CHAPTER 2: “GHOSTS IN THE STARS" “VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA”

BY WILLIAM WARNER

“VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA” CHAPTER 2: “GHOSTS IN THE STARS”

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The soft hum of light pierced the corners of my mind as I began to stir. I felt warmth on my side—the warmth of her. My eyes cracked open, adjusting to the golden hues spilling in from the tall hexagonal skylight above us. I turned to find Emily nestled against me, her raven-black hair fanned across the satin pillow like ink spilled across parchment. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, and for a moment, everything felt still. My body, though changed, felt whole in this world, wrapped in clean linens and the comfort of her presence. I didn’t move right away. My thoughts flickered between what had happened—my old body, the battle against the Shark People, the new form I had awoken in—and the intimacy we shared the night before. Despite the foreign stars shining above us, I felt grounded in this moment.

Eventually, I slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb her. The floor beneath my feet was a smooth, cool stone—like the kind you’d find in spa resorts back on Earth, but even more polished. The architecture of the Scandinavian-style home was triangular and elegant, modern but steeped in tradition. Tall, angular windows let in soft light. Every edge of the house was efficient, yet warm. My feet padded quietly toward what I assumed was the bathroom, a small alcove off the main bedroom.

To my surprise, it was empty. No toilet. No sink. Just a sleek, empty space with a mirror on one wall and a faint scent of eucalyptus. At least there was a shower.

“Uh, Emily?” I called out.

From the bed, her voice carried, soft and amused. “Let me guess—you’re looking for a toilet?”

I stepped back into the room, arms slightly raised in question.

She sat up now, sheets held against her chest, and laughed. “We don’t need them. Our bodies were designed—engineered—not to produce waste. Everything we consume is used. Total efficiency.”

“You mean… no poop?” I blinked.

“Nope.” She smirked.

I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. “That’s… weird. Kinda awesome. Definitely a miracle.”

“Just one of many in Skaalandr.” Said Emily.

Breakfast was already underway minutes later. Emily, now dressed in a loose-fitting robe that shimmered with silver trim, stood in the clean, open kitchen flipping pancakes on a curved stove that used no heat source I could see. Aromas filled the room—spiced berries, vanilla, something buttery but better than anything from Earth.

I joined her at the table, a modern slab of black stone with metallic veins running through it. As she set down two plates, I glanced out the massive panoramic windows. The view was almost unreal: the backyard pool still rippling from the breeze, and beyond it, the sprawling skyline of Skaalandr, its towers glimmering like blades of glass reaching into the morning sky.

So,” she said, sitting across from me, “what do you think of Skaalandr?”

I took a bite of pancake and nearly moaned from the taste. “It’s better than Earth. Cleaner. Brighter. Like someone took the best parts of the future and mythology and made it real.”

Her smile dimmed just a bit. “Yesterday… when you said you wanted to go back to Earth for revenge. What did you mean by that?”

I hesitated.

The word hung in the air like frost.

I didn’t want to talk about it—not now, maybe not ever. The pain of my past, the betrayal, the torment, the bullying, the shame—it all still burned too brightly behind my eyes.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything.”

Emily stared at me for a moment longer, as if trying to read the rest of my sentence hidden beneath the words I’d spoken. She gave a small nod, but her shoulders had stiffened.

“I want you to trust me, William.”

Before I could respond, the sound of rushing water and a deafening crash split the air.

We both shot to our feet.

The pool in the backyard exploded in a geyser of light and foam. I rushed to the window, eyes wide. Hovering just inches above the pool’s surface was the Chainsword—the one I had manifested during our mission. Its blade glowed with blue runes, dripping with some kind of energy that crackled like fire.

Emily ran out first. “Wait—!” I tried to grab her arm, but she was already sprinting toward it.

She reached out.

The moment her fingers touched the hilt, a flash of white light erupted from the blade and hurled her back with a scream. Her body hit the ground like a puppet cut from its strings.

“Emily!”

