"Enough with the death-row theatrics, Vanessa," Mikilllfr grumbled, his voice rough and unceremonious. He knew they were alone; the silence of the woods was their only witness.
"You couldn't possibly understand," Vanessa muffled into her sleeves, her voice a fractured rasp. She refused to look up. "In Enya's eyes... I've become nothing. A ghost of a tool she no longer needs."
"Isn't that the High Elf way?" Mikilllfr replied with the blunt, salt-of-the-earth cynicism of a dwarf. To him, the High Elves were a race of gilded peacocks who viewed Forest Elves as little more than sentient weeds. "I've yet to meet one who saw a Forest Elf as anything but a footstool."
"Enya is different!" Vanessa snapped, her head whipping up. Her eyes, though rimmed with exhaustion, blazed with a terrifying, cult-like devotion. "She is the royal scion—the elder sister of the Queen herself!"
It was a twisted, tragic bond. In a world where High Elves looked upon her kin as mere dust, Enya had been the only one to grant Vanessa a sense of purpose. For an assassin whose hands were stained in blood, Enya's approval was the only light she had ever known.
"This isn't you, Vanessa. Wilting like a flower over a cold shoulder? Bah," Mikilllfr sighed, his irritation masking a deeper concern for his companion's fragile state.
Vanessa stared into the void of the forest, her expression curdling into a snarl. "It was my poison that rotted Magni's strength from the inside out! I was the one who carved the opening for that... that 'Golden One' to waltz in and take his head. It was my work! Yet, where is my reward? Where is even a whisper of praise?"
"A reward?" The dwarf tilted his head. "What is it you're after?"
"Recognition! A weapon forged in the old fires, or a grimoire worthy of my talent!" Vanessa's voice rose in a frantic pitch. "I brought down Magni—the most lethal shadow in Alfheimr!"
"But isn't Modi the King of Midgard?" Mikilllfr asked, playing devil's advocate. "The one who holds Mjolnir? The one everyone actually trembles at the mention of?"
"That is exactly why you'll always be a fool!" Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking bark of a laugh. "Modi couldn't hold a candle to Magni. His only claim to greatness is his bloodline—the son of Thor and his high-born wife. The 'grandeur' of Midgard was built entirely on Magni's back. He was the architect; Modi is merely the occupant."
"Strange," Mikilllfr rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I heard Magni never went anywhere without the Snow White Axe. If he'd had that in his hand, our little ambush would have ended in a massacre."
"The coward didn't dare wield it," Vanessa sneered. "He lived in fear of Modi's paranoia. He knew if he carried an axe that rivaled Mjolnir, the King would hate it."
"Is Modi truly that pathetic?"
"The truth?" Vanessa's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, her gaze growing distant. "No one truly knows Modi. Magni spent his life standing in the sun, doing the dirty work, acting as the perfect, loyal shadow. He built the facade of Modi's divinity so well that the world actually believes the King is untouchable."
Mikilllfr frowned. He searched his memory for tales of the God-King, but aside from the legendary slaying of the wolves Sk?ll and Hati, Modi's resume was suspiciously thin.
"Since that 'Golden One' stole the glory of Magni's fall," Vanessa said, her voice dropping into a lethal, guttural tone. The despair in her eyes was gone, replaced by a toxic cocktail of envy and bloodlust. "Then I shall be the one to serve Modi's head on a platter."
"You've lost your mind!" Mikilllfr nearly bellowed. "It took an army to trap the Traveler God! And let's be honest—if that Great Dragon hadn't turned on its master, we'd be ash right now."
He softened his voice, his gaze turning tender in a way he couldn't hide. He looked deep into the brown-haired elf's eyes. "Do you really think the two of us can take a god alone?"
It was a confession without the word 'love.' He was telling her that no matter how suicidal the mission, he would be the shield that broke before she did.
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"The dragon's betrayal was a footnote," Vanessa said, clenching her fist until her knuckles turned white. "Magni died because my poison was already screaming through his veins. There was no other end for him."
"Is your venom truly that potent? To kill a god?" Mikilllfr sighed. He was a man who would follow her into the gates of Hel, but he struggled to believe this beautiful, broken elf could kill the King of Midgard. He wanted to protect her, often forgetting that Vanessa was a predator far more dangerous than himself.
"If I could rot the marrow of Magni, Modi will be a simple feast."
"If you want to be sure he's dead, you have to see the head leave the neck... just like Dark Asanee did," Mikilllfr mused, stroking his chin.
"Do not say that name!" Vanessa erupted. "I loathe him!"
"He's on our side, girl. Why waste your hate on an ally?"
"You like him so much? Fine! Go serve him! Maybe he'll make you a King of Dwarves!"
