Chapter 4: The Fallen Prince
The chains bit cruelly into Valmorr’s wrists, suppressing even the st remnants of divine strength within his veins.
With every step he took, the echo of his boots along the stone corridors rang out like funeral bells.
It was as if each reverberation whispered of his past mistakes.
As he was dragged through the dimly lit halls, even the mighty walls of Asgard seemed to have turned their backs on him.
The marble floors, which once trembled proudly under his stride, now bore the stains of his disgrace.
The door to the prison chamber creaked open heavily.
A figure stepped inside — the final shadow to fall over Valmorr: Heimdall.
Cd in shimmering silver armor that glimmered like stardust, Heimdall’s presence was both serene and terrifying.
His sword rested silently upon his back, and his golden eyes, capable of seeing across all time and space, showed no trace of mercy.
Heimdall spoke, his voice firm and absolute:
“Valmorr, you will stand before the High Court of Asgard. Come.”
Valmorr rose slowly, the clinking of his chains filling the room.
Biting down his seething anger, he growled under his breath:
“A trial?”
He ughed bitterly, a sound like broken gss.
“You have already passed your judgment. My voice will not be heard.”
Heimdall offered no reply.
Duty was sacred.
Feelings had no pce in the heart of a guardian.
Gripping Valmorr by the arms, he led him through the towering corridors toward the heart of the pace.
?
The Grand Hall of Judgment radiated with the full splendor of Asgard’s might.
Above, a vast ceiling painted with consteltions depicted the endless flow of fate and time.
The walls were adorned with carvings of ancient battles, shimmering as though alive with the echoes of distant victories.
At the center, raised upon a grand dais, sat Odin.
Cd in a robe woven with golden thread, the All-Father’s presence commanded absolute reverence.
His single eye, heavy with the burdens of countless ages, fixed upon Valmorr with a gaze as sharp as Gungnir itself.
Beside him stood Frigga, regal and graceful, her flowing gown gleaming like woven starlight.
Her eyes — the eyes of a mother — glistened with sorrow that words could never express.
Lurking in the shadows along the edge of the hall stood another figure: He.
Her obsidian-bck hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight shroud.
Her emerald eyes gleamed with an unreadable mix of emotions — pride, bitterness, and perhaps, the faintest trace of pity.
Valmorr was dragged to the center of the hall.
Forced to kneel, but never lowering his gaze, he locked eyes with Odin, defiance burning in his chest.
Odin rose from his throne.
His voice boomed, shaking the very pilrs of the pace:
“Valmorr Odinson,” he decred.
“You were born of my blood, a son destined to bring hope and strength to Asgard.
Yet your treachery, your secret alliances with the forces of darkness, and the resentment you harbored against your own kin and people, have led you astray.”
For a brief moment, grief flickered across Valmorr’s face.
But the fire of anger quickly consumed it.
“I only sought what was rightfully mine,” Valmorr spat, his voice rising with each word.
“You crowned He your heir! You cast me aside — treated me as if I were nothing!”
Frigga’s face crumpled in anguish.
Tears, as pure and crystalline as fallen stars, traced paths down her cheeks.
But her sorrow held no power to alter fate.
Odin’s brow furrowed deeply.
“A child unloved grows to hate the world,” he said gravely.
“But your pain does not excuse your betrayal.
You forged pacts with the spawn of Nightmare — enemies of Asgard.
You endangered the very blood that flows through your veins.”
Valmorr clenched his chained fists until the cold metal cut into his skin.
He felt no pain — only the crushing weight of rage and loss.
The Sacred Fme that burned at the center of the hall fred with sudden intensity.
Odin raised Gungnir high.
Light cascaded down upon Valmorr, a divine judgment he could not escape.
“O Valmorr, son of Odin,” the All-Father pronounced,
“as of this day, your name shall be stricken from the lineage of Asgard.
Your memory shall be erased from the stones and stars.
You are no longer a god.”
The words struck Valmorr harder than any bde.
He could feel the ancient magic unraveling within him — the very essence that had once defined his existence now slipping away, leaving behind only an aching void.
From the shadows, He stepped forward slightly.
Her gaze lingered on her brother, her expression unreadable.
Within her chest, a storm of conflicting emotions churned: disdain, regret, perhaps even a reluctant admiration.
Valmorr roared, thrashing against his bonds.
“No!” he bellowed, his voice thundering against the marble walls.
“I am your son! I am Valmorr Odinson!”
But the echoes offered no soce.
The gods did not answer.
Odin lowered his head.
The judgment was final.
Stepping forward, Heimdall activated the Bifrost.
A portal of swirling gold and blue fire yawned open, leading directly to Midgard — the realm of mortals.
Frigga moved toward him, her voice a whisper carried on sorrowful winds:
“Valmorr… you could have chosen a different path.”
Valmorr looked at her then.
For a heartbeat, the fury within him wavered.
Memories of childhood — of clinging to his mother’s gown, seeking comfort from his nightmares — fshed through his mind.
But the moment passed.
He tore his gaze away.
Heimdall brought him to the edge of the portal.
“Midgard awaits you,” the guardian said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Valmorr tried one st time to resist.
But the sacred chains held firm, binding him tighter than any mortal metal ever could.
With a final cry torn from the depths of his soul, Valmorr was cast into the portal.
?
He fell like a fallen star, ripped through the tapestry of realms.
Time, space, and existence blurred into nothingness until he crashed upon the cold, unyielding soil of Midgard.
Thunder roared.
Storms gathered.
Valmorr, stripped of godhood, crawled to his knees.
His clothes were torn, his knees bloodied, but his eyes — his eyes still burned with an undying fire.
He looked up at the sky.
Toward the distant, unreachable stars of Asgard.
And he swore an oath:
“To those who forgot me…
To those who cast me away…
I shall return.
And the heavens themselves shall tremble when they speak my name.”
Where his divine strength had abandoned him, anger took root.
Where his glory had faded, a new, terrible purpose began to grow.
Valmorr’s story was not over.
It had only just begun.
