Chương 120: Chapter 116 - A Stormy Day in Valhalla

Passion It was a stormy day in Valhalla. Rain hammered against the windows hard enough to turn the view beyond the glass into gray smears. Thunder rolled over the hall every few minutes, and each strike of lightning made the room flash white before the darkness settled back in. She didn't know if Freya cared enough to make the sky angry on Chelsea's behalf. Chelsea didn't return.

Passion had spent the rest of the night in the room because leaving meant facing the hall, and facing the hall meant facing whatever people thought she'd done. She could still repeat what Freedom and Principle had told her. She could hear the words. She could understand some of them. But understanding pieces didn't make the whole thing fit. She'd stopped. Her eyes drifted to the place near the bed where the servicer had fallen.

It was standing again now because servicers did that unless ordered otherwise, but the memory of it hitting the floor was still there. Ivy's robe had been moved from the body and folded over a chair. Passion didn't remember doing that. Maybe she'd done it in the middle of the night because looking at it made something feel wrong. She slowly walked across the room and noticed Chelsea's aquarium was missing. Many of Chelsea's other belongings remained, but the tortoise was gone. Bradford was gone.

She looked toward the wall, under the tapestry. The little mimic was gone too. Passion got dressed and went downstairs to get food. She was sure she was already the talk of the morning. These bitches were so gossipy, of course they were talking about her and what she'd supposedly done wrong. They'd whisper it in corners, change their voices when she entered, and pretend they were discussing honor or training or weather. Lightning struck loudly as she entered the main hall.

The thunder followed hard enough that several people looked toward the windows. Passion barely noticed them. Her attention went to Suffering and Deceit sitting together at one of the tables. They were speaking quietly over breakfast, and their conversation stopped the moment they saw her. Then she crossed the hall and sat down with a sigh.

"Hey," she said. Both of them eyed her questioningly. Deceit spoke first.

"Is it true? Did you force yourself on Havoc?"

"What!?" Passion exclaimed.

"Is that what they're saying? No, absolutely not. I'd never do anything like that."

"Then what happened?" Suffering asked. Passion looked down at her food. The words were harder to say the second time. She'd already explained it once to Freedom and Principle, and she hadn't liked how they looked at her by the end. Still, she told it again. She made sure to remind them of the night they'd witnessed how Chelsea enjoyed being pinned down.

"Principle made it seem like I really fucked up but I don't get how." Suffering sighed.

"Oh yeah. You did." Passion looked from her food at her.

"Please explain it to me." Suffering sat back and studied her for a long moment. She didn't look angry in the loud way Principle had. Suffering looked tired, and the tiredness made Passion feel younger than she wanted to feel.

"OK. Let's put this into terms you might understand," Suffering said.

"Pretend you have a sword. It's a very fragile sword but it's a sword you're saving for one specific purpose. The sword is dearly precious to you. It's OK to touch the sword. Or let others touch it as long as no one uses it."

"OK?" Passion said.

"Now imagine if Chelsea while being allowed to touch the sword decided to take it upon herself and bring it down on a plain rock."

"Why would she do that though?"

"She just wanted to show you how good it felt to swing the sword around," Deceit added, enjoying the analogy.

"I'd tell her not to," Passion said. The words came out before she understood where they were leading. Suffering nodded with a sigh.

"What if she had your mouth clamped shut and held you down so you couldn't fight back to keep your sword from hitting the rock? You idiot, the sword is something she hadn't chosen to give anyone, and you almost used it on the servicer before she found a way to stop you." Passion stared at her. The sound of rain filled the space between them. For a few seconds, she couldn't make herself answer.

"But why would she care about it that much?"

"Why does Havoc do half of the shit she does?" Deceit asked.

"Just because you don't get her choice, doesn't mean you get to make that decision for her." Deceit laughed, though there wasn't much humor in it.

"The girl rides a fucking turtle instead of a griffin or pegasus. We may not understand why, but that doesn't mean you get to go kill her turtle." Passion looked down again. Something finally shifted into place, and when it did, it was ugly. It hadn't mattered that she stopped when Chelsea begged. Chelsea shouldn't have needed to knock the servicer over to make Passion confused enough to release her mouth. She shouldn't have needed Celeste to take control.