I ran to her, falling to my knees beside her motionless form. Her skin was pale, lips parted. My hands hovered over her, unsure of what to do, panic rising in my chest.

Then, a metallic clatter behind me.

From the kitchen, a small silver canister rolled into view, hissing with escaping gas.

I turned just as it popped open, and a flash of light burst forth. A small creature—part light, part mist, part energy—flew straight at Emily’s chest.

It fused with her body.

She gasped.

Her eyes shot open, irises glowing for a brief moment before returning to green.

“What the hell was that?!” I shouted.

She coughed, then sat up, dazed. “An Immortal… It saved me.”

I blinked. “That’s… that’s the second one.”

My mind raced, and the pieces fell together. Subi. That quirky scientist must’ve snuck the spare Immortal into my luggage.

I darted back inside and opened my suitcase. Sure enough, the disc-shaped form of my armor gleamed within. I tapped the center, and the disc unfolded, crawling across my body in layers of interlocking plates until I stood fully armored.

Emily joined me moments later, still wobbly but alive.

“We need to find Subi,” I muttered.

“And Droid L-84,” Emily added.

We left the house and headed toward City Hall. The streets of Skaalandr buzzed with activity—hover cars zipping past, people of all species going about their day. Some looked like elves, others like androids or hybrids. I didn’t have time to stare.

When we reached the capitol, its massive ivory steps led to a hall of towering pillars. Inside, we found Joseph leaning against a wall, talking to Serenity. Subi and Droid L-84 were nearby.

Joseph smiled as we approached. “Perfect timing. We were just about to leave.”

“Leave?” I asked.

“To Helios,” Serenity answered. “There’s a meeting with King Ragnar. We need to discuss the Shark People.”

“And afterward,” Joseph added, “we’ll help you figure out how you got here—and what’s inside you.”

“And now me,” said Emily as she looked at me.

“What does she mean by that?” Joseph said, confused.

I looked at Subi with suspicion. “Ask the doc. I’m curious as to why there was an Immortal in my suitcase last night?”

“I thought you could use a gift to give Emily.” Subi said in confidence.

But Droid L-84 was furious and I was starting to be myself.

“Just because those creatures aren’t harmful to its host, that doesn’t make it a wise decision to hand them out as party favors.”

Subi nodded, and I figured the Immortals inside of Emily & I are more useful than a hindrance. So I suggested that we’ll discuss this later.

We all head to the motherships. It should be a quick trip.

We arrived near Helios.

The shuttle’s engines vibrated beneath our boots as we broke away from the orbital dock, escorted by a V-formation of Black Bird Warships. Outside the hull, space unfolded like a silent abyss, distant stars flickering through the black void like cold fire. The warships around us moved with silent menace, weapons armed and ready—each one bearing the insignia of the Valkyrie Coalition. They weren’t just for show. This escort wasn’t precautionary. It was protocol for high-value assets… and we had just become those assets.

Inside the cabin, the glow from the status panels bathed everything in a sterile blue hue. I could hear the hum of the life support system, the occasional chirp of automated diagnostics, and the quiet rustle of gear as Emily adjusted her shoulder harness. She sat silently beside me, gazing at the readout that displayed our destination: Helios.

“Approaching planetary orbit,” the pilot announced over comms. “Prepare for descent through the polar atmosphere.”

Subi leaned forward, his sharp elven features caught in shadow. “You’ve never been to Helios before, have you?” he asked me with a tilt of his head.

“No,” I replied. “I just got here.”

His lips twitched into something between a smile and a warning. “It’s a hard planet. Wild. Old. You’ll feel it in your bones the moment you land.”

The moment we broke through the cloud veil, I understood exactly what he meant.

Helios stretched out below us, vast and otherworldly. The upper hemisphere was framed by towering mountains, their jagged peaks blanketed in ancient snow that glistened under the pale glare of twin suns—one golden and warm, the other bluish and distant like a dying star. At the base of those mountains, dense alpine forests spread like green veins across the land—black pines and needle-leaf evergreens swaying in stiff winds, their shadows long and thin over the rugged terrain.

