Chapter 854: Three goddesses in a single place

Vergil stared at Seris for a few seconds without changing his expression. But the entire room felt the shift.

The ancient passage was opened using Frey.

The sentence left no room for comfortable interpretation. It was not "Frey went through a door." It was not "Frey was kidnapped through a passage." It was worse. It was the difference between someone being taken down a road and someone having their body, soul, or very existence turned into the road.

Freya went completely still.

The quill in her hand stopped over the paper, leaving a dark blot of ink to spread slowly. Her face lost color again, and the succubus energy still circulating around her aura faltered, like a flame struck by cold wind.

"Using him?" she asked, very quietly.

Seris did not answer immediately. Not because she did not know, but because she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. Coming from her, that was rare.

"It is a preliminary reading," said the Queen of Witches. "But the signature points to Helheim. And the conceptual inversion in the fragment does not seem to be the result of an ordinary crossing. It seems something connected to Frey was used to convince an ancient passage to open."

Freya stood abruptly.

The chair behind her scraped hard across the floor. The candles in the room trembled, and one of the grimoire chains cracked, reacting to her emotional instability. Alice stepped forward by instinct, but Vergil raised a hand, stopping any exaggerated reaction.

Freya was breathing with difficulty.

"No," she said. "No. Frey would not have... He would not..."

"Freya," Vergil called.

She looked at him.

His voice came firm, direct. "Has Frey ever been to Helheim?"

The question seemed to cut through her panic and find a part of her still capable of reasoning. Freya blinked, trying to organize her thoughts. For a few seconds, her eyes returned to the map, then to the fragment, then to Vergil.

"No," she answered. "He should not have."

"Should not?"

"No." She shook her head, firmer now. "Helheim is sealed. Like Asgard, it is not a place anyone can enter just because they found a path or know ancient runes. The Bifrost cannot cross Helheim without authorization. Not completely. It can touch borders, outer regions, ancient points, but crossing into the true domain requires permission from the realm’s ruler."

"Hela," Sapphire said.

Freya nodded. "Yes. Hela."

Vergil looked at Seris. "Then if Frey has never been to Helheim and the signature came from there, someone opened something using him from the outside in."

"Or from the inside out," Seris said.

Freya closed her eyes for an instant, as if the possibility physically hurt.

Sapphire crossed her arms. "Would Hela allow that?"

Freya let out a short laugh, without humor. "Hela would not allow anything that threatened her control. She is many things, but she is not careless with her own realm. If an ancient passage was opened in Helheim using Frey, then either she does not know, or something is preventing her from acting."

"Or she is hiding it," Alice said.

Freya looked at her, but did not deny it.

Vergil kept his gaze on the fragment. "Can anyone contact Hela?"

The room fell silent for an instant.

Seris looked at Freya.

Morgana did too.

Freya passed a hand over her face, trying to recover stability. "Directly? Few can. Hela does not answer ordinary calls, and any attempt to invade her channels can be interpreted as aggression. Odin would have means, but I will not seek him out. Loki might be able to, but trusting him now would be an idiotic choice."

"Who?" Vergil asked.

Freya took a while.

Then she answered:

"I only know one person."

Sapphire raised an eyebrow. "And that person is?"

Freya looked at Vergil.

"The one who can speak to practically any god if she feels like it. And who Hela might answer, even while hating to admit it."

Vergil understood before she said the name.

Freya completed:

"Aphrodite."

A few hours later, the atmosphere in the Sparda Palace was very different from the closed tension of Salem, though not exactly calmer.

The chosen room was in a private wing, away from the main movement. It was not the war room, but it was not a casual environment either. There were wide sofas, a low table in the center, tall windows covered by heavy curtains, and a fireplace lit without any real need for heat. The kind of place where a delicate conversation could happen without officially looking like a meeting, even though everyone there knew that was exactly what it was.

Freya sat on one of the sofas, far too rigid for someone trying to look calm.

