.

They knew they were traveling deeper as the incline of the stone beneath them intensified. Beyond, there was a hushed roaring reverberating up the cave walls toward them. Then came the petrichor scent of water upon stone like a spring rain. It felt like hours until the path took a sharp curve into a thin spiraling ledge downward that circled a gushing waterfall. It's rushing waters fell into an open chasm, pouring itself down into the nothingness.

"We rest here," Yrsa declared and began pulling out supplies from the pouch. There was no protest from the others and the noise of the waterfall would mask their presence from the creatures lurking in the tunnels. From the ache in her bones, Faye guessed they'd been walking for more than a day. Faye's muscles strained with every uneven step upon the stone floor. Her body went slack with exhaustion, as did the others. They would need to preserve their strength and keep their wits about them.

Hana and Frode got a fire going while Yrsa tossed out their sleeping pallets. Frode, face drawn with fatigue, was careful not to let his hands brush Hana's as he passed her wood and kindling from the pouch. Hana was equally as cautious to not let her eyes meet his.

Faye stood at the edge of the chasm, peering over into the deep. Once they'd rested, they would delve farther into the depths of the cave. She wondered how far under the surface of Midgard they would have to go to reach the Undir. Deep enough to for the Allfather to hide an entire ocean beneath the world.

"I have seen more spine on the floor of this gods-forsaken cave than in that one," Yrsa said as she stood beside Faye. She glanced back to see Salka sagged against the wall, head lolling as she fought exhaustion.

"Hm," Faye grunted in agreement. She hugged her arms around herself, finger tapping her bicep. Say something, her insides roared. The silence stretched between them but it didn't seem to perturb the giantess. Yrsa waited patiently for the words to form in Faye's hesitant mouth. But nothing Faye thought of sounded adequate to fully encompass the depth of her regret.

"I should not have said what I did," she spoke low, voice mixing in the gush of the waterfall, "They were words spoken in haste and anger."

It wasn't enough. She knew it.

Yrsa nodded as she considered the half-apology. Faye waited for what felt like an age. Heartbeat thundering in her throat.

"You speak of sacrifice but you do not know what they gave up to come here." Yrsa said, a storm cloud gathering in her eye. "What I gave up."

"What did you sacrifice?" she asked.

Yrsa shook her head.

"All that could have been is clouded now," she said, sagely. As if she already possessed the gift of foresight to see that this plan was doomed from the start. Faye gulped. She wasn't sure if that was an acceptance of her apology or not. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter either way. They still had a job to do whether or not they all got along. Even so, Faye longed for the comfort of Yrsa's forgiveness. That boundless rage inside her rose up again.

"You think I gave nothing for this?" Faye ground out.

Yrsa settled her heavy gaze on Faye.

"What does this mission really mean to you?" she asked. "Speak freely. It is only us."

Faye dug her teeth to the inside of her cheek and glanced back at the others. Frode and Hana were crowded around the fire, palms braced behind them. Though they didn't look at each other, Faye saw that their little fingers were laid over on others. The tiniest bit of affection that they could spare each other.

"Why are you asking me this?" Faye's chest was tight as if she was bound with ropes. Like a spider caught in its own web. A fool tangled in a mess of their own making.

Faye used her honor and sense of duty as crutches to her doubts. When she needed purpose, he gave it. When she needed direction, he showed her the path. She realized too late that she had filled all the emptiness inside her with Tyr. And when he was gone - she had nothing. There was still so much work left unfinished. There was so much more she had left to learn from him. Faye didn't know how else to carry on without his guidance.

Yrsa drew in a tense breath.

"I ask because I need something of you, Laufey."

Anything, said a small voice inside Faye. It was against every instinct that told her to be wary of giving more of herself than she could spare, wary of making promises she knew she could not keep.

"What I am about to suggest is going to be unpleasant. But I have a solution to our problem," Yrsa continued.

Faye shrugged.

"As Frode said: We have no secrets between us," she said.

"Don't we?"

Faye let loose a dry laugh. Faye knew what Yrsa was suggesting, but she couldn't be serious. It was madness. All Jotuns had but one secret. One that hundreds of thousands fought and died for and the reason for all the chaos across the realms. The thought of betraying that secret sent a dizzying shock of repulsion through Faye.

"We are running out of time," Yrsa said, "I don't see another option for us."

Faye held her head, shaking it. They were desperate, but she didn't think they were so desperate as to give up something so sacred as that. To even consider it felt like blasphemy.

"There must be," Faye hissed.