Between these lush forests and the high ranges lay vast plateaus of cracked red stone and icy ridgelines. Further south, the landscape gave way to endless salt flats—barren expanses of white crystal that shimmered like glass—and shifting desert valleys of pink and copper sand. The collision of biomes looked surreal. In one direction: snow-covered peaks and frozen streams. In the other: canyons, mesas, and skeletal trees baked by solar winds. It was as if every extreme of nature had collided to birth this one world.

And to my surprise... It reminded me of home.

“Utah,” I said under my breath.

Emily turned toward me, her eyes a soft green in the dim light. “What?”

I gestured toward the terrain out the window. “Helios… looks like a twisted version of Utah. The Wasatch mountains. The red-rock deserts. Even the Bonneville Salt Flats. It’s like someone ripped pieces of Earth and stitched them back together wrong—but it still makes sense.”

She looked again, and a subtle chill passed through her. “I see it now. It’s beautiful and… terrifying.”

Subi nodded in agreement. “Helios has that effect. It’s a frontier planet. The old gods of this place never left. They just went quiet.”

We dropped into the upper atmosphere, and the shuttle rocked violently as we passed through sudden thermal currents. Ice crystals formed and shattered across the glass, and alarms briefly flared before stabilizing. Our escorts spread wider, maintaining distance as we descended toward a valley cradled between three mountain ranges.

“This landing zone used to be an old mining hub,” the pilot informed us. “Now it serves as a military outpost. Ground temp is 9 degrees Celsius, with scattered snow. Stay sharp.”

As we approached, I could see the landing platform nestled against a granite cliff face dusted with early snow. Beneath us were fortress-like structures built into the stone itself—bunkers and hangars reinforced with steel and glass, some half-buried in snow drifts, others glowing with thermal energy. Wind turbines dotted the ridgelines above, spinning lazily in the thin mountain air.

The shuttle touched down with a hiss of pressure valves and a metallic groan. The ramp lowered into snow-laced gravel, and the chill bit into us the moment the cabin doors opened. I stepped out, boots crunching into a mixture of frost and dust, and was immediately hit by the scent of pine and something acrid—maybe old fuel or ozone.

Breath fogged in front of our mouths. In the distance, massive mechanical titans that strode like armored beasts—patrolled the mountain passes. Soldiers in adaptive invisibility cloaks moved along the outpost perimeter, their movements crisp and deliberate. On a far cliff, I spotted what looked like a watchtower fused with a cathedral—its spires rising into the clouds like frozen lightning.

I took in a long breath, letting the cold fill my lungs, and for a strange, fleeting moment… I felt grounded. Helios was brutal, wild, and unforgiving—but it was real. It didn’t pretend to be safe.

It dared you to survive.

Emily stood beside me, arms crossed tightly, her eyes scanning the ridges above. “We’re not on Earth anymore,” she muttered.

“No,” I replied. “We’re somewhere older.”

We hadn’t even taken our first steps into the heart of the planet… and already, the world was whispering warnings.

The great hall of Helios loomed ahead, carved into the mountain’s edge like a fortress of legend and innovation fused into one. Towering stone columns—etched with ancient Norse runes glowing faintly with energy—flanked the entryway, while angular metal scaffolding laced the upper structure in sleek, modern contours. As we stepped inside, the temperature shifted slightly. The crisp alpine air gave way to a temperate warmth, maintained by unseen tech embedded in the walls.

The interior was massive—cathedral-like in scope—its ceiling lost in a mesh of hovering chandeliers and arched beams that gleamed with traces of silver, copper, and glowing blue conduits. Everything felt like it belonged to another age and yet far ahead of ours. Rows of long, heavy wooden tables lined with metallic inlays stretched across the hall floor, flanked by warriors and diplomats from across the Vikingnar Empire. Most wore armor or robes that felt distinctly “Viking”—fur-lined cloaks, braided hair, ornate tattoos—but it was all merged seamlessly with technology: armor plates that shimmered with holograms, weapons magnetically latched to glowing belts, HUD visors resting above their eyes like ceremonial circlets.