Seris occupied an armchair with a closed grimoire on her lap, watching everything with an interest she made no effort to hide. Sapphire leaned near the window, the spear resting beside her body, in a posture that was relaxed only on the surface. Alice stood near the door, as if she had personally decided to stop any new crisis before it could breathe. Morgana had not come; she had stayed in Salem, dealing with the texts and the fragment.

And Aphrodite was sitting on Vergil’s lap.

Not discreetly.

Not for lack of chairs.

She had simply entered, seen Vergil sitting, walked to him as if everything else in the room were a detail, and settled on his legs with absolute naturalness. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she kissed him with a calm so sweet and intense that it violently contrasted with everything they had discussed in the last few hours. It did not seem like provocation. It did not seem like a performance to mark territory in front of Freya. It was pure, direct affection, almost reverent.

As if Vergil were the most precious thing in the world.

Freya watched it with an almost painful tension.

The situation, in theory, would already have been uncomfortable by itself. But there was a worse detail: Aphrodite and Freya, in many ways, occupied similar domains. Love, beauty, desire, fertility, seduction, attraction. In different pantheons, with different natures, different histories, and different ways of exercising power, but still close enough that any room where the two of them were together seemed too small.

Direct competitors.

At least, that was how Freya felt it.

Aphrodite finally moved her lips away from Vergil’s, but did not move away from him. She remained with her forehead close to his, her fingers sliding through the Demon King’s white hair with a delicacy that seemed too intimate for an emergency meeting.

"You called," she said, voice low.

Vergil looked at her. "Yes."

"And it took you hours to explain why."

"You were at the flower shop."

"I would have closed the store."

"I know."

Aphrodite smiled a little and kissed the corner of his mouth again, brief, affectionate, as if she needed to do that before dealing with any problem. Vergil did not stop her. Sapphire watched the scene with a curious look, without real irritation. Perhaps because she understood Aphrodite’s way of loving. Perhaps because she was also much more secure in herself after everything that had happened.

Freya, on the other hand, looked about ready to stand and walk in circles.

Seris noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"You look like someone who swallowed a jealousy rune," the witch commented.

Freya looked at her. "I am not jealous."

"I did not say it was romantic. I said it was jealousy. There are many types."

Aphrodite slowly turned her face toward Freya.

Her gaze was not hostile. That might have been worse. She did not look threatened. Did not seem bothered. She simply analyzed Freya with the calm of someone who knew desire so deeply that she could hear another person’s cracks without needing to ask.

"Freya," Aphrodite said.

Freya straightened her posture. "Aphrodite."

The name came out far too polite.

Sapphire smiled from the corner of her mouth.

Vergil immediately sensed the atmosphere and let out a low sigh. "Do not turn this into a dispute."

Aphrodite blinked with almost offensive innocence. "I did nothing."

Freya took a deep breath. "Neither did I."

Seris raised a finger. "Technically, no one did anything, but the tension between two love goddesses in a room with an unstable succubus and the most disputed collective husband in the multiverse is a fascinating object of study."

Alice looked at her. "Seris."

"I am quiet."

"You are not."

"Now I am."

Aphrodite ignored Seris and finally rose from Vergil’s lap, though she remained beside him, one hand still resting on his shoulder. The gesture was calm, but made it clear she was not stepping away out of insecurity. She had simply decided the conversation could begin.

"Vergil said you need to speak with Hela," Aphrodite said.

Freya nodded, trying to recover her own center. "Yes."

"Because of Frey."

The mention of her brother’s name eliminated almost all of Freya’s competitive rigidity. Her expression changed. It became rawer, more honest.

"Yes," she answered. "There are signs that an ancient passage connected to Helheim was opened using him. Or something of his. We still do not know exactly."

Aphrodite became serious.

The room changed with that. Aphrodite, when irritated, could be cutting. When she despised Olympus, she was venomous. But when she grew truly serious, there was something ancient in her that reminded everyone that love was not only sweetness. Love was also possession, grief, loss, despair, and the refusal to let someone disappear without an answer.

"Hela will not like this contact," she said.

