The Nameless Tome. A single word is written. End. And when whispered to page, all will.

“Yup.” Alex nodded sadly, accepting it for what it was. “I'm hallucinating. Or I'm dead – one or the other. This is definitely not a dream.”

“None of the above.” 'Tyr' said, deepening her shock. One had to understand that Tyr was an actual god, the namesake of the prince of Haran was in memoriam. Tyr was 'dead', as were most if not all of the old gods still revered in Oresund. Tyr, Wotan, Valkyrja. They were the old gods that made way for the new gods in the mythos that defined the eight pillars. This was well known, information shared by the priests who spoke with the 'new' gods and the primus' themselves, until the only place these old gods were even remembered was in the north. Even then, only by old blind men, skald's and monsters, they had no churches beyond tiny cults and conclaves. “You are quite alive, awake, and as real as this place is.”

What shocked her most, was that this Tyr looked just like her own... 'Her' own – not that she felt much like claiming him in that way. Only older, more refined and considerably kinder at the eyes. But in appearance, they were identical enough.

“So Tyr is a god?” Alex asked. “The boy I grew up with as a child is a god? Are all primus' gods?”

“You are all gods. You, specifically, are a shardling. A true blooded nephilim, therefore you are celestial just as all vessels are. It's really not that complicated... But to surmise, you are a god, just a part of a fractured one – as all humans are, from birth to death. He gave you that power, Samael, my brother. Gods from your perspective, as if a four letter word could explain what we are. We don't even know what we are, we just... Are. Your kind exist as host vessels for others, in a manner of speaking. Understand?”

“Is there a god inside of me too...?” Alex gulped, pale in the face. “Do you watch what we do?”

“It's not a where, when, who, or what situation. Your earthly gods exist in your dimension, but higher ones do not. Or... They aren't supposed to. Without time, everything is happening all at once, not at all, it's happened already – or it'll happen tomorrow in a plane where the concept of tomorrow does not even exist. Consider wrapping your biological mind around that. You can't. So... Yes, and no.”

Tyr shrugged. “I told you I was a speck of dust, and that's exactly what I am. A shard of a greater self that was cast into your dimension. Less than a shard, I am a pile of ash, as I was only ever one with three sons. We live here inside the planar souls of nephilim. But... How to say it... You have privacy concerns, eyes watching your every move. Except to us, regardless of our capability to do so, we have seen everything you are or ever will be already. In mortal terms, it's a waste of time to bother watching what we already know. But I do not know time, so... I spend most of it sleeping, I don't exactly spy.”

“...” Alex was open mouthed, gaping at the wild claim. She would have thought she was hallucinating, but the church of light did say men were the children of the gods. Which would make them godly in turn, their argument that all other races were impure. That their souls were part of the 'chorus' around all creation, part of a single entity that wore a multitude of faces. That, and the fact that this being spoke, and she immediately knew he was telling the truth through some unknown instinct.

“Like I said.” Tyr shrugged apologetically. “Not a philosopher. I prefer to sleep, and I have no idea what the others do. We are imprisoned here and in other places all around you. Little fragments of the whole. Deaf, dumb, and blind. We 'see' only through the astral between spheres. There is no spying or marionette strings to be had. You have already done everything you are about to do, and that is the one thing I could never destroy. We are all both the fate and the fated, but not the weavers of it. Well... I'm not. I am the end, I will exist until the end, which means I am forever. With that being said, I don't much care what happened because if it all end – I'll begin again. We high ones are eternal beyond eternity.”

“That is rather depressing.” Alex said. “If what you say is true, then free will does not exist...”

“Oh, but it does.” Tyr brightened up at that, smiling. He was so astonishingly beautiful, something beyond human perception. And yet at the same time... Not ugly, but there was something there that she couldn't put her finger on. It wasn't repulsive, either. Existential, maybe. A doom in his eyes. “Fate is a concept of the higher dimension in which the celestials are... Created? I'd say born, but that's not an appropriate word either. In any case, fate does not exist. There is no fate, and yet there is. This conversation has already happened, and yet it never will, because your particular pocket of reality does not exist. And yet it does. Anything that happens is fate, forever, because to happen it has to be a part of fate the same way past events are recorded by living things, from your perspective. Make sense?”

“Not in the least bit.” Alex frowned. “How can everything be nothing? What does that even mean?”

“I'm quite insane. But I suppose that's the point.” Tyr nodded. “He gave life, and life took... An unexpected turn. At first, there were very few of us, celestial beings, that is. The only things existing in an empty void after we separated from the others beyond us, and before we knew it, they were everywhere. He saw these poor creatures he'd given life for what they were, puppets without purpose. Samael never liked waste, and that's why I existed, to scour clean. I would come, erase, and leave the new celestials as purposeless instruments, but this is against the balance. And so Samael gave his creations will. Spira came from that, which was unfortunate, nothing was ever so simple as make and break. More came, the paths and the dream. A great, big war. 'Big' as if that could possibly explain a struggle between whole dimensions, it is an eternal war but as it started in this plane – it's ended. Then again... It's eternal, which means forever in your tongue...” Tyr pursed his lips, brow furrowing in consternation. “It's not possible for me to make it more clear than that. It is, it was, it will be.”