There were Wulver people too, tall, broad, and imposing, with piercing animalistic eyes, ears that twitched slightly at the noise, and thick pelts in shades of gray, gold, or midnight black. One of them stepped forward, standing out from the others—not just for his striking black and gold armor, but for the graceful, fluid way he moved, like a seasoned warrior and priest combined. His name was Anubis, a Wulver elder who seemed both revered and respected.

"You must be William," he said, nodding with a calm authority. His voice was deep and melodic, vibrating slightly in his chest. "The king will arrive shortly. Please, take a seat."

We did as he asked, settling at the central table that faced the dais at the head of the room. I glanced at Emily beside me, her green eyes scanning the room with a subtle tension. Joseph sat quietly, his hand resting near the hilt of his weapon. Serenity adjusted a projection pad on her wrist. Droid L-84 stood still, but the soft red glow of his optic sensors pulsed as if in thought.

Then the great doors at the far end opened with a metallic groan.

King Ragnar entered, flanked by his royal guard in glistening dark steel. His presence was magnetic—tall, muscular, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak over hybrid armor that hummed with energy. His silver beard was braided, and his piercing blue

eyes locked onto mine the moment he entered.

“I’ve heard much about you, William,” Ragnar said as he approached the table. “Talvas IX still echoes your name.”

I nodded respectfully, unsure what to say. He took his place at the high seat, leaning forward slightly. “Let’s begin.”

Droid L-84 stepped to the front of the room. A holographic model of the galaxy lit up above him, orbit lines and wormholes glowing in blue and red.

“There have been developments,” L-84 said, his voice perfectly calm. “Our intelligence reports that Deathskull has made significant progress in bypassing the Wraith.”

He gestured to the red-glowing tunnels in the hologram. “The Wraith, as you know, is not merely a gateway—it is a fluid interdimensional membrane. Imagine it as an ocean. When ships pass through wormholes, they dip into this ocean. But the violent currents of that dimension create... storms. Those storms tear at the barrier between realities. That’s how the Shark People and other demonic entities breach through.”

A ripple passed through the room—murmurs, glances.

“But Deathskull’s new project,” L-84 continued, “creates a sort of elevated corridor—a spatial highway above the Wraith. Like flying over the ocean, rather than through it.”

He manipulated the hologram. A new path appeared in golden light, arcing high above the swirling Wraith tides.

“If this technology works,” L-84 explained, “it could dramatically reduce the number of Wraith storms, and cut off the interdimensional breaches that have allowed demons to enter our galaxy.”

It sounded brilliant. Logical. Clean.

Except... I stood.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said, surprising myself at how steady my voice sounded. “You’re acting like the Shark People are just demons crawling through cracks. But they’re not. They’re organized. They travel in hive ships. They operate as a collective mind. They’re not just crossing into our realm by accident—they’re invading.”

All eyes turned toward me. Ragnar said nothing. His gaze was intense but unreadable.

“These creatures were designed to devour,” I continued. “Planets. Ecosystems. Civilizations. They’re more than just beasts—they’re weapons. A plague manufactured to wipe out organic life. The Wraith is a tool for them, not their home.”

Subi, sitting across the table with his arms folded, sighed heavily. “He’s not wrong.”

Everyone turned.

Subi leaned forward, tapping the edge of the table. “The Shark People—if you can even call them people—are biologically engineered. I’ve studied them. They adapt. Evolve. They’re not random. Shutting down the Wraith is just buying time from those aliens. As for the actual demons that inhabit the Wraith… Sooner or later, those demons will learn how the walls of their reality work... and find other ways to enter ours.”

There was a heavy silence. A cold gust of alpine wind swirled through the open window slats high above, causing the banners to rustle gently.

“So,” Ragnar finally said, “what do you suggest, Subi?”

Subi hesitated for only a moment. “We shut down Wraith travel for at least a few days. Monitor the results. We need to see if the demonic incursions lessen. But long-term? We need a real solution—one that doesn’t just shift the problem.”