"This is what this mission has come to so remind me - what more are you willing to sacrifice to get him back?" Yrsa asked again in earnest. The storm in her eye swirled, a restrained tempest in her gaze.

"Our sacrifice will mean nothing if we trade Tyr for the pathway to Jotunheim. We'd be chopping off one hand to save the other!" She stole a glance back at the others to ensure no one would overhear Yrsa's insanity. Beyond complete insanity - it was reprehensible.

"We cannot weather this alone," Faye added.

"We are not alone." Yrsa said and Faye wanted so badly to believe her.

"Aren't we? Who will rally to our call when the Asgardians are baying at our doors?" Faye seethed and counted the ways they were well and truly fucked. "They have Mjolnir. Now the Valkyries and the forces of even Hel itself. We have no more allies, and none that are reachable now that the ways have been shut."

Yrsa was unphased by Faye's sharpness.

"We have each other. We have hope."

"Hope," Faye chuckled. She didn't think Yrsa was so naive.

It had to be these endless, winding tunnels getting the better of the woman's senses. Faye shook her head, feeling so unlike the person she used to be when she had been beside Tyr. It was this place. The heaviness of the air, the crippling dread weighing in her heart. Faye had never felt so far from hope than she did now.

Yrsa stepped closer, bearing down on Faye as she spoke.

"You forget yourself. You forget that you and I were chosen for a reason."

There were so many others more worthy of Groa's gift. Yrsa being first among them.

"It should be you," Faye said without thought.

Yrsa's brow drew together, face drawn in confusion. As if to think that this was not the Faye she knew, the one she had fought countless battles beside for more than a century. This was not the Faye that snuck past Aesir battlements to free their prisoners or tend to those she could not set loose. This was not the Faye that single-handedly slew dozens of frost trolls for the ingredients to her enchanted axe, whom she named Leviathan. Where went the fearless warrior? Where went her courage? Her unbendable will? Faye sensed Yrsa's thoughts lurking beyond her gloomy eye.

"It is not for us to decide," Yrsa said, and Faye sensed disappointment. The creeping shame peeled away Faye's defenses, leaving her bare to Yrsa's scrutiny. Faye knew it was wrong of her to say, but all the same she couldn't shake the feeling that the elders had made a grave error in naming her a candidate for Groa's gift.

"What do the others think of your plan?" Faye jerked her head to Hana and Frode. Hana was slumped against Frode's shoulder. They had fallen asleep like that, sitting beside the fire together.

"They will follow your lead."

Faye huffed a doubtful laugh.

"They still believe in you, Laufey," Yrsa said, then paused, "I believe in you."

Faye whirled on Yrsa, throat tight. How could she still have faith even after all Faye had confessed? Faye's chest throbbed with an overwhelming dread. She couldn't help but feel that their belief was terribly misplaced. She was an imposter, a cheap charlatan and their hopes were wasted on her.

"How can we ensure that the Exile won't betray this secret?" Faye demanded.

"We can't."

"And who's to say we aren't playing right into the Allfather's designs?"

"No one."

Faye scrubbed her face with her palm.

"You aren't making this plan sound very appealing."

A faint smile played on Yrsa's lips and Faye fought the desire to reel her in and capture that smile. To feel her. To taste her. Just this once.

Anything, anything, that voice inside Faye prodded.

"Let me think about it," she said.

Yrsa smirked and clapped Faye hard on the back.

"Good girl."

Yrsa left Faye to join the others by the fire. Faye stood watch while the other slept.

There was something wrong about the darkness. Faye wasn't sure if it was her own fatigue or the cursed magic of the place. Perhaps a combination of both.

It was deeper. Contorted. Shadows quivered in the firelight and shapes materialized from the jagged cave structure. They took the form of every nightmare that had ever haunted Faye's dreams.

Bloodsoaked battlefields. Limbs hacked from bodies. Companions turned to crow-fodder. Eyes plucked out by vicious beaks.

It was everything that would come to pass in the wake of her failure. In her dreams, Faye would scream in the infinite black. But now she was too numb, too tired, and too frightened to even shiver. She stood, paralyzed.

I cannot fail.

For their sake, I cannot fail.

FAYE

NOW

The rain had come in the night. Faye felt the icy drops pelt her cheek and a shiver rose from her chest as the rain slid down over her skin. She woke to darkness with nothing but the cold drip of the rain all around her. The pitter-patter sound seemed to echo, bouncing around Faye as it would off the walls of a cave.

For a moment Faye had forgotten where she was. When she was.

In a flash, the world turned white. Ear-splitting thunder boomed overhead. Faye shot up, her heart stuck to the downbeat.