“Is there a point here...?” God or not, Alex couldn't help herself from getting agitated at seeing his damned face.

“Oh!” Tyr laughed in that subdued sort of way he did, like he was wholly incapable of feeling joy in the strictest sense. “Yes! I think... Does anything have a point? To simplify, life begets aspects and aspects begets gods. Gods beget what they... Well, what they beget, I suppose...? But all of these things Samael created were no longer his. As temporary as they were, his creations were treasures and he loved them. Only to see them fall into a shackled existence as fate became a concept in the higher world. Destiny, right? Samael hated this and he tried to break it, but fate was everything and nothing. You cannot destroy us, you cannot destroy 'fate'. So instead, he gave these creations of his the ability to think. Unfortunately for him... It gave us all the ability to think by proxy, a weapon they should never have been allowed to possess. Before, there were very few celestial beings you could consider sentient, even I had no free will, for example. Once living things could think and wonder, they projected their consciousness onto us, even the high ones. The gravest of all errors, but it served a purpose at one time or another. I always hated it, personally, but it was – and I am a being that accepts what is, I have to, because without that nod to a thing that is, I cannot shape it. We are not like you, we are singular and driven by the order. Or we were, once upon a time before time.”

“It never happened, has always happened, and is happening tomorrow and yesterday at the same time?” Alex frowned.

Tyr chuckled at that, his wild eyes calming. “You've always been so wise, a genius. You were always so sharp. Yes, it gave birth to the concept of existence, and... Existence is... Existence is suffering.” Something like the cracking of a pane of glass was reflected in his deep eyes. Tyr began to shiver violently, as if to ward against a fierce winter chill. “Please kill me, I want to die! Why can't we die!? Why did you do this to me!? Do you understand what you've done!?”

“W-what!?” Alex backed away frightened. She'd never seen Tyr erupt in a rage like that, his face twisted into a psychotic mask with no grip on his sanity all of a sudden. “I didn't do anything!”

“Existence.” Tyr murmured, stilling himself and slumping back against the floor. Calming. “Existence is pain, my love. I wish you would have let me die... I can die, Alex. But you have to let me, please let me.”

–

Alex groaned and stretched pleasantly as the beams of summer sun reached their way through her window. The air tasted so sweet for a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on. A dream, after all – she supposed. Thankful for that, it was more like a nightmare at the end. Tyr wouldn't leave her be even in her time of resting, begging her to open that book on the table and 'end it'. Whatever 'it' was.

She lay on something firmer than her mattress, something warm and rigid. Steadily breathing, powerful lungs lifting and falling, regular enough to threaten to cast her into restful slumber once again. She craned her head up to behold Tyr's face, pleasant and calm in rest. Not glaring or scowling at anybody, just... There. It was then that all of the memories came crashing into her, scrambling away from him as fast as her arms could take her.

But Tyr barely moved, opening a single eye and groaning. “I'm sorry, something happened during the procedure and it really hurt me. This is as far as my magic could take us. I am in more pain than I think I've ever been in, I tried my best.”

“Where are we?” Alex asked, looking around but never letting her eyes leave his hands. “Is this... A broom closet?”

“Aye, turns out making myself levitate took more out of me than I thought. And you wouldn't wake up, so I took us both to a safe a place as any. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“...No reason.” Alex squinted suspiciously, but Tyr was in so much pain that he wasn't interested in pursuing that particular thread. Alexis had always been a bizarre individual.

“Tiber is fine, by the way. I did it, but man... Human magic is hard. Three of his vertebrae were too close together and it was cutting something off. So I opened them up again and healed the tissue in between. It worked, of course, but now I can't walk.”

“Can't walk?” Alex asked. “Why?”

“Because I don't 'heal' people. I can stimulate natural growth but it still uses the recipients metabolism. I can make a tree grow and the soil barren in the process for example, and I didn't want to risk hurting him anymore. So in a last ditch effort, I stole the thing that had caused his back to fail him. Don't even know what to call it, but now I'm a cripple.” Tyr chuckled in good humor despite the obvious grimness of the claim. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me – it means more than I could ever put into words. So...”

He leaned forward, slipping onto the ground awkwardly and laughing again, finding such a daunting situation rather amusing. “I made you these, as... I figured you might be more willing to accept my apology should I do that for you. But also... I'm not really in the mood to wax on about romance, just take them.”

Alex ignored the items he'd cast about on the floor and knelt down, grabbing him roughly by the harness of his armor and hoisting him up so that he was sitting again. He was so incredibly heavy... “Don't you dare ask me to tote you around like a child.”