"I imagined that."

"She hates when someone implies she has lost control of Helheim."

"I imagined that too."

"And she will hate it even more if I am the one bringing the question."

Freya frowned. "Why?"

Aphrodite smiled without humor. "Because Hela finds me unbearable."

Sapphire let out a low laugh. "She has good sense."

Aphrodite looked at her. "I like you, so I will ignore that."

"Thank you."

Freya looked confused. "You and Hela know each other?"

"Know is a strong word." Aphrodite walked to the window and looked outside. "We have crossed paths a few times. Gods connected to love and death end up meeting more often than they would like. People love the dead. People die for love. People beg for lost lovers in every pantheon. That creates unpleasant bridges between domains."

Seris, now genuinely interested, leaned forward a little. "And Hela answers you because of that?"

"Not exactly." Aphrodite turned back. "She answers because once I delivered something to her that the Norse had lost and the Greeks wanted to hide."

Vergil looked at her. "What?"

Aphrodite hesitated.

That was rare.

"A name," she said.

Freya went still. "Whose?"

Aphrodite held her gaze. "Of a soul that should not have crossed into the wrong place."

The room went quiet.

Freya did not press. Perhaps out of respect. Perhaps because she understood that, in matters of death, names could be more dangerous than weapons.

Aphrodite continued, "Hela owes me an answer. Not a favor. Do not confuse that. An answer. I can call her, and she will probably listen. Whether she will help or try to tear out all our tongues for interference, I cannot promise."

Vergil nodded. "Enough."

Freya tightened her hands. "Do it."

Aphrodite looked at her. "Not now."

Freya stood. "Why?"

"Because you are far too unstable."

Freya froze.

Aphrodite did not speak with cruelty. That made the sentence harder to attack.

"If I call Hela and you react like this, she will feel weakness, despair, and hunger mixed in you. Hela is not gentle. She will use that to measure how much of the truth she should hide."

"He is my brother."

"I know."

"Then do not ask me for calm as if it were simple."

"I am not asking for calm." Aphrodite approached her, stopping at a respectful distance. "I am asking for control. They are different things."

Freya held her gaze.

The silent rivalry between the two changed shape. There was still tension, of course. Freya still saw Aphrodite as someone who occupied a space too similar to hers. But now there was something else. Recognition. Aphrodite was not trying to diminish her. She was saying a truth Freya hated hearing.

Vergil spoke: "Freya."

She looked at him.

"Do you want Hela speaking with us or ending the communication?"

Freya clenched her teeth.

Then lowered her eyes. "Speaking."

"Then listen to Aphrodite."

The sentence struck her pride directly.

Aphrodite noticed and, for the first time, softened a little. "I would also have hated listening to another love goddess telling me that."

Freya let out a weak laugh without humor. "We are not the same thing."

"No," Aphrodite said. "But we are similar enough that you were irritated with me before I even opened my mouth."

Sapphire laughed.

Seris tried to hide a smile behind her hand.

Alice did not try.

Freya took a deep breath, defeated by the accuracy of the sentence. "You are unbearable."

Aphrodite smiled. "Hela agrees."

Vergil passed a hand over his face.

"Focus," he said.

"We are focused," Aphrodite replied.

"In a horrible way," Sapphire added.

Aphrodite returned near Vergil and touched his shoulder again, but now without sitting on his lap. "I can make the call. But I need to prepare the bridge properly. Hela does not answer through common mirrors, Greek flames, or demonic circles. She answers through things that belonged to the dead who were still loved."

Freya frowned. "What does that mean?"

"We need an emotional anchor. Something that belonged to someone dead and is still remembered with real love. Not idolatry. Not fear. Love."

Seris rested the grimoire on the arm of the chair. "That is dangerous."

"Yes," Aphrodite said.

"Because the Outer Sepulcher imitates bonds."

"Yes."

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "Then we are not using anyone from my family."

Aphrodite looked at him. "I had not even suggested that."

"But you thought of it."