"Yrsa!" she gasped as lightning cracked across the sky in a blue streak.

Night returned. The thunder rolled, deep and undulating like the growl of a hungry beast. Faye's heart galloped in her chest like stamping hoof beats against her ribs. She'd drawn the dagger and was holding it out against the darkness. Trembling, she watched for the shape of monsters in the shadows. For the sparking blue energy of Mjolnir.

But Faye was alone. The fire beside billowed with thick plumes of smoke as the growing onslaught of rain extinguished the flames. She lowered the dagger as the sounds of the forest pooled around her. The tap of the rain against the leaves. The musk of wet wood and moss.

Faye noticed that a wool blanket had been tossed on her while she slept.

"Farbauti?" she asked the shadows but there was no answer from among them. He would be off hunting or patrolling the camp's perimeter.

As Faye's raging pulse slowed, she was aware of the distant, croaking call of ravens.

KRATOS

Daybreak had come clouded and dismal. The rains had turned their path into a immpassible mire. With each step, the clansfolk sank into their heels and calves. The earth sucked at their boots with an iron grip, resisting any movement like it was trying to consume them whole. The wagons at the head of their formation became cemented in the mud, wheels sunk deep into the mud. The horses pulled and strained to carry their burden until they nearly collapsed with exhaustion. The caravan halted and it took almost all of the abled-bodied clansfolk pushing and pulling for Kratos to finally step in to reel it from the mud. The clansfolk both marveled and feared Kratos' incredible strength and the ease in which he hauled the wagon as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. There were whispered about him amongst clan. They wondered by what power of the gods he came to be blessed with the strength of twenty men. If they only knew.

Faye returned on horseback with the forward scouts.

"It's no use!" Faye called to him, "The road ahead is impossible."

Strands of soaked, rust-colored hair stuck to her mud-streaked face.

Kratos eased the wagon back to the mud where it began to sink in. Faye swung down from the horse, still wincing as it rattled her injuries. As her foot brushed the earth, she began barking orders to make ready a camp until the skies cleared and the road became traversible.

"Are you so certain there is no other path?" Kratos did not doubt her prowess and knowledge of the forest but he was eager for their continued journey.

"Not unless you are content to pull the entire clan on your shoulders," she said. He could. That wasn't the problem. He could not both pull their weight and defend them at the same time. Kratos relented. He didn't like the idea of extending the length of the trip but it was this or risk the safety of the clan.

Kratos tensed as thunder barrelled across the sky. The low flicker of lightning hid in the dark, swirling clouds. Kratos found himself waiting for the screech of an eagle. He steeled himself, amber eyes scanning the skies for the burst of white wings. But then he remembered. Even now he felt the oppressive weight of the sky above him as if he was Atlas holding it aloft. Even in death. Kratos still felt the echoes of his father bearing down on him.

A shift among the tree branches shook Kratos' focus from the sky. Shadows shifted among the leaves. Faye half-turned and bristled, a snarl on her lips. She snatched the dagger from her belt and hurled it. There was a high-pitch screech and a flock of ravens scattered out from their cover. They retreated into the sky and Faye spat a curse after them.

"Farðu!" she growled and approached the tree to retrieve her dagger. A small black thing flopped on the mossy forest floor. It was a raven pierced through the chest with Faye's dagger. The bird croaked a throaty death knell as blood leaked profusely from its wound. Faye she planted her boot into the wing and reclaimed the blade. She muttered something in her language and cleaned it on her forearm.

Kratos watched the ravens and was reminded of his mother, Callisto. He often wondered how she filled her days when he was taken to agoge to be shaped into a soldier and citizen of Sparta. She endured many weeks and months without word from her only remaining child. It was common for mothers and wives to ask the ravens to ferry their sweetened sentiments to their sons and husbands as they suffered for the glory of Sparta.

Sto kalo, kala nea na me feris, the beloveds would say. He imagined Callisto at the reedy bank of the Eurotas, watching and waiting for high reaching sails of a trireme to break the horizon and herald the return of her victorious son.

"Sto kalo, sto kalo...kala nea na me feris," Kratos murmured. Nevermind that he was praying, more he was thinking about the souls of the lost. Would they still hear him so very far from home?

"What's that you said?" There was the familiar bite of suspicion in Faye's tone. "Just now, to the ravens. What did you say?"

Kratos shifted to her, but not before looking back at the sky one last time. It was too late - the ravens had all flown away. He released a long breath and wondered if his beloved's still waited for him at the banks of the River Lethe before their final crossing into the afterlife. Before they forgot him completely.

"Fly and bring back good news," Kratos translated. Faye did not sheath her dagger.