Everyone looked surprised. Myself included.

I clenched my fists beneath the table.

“I never agreed to that,” I said, quietly. “We shut down Wraith travel, and I’m stuck here. I still need to get back to Earth.”

Ragnar leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable once more. “And you will, William. In time. But right now, survival takes precedence over vengeance.”

His words struck like a hammer. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

The meeting moved on, but I stayed silent, my thoughts consumed by home, by everything I’d lost... and everything I didn’t yet understand.

As the meeting concluded, the great hall began to empty with a shuffle of armored boots and murmured conversations. Outside, the light of Helios was beginning to shift—moonlight sliding toward evening, casting long, dramatic shadows from the jagged mountain peaks beyond the city. The cold breeze rolled down from the snow-kissed ridges, mingling with the warm desert air and carrying the scents of pine resin and scorched sand.

Ragnar and I stepped away from the crowd, descending the hall’s granite steps, the sound of our steps swallowed by the open air. His posture was relaxed, yet there was something buried beneath the calm: a weariness, maybe even a burden he carried quietly on his broad shoulders.

I looked over at him. “Ragnar,” I began, the words slowly leaving my mouth, “can I ask you something personal?”

He gave me a sidelong glance, that intense, pale gaze of his still carrying the weight of leadership. “You already have.”

I took a breath. “Wilson. Why does everyone see me as me now? As William?”

Ragnar paused. The wind caught the edge of his fur-lined cloak, tossing it back like a banner. “Because Wilson has been dead for a long time,” he said, voice level. “He died during the second Siege of Vaelor Crater. Subi was barely a teenager when his sister was murdered by him. That changed him—matured him too quickly, maybe. Since then, everyone’s only known the man who came afterward.”

I stared off toward the horizon, letting his words settle in. “But… How do they all know me? Everyone keeps saying my name like I belong here.”

“Because you do,” Ragnar said. “The stories of Talvas IX reached every colony. You—William—stopped an invasion. That doesn’t go unnoticed, even out here in the stars. Whether or not you remember all of it... that kind of heroism leaves a mark.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure if I felt like a hero. Not anymore.

Then, he shifted the conversation. “You’ve been restless ever since we landed. I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking of Earth.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “More than anything.”

“But going back now,” Ragnar said, “without understanding what you’ve become… it would be dangerous. For you, and for Earth.”

“What do you mean?”

He folded his arms, looking out across the alpine-dusted ridges of Helios. “There’s something inside you—something ancient. Immortal. If you want answers, you’ll find them on Cybrawl. That world holds secrets even I haven’t touched.”

The name sent a twinge through my chest—Cybrawl. The way he said it made it feel less like a planet and more like a vault waiting to be unlocked.

“And what about you?” I asked. “Where did you come from, Ragnar? You… and all of this? These worlds? These people?”

Ragnar turned to face me fully. “I believe in gods,” he said, “but not the kind that sit in golden halls or demand blood for favor. I believe in creators. The Nasga People. They were our architects—ours, the Wulvers’, the Elves’, Crimseeds, the Droids, other humans and maybe even the Shark People. They forged this galaxy like a blacksmith forges steel: raw, brutal, beautiful.”

“And now they’re gone?”

“Vanished,” he said. “Some believe they ascended. Others think they were destroyed by the very things they unleashed. No one really knows. But that’s why I’m coming with you to Cybrawl. I’m looking for them, too. Or at least… the truth they left behind.”

For a while, we stood in silence, watching as two suns dipped toward the edge of the mountain range—one a pale yellow disc, the other a smaller, colder blue light that cast a haunting second shadow.

Ragnar’s voice broke the quiet once more. “The galaxy doesn’t give many chances at clarity. When it does, you take them. Cybrawl could be the key to everything—the Immortals, your situation… even the Nasga.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of my journey stretch out before me like the valleys of Helios, treacherous and vast.

“Then let’s get moving,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I want to know how I got here. And what’s waiting for me back on Earth.”

