The Afterlife Academy Saga

Chapter 8

8

Despite the comfortable bed, I couldn’t sleep. The events of the past days were keeping my mind occupied, filling me with questions and wonderings I’d never thought about before.

Most humans didn’t believe in Valhalla anymore? If that was true, then what was the point of being a Valkyrie? Why should I dedicate my life to the service of saving their souls if they didn’t want their souls saved?

I turned on the mattress, the wooden frame groaning loudly. I froze, staying still so I wouldn’t make too much noise. I didn’t want to wake up the sleeping girl on the other side of the room.

I was used to sharing my space, but I’d never done so with a human. I’d never even seen a live human before arriving here and everything was still foreign to me. While they thought I was their peer, they were perfectly friendly, but I dreaded to think what would happen if they found out my true nature.

Carefully, I turned back on my side. The bed shrieked, but Zen never even stirred. She had to be deep asleep.

Good.

A long yawn escaped, but sleep evaded me. I could feel the exhaustion hammer in my head, but it wasn’t claiming me.

I reached out to the ball of fluff next to my pillow, earning a little happy rumble from Pickles. It was reassuring to have her with me, even if she was the one that put me in trouble in the first place.

Stroking the dust bunny relaxed me and finally, the heaviness of sleep seeped into me. Drowsy, my eyes started falling shut and my busy mind drifted away, to thoughts of someone that I wished was here but was far away. A beautiful young woman with eyes like the sun that smelled like summer…

Just as sleep was overtaking me, a loud bang jolted me back. Lights flicked on in the hallway and the bedroom door swung open. A dark figure stepped over the threshold, introducing a looming shadow into the room.

Without thinking, I jumped up from the bed and in front of Zen. I didn’t know who was breaking in or what they wanted, but this girl saved my life. I owed her protection.

“Stop!” I shouted, my fists balled at the ready. It wasn’t until the light from the lantern illuminated the intruder’s face that I relaxed.

Zen’s mother.

What did she want? Why was she barging in like that?

Dread sank to the pit of my stomach. “Is everything okay?”

She shook her head. “No. Zen, wake up!”

“Huh?” The sleepy girl rolled towards the sound, her eyes barely open. “What?”

“Wake up. Hurry. It’s your grandfather,” the mother replied, her voice choked up. “He’s taken a turn for the worse.”

That wasn’t good. I grabbed the sweater from the end of my bed and threw it on. Even if I only just met the man, I liked him. He was interesting and different from anyone else I knew. While I didn’t know what was going on, I feared the worst. If there was anything I could do for him, then I would.

With Zen half-awake and the mother dragging Alf along, we followed the wooden paths and flattened stones to the infirmary. The night was even colder than the day and the snow was that much more daunting, but there was no time to hesitate. Something was putting a fire under the mother and it couldn’t be good.

At the entrance of the infirmary, we were met with an older lady.

“How is he?” Zen’s mother asked, the worry clear in her voice.

“It’s time to say goodbye,” the older woman replied.

I could tell she was trying to keep her voice steady, but she wasn’t succeeding.

Alf tugged on his mother’s skirt. “Is Grandpa going on holiday?”

The innocence of his question silenced everyone and for a moment, nobody seemed to know what to say. Someone needed to answer the boy, but it certainly wasn’t going to be me.

I cast my eyes down, waiting for the mother to speak up. It was her job to explain the concept of death, even if humans didn’t know that much about it.

She picked the boy up and kissed his cheek. “Yes, he is.”

He was?

I frowned. Why would an old, sick man take a holiday in the middle of the night? That made no sense.

Alf’s high voice pitched through the night. “Where’s he going?”

More silence followed his question and this time, it wasn’t just him waiting for an answer. I wanted to know what they were talking about. Was this some sort of weird human adventure?

Zen stepped forward and took the boy from their mother. Dark circles surrounded her tired eyes and the wind tugged on her pyjamas, but she didn’t seem worried about any of that. “Grandpa is going to Valhalla, Alf.”

“Valhalla?” the boy echoed. “With Grandma?”

“Yes, with Grandma,” Zen replied, earning a glare from her mother.

What was that about? Was this not a good answer?

“Let’s just go inside,” the mother said, waving everyone in but halting me at the entrance. “This is a family affair, Ylva. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh,” I muttered, embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. “I can wait outside.”

“Nonsense!” a voice shouted from inside, followed with a deep, chestal cough. “I want to talk to the weird girl.”

The mother frowned and a couple of seconds passed by before she stepped aside. “He wants to talk to you.”

I should’ve been offended by the old man calling me weird, but in a way, he was right. I wasn’t like any of them.