She shouldn't have been trapped beneath Passion, unable to object, while something wearing Ivy's robe crossed the room because Passion had given it an order. Passion had thought Chelsea's body meant yes. She'd ignored the fact that Chelsea's mouth had no chance to say no. Oh gods. She really was an idiot. She picked at her food, but didn't eat. The noise of the hall moved around her while her thoughts stayed fixed on the room upstairs. The dresses and the jewelry.

Chelsea trusting her with softness, and Passion answering that trust by turning it into fear. She didn't deserve Chelsea. Maybe she never had. When she had a chance with her, she forced Chelsea into something she desperately didn't want. Not all the way. Celeste had stopped that. But Passion had carried the moment right up to the edge and would've kept going if Chelsea hadn't found some way to make herself heard. She needed to go work out. She needed to move until the thoughts became less jumbled.

She needed to come up with some way to make it up to Chelsea, though every idea felt too small and too late. She wouldn't find an answer by sitting around staring at food she didn't want. Passion stood without finishing breakfast. Neither Suffering nor Deceit stopped her. The training compound was covered, thank Freya. The rain was coming down in sheets by the time Passion crossed the grounds. Water ran along the stone paths and soaked her hair before she reached the entrance.

Thunder roared over Valhalla, and the whole sky flashed as she stepped inside. The compound was empty. Passion stopped just beyond the entrance. In the four years since she'd been here, she'd never seen it completely empty of other people. There were always trainers, early risers, or some ambitious idiot trying to impress a Valkyr who wouldn't remember their name by lunch. Today there was no one. No trainers. No other Valkyr. No sound but the storm and the rain drumming overhead.

Passion walked farther in, each footstep sounding too loud against the gravel floor. The practice weapons were racked neatly. It felt eerie being alone. Passion stood in the covered training compound with the storm pressing against the open sides of the structure. Rain fell beyond the roof in thick silver sheets, striking the stone paths and the open yards. The emptiness made the whole place feel wrong. If there weren't any trainers, then she'd go figure out something else to do.

Sitting still was making her worse, but an empty training yard wasn't the answer. She turned toward the entrance, then stopped. There was someone on the other side of the complex. At first, Passion only saw the shape of a woman standing near the far opening, facing out toward the rain. The figure didn't move. She simply stood there, still and quiet, watching the storm. The rain was beautiful in its own way, and Valhalla looked different under this weather. Passion started across the field.

Maybe it was another Valkyr. Maybe one of them had come here for the same reason Passion had. If that was true, perhaps she could ask for a spar and beat her body tired enough that her mind finally stopped replaying the room upstairs. Halfway across the field, Passion slowed. The clothes were wrong. The woman wasn't dressed as a Valkyr. She wore casual clothing, practical and dark from the rain mist drifting in from the open side of the compound.

For one uncertain moment, Passion wondered if one of the girls had changed into something unfamiliar, but the posture was wrong too. This wasn't the easy arrogance of a Valkyr standing in her own hall. Passion kept walking. The woman turned when Passion had made it most of the way across the compound. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. She was silhouetted against the outside rain, her face hidden by the gloom. Passion knew she'd seen her before.

The memory came in pieces at first. Chelsea's manor. Lightning struck. White light filled the training yard, illuminating a cold, hard face. Passion's eyes went wide. Adriane Wixx was there for her. She walked forward slowly, each step unhurried. Passion couldn't move. She couldn't escape. There was nowhere in Valhalla she could run. Adriane stopped about twenty feet away.

"Passion," she said. Then she turned to the side and began to walk around the Valkyr.

"I was visited last night by Freya and a very very broken Chelsea." Passion stayed still. She was afraid to turn and keep Adriane in view once the woman passed out of her line of sight. She stood with her hands at her sides while Adriane's footsteps circled her.

"I was informed of the situation between you and my daughter."

"Miss Wixx plea…"

"No no no no. Don't talk. Just listen," Adriane interrupted sweetly.

"My daughter has a tendency to er… attach herself to people. Though you fucked her up, I am sure she'll bounce back and want to forgive you and apologize because that's Chelsea. That's what she does. If you made it as far as you did with her, I'm sure she's no doubt decided you're worth attaching herself to." The sweetness in Adriane's voice was worse than shouting. Passion's eyes moved toward the exits. There were several ways out of the compound, but none of them felt possible.