Ragnar clapped a hand on my shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Then we start with Cybrawl.”

Ragnar and I made our way to the docking bay, where Emily, Serenity, L-84, and Joseph were already waiting. To my surprise, Ragnar’s family was there too—his wife and kids geared up like they were joining the mission. I wasn’t sure if bringing them was a good idea, but Ragnar didn’t seem concerned.

We boarded the long-ship together, the engines already humming with power. The vessel, carved with Wulver runes and fitted with high-tech systems, lifted off smoothly. Within moments, we were leaving Helios behind, heading into the stars on our way to Cybrawl.

The hum of the long-ship's engines created a constant low vibration beneath our boots, a background rhythm to the clatter of voices and tech-chatter on the bridge. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, and after the heavy talks back on Helios, I needed a moment away from the noise—away from the pressure of destiny, demons, and politics.

Emily must've sensed it too.

We locked eyes across the corridor, sharing an unspoken understanding, and quietly slipped away from the bridge. The metallic halls of the ship were dimly lit with thin neon lines that pulsed gently, like veins channeling life through a beast of steel and circuitry. The doors to our barracks opened with a hiss, revealing a small but comfortable private room with padded walls, a low bed, and a viewport that offered a haunting glimpse of the stars bleeding past us in streaks of white and violet.

The moment the door shut, it was like the war outside had stopped.

"How are we getting to Cybrawl if we’re not using the Wraith?" I asked, leaning back against the wall while Emily took a seat on the edge of the bed, her green eyes reflecting the glow of the lights above.

“Light speed,” she answered smoothly, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “There’s no dimensional jump this time, just raw speed and navigation.” Then she tilted her head slightly, her expression sharpening. “But you’re not really asking about the ship, are you?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re always dodging things, William. Always hiding something. Why are you so secretive with me?”

Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was soft—but cutting, like a blade of ice wrapped in velvet.

I swallowed, stepped closer. “You already know what I want.”

She looked down for a moment, her expression unreadable, then met my gaze again with more fire in her eyes.

“Then stop focusing on what’s not here,” she said. “Start focusing on what is.”

We were quiet for a beat—just the subtle hum of the ship and the breathing between us.

And then she stood, closing the distance.

We kissed. Not desperate or dramatic—just real, human, grounded. A moment carved from everything we’d lost and everything we still feared. The galaxy could fall apart outside the hull for all we cared.

I held her close, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her sleek jumpsuit, my hands gliding down her sides until they reached her legs. She wore her high black leather boots again—tight-laced with reinforced seams and padded soles, a practical beauty. I traced my fingers along the edge of them, a small indulgence. She didn’t stop me.

In that quiet moment aboard a warship slicing through the stars, I didn’t feel like a Wulver or a savior or whatever title people were trying to pin on me.

I was just William.

And she was Emily.

And for now, that was enough.

The long-ship exited light speed with a smooth deceleration as our destination appeared on the forward display—Cybrawl.

Looking out the viewport, the planet came into view like a sleeping giant—half jungle, half machine. There were no oceans, just a massive sprawl of alpine jungle, metallic mesas, and towering black pyramids etched with glowing circuitry. The entire world pulsed like a living supercomputer.

We’d arrived.

Only a small group was cleared to touch down—myself, Emily, Serenity, Joseph, Anubis, Ragnar, and of course, Droid L-84, who had been unusually quiet since we dropped into orbit.

Our landing craft—the Black Bird—was prepped on the hangar deck. With its razor-thin frame, folded wings, and matte black armor, it looked more like a stealth bomber than a shuttle. It thrummed with silent energy as we boarded.

“You built this?” I asked L-84, my hand trailing across the polished hull on the way in.

“My people did,” L-84 replied, his voice perfectly modulated but edged with pride. “Cybrawl manufactures some of the most advanced interstellar technology in the galaxy. Not just for Vikingnar, but for dozens of other civilizations. If it runs on circuits, there's a good chance it was born here.”

The ship launched, slicing down through the clouds and into Cybrawl’s atmosphere.