Carefully, I shuffled through the infirmary until I stood next to the grandfather’s bed. The dim light of a candle illuminated the scene just enough that I could make out his face and the beading sweat on his forehead. He was lying down, all colour drained from his cheeks. What was left of his hair was glued to his skull from the perspiration and he looked like he’d seen better days. He probably had.

“Are you alright?” I asked, lingering at the foot of the bed. I’d wanted to come see him, but now that I was here, I didn’t have a clue what to do. I’d never witnessed someone dying, not like this.

The old man coughed again. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Zen retorted, pressing a hand on his forehead. “Do you need me to fluff your pillows?”

“No. I just want some, some...” the man murmured, his voice crisp like an autumn leaf. “Water.”

“Okay.” She grabbed the cup next to his bed and filled it. “Here.”

“Hmmm.” He lifted the glass with a shaky hand, the water dribbling down his lips and onto the sheets. “Ahh.”

As he reached to put the glass back, he hissed and the cup tumbled out of his grip, down onto the bed and with a dull clatter, onto the floor.

“I got it.” I bent down to retrieve the glass, which I put back on the nightstand. Poor man. It had to be awful to be reduced to such a weak and pathetic state. That would never happen to a Wind Child. We’d choose to retire from this world before that happened.

He lifted a trembling hand, beckoning Zen to come closer. “Tell me about Valhalla again.”

Before she could answer, the mother appeared next to the end of the bed. “Don’t start with that Valhalla nonsense again. It’s not real.”

“Yes, it is,” I replied before I could stop myself.

Four sets of eyes turned to me, all four of them filled with different emotions. Anger from the mother, ignorance from the young boy, curiosity from Zen, but it wasn’t their eyes that stood out to me. It was the grandfather’s. His were sparkling with something I hadn’t seen before.

Hope.

“I’ve never believed in Valhalla. Never, in my entire life. But now that death is nearing, I find myself wondering…” He looked expectantly at Zen and me. Despite his disbelief, he wanted something to believe in. Something that I knew to be real.

I cleared my throat, recalling the stories I grew up with. The ones that made me want to become a Valkyrie in the first place. “Death is not the end.”

“You don’t know that,” the mother countered.

“Yes, I do.” I took a breath, filtering between what I could and couldn’t say. “When it’s time, a Valkyrie will appear for you. She’ll carry you in her arms, cradling you like a child, protecting your soul. You’ll be unconscious, but when you open your eyes, you’ll see it. The Gates of Valhalla.”

“What are they like?” the old man mumbled.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” I replied, remembering their magnificence like it was yesterday. I wanted to describe it to him in detail, but that would just be suspicious. So I told him what I could. “It’s said the doors are enormous, made from solid gold. They’re breathtaking, framed by two pillars with old runes that mark your entry into the afterlife.”

“Wow…”

“When they swing open, the warmth of Valhalla will embrace you. You’ll take your place in the Golden Hall, where all fallen warriors will welcome you with open arms. You’ll sit next to Odin himself and feast under the golden shields of old.”

His eyes shimmered. “And I’ll see my love again?”

“Yes, she’ll be there.” I didn’t know if that was true, but from what he explained, she sounded like a warrior. There was a good chance she’d be there and I’d just have to hope she was.

He coughed, his breath rasping in his throat. “You’re telling it as if you’ve actually seen it, girl.”

“Maybe the stars helped me see,” I replied cryptically, earning a sad smile from Zen.

The old man laughed, but it quickly transformed into another coughing attack. “Hah, the stars. Those damned stars.”

His family crowded him even more, their worries and love shining through in every word and action. Alf tried to hand him a tissue, while Zen and the mother fluffed his pillows once again.

“How’s that?” the mother asked, her concern carving deep lines in her face.

“Better,” he muttered, his breathing shallow and his voice faint. “Much... better.”

The mother patted his back and glared at me. “You shouldn’t listen to their story. That’s just what it is, a pretty story that nobody believes in. You never believed in it.”

“I did... always think it was… nonsense.” A strange smile curled around the man’s lips as he sank back in his pillows. His breathing was slowed down to laboured inhales and exhales which seemed to take great effort on his part. “Still… This feels... like a good time to start believing in it…”

“Father...” The mother scowled at me before sitting down on the bed and smoothing out his blankets. “You should rest.”

He took another strained breath, his eyes fluttering shut. “If I close my eyes, I can almost see the Gates… I can see her… Waiting for me. She always believed… She’d never forgive me for not… for not showing up.”

The old man closed his eyes and with a faint smile on his dry lips, he took his last breath.