"Why do you bid the ravens to bring you news?"

Kratos noticed her grip tighten on the weapon and she maintained her distance from him. He shook his head, not in the mood to entertain interrogations with the hunter.

"Stories from my homeland. Entertainment for fools and children," he said as if to scold himself. Faye softened slighty.

"Huh," she mused, seeming more relaxed. She flipped the dagger in her grip and sheathed it. "Didn't think you were one for superstitions, Farbauti."

"Hm," Kratos rumbled. He'd rather her call him by his name.

With the exhaustion and the pouring rain, it was a mighty effort for the clan to form up a camp for them to recooperate their strength. Fires were slow to start with nothing around for kindling but soaked wood. There would be no hot meals tonight. Only damp, unleavened bread and salted meats. Kratos and Faye helped where they could. Kratos hauled supplies from the sunken-in wagons while Faye secured the horses. She calmed them with gentle hushed words when thunder and lightning spooked them into a panic. But Kratos noticed the way she shook with every crack of lightning and growl of thunder.

The camp would be vulnerable to predators who were usually kept at bay with fires so Kratos went to secure the perimeter of the forming camp. Faye followed by his side, the deep blue of her eyes still watchful of the trees.

"Tell me about the ravens of your homeland. I have a fool's eager ears," she said.

"I am no storyteller."

She seemed anxious for distraction. He knew she had nightmares the same as he did. He knew the names of the ones she called out for when she woke shivering and sweating alone in the dark. Her nightmares were only getting worse the further they ventured from the homestead. Kratos held a low-hanging branch aloft for Faye to pass under as they circled the clan's camp.

"There are worse ways to pass the time than to fill the hours with stories," Faye said and passed under the branch.

" - and good company," she added with that wry grin.

It felt like a jab of sarcasm so he ignored it.

Lightning flashed overhead and shattered the forest with a burst of piercing light. Faye shuddered and her feet seemed to sink into the earth where she stood. Anchored her to the spot, she was pale and wide-eyed. He'd seen that kind of look before in the soldiers who'd seen too many blood-soaked battlefields. Thunder followed, low and rumbling. Kratos could tell by the long breath in between lightning and thunder that the storm was moving away.

"In the land of my people, ravens were messengers of the sun god," Kratos said.

There was a slight pause of surprise from Faye. It was information she didn't have to pry from him and she didn't seem to trust it at first. As if he'd tricked her somehow.

The earth's grip on her feet gave and she continued on by Kratos' side as he spoke.

"The ravens returned with news that the god's lover had taken another he scorched their feathers black. They learned to never return without good tidings."

Usually Kratos had no need for such expansive speech. To say more than a few words even felt verbose to him. But it was different when he spoke with Faye, he just didn't know why. As Kratos spoke, he could see Faye relax some. Her shoulders softened and he could hear the rate of her heart slow back to its normal rhythm.

"When war dragged on and my soldiers were feeling…" Kratos struggled for the translation. "Nostalgia - weary and longing for home. They would ask the ravens to bring news."

The troubled seas in her eyes grew calm at the mention of 'home' and he wondered what kind of distant life Faye longed for.

Kratos had learned enough about her to know that she was not meant for a lonely life in the wilderness. Her weathered armor, her innate battle-sense, and the axe of devastating power hitched to his shoulder. He could feel the axe's will at his back, yearning for the grip of its true master.

He sensed that Faye had been meant for something more but for whatever reason - she chose a different path. He wondered if she regretted that choice to live a simple life rather than take vengeance for her kin. He couldn't understand how someone could set all that hate and rage aside and embrace something else. If she could do it, then was there hope for him as well?

Even as Kratos imagined himself scraping out an existence in his own isolated cabin somewhere in the northlands, he knew that it was not a life meant for him. He was what the gods had made him to be - a weapon honed for a singular purpose.

Killer. Monster.

The dark tide inside him rose up again. He tried to swallow it back down but it only formed an aching lump in his chest.

"Where is home for you, Kratos?" The sound of his name in her mouth sent an unwelcome shiver through him.

"Far from here," he said, shifting his focus away from her and back to the task. Faye wasn't put off by his dismissiveness.

"What do you call your native tongue?" Faye asked but Kratos pressed on in silence. She was asking the same question with different words. They were all roads to the same destination. Who are you and why have you come to this land?

"I am skilled with languages. I could learn some if it would ease our conversations," she pressed.