The distance to each one seemed longer than any other day, and Adriane's slow circle made every direction feel occupied.

"I wouldn't want Chelsea to come back to Valhalla and be missing one of the people she attached herself to. No, I can't kill you even though I desperately want to. I am here to give you a gift many adventurers could only dream of." Passion remained quiet as Adriane appeared back in her field of view. The woman's expression was calm. Too calm. Rain whispered behind her, and thunder rolled overhead, but Adriane's attention didn't flicker away from Passion once.

"Don't you want to know what the gift is?" Adriane asked in more cruel of a voice than she'd had up til now.

"Y-yes Miss Wixx," Passion answered with a stutter.

"It's the same gift I gave to my very sweet daughter months ago. She was wide eyed and still as nice as ever. You are going to receive the fabled Wixx training from the Wixx matriarch herself, me." Training? She was going to train with Adriane Wixx. For a moment, the fear didn't know where to go. This was training. Terrifying, yes, but still training. It was the same sort of training Chelsea had gone through when she was inexperienced, and Chelsea had survived it.

Chelsea talked about her family's lessons with strange fondness half the time. It couldn't be that bad.

"Th-thank you Miss," she replied.

"Alright, take out your sword," Adriane declared. Passion drew her sword quickly. Adriane's own blade came free with a smooth red line that made Passion's grip tighten. The weapon looked wrong in the stormlight. Her own sword suddenly felt smaller than it ever had before.

"Block my strikes," Adriane said. She struck. Passion barely got her sword up in time. The impact jarred through her arms and down into her shoulders. Adriane hadn't used enough force to send her flying, but the strike had weight and control behind it. It had judgment.

"This is a nice training area," Adriane casually said as she swung again. Passion blocked. The second strike came for a different angle, then a third. Adriane didn't rush. She simply moved, each cut placed where Passion's defense should've been.

"I especially like the gravel they used. It makes for sure footing while still giving the occasional pebble that can throw off your balance. True thought went into this surface when it was being built. Someone knew what they were doing." Adriane started moving faster. Passion's breathing changed. She'd fought powerful people before. She'd trained with Valkyr, broken men twice her size, and stood in battlefields without flinching. This felt different. Adriane wasn't trying to overpower her.

She was taking her apart slowly. Passion missed a strike. The red blade cut through the shoulder strap holding her breastplate in place. Another strike slipped through and cut her belt. Passion tried to adjust, but every correction she made seemed to give Adriane something new to punish. A strap fell loose. A buckle snapped. The armor that had made Passion feel like herself began to come apart piece by piece, each cut precise enough to shame her more than injure her. She swung back once.

Adriane wasn't there by the time the blade passed through the space. The next strike knocked Passion's sword from her hand. Before she could recover, Adriane moved inside her reach. The red blade flashed again and again, never touching skin, never wasting motion. Passion froze beneath the speed of it. By the time Adriane stepped back, the rest of Passion's armor fell away in ruined pieces, leaving her exposed except for her boots and what little clothing remained beneath. The storm sounded louder.

Passion stood mostly bare in front of the woman whose daughter she'd nearly destroyed. Then something moved through her body. It was sudden and bright. Her mind sharpened. Her muscles woke. Breath filled her lungs more cleanly, and the heaviness dragging at her since morning lifted enough that she felt ready to fight again. Adriane watched the change settle.

"I do need to start with an apology," Adriane said.

"My little sister is the healer in the family and is much better at this than me so it will take a little extra time."

"W-what do you mean Miss?" Passion asked. As of that moment, she'd somehow come out of the exchange unscathed. Her armor lay in ruined pieces across the gravel, but her skin was perfectly fine. Her sword was gone, and the strange ability still sharpened her thoughts, leaving her painfully awake and aware of every movement Adriane made. Then Adriane vanished from in front of her. Passion only had enough time to register the empty space before a force struck her from behind and shoved her forward.

She tried to catch herself, but Adriane's foot swept into place and stopped the movement before it could become a recovery. Passion hit the gravel hard, breath bursting out of her chest. She tried to roll. Something held her down.

"When I did this for sweet Chelsea I told her how sorry I was and that I loved her. I cried the whole time and begged for her forgiveness. But your training? I am looking forward to it." Adriane's voice stayed close, steady, and terrible in its calm. She gasped.

"Oh! Can't forget this." A hand pressed beneath Passion's chin and forced her mouth shut. Panic struck before the pain did. Passion tried to twist, or get her arms beneath herself. Bucking Adriane off was impossible. Adriane's grip kept her pinned, and the gravel beneath Passion's body became a field of small, biting edges as she was dragged forward. The pain was immediate and awful. Passion tried to scream, but the hand under her chin kept her jaw clamped.

The sound stayed trapped in her throat, useless and muffled. She reached for abilities or for anything that would weaken Adriane or push her away. Nothing answered strongly enough to do anything to her. Either Adriane was immune, or she was too far beyond Passion for the difference to show. The ability Adriane had used continued to burn through Passion. It didn't heal her. On the contrary, It kept her awake and very aware. It prevented her from passing out.

"This is what it feels like to be powerless, Passion," she said.

"What it feels like to not be able to call out or tell your assailant to stop." Passion understood. The understanding came through the gravel and through the hand keeping her mouth shut. She'd heard the words. Freedom had said them with Principle. Suffering and Deceit had explained it with a sword and a rock analogy. But now Passion felt it. She'd held Chelsea down. She'd prevented Chelsea from being able to say stop. Passion regretted everything. She understood now. Adriane wasn't the true power. Not really.

Adriane was terrifying, and this lesson was cruel enough that Passion would carry it forever, but the force behind it was Chelsea. Somehow, that small white demon had gathered the love and loyalty of people who could break kingdoms and Valkyr without difficulty. Chelsea didn't even ask them to become weapons for her. They became them because they wanted to.

"And the otherside," Adriane said in her hard voice. She turned Passion's head and pressed it against the gravel. Passion's muffled scream started again. The pain returned sharp and bright. There was no escape. Worse yet, there was no one who could stop her. It felt like it had gone on for hours. Passion didn't understand how no one had come to the training area.

The storm still raged beyond the covered yard, and the rain still struck the open ground with enough force to drown out smaller sounds, but Valhalla was never empty for this long. Someone should've come. A trainer. Another Valkyr. Anyone. No one did. Adriane had made sure of that somehow. Passion remained fully awake through all of it. That was the worst part. The ability hadn't faded. It held her mind in place, forcing her to feel every agonizing second.. She was aware that she no longer had eyes or ears.

They had long been scraped away. Then Adriane's voice came through the darkness.

"On top of everything else," Adriane said.

"You're weak. We were able to do Chelsea's entire body in one session. You'll die if I continue." Warmth spread through Passion's face. Her vision returned slowly, first as light, then shapes, then the hard lines of the training compound overhead. Adriane crouched above her, eyes full of hate, one hand pressed near Passion's ruined face while healing magic crawled through the damage. She was healing her. Passion tried to speak, but she didn't have lips yet. The attempt only sent a broken sound through her throat.

She stared up at Adriane and felt a new horror settle beneath the pain. She'd done this to Chelsea. To her own daughter. Adriane spoke of love. She'd carried Chelsea as though the girl were the most precious thing in the world. She'd looked ready to murder Passion for what almost happened in that room. Yet this was the same training she'd given Chelsea. This was what Chelsea had survived. How could anyone call that love? More healing moved through Passion's face.

Her lips weren't fully restored, but they were close enough for one word to scrape free.

"Why." Adriane's expression didn't change.

"Because you deserved to feel what…"

"No." The word came out rough and thin. Passion forced breath into her lungs and tried again. Speaking hurt.

"Why…you…hurt…chel." She wanted to say Chelsea's whole name, but she didn't have enough strength for it. Adriane's eyes narrowed.

"This is training," she scoffed.

"I wasn't lying when I said this was a gift." Passion stared at her. How was this a gift? Adriane had spent hours taking her apart and then putting her back together slowly enough that Passion could understand every piece of it. A few more minutes passed before Passion's lips and cheeks were healed enough to move properly. Her voice came out exhausted.

"This isn't training." Adriane didn't reply immediately. She kept healing.

"I remember you asking someone how Chelsea was able to take such damage from her aunt and not be in pain." Passion's thoughts moved slowly.

"This?" she gasped. Adriane remained silent. Passion had wondered before how Chelsea could endure injuries that should've broken anyone. She'd wondered how the small demon could be run through, healed, and still return to kindness. Now she understood. Chelsea hadn't been fearless. She'd been trained into endurance by people who loved her. After fifteen minutes, Adriane stood.

"I wish more than anything that I could have just kept going until you were dead." Passion rolled over with effort and pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Her body shook beneath her. The ability was fading now, leaving exhaustion behind in its place. She could barely keep herself upright, but there was one question left, and she needed the answer more than she needed safety.

"Miss Wixx," she said.

"Did Chelsea…" She stopped to catch her breath. Her ribs ached with every inhale. Her arms trembled, and the gravel beneath her hands shifted as she tried to hold herself up.

"Give you permission to remove her skin?" Adriane kicked her in the ribs. All the air left Passion at once. She hit the ground hard, bounced against the gravel, and curled around the impact while her vision began to darken. The spell had worn down too far to keep her fully awake now. Adriane took a few steps away.

"Don't ever touch my daughter again." Then she walked off toward the rain. Chelsea There was a light rap at the door.

"Chelsea? It's Maggie." Chelsea's eyes shifted toward the door, though the rest of her remained tucked against Freya's arm beneath the blankets. She hadn't moved much since returning to the bed. The armor was still on, and the shield was still tied to her hand, but she'd let Freya stay close enough to be touched when Chelsea chose it.

"Maggie? Come in," she said. The door opened carefully. Maggie entered carrying a dress over both arms. She stepped inside with her usual warmth already on her face, though it faltered when she saw the room. Chelsea was curled in bed, too armored. Freya sat beside her, large and silent, watching every movement Maggie.

"Lady Freya," she said, bowing her head. Freya didn't stop her from approaching, but she didn't look away either.

"Chelsea, I… umm." Maggie came closer to the bed, holding the dress carefully. The fabric was pale and fine, with a soft sheen that shifted beneath the bedroom light. Even folded, it had the look of something made with love.

"Chelsea, I reopened my shop. I have been collecting fabrics and specific thread as a thank you. A thank you for everything you've done for me. I made this dress. It's made with Nayeth widow thread and the cloth... It was made by Phoebe O'tair. Uh, she's a really famous S-ranker in the Tailoring guild. Sweetheart I'm so so so sorry for what happened." Chelsea's brow tightened.

"You know?"

"I was with your mother when Lady Freya told her the news."

"Oh," Chelsea said, looking down. The single word carried more shame than Maggie could bear. She set the dress gently at the foot of the bed and took one small step closer.

"It's OK sweetheart." Maggie started to reach for her. A massive hand was held up before she could get too close. It wasn't threatening, but it was firm enough to stop her completely. Maggie looked up at Freya, and Freya shook her head.

"Alright," Maggie said. She withdrew her hand at once. Chelsea didn't move. She stared down at the blanket in front of her, her fingers hidden in the fold of Freya's sleeve. Maggie stood beside the bed with her hands clasped in front of herself, trying to keep the ache off her face.

"Well I made you this dress. It's the highest quality I've ever made and I hope you like it," Maggie said quietly. The room held the words gently. Chelsea didn't look at the dress yet, but her eyes moved toward it for half a second before dropping again. Maggie saw it and held onto that tiny piece of attention because it was all Chelsea seemed able to offer. Freya remained beside her, protective and still, until Maggie stepped back.

"Thank you." Chelsea managed without looking up. It was a real thank you. Not one she would give to everyone. Maggie gave a sympathetic smile and nod before backing out of the room, "We can talk more whenever you're ready." The door clasped shut again. Chelsea leaned her head against Freya's arm again.

"Hey Chels," Freya said quietly.

"Hmm?" she responded.

"Your mother is terrifying." Chelsea's mouth shifted. It wasn't her usual smile. It was smaller, weaker, and gone almost as soon as it appeared, but it was there. She hugged Freya's arm tighter.

"Yeah. I know."