Outside, the landscape shifted fast—endless jagged mountains cloaked in mist, thick pine-like forests with violet-tinted needles, and massive clearings where technology overtook nature. From the air, the giant pyramids glowed with a cold, intelligent light, each one alive with motion—elevators climbing vertical rails, drones circling like birds of prey.

“No oceans?” Emily asked, peering out the window.

“There were once,” L-84 answered. “They were siphoned off centuries ago to power geothermal cores. Now the jungles hold what’s left of the water table. Still have to have oxygen for guests. This planet doesn’t need oceans—it’s a machine world.”

I leaned forward, watching the terrain flash by beneath us like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. Everything felt ancient and cutting-edge at the same time. It was like flying through the guts of a sleeping god.

“I thought you knew everything,” I said to L-84. “So why bring us here?”

L-84’s mechanical eyes flicked toward me. “Because even I don’t understand the Immortal creatures. Not completely. They don’t obey the same rules as the rest of us. Their DNA... their neural patterns... it’s as if they were built with knowledge we forgot how to make.”

“So we’re here to remember,” I said.

“Exactly.”

The Black Bird banked and descended toward a wide clearing where a landing platform rose above the jungle canopy. Hexagonal in design, the pad shimmered with embedded runes—Cybrawl tech.

We landed with a clean, mechanical hiss. The ramp dropped. Heat and static prickled against my skin.

I stepped out onto the landing pad and into Cybrawl’s air. It was thick, clean, and buzzing with invisible energy. The sky was a gray-purple, casting a cold tone over the alien vegetation that rustled around us.

The pyramids loomed in the distance—cold, massive structures of obsidian-like metal covered in flowing script. They hummed softly, not with electricity, but with something deeper—a pulse, like the heartbeat of the planet.

Joseph whistled. “And people live here?”

L-84 nodded. “More than you’d expect. Scientists, programmers, data-harvesters, AI architects. Most live deep inside the pyramids—connected to the data streams.”

Emily stepped beside me, brushing her hair back. “It’s beautiful... in a cold, terrifying sort of way.”

“It’s what built everything you’ve ever seen,” L-84 said. “But something we don’t understand. That’s what we’re here to find.”

Ragnar crossed his arms. “Then let’s find it. Before the Immortals build themselves a throne on top of all this.”

Anubis gave a single nod, his crimson eyes scanning the tree line.

And with that, we moved into the jungle shadows—toward the heart of Cybrawl.

We stood before the towering black obsidian pyramid, its sharp edges slicing the harsh light of Cybrawl’s twin suns. The air was heavy with a hum of power — ancient yet pulsing with raw energy, as if the whole structure was alive, breathing beneath the cracked surface.

Suddenly, from the pyramid’s main entrance, a figure emerged. Deathskull.

He was an imposing sight — tall, skeletal, draped in gold armor that gleamed like liquid metal. His face was half machine, half ancient warrior, with glowing red eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and gravelly, layered with mechanical distortion that made it sound like a chorus of iron scraping together.

“Welcome, travelers,” Deathskull intoned, his tone formal but not unfriendly. “You have come far. It is not often I grant an audience to outsiders.”

Ragnar stepped forward respectfully, his voice steady. “We thank you, Deathskull. Your reputation precedes you. We seek to learn and to acquire knowledge — to better understand the threats that loom beyond.”

Deathskull’s red eyes flickered. “Then you have come to the right place. Within these walls lies technology forged through millennia of war and innovation. But you must understand—knowledge is power, and power is perilous. Use it wisely.”

He turned, gesturing with a gauntleted hand, and led us inside.

The temple’s interior was a fusion of ancient architecture and cutting-edge technology. Smooth stone walls etched with glowing runes were interspersed with holographic panels and mechanical devices humming with quiet energy. The scent of ozone mingled with the faint aroma of burnt metal.

As we moved deeper into the pyramid, Deathskull stopped before a large circular platform, embedded with a matrix of lights and crystalline conduits. In the center floated a shimmering portal, a rippling veil of translucent blue that shifted like liquid glass.