"You mad, stubborn woman..." Mikilllfr muttered.
"Go, Mikilllfr! Leave! I don't want you behind me!" Vanessa hissed, bolting upright and storming into the trees, leaving the dwarf alone in the thickening dark.
He didn't follow. He knew her temper was a wildfire that had to burn itself out. But as he watched her disappear, his heart whispered the truth she refused to hear: I could never leave you, Vanessa.
At the Crescent Moon Tavern, the air was thick with the scent of oil lamps and the approaching storm. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of rain.
Cynthia, the raven-haired proprietor, sat at her desk, her eyes tracing the ancient, glowing runes of her grimoire. The peace was shattered when the door was kicked open with a violent bang. Vanessa marched in, a whirlwind of resentment.
Cynthia didn't look up. She simply turned a page. Vanessa, seeking a reaction, delivered a sharp kick to the leg of Cynthia's desk.
"My apologies," Vanessa said, her tone devoid of any regret.
Cynthia slowly closed her book and looked up, her eyes like chips of cold obsidian. "Had another spat with your dwarf?"
"That pathetic little stone-breaker? I've sent him packing," Vanessa said, hopping onto the edge of the desk with an air of forced defiance.
"You sent him packing?" Cynthia echoed, her voice dropping to a dangerous chill. "That is all, Vanessa? That dwarf knows enough of our secrets to hang us both."
The implication hung in the air: Dead men tell no tales.
Vanessa flinched. The thought of killing Mikilllfr sent a cold shiver through her, which she quickly masked with a scowl. "He's not that easy to kill. Besides, I have a more pressing matter."
Cynthia leaned back, exhaling a long, weary sigh. "Enlighten me."
"I want the Star Group to authorize a hit. I'm going after Modi. Now."
Cynthia actually blinked in surprise. She shook her head slowly. "You haven't just lost your mind; you've lost your soul. You're actually proposing a defection? You'd leave the Moon to join the Stars?"
"Enya has cast me aside! She treats that 'Golden One' as her masterpiece now!" Vanessa's voice trembled, her composed mask finally slipping.
Cynthia stared at her for a long beat, then leaned forward, her expression shifting from cold to pitying. "I was wrong. You aren't mad, Vanessa. You're just a pathetic, desperate child."
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Because Lady Enya hasn't whistled for you, you've decided to throw a tantrum and join us? How utterly stupid."
"......" Vanessa was stung into silence by the sheer bluntness of the critique.
"Listen to me," Cynthia whispered, her voice cutting through the sound of the first raindrops hitting the roof. "This isn't a game. The silence you see now is the eye of a hurricane. Modi's faction will come for us to avenge Magni. Soon, we will likely have to face Dodan, Magni's most prized disciple."
"I don't care about pawns!" Vanessa barked. "My eyes are on the King. Only Modi!"
"Sigh... You really think you can compete with Dark Asanee?" Cynthia's voice was hauntingly soft. "He is the perfect instrument. He can turn his very flesh into the Spear of Gungnir. He is a marvel of lethality."
"Perfect?" Vanessa's eyes burned with a manic fire. "If you hadn't bound Magni with your seals, or if I hadn't liquefied his organs with my venom, that 'Golden One' would be a pile of ash! He's a scavenger, Cynthia! He stole our kill!"
Cynthia went unnervingly still. She looked into Vanessa's eyes with a hollow, terrifying calm. "No, Vanessa. He is something else entirely."
The rain was now a steady drumbeat on the roof. "He isn't like us. He feels no joy, no rage, no fatigue. He is a void shaped like a man. Neither you nor I can even begin to measure ourselves against a thing like that."
Vanessa's fists were white-knuckled. The warning only served to fuel her spite. She locked eyes with Cynthia. "If you stand with me—just the two of us—I promise you, I will bring you Modi's head."
Without waiting for an answer, Vanessa slid off the desk and vanished into the rainy night.
Cynthia watched the door swing shut. She knew she had to report this to Fenris, the Star Group's leader. As Enya's Moon Group continued to eclipse them with one miracle after another, the Stars were fading into irrelevance.
To Cynthia, Vanessa was an Executioner without peer—a weapon tempered in the blood of a thousand elites. She was a master of both blade and blight. If it came down to a raw contest of power, Cynthia knew she was outclassed, and even Fenris might struggle against Vanessa's sheer ferocity.
With the rise of Dark Asanee, the gap between the two groups was becoming a canyon. The Star Group had always lived in the shadow of royalty; while Fenris was but one of many princes, Enya was the Queen's own sister.
But as Cynthia stared into the darkness where Vanessa had disappeared, a cold, calculating thought took root. The balance of power was about to shift. If the Moon truly lost Vanessa to the Stars, the balance would never be the same.