Kratos slashed at a cluster of brambles blocking the way forward and considered. He supposed it would do little harm to at least tell her that. If stories of the Ghost of Sparta had reached this far north, she would have already had enough reason to put him down when they first met. And it would be a small comfort to speak to someone in his own tongue. It had been a long, long time since he'd last done that. He thought of the last words Athena had spoken to him as she drove the Blade of Olympus deeper into his abdomen.

"Me apogoitéveis, Spartiáti," she had said. You disappoint me, Spartan.

The pain had been all consuming. Kratos managed a defiant snarl in reply before Athena tore the Blade from his body. His vision went white as he fell back against the hard stone of the cliffside. He laughed, lying there with his blood pooling around him. At last, he would free from his torments. There was pain, but then... relief, as he breathed out his last, ragged breaths.

Kratos shook himself from the memory.

"It is called Hellenike," he said, "From the land of Hellada."

Kratos turned and waited for her to catch up. Faye narrowed her ocean blue eyes as if she was waiting for him to reveal some kind of ruse. Then a smirk broke the seriousness of her features.

"I would like to know more about your homeland, Hellene," Faye said with surety as she strode forward to meet him.

"Hm," he grunted. Of course she would. It was an answer that left a craving for the ever-curious hunter. For a while she seemed to be sufficiently distracted by the patrol. They walked side by side and ccasionally Faye would make mention of a predator's tracks or pause to listen to the whisper of the trees.

Then she prodded again.

"Will you tell me?"

"No," Kratos replied sharply.

He couldn't tell Faye about the snow-capped peaks of the Taygetus range or the lush olive groves without telling her how it all came to ruin. He couldn't tell her about his home, his family, without telling her how they'd died by his own blade. One question after another with Faye and she would know his past and know what he'd done. And though Kratos did not doubt Faye's wisdom, he knew she would not be able to reconcile his actions.

There was still the longing to tell her, speak to her in his own tongue, and release himself from the torment of his secrets. As if by telling her, that far away place was resurrected from the ashes. It was a fleeting, selfish, thought to foist the burden of his memories onto the hunter.

A look of disappointment crossed her face at his harsh refusal. For a moment he thought he felt her presence against his mind. Like the invisible tether he shared between her and the axe. Then her look darkened. Kratos was reminded that she was like the scorpion and he waited for her poisonous barb. The lash of her vicious tongue.

"The ravens in the Northlands are bad omens. Do not speak to them. Do you understand?" Faye said, all her mirth and wonderment gone. Replaced by that grim, viciousness of hers. It felt like punishment. Who was this woman to him anyway? He owed her no obligation to his secrets and she would not absolve him of his sins.

"I understand, kynigos," Kratos said. Faye cocked her head at the word, confused. But then her lip quirked with a hint of that smile.

"It means: hunter," he added and led the way back to the camp.

FAYE

The Hellene was always so careful with his words. He dolled them out like precious, limited resources. Other times, they were delivered like the precise, calculated strikes of a sword. Seeming to have spent his limit on speech, he was as quiet and gloomy as the darkened skies as they made their way back. It was tiring work to draw out more information about him. And the more her revealed, little by little Faye was forming a clearer image in her mind of who Kratos was.

At the same time, Faye felt like a hypocrite.

She understood his particular kind of lonliness but she could never reveal her secret. That fact alone kept her isolated.

Faye thought these past ninety winters were her first years truly spent alone. But with the wave of new memories, she realized she had been alone long before she came to Midgard. She had not meant to be so solitary, not at first. But when she was alone she wouldn't hurt anyone else. She alone would suffer the consequences of her actions.

There was so much she had forgotten and still her mind was like a shore wiped clean by the tide. Details emerged slowly, murky and strained. With Faye's own people gone, Farbauti was the only other being, besides her enemies, that understand the eternal echo of immortality. He knew the weight of watching all those he held dear extinguish long before he could join them. His wife. His daughter. Everyone, he'd said. Everyone. How did face down the length of time without them?

Faye always thought she'd have the time she wanted with Yrsa to live the life they never got to have. Faye had her time now, but without Yrsa, without anyone - it felt pointless. Faye didn't know what twist of fate had decided that she should live while everyone else she loved died. For a long time she thought she'd live all the years that they left behind. But Faye didn't know how to spend eternity in a way that truly mattered. What did it matter when everything else would be washed away in fifty years, a hundred, more? Mortals didn't waste their time, they had so little of it.

When they approached the camp, the clan members had gathered to sulk under their tents gnaw on leathery dried meats. The day had cost most of them their energy and they would need a good night's rest to make up the time they lost. Faye prepared a tent for her and Farbauti but he was already leaving to take the first night watch.

Watching Farbauti, she was reminded of words once spoken to her by the previous possessor of Groa's gift.