She smiled. "Of course. I am a goddess. Thinking of dangerous options is also part of the process."

Seris pointed at her. "Thank you. I said the same thing."

Sapphire sighed. "That is not a compliment to either of you."

Freya took a deep breath. "I have an anchor."

Everyone looked at her.

Her expression became more contained. "It is not Frey’s. I will not use anything of his while we do not know what they did. But I have something of my mother’s. Something old. She died a long time ago. And despite everything, I loved her."

The room fell silent.

Aphrodite observed Freya for a few seconds. "Are you sure?"

"No."

"Good answer."

Freya seemed surprised.

Aphrodite explained, "People who are too certain before the dead are usually lying to themselves."

Freya looked away, but nodded.

Vergil stood. "Get it."

Freya hesitated. "It is in my house."

Vergil opened a small portal beside her without saying anything. The forest appeared on the other side, inside Freya’s house, exactly near a wooden box on a shelf. Freya looked at the portal, then at him.

"You memorized the inside of my house?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When I entered."

Sapphire smiled, proud for some reason.

Freya decided not to comment. She reached through the portal and pulled out the box. It was small, old, decorated with Norse symbols almost worn away. She held it against her chest for a few seconds before opening it.

Inside was a comb.

Simple. Made of pale bone, with fine teeth and a worn rune engraved on the upper part.

Aphrodite approached with respect.

"It works," she said, lower.

Freya closed her eyes for an instant. "Then do it."

Aphrodite took the comb carefully, as if the object might break from a lack of delicacy alone. Then she looked at Vergil.

"You stay with me."

"I know."

"Not for protection."

"I know."

"For presence."

Vergil looked at her for a second, then nodded.

Aphrodite sat on his lap again, but this time there was nothing provocative in the gesture. It was an anchoring position. She held the comb with one hand and touched Vergil’s chest with the other, using his presence as a stable axis. Her energy changed. Her sweet perfume vanished beneath something older, deeper. Roses, salt, warm skin, tears, and ashes. Love and death touching without becoming the same thing.

Freya watched in silence, too nervous to make any joke.

Aphrodite closed her eyes.

"Hel," she called, using an older and shorter name.

The fireplace flames went out.

The room’s temperature dropped.

The shadows beneath the furniture stretched, thin, dark, and silent. Seris immediately became serious, raising two fingers to strengthen the room’s limits. Sapphire took the spear. Alice placed her hand on her sword. Freya pressed her hands against her own body.

Aphrodite did not open her eyes.

"Daughter of cold silence. Lady of those who go on without song. You owe me an answer."

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then a voice answered from the dead fireplace.

Low.

Feminine.

Cold.

"Aphrodite."

Freya stopped breathing.

Vergil remained still, one hand resting on Aphrodite’s waist to keep her stable.

The voice continued, slow and cutting:

"You chose a terrible moment to collect anything from me."

Aphrodite opened her eyes.

"I noticed."

The shadow inside the fireplace moved, forming the incomplete silhouette of a woman divided between beauty and decay, life and corpse, nobility and ruin. Hela did not appear fully. Only enough for everyone in the room to understand she had agreed to listen.

Her gaze passed over Aphrodite.

Then over Vergil.

Then over Freya.

And stayed on her.

"Freya," Hela said.

The Norse succubus swallowed dryly. "Hela."

The voice of Helheim’s ruler grew even colder.

"So you finally stopped searching along the wrong borders."

Freya took a step forward. "Where is my brother?"

Hela’s shadow did not answer immediately.

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

Aphrodite spoke before Freya lost control. "Hela. The answer."

The figure in the fireplace turned her gaze back to her.

"I said I owed an answer," Hela said. "I did not say it would be a kind answer."

Freya clenched her fists.

Sapphire watched Hela with a closed expression.

Then Hela looked back at Freya.

"Frey entered Helheim without my permission."

Freya went pale. "That is impossible."

"Yes," Hela replied. "It was."

The room fell silent.

Hela continued:

"And that is why all of us have a problem."