“This is the test portal,” Deathskull explained. “It represents a new frontier in travel—one that bypasses the chaos of the Wraith.”

Droid L-84 stepped forward eagerly. “My leader has long sought to solve the dangers posed by the Wraith during wormhole travel. This portal operates on principles of spatial elevation—like flying above a storm, rather than diving through it. It should drastically reduce exposure to Wraith energy and the demonic entities it unleashes.”

I examined the portal’s surface carefully. It seemed stable, yet shimmering with a latent, almost hypnotic power.

“I can’t believe you people bent time & space without thinking of the consequences in the first place.”

Deathskull’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You may test it, but beware: the unknown awaits on the other side.”

One by one, we stepped forward. The air shimmered as we passed through the portal’s threshold.

The moment we stepped through the portal, the shimmering light faded, and we found ourselves standing on a planet that looked surprisingly familiar—but not in the way I expected. Instead of ancient ruins or grand, mysterious temples, the landscape was dominated by sleek, metallic buildings and towering structures that looked like something straight out of a NASA or SpaceX facility back on Earth.

Giant pyramidal complexes rose from the ground, but they were clearly modern—made of smooth metal and glass, covered with blinking lights and cables snaking between them. There were no signs of age-worn stone or creeping vines, just the cold, precise lines of advanced technology. The ground beneath our feet was a mix of cracked dirt and patches of dry jungle foliage, but there were no oceans here, no sprawling cities—just this high-tech colony built deep in a wild environment.

I blinked, stunned. Ragnar’s face mirrored my disbelief.

“This isn’t an empire,” I said quietly. “It’s a colony—a NASA and SpaceX outpost.”

Emily looked confused, glancing around. “Wait... so this is Earth tech? Built by Earthlings?”

I nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place.

“Yeah. That means Earthlings were the first to discover this galaxy and set up the original colonies. You built everything here—the Droids, the Wulvers, the Elves, the wildlife, and even the genetically modified humans. It was you!” Emily said, with excitement.

Everyone else was silent, their faces showing shock. Including mine. I & everyone else expected ancient civilizations or mysterious ruins, not a modern space facility that looked like it belonged on Earth.

I furrowed my brow. “But how? When I left Earth, our technology wasn’t even close to this level. Vikingnar’s ships are far more advanced than this junk yard!”

She looked at me, her voice dropping. “Are you saying you came from Earth… but from the past?”

Her question hit a nerve. I didn’t know the answer. That question made my stomach twist. I had no explanation—just uncertainty.

Before I could respond, Droid L-84 spoke up, his voice steady but concerned. “The Immortal creature inside you may be connected to this. It could explain your presence here.”

Deathskull’s glowing eyes locked on me. “This creature might be the key to why you are here—and how.”

I swallowed hard. The truth I sought was tangled up in something I barely understood, something alive inside me.

The seven of us followed Deathskull back through the portal. The shimmering light dissolved around us, and suddenly we stood inside a massive, shadowed vault beneath the towering metal pyramid. The air was cool and heavy with the hum of advanced machinery. Walls lined with glowing panels flickered softly, casting eerie blue light over rows of strange containment pods. Inside some of the pods, translucent forms drifted—these were the Immortal creatures.

Droid L-84 gestured toward a cluster of figures in lab coats working diligently at various consoles. “These are some of my colleagues,” he explained. “We’ve been experimenting on the Immortals, trying to replicate their abilities and understand their nature.”

A tall, graceful Crimseed woman with shimmering, rust-red skin stepped forward. Her eyes were bright with intelligence and a hint of weariness. She introduced herself softly, “I am Valrra. I study the Immortal phenomenon.”

We gathered closer as she began. “The Immortals are enigmatic beings. They possess the ability to travel through space and even time, but the mechanism remains a mystery to us. They seem to exist beyond conventional physics, slipping through realities like ghosts.”

I frowned, frustration knotting in my chest. “So we don’t know how they do it?”

Valrra shook her head. “No, and that is the most troubling part. Without understanