War of Dawn

Chapter 23: Personal Crisis

Date: 1003 After Dawn, December 31st

The New Year is less than a day away and while a tangible excitement fills Valarheim over these final hours, Hilda finds her mind gripped with concern. Not for Virrath itself – she's confident in the generals to handle that – but with Paula. She spent her free hours yesterday searching for her and, yet, no one had seen the girl. Eliza and the generals remained secluded in their Hall, so she couldn't ask them either.

In the end, curfew dictated she end her search and try to get some sleep. "Try" being the operative word, as doing so is easier said than done. The past day had a lot happen and her mind is busily replaying those events in her head in an endless procession, despite how exhausted she feels. It also does not help that her bandaged hands are itching like no one's business. It takes several hours of tossing and turning around her tiny bed for said exhaustion to overpower Hilda, nailing her heavy eyes shut and finally causing her to fall asleep. Yet, it does not last.

The darkness from her slumber fades away soon and she finds herself in her old straw bed in one of Gustaff's guest rooms. The sunlight that shines through the lone window strikes her face with its warmth. It's time to get to work. Hilda stretches her arms far and wide, breathing in the familiar smell of the mines' furnaces as they're carried by the northern wind. Still sleepy, she drags herself off her bed and towards the bowl by the window. The cold water does wonders to shake her awake.

Hilda moves to the small wooden cabinet by the door to get herself dressed: dark woolen pants, a white woolen shirt and a gray apron. Same clothes as ever. As Hilda prepares to head downstairs and help Gustaff and Edda get the bar ready to open, she takes a quick look at the tiny mirror hanging by her door. There's a small gray smudge, the size of a grape, on her left cheek – odd, as she thought she'd washed properly.

So, Hilda grabs a piece of cloth, dips it in water, and tries cleaning the smudge off. It doesn't go away. Actually, it seems to have grown a bit. She rubs it again and, this time, it has definitely grown. Hilda inches closer to the mirror to take a look and, when she does, the smudge on her reflection's face starts spreading further and further. Her reflection cringes and frowns in pain as pieces of her turn gray. Bit by bit they droop off, exposing a corroded flesh underneath that bubbles as though it is being boiled.

Hilda reels back from the grotesque sight but cannot get away – her image reaches out through the mirror with a gangly, rotten hand and grabs her right arm. Sharp nails dig into her flesh, sending a piercing pain all the way up to her shoulder. She hasn't time to cry for help, as she's yanked into the mirror and finds herself suddenly outside. Gone is the ground, Hilda's decaying doppelganger holding her over edge of the deep Litnir quarry.

There she dangles, helpless and dazed, pummeled by a blizzard that strikes like an anvil. Sharp gusts of wind slice at her skin and the cold alone feels like it could kill. A small source of intense heat washes over her naked feet and keeps it from fully closing its merciless grip on Hilda.

Her gaze shifts downward and, at the bottom of the quarry, she finds the source of the heat – the top of a blast furnace. The ore within its bowels, molten into an orange and yellow paste, churns in a storm of sparks that reflect off her terrified eyes.

Her continuously rotting copy pulls her closer, beckoning Hilda's gaze back to her, sunken lips twisted in a dreadful grin of darkened teeth. A faint whisper echoes across the ether, coming from nowhere and, yet, everywhere: "Det var ditt fel."

Upon those words, she is let go, plummeting towards the top of the towering furnace. Hilda's limp body cuts across the hot air, the heat grows stronger and stronger and sears her exposed skin like scalding water. Still, there is no pain – not even fear anymore. Hilda takes one last look at her distant doppelganger, as it now falls apart and fades into blackened sludge, and closes her eyes as the fire engulfs her.