Chapter 852: Traces of Frey

The house remained silent for a few seconds after Vergil stopped before the map. It was not a comfortable silence. It was the kind of silence that formed when everyone present realized that a line that seemed too personal, too intimate, too familiar, might be connected to something much larger. Frey was not only Freya’s twin brother in that moment. He was a name circled at the center of ancient routes, passages to Helheim, and marks pointing to places that should no longer be accessible. Sapphire walked to the table first, resting the spear against the wall before leaning over the maps. Her eyes moved along the lines with attention. She was not a specialist in Norse runes, but she was ancient enough to recognize patterns of war, escape, and concealment. Those were not notes from someone searching for a lost relative in ordinary desperation. They were organized traces, attempts to reconstruct movement through layers of secrecy.

"How long have you been following this?" she asked.

Freya closed the door behind them and remained near the entrance for a moment, as if she still needed to decide whether she trusted her own stability. Then she took a deep breath and approached the table, keeping a safe distance from Vergil that did not go unnoticed by anyone.

"Months," she answered. "At first, they were only rumors. Small signs. An ancient symbol found on a stone near a forgotten route. A wounded Valkyrie mentioning that she had seen golden light where there should have been no light at all. A dead spirit saying his name before coming apart. Loose things."

Vergil looked at her. "And then?"

"Then the signs began to align." Freya touched the map with two fingers, pointing to a region marked with dark ink. "Frey disappeared before the crisis in Helheim became public. I thought he was avoiding the Norse war, avoiding Odin, avoiding everything left of our family. It would be typical of him to try to solve something alone and pretend it was not heroism. But then traces of him appeared near dead passages."

Sapphire narrowed her eyes slightly. "Dead passages?"

"Routes that existed before the Valkyries organized the flow of the dead as it is known today," Freya said. "Things too ancient to be used in normal times. Soul paths, natural rifts, spiritual trails opened by sacrifices or wars so old their names became dust. Most were closed when the Norse realms stabilized their own systems. Some were forgotten. Others were buried on purpose."

Vergil remained still. "And Frey was seen near them."

"Yes."

"Alive?"

Freya took half a second too long to answer.

"I do not know."

The answer weighed more than any confirmation.

Sapphire looked at her with less harshness. "Do you think he may be dead?"

Freya tightened her fingers over the edge of the table. "I think he may be somewhere where that difference has stopped being simple."

Vergil understood immediately.

Helheim attacked. Routes congested. Ancient passages. Outer Sepulcher. Frey disappeared near places where life, death, and crossing might be mixing in the wrong way.

He touched one of the points on the map. "Is this near Helheim?"

"Too near." Freya moved her hand to another marking. "But this one is worse. This trace appeared in a region that does not belong exactly to Helheim, or Midgard, or any common realm. It is an ancient fold. The dwarves avoided it. The Valkyries did not pass through there. And some forbidden sagas said that, before there were routes for the dead, bodies left in that region did not rot. They listened."

Sapphire raised her eyes. "Listened?"

"Yes."

"That is unpleasant."

"Welcome to Norse myths the bards preferred to turn into pretty songs," Freya said, without humor.

Vergil observed the set of marks. "You think Frey found something."

"Or something found him." Freya closed her eyes for an instant. "I did not want to admit that. At first, I thought it was only a family search. My brother vanished, I went after him. Simple. But then Helheim began to fail. The Valkyries began to fall. Hela closed off information. Some souls started arriving with memories missing, as if they had crossed through a shadow before being guided. And then I began hearing the name Outer Sepulcher in places where that name should not exist."

Sapphire straightened her posture. "Who said it?"

Freya hesitated.

Vergil noticed. "Freya."

She looked at him, and there was shame there. Not because she had done something wrong, but because she had come too close to a source she now recognized as dangerous.

"A blacksmith," she said. "One of the contacts I was trying to reach. Not one of the direct creators of Mjolnir, but someone who knew their disciples. An old dwarf, very old, named Brokkr Huld."

Sapphire arched an eyebrow. "Brokkr?"

"Not the famous one," Freya said. "The lineage likes repeating names. It is irritating."

"And he spoke of the Outer Sepulcher?" Vergil asked.

Freya nodded. "He said some ancient alloys were no longer responding as they should. Metals tied to death oaths were vibrating on their own. Burial runes began to invert when engraved. He thought it was interference from Helheim, but then he said a strange phrase."

"Which?"

Freya stared at the map.

"He said ancient death was beginning to remember its own shape."

The inside of the house seemed smaller after that.

Sapphire released the air slowly. "That phrase matches everything Seris said."

Vergil did not answer. His mind was already connecting the information. Seris had spoken of the Outer Sepulcher as a place before the rules of death. Nyx had said the attacks were mapping systems. Wukong had spoken of cracks between concepts. Now Freya brought funerary metals changing behavior, runes inverting, and Frey disappeared near passages older than the Norse routes.

"Where is this blacksmith?" Vergil asked.

Freya looked at him. "Hidden. Or dead. I could not confirm."

Sapphire made a dry expression. "Great."

"He sent me a message three weeks ago," Freya said. "After that, he vanished. But he left coordinates. I was trying to decide whether I should go after him before you appeared."

Vergil looked at her. "Alone."

Freya looked away. "I am not defenseless."

"That was not what I said."

"But it was what you meant."

Sapphire smiled from the corner of her mouth. "He means that for everyone. Do not take it personally."

Vergil ignored her. "You are unstable, searching for Frey, with traces tied to Helheim, missing blacksmiths, and a possible connection to the Outer Sepulcher. Going alone would be idiotic."

Freya clenched her jaw, but did not argue. Perhaps because she knew he was right. Perhaps because the memory of losing control minutes earlier was still too fresh to sustain her pride.

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked.

Vergil looked at the maps. "First, you will give all of this to Seris to copy. Routes, names, messages, symbols, coordinates, and contacts."

Freya immediately looked displeased. "Seris will want to open half my seals."

"Yes."

"They are ancient Norse seals."

"And?"

"And some of them are personal."

Vergil looked at her.

Freya sighed. "Fine."

"Second," he continued, "we will speak with Aphrodite and Seris about your control."

Freya closed her eyes for an instant. "Does that need to be part of the plan now?"

"It does."

Sapphire agreed. "It very much does."

Freya looked at her. "You are enjoying this."

"A little."

"Cruel."

"Disciplined."

"You seem like the worst teacher possible."

Sapphire smiled. "Thank you."

Vergil pointed to the markings connected to the blacksmiths. "Third, I want the names of everyone who can forge weapons for Sparda. Not only for Vanny and Rize. If a larger war is coming, we need forges, enchanters, runic weaponsmiths, and someone capable of working absurd materials without exploding."

Freya thought for a few seconds. "Brokkr Huld would be ideal if he is alive. But there are others. Eitri of White-Ash, a dwarven blacksmith who does not like gods but loves impossible challenges. Sindra Ivory, specialist in weapons that store impact. Hrafn-League, a group of raven blacksmiths that works with living metallic threads. They could make something for the spider demoness."

Sapphire looked at Vergil. "See? I told you."

"And for Vanny?" he asked.

Freya touched a name in the corner of the map. "Sindra. Or Eitri. Impact gauntlets, compact hammers, grounding boots, perhaps plates on the arms to channel shockwaves. If she uses impact blows, she needs something that prevents the returning force from destroying her joints in long battles."

"She is resilient," Vergil said.

"Until she finds something more resilient," Freya replied. "Then resilience becomes a countdown."

Sapphire smiled, satisfied. "Good answer."

Freya looked at her. "I also know how to evaluate warriors."

"I never said you did not."

"You thought it."

"I did."

Freya opened her mouth to answer, but held herself back. Vergil noticed the effort and considered it a minimal sign of progress.

He returned to the map. "And Frey?"

Freya’s expression changed again.

"The last reliable trace is here." She pointed to a region marked with red and golden runes. "At the edge of an old passage called the Path of the Dead Without Song. Horrible name, I know."

Sapphire tilted her head. "Why that name?"

"Because souls that entered there were not guided by songs, ravens, Valkyries, or gods. They simply walked. In silence. Until they disappeared."

Vergil observed the mark. "That sounds exactly like the kind of place someone would use to search for the Outer Sepulcher."

"Yes." Freya swallowed dryly. "And there is another problem."

"Say it."

Freya picked up a small piece of metal from a box on the table. It was a thin, dark shard, marked by almost faded runes. She placed the object before Vergil.

"I found this near Frey’s first trace."

Sapphire leaned in to observe it. "What is it?"

"Part of one of his weapons."

Vergil looked at the metal. "Are you sure?"

"I am. Frey always had an affinity with solar blades and metals tied to fertility, growth, and vitality. But this shard..." Freya touched the piece carefully. "It is dead."

Sapphire frowned. "Dead as a metaphor?"

"No. Dead." Freya looked at Vergil. "As if something had ripped the concept of life from the metal. Not broken it. Not corrupted it. Ripped it out."

Vergil went still.

That was new.

And bad.

"Seris needs to see this," he said.

"I know."

Freya closed the box again, but her hand remained over the lid for a few seconds. "If Frey was struck by something capable of doing this, maybe he is not merely trapped."

Vergil offered no comfort. She did not need a lie.

"We will find out."

Freya looked at him.

For an instant, her succubus energy stirred again, but not with the same lack of control as before. There was emotion there. Relief. Fear. The desire to grasp something safe. Vergil noticed, and so did Freya. She took a deep breath and stepped half a pace away before she could lose control.

Sapphire watched attentively. "Better."

Freya let out a weak laugh. "Was that praise?"

"Do not get used to it."

"You two match far too much. It is irritating."

Vergil ignored the provocation and opened a small portal over the table, not large enough to cross through, only for communication. On the other side, a purple flame appeared, indicating a connection with Sparda. He passed his hand over it, sending a direct signal.

"Seris," he said.

The answer came a few seconds later, accompanied by noise, as if something had fallen on the other side.

"I was currently surrounded by books trying to bite," Seris’s voice replied. "Does this need to be urgent?"

"Yes."

"Of course it does. The universe hates me with regularity."

Vergil looked at Freya. "I found Freya. She has information about blacksmiths, Helheim, Frey, and ancient passages tied to the Outer Sepulcher. She also has a metal sample whose concept of life was ripped out."

There was silence on the other side.

Then Seris answered, without any humor: "Bring everything to Salem. Now."

Freya stiffened. "Salem?"

Sapphire smiled. "It will be fun."

Freya looked at her. "You have a horrible notion of fun."

"I do."

Seris continued through the portal: "And bring Freya herself. If she has unstable succubus energy, I do not want second-hand reports. I want to examine her structure before this becomes another problem."

Freya closed her eyes. "Wonderful."

Vergil replied, "We are going."

"And Vergil?"

"Yes?"

"Do not let Freya touch the living grimoires. If she is hungry and they sense emotional vulnerability, they will try to make a contract."

Freya opened her eyes, offended. "I am not that vulnerable."

Sapphire looked at her.

Vergil too.

Freya looked away. "Today does not count."

Seris sighed on the other side. "I am preparing the room."

The communication portal closed.

For a few seconds, the three remained standing around the table. Freya looked at her house, at the maps, at the notes, and at the box with the shard of Frey’s weapon. There was fear in her, but also decision. The solitary search had ended. Perhaps that wounded her pride. Perhaps it relieved her. Probably both.

"Take everything necessary," Vergil said.

Freya nodded and began gathering the maps quickly. Sapphire helped, folding some sheets and separating the ones with more unstable runes. When Freya tried to pick up the box with the shard, her hand trembled a little. Vergil noticed, approached, and took the box for her.

"I will carry it."

Freya looked at him for a second. Then she nodded, lower. "Thank you."

Sapphire watched the scene without interrupting, but there was a small smile on her face. Not exactly jealousy. More like watchful acceptance. Freya was still unstable, still had too much desire circling her aura, but in that moment she was not a rival trying to take something. She was a woman frightened by her brother’s fate, trapped between a new nature and a problem too ancient.

When everything was gathered, Vergil opened a larger portal.

On the other side, Salem’s energy emerged.

Freya stared at the opening with obvious reluctance. "Witches."

Sapphire took her spear and smiled. "Yes."

"I have always distrusted witches."

"Witches have always distrusted goddesses."

"I am a demon now."

"Then they will distrust you with more enthusiasm."

Freya took a deep breath. "Great."

Vergil crossed first, carrying the box with the shard of Frey’s weapon. Sapphire came next. Freya paused for a moment at the threshold of her own house, looked one last time at her brother’s name on the map she held in her hands, and then crossed as well.

The forest was left empty.

The flowers near the door, still open from Freya’s uncontrolled impulse, slowly began to close.

And, somewhere very far from the trees, an ancient passage seemed to remember a name that should no longer be called.