Mark of Odin: The Awakening

Chapter 3: Chosen for Glory

Darkness once again overshadowed everything. All he could make out was the stairway. Ice cold steps that led in one direction: upwards. Once more, he felt a peculiar determination surge up inside him, a need to press onwards. It was as if invisible arms were pushing him upwards, almost against his will. He climbed and climbed until he started to glimpse a light at the very top. Quickening his pace, he finally reached the top of the staircase to find the narrow corridor leading to the large metal door. He headed towards it and seized the handle, forcing it open and slipping inside.

This time everything was different; there was no vast, luminous cavern like the one that had appeared in his previous dream. Uneasy, he slowly looked around. He was in a small, cave-like room. A strange-looking stone throne sat in the centre, gently glowing in the darkness. This was the light that had guided him upwards through the shadows. There was no other way out. Confused, and with no other choice apparent, he apprehensively edged closer to the throne. He brushed it with his fingertips; a pleasant, gentle tingling sensation spread through his hand.

He slowly lowered himself down into the seat. The tingling feeling ran up and down his spine. When it reached the nape of his neck, he felt a stab of intense pain. He tried to pull away and stand up, his eyes wild with shock, but realised he was trapped. It was as if he were stuck to the shining surface of the seat. In horror, he watched as the ground started to crack beneath him. Suddenly, both he and the throne tumbled into the void with a never-ending scream.

Eventually, he forced his eyes open, still in a daze. He gradually became aware that he was lying on shore of reddish sand and that his clothes were somehow drenched. Struggling to his feet, he realised he had been lying in a pool of blood. Was it his? What on earth was happening? A powerful, all-pervading light hurt his eyes. Once he was accustomed to the glare, he recognised his surroundings. He was by the same lake he had seen in the last dream. As before, the gigantic tree rose up out of the centre of the water, towering over everything. All of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a swiftly moving shadow. He watched it until it came to rest on a branch of the giant tree. It was a type of enormous black crow with shining, silver eyes. It paid him no attention. He was surprised and also relieved; he had no desire to repeat his experience with the wolf. Just then, there was another movement to his left. He spied a another crow, this time grey, swoop down to land on the shore just a few feet away from him.

Now he shivered. The animal emitted a powerful energy that seemed to paralyse him. He stared at it, dumbfounded. The creature slowly turned towards him and gave a loud caw. A fluttering movement caught his eye and he sensed, rather than saw, that the second crow had flown over to join the first. Fear began to take hold of him. The silver crow started to hop closer, incessantly uttering harsh, grating caws. He desperately wanted to flee but his legs were frozen, useless. Without warning, something unexpectedly stabbed him in the face and tugged hard, releasing him with a whiplash effect.

WAKE UP! WAKE UP!

Two ear-splitting voices began to boom inside his head. Struggling to see, he just caught sight of the black crow flying away with his right eye dangling from its claws. Blood began to pour from his empty eye-socket. In total shock, he was unable to react.

He felt another blow to his face; this time the pain penetrated the very depths of his being.

WAKE UP! WAKE UP!

He collapsed on the ground, deafened by the voices in his head and ravaged by suffering. He was completely blind; sightless to all but the red torment inside his skull. The second loathsome bird had torn out his other eye. Abruptly, the ground beneath him began to tremble. Everything started to crumble: the titanic tree, the lake, the shore, himself... He covered his eye-sockets with his hands, trying in vain to stem the gushing flow of blood. The monstrous voices in his head continued to torture him. He attempted to stand but was violently knocked off his feet. With unmistakable clarity, he felt the two crows sink their claws into his skin and begin to peck at him ferociously, tearing at his flesh as he twisted in agony.