"Maðurinn sem gengur sinn eigin veg, gengur einn," Runar had told Faye, as it was told from every predecessor to their successor.

The one who walks their own path, walks alone.

Faye knew they each had their own path to walk, their own burden to carry through the endless years before them. Still, Faye felt a gnawing, desperate fear to cling to the only other being that understood that impossibly.

Better instincts took hold in Faye. Though she felt a kinship with Kratos, he was still dangerous. He was a survivor, and he had nothing to left to fear.

He was a god with nothing left to lose.

ELSEWHERE

The raven and his flock returned to their master with one less among their number. Svana held her arm aloft for her raven to perch. He held a strip of cloth in his beak and offered it to Svana with a low cooing sound. He dropped the strip of cloth in Svana's open, waiting hand. The moment it made contact with her skin, her lips curled into a wolfish smile.

God's blood.

The power of it tingled against her skin. She pressed the cloth to her nose and inhaled deeply with a growl rumbling in her throat. She pulled away, dizzied by the intoxicating scent.

The witch threw her head back and let loose a high-pitch howl. The hollow, somber sound echoed across the settlement. Reavers stilled and reared their heads where they stood while the prisoners shook in their cages, falling silent and clinging to each other.

A number of reavers strayed from where they stood, following the sound as if entranced. They were the chosen, the elite among White Wolf's tribe and they could not ignore the call of their alpha.

Svana's warriors gathered inside the hall and knelt before the straw-made icon at its center. Svana walked past each one of them, offering them the strip of cloth from her open palm. Their pupils expanded as they inhaled the scent. Bodies quivered with the excitement of a blood frenzy.

Svana stood before them and stretched out her hand.

"Ekki meira hefur þú mannslíkama. Verða úlfur."

As she spoke the incantation, the bodies of the warriors shifted.

They fell forward, convulsing. Claws sprang from their fingernails. Thick tufts of dark fur emerged from their skin. Bones cracked. Limbs lengthened and snapped into inhuman angles, tearing through their clothes.

They reared their heads back and screamed, their voices twisted in their changing throats. Screams became howls.

What stood before Svana was no longer human. They had become something else. Taller than any full grown Northman and covered with a black sheen of fur and eyes turned dark and beady with bloodlust. Their skulls had become canine with maws full of long ivory teeth that could snap a man's leg in two.

They'd become half-man, half-beast. The northernfolk called them wulvers.

Svana strode forward and reached up to caress the muzzle of her lieutenant.

"Bring him back alive," Svana commanded.

"Do not fail me."

[mybookofpoems]

incerteza

eu to desanimada

sobrevivendo

sobrevivendo nessee restos de mim que ainda lutam

que ainda querem ir ir e com força e guarra

lutar pelo amor e tudo

mas esse amor vale a pena ?

ela faria o mesmo por mim?

akgm faria isso por mim?

algm realmente quer ser tao eterno e real comigo também ou estou apenas me enganando?

ou apenas to vivendo a minha realidade e ignorando a realidade dolorida

ela realmente quer estar comigo mesmo que a família dele simplesmente surte e deserde ela?fale coisas horríveis?jogue o maior sonho dela em jogo?eu duvido

duvido

por que eu mereço tanto sacrifício?eu a feri

de formas brutais

não mereço nada disso

e vc ainda acha que ela faria?

e faria mesmo que a família dela nem a chamasse de filha?

por que vc merecia tudo isso alice?

por que vc merecia todo esse sacrifício?vc acha mesmo?quem te disse isso?

ela permaneceria mesmo com o barco meia boca que sou eu com uma tempestade braba de raios e trovões?

ela permaneceria do nosso lado mesmo com toda nossa mania sufocante e controladora?

ela permaneceria do nosso lado mesmo que ela perdesse tudo?

eu duvido alice

ela ficaria do nosso lado mesmo se o mundo todo fosse contra?

ela não soltaria nossa mao mesmo com xingamentos e humilhações?

pq estar com vc alice,ás vezes pode ser dolorido e problemático

pode ser algo difícil mas isso não faz de vc algo que não valha a pena

só é difícil mas sei que vc faria esse difícil todos os dias por ela

mas e ela alice?ela faria isso por nós?

ela arrancaria a última rosa do mundo pra vc?

roubaria as estrelas do ceu pra te dedicar?

faria uma serenata toda boba so porque vc gosta?

será que ela ainda continuasse conosco mesmo com toda fml dela negando ela?

deixaria a mãe dela maluca por umas 2 horas te beijando?

arriscaria tudo mesmo por vc?mesmo que ela tivesse tudo a perder?vc valeria a pena mesmo assim alice?

todo o amor de vcs aguentaria?ou ele iria se fragilizar e se perder no tempo?

ela ficaria por aqui mesmo com todas as dificuldades?

ela permaneceria mesmo sabendo da violência do mundo e caos?

ela fugiria com a gente pra uma chácara no meio do nada e com uma vontade de conhecer o mundo?

ela diria sim para as nossas loucuras?

ela olharia para cada cicatriz nossa e beijasse cada uma delas?

ela iria contra tudo que fosse contra nosso amor pela gnt?

ela lutaria mesmo por nós?

ela não iria se assustar pelo nosso amor transcendental e vontade de ser grande e imenso em tudo que fazemos?

ela não iria rir do nosso medo de ser abandonada o tempo todo porque se,pre fomos rejeitados e pertencentes a nenhum lugar

será que ela iria realmente ficar?

será que ela mesmo iria abrir mão do conforto da casa de mamãe por nós,uma maluca viciada em estudar e doces,cheio de trauma e noia?

vc acha mesmo?

vc acha mesmo que ela iria permanecer conosco?

que ela seguraria nossa mao forte no meio de um altar da igreja?

que ela te levaria pra praias lindas e te beijaria em cada uma delas?

que ela seguraria sua mao no meio dos comentários e  disparos de violência?

que ela teria orgulho de nós?

que ela faria questão de mostrar pro mundo k quão grande é o amor que a gente tem por ela?

vc acha mesmo?

vc acha que ela iria te acompanhar?não mudar de vida por mim eu digo,mas estar do meu lado mesmo independente de tudo

vc acha que merecemos tanto isso mesmo?

será que um dia ela vai assumir nosso nome naquela  casa que a gente já fez tanto amor

que um dia meu nome vai vagar naquele apartamento e serei amaldiçoada

enquanto ela nos defende com unhas e dentes,por estar falando do amor dela?

será que ela vai mesmo estar sempre aqui?que ela vai nos escolher todos os santos dias

[kromskrotch-blog]

Musing more and more about the place of Christian elements in my witchcraft and how I feel about that. 

I myself am not Christian, but I love the saints, Mary, and the aesthetics of Catholicism. Being Confirmed in the Catholic Church I suppose does that to some. I guess I would be a Lapsed/Fallen Catholic, but that’s more Canon law. Almost like I’m culturally Catholic. 

Still, I find no personal depth of meaning in Christian theology and I actively dislike its religious logic. But I love the magic of saints, their shrines, and it puts a smile on my face when Catholics put flower crowns of statues of Mary for Mother’s Day. I wear saints medals pretty regularly and will collect snippets of altar cloth, candle wax, and church dirt as but a few examples. 

While I have technically done things that would account for the renunciation of Christianity or my Baptism (saying the Lord’s Prayer backwards and a crossroads ritual to the Man in Black as two key actions), both these actions were not framed as such when I did them and in many cases were things I simply did as I was told to by my teachers. Cut to me using my full name (inclusive of Confirmation Saint) instead of taking a craft name. I’m honestly not sure my Faery/Feri initiator even noticed. 

But then again, Faery/Feri is anything and everything so long as that thing isn’t consistency.  

And yet, I don’t feel very dual faith, and if and when I do attend Mass, it’s pretty sacrilegiously minded as I’m actively breaking the rules by taking Eucharist. But I’m not doing it to be rude, but more in the “I have the Mystical Keys to this power and no one is going to stop be from using them when I want.” Like, you’re not going to see me in confession, but I have thought about using Confession before to help ease things I would like to get off my chest....which is actually in keeping with the need for contrition. But again, saying I’m dual faith feels a bit...not accurate. 

Like me my angels and essentially Christian grimoires. I like the psalms as magic. The saints are near and dear to me, although only as forces. Their theological message is less a personal interest and more an academic one. 

However, like many baby witches from my time, I came to witchcraft as that was how paganism was popularly presented. Having flirted with ADF druidry about two years ago, where I learned a lot of Priest skills, I instead found myself too transformed by my time learning witchcraft to really mesh with the ritual structure and theology.

Ironically, my time in witchcraft was also me all the while missing the point that the God and Goddess were the God and Goddess of *witches* and *witchcraft*, although there is a fair amount of Qabbalistic overtones in Faery/Feri or you dip into the whole “these are the Gods before the Gods.” This doesn’t even touch on how certain things were glossed over in m Faery/Feri training. Likewise, while barely a functional Monist on the best of days, I personally am more of a hard polytheist, or at the very least think people need to pay attention to regional variance or else they might get slapped aside the head by a spirit. 

So yeah, I’m feeling very liminal, and in a not so fun way. 

My partner called me a witch and a magician. Maybe that’s my problem. Dual-classing always comes with its issues. 

[vitvicvi]

Last Goodbye  

Há uns meses atrás, eu te feri, 

Seu puro coração, cheio de amor, eu parti, 

É uma dor difícil de curar, 

Mas o tempo pode nos ajudar.  

Deixei uma grande marca negra na tua linda vida, 

Acredite, eu chorei por arrependimento a cada dia. 

Meu coração não suportou te perder por uma atitude minha, 

Eu estraguei a nossa relação, a nossa sonhada vida.  

Aos poucos, tudo está mudando, 

A esperança já está retornando, 

As marcas estão desaparecendo, 

Os ressentimentos estão morrendo.  

Menos aquela grande saudade, 

De ter pelo menos, sua amizade. 

Eu ainda choro por nós não podermos dar um último abraço, 

Você foi o único homem que realmente esteve ao meu lado.  

Você compreendeu todas as minhas dores, minhas carências, 

Ajudou-me a superar os mais difíceis dos meus problemas. 

Cantava pra mim, suas declarações de amor, 

Poderíamos ter sido para sempre, se não fosse pela dor.  

De joelhos, no altar da igreja, pedi perdão, 

A Deus, a luz, a minha alma, ao meu coração, 

Agora peço a você, seu coração, o mesmo pedido de desculpas, 

Afinal, a culpa foi minha, não sua. 

Te agradeço por ter feito parte do meu mundo, 

Sou grato pelo amor, pela companhia, por tudo. 

Você me ensinou como é verdadeiramente, amar, 

Obrigado por essa lição que sempre irei me recordar. 

[mmlcc08032021sss]

Sexta-feira da primeira semana da Quaresma

Hoje é dia onze de março, sexta-feira da primeira semana da Quaresma.

A esperança não é ilusão nem fuga do mundo. 

A esperança, dom do Espírito, 

ajuda-te a olhar o teu dia de frente e dá-lhe sentido. 

A esperança diz-te que o Senhor Jesus está contigo. 

Hoje, dá lugar à esperança. 

Deixa que ela sustente os teus passos 

e seja luz para os teus caminhos. 

E começa assim a tua oração.

Escuta esta passagem do Evangelho segundo São Mateus.

Ev Mt 5, 20-26

Jesus disse aos seus discípulos:

«Se a vossa justiça não superar a dos escribas e fariseus,

não entrareis no reino dos Céus.

Ouvistes que foi dito aos antigos:

‘Não matarás; quem matar será submetido a julgamento’.

Eu, porém, digo-vos:

Todo aquele que se irar contra o seu irmão será submetido a julgamento.

Quem chamar imbecil a seu irmão será submetido ao Sinédrio,

e quem lhe chamar louco será submetido à geena de fogo.

Portanto, se fores apresentar a tua oferta sobre o altar

e ali te recordares que o teu irmão tem alguma coisa contra ti,

deixa lá a tua oferta diante do altar,

vai primeiro reconciliar-te com o teu irmão e vem depois apresentar a tua oferta.

Reconcilia-te com o teu adversário,

enquanto vais com ele a caminho,

não seja caso que te entregue ao juiz,

o juiz ao guarda, e sejas metido na prisão.

Em verdade te digo:

Não sairás de lá, enquanto não pagares o último centavo». 

Jesus não vem revogar a Lei, mas levá-la à perfeição no mandamento do amor. Por isso, hoje Ele pede-te que examines a atitude de fundo com que estás na vida. Olha as tuas palavras, os teus gestos e, sobretudo, o teu coração. É o amor o teu grande mandamento? 

Jesus diz-te que há formas subtis de matar o irmão: o tom de voz, o insulto, a difamação. Jesus denuncia estes procedimentos, que poderiam ser considerados “política e religiosamente corretos”. Feres de morte o teu irmão com as tuas palavras? Pede perdão.

Escuta de novo o evangelho. Assume que a relação com os teus irmãos afeta a tua relação com Deus.

Termina a tua oração pedindo ao Senhor a graça de cuidares as tuas relações, de maneira a não feri-las. Pede-Lhe que sejas instrumento da sua paz.

Glória ao Pai e ao Filho e ao Espírito Santo.

Como era no princípio, agora e sempre. Ámen.

PASSO A REZAR · 11 março 2022 - Sexta-feira da primeira semana da Quaresma - Mt 5, 20-26