“I won't.” Tyr snorted. “Only for today, probably. It'll fade in a few hours but I am quite worthless at the current moment, and it would be bad if someone was able to properly observe what is happening to my body – I think. Imagine that, Alex. There are people all around the world who are blind, mute, deaf, paralyzed. They live, too, even flourish – like Micah – I am nowhere near that strong.”

“You were always worthless.” Alex said, smiling as he shrugged in amused acceptance of the insult. “And these...?”

She was reticent to, but she couldn't help but feel her eyes drawn toward the artifacts in their neat parcel.

There was a suit of intricately forged armor. Steel plate from the waist up, with a chain skirt. The metal was black but it had visible ripples in its surface that took hues of reds and purples depending on how the weak light entering the broom cupboard struck it.

She turned it over in her hands, shocked at both the weight and the quality. Carved all over with fine artful patterns, the cloth skirt covering the chain and emerging from the girdle was the same violet hue of her eyes, backed by heavy leather. So finely segmented that she had no doubts it'd be the most comfortable suit of armor she'd ever worn, though she'd never worn true plate before. The turn of the cloth pouring down from the girdle bearing the golden lion of her heraldry was very pleasant to look at, hanging just below the mid calf based on the cut.

It was cast and hammered with such care that she could scarcely believe human hands had made it. All stuck together in an entire suit, boots and gauntlets included, not separate pieces.

“You... Forged these?” She asked, astonished. “Yourself? You did this?”

“I sung them.” Tyr replied softly. “There's no word for it, as far as I'm aware. I am very excellent and also handsome, as you can see.”

“You're fucking annoying is what you are...”

“Watch your language, fine lady.”

But it was the spear that caught her attention the most. It stood at three, perhaps four inches longer than she did when standing. Made of the same substance as the armor, and wholly composed of metal from tip to butt.

It had an overly long blade that widened a bit as it reached the haft, capable of telescoping to a longer form if necessary. There was no crossguard or 'boar stop' – the guard itself was worked into the blade, shaped like a pair of small wings emerging nary an inch from the sharpened edge.

Splitting the blade itself was a thin fuller that glowed gently upon her taking it in hand with a light lilac radiance. Hanging from where haft met tip was a black fur tassel that matched the leather used to bind its grip. She could feel the power inside of this spear, staff, and focus – all in one sleek package, feeling giddy at the familiar weight of it. Within fifty grams of the spear her father had commissioned from the college after she'd returned to using a weapon again. Capable of functions to become lighter, heavier, longer or shorter, based on a projection of want.

It was, for all intents and purposes, the finest weapon she had ever held in her life. Thrumming with visceral pleasure to just feel her hand on it, and while she didn't know much about enchanting, she could tell... Anywhere this spear went, it would be a celebrated weapon. Something beyond the concept of cost, and it was made just for her in every single way. A national treasure.

“...You made this?” She asked, breath stolen. “There's no way. Where are the runes?”

“I had help.” Tyr said, happy to see that she liked it. “But I did. The runes are there, inside the metal. It's a long story, let's call it job security.” He chuckled at his poor excuse for a joke before his face straightened, he was pleased at the result of his merger of song magic and runesmithing, it had been wildly successful far beyond his expectations. Aska was a masterwork, even in his opinion, but 'partner' was the greatest thing he had ever made alongside Tiber's 'talon'. They'd all come out so much better than those artifacts he'd forged for himself. Always would, he thought. Aska could cut common steel, but partner was everything all at once – it just couldn't change into other weapons at all. “Please accept them.”

“I will, are you joking?” Alex nodded with poorly masked excitement. “It's a sufficient tribute, but not nearly enough. I'll expect many more gifts in the future.”

“And you'll have them.” Tyr promised her, trying and failing in the attempt to wiggle his toes with a frown. “The spear is called partner, and the armor is svalin lofte, which means--”

“Unbroken promise or more crudely – love's shield in the old tongue.” Alex exhaled, trying to bottle up the awe she felt was impossible. The love and care that had went into these things he'd made for her... “I'm not an idiot, and that name in particular is incredibly ironic, I hope you know. Are you serious?”

She said this, but she blushed like any maiden Tyr had ever seen. Punching him gently in the chest when he laughed at her.

“They named themselves, believe it or not.” Tyr said. “I just helped them find their form. I'll have you know that between the two of them, it cost me over five--”

She punched him again. Harder this time, but that childish look of wonder on her face never faded. “This doesn't mean I forgive you. But... Thanks. And if it means anything to you, I am so incredibly proud of you, for all of the faults in our relationship... This makes me incredibly happy. I always had faith in you, Tyr, and still you managed to shock me. I will always carry these things, forever.”

“I don't remember asking.”

“You're an asshole.”

“As they say.” Tyr nodded sagely. “You are what you eat.”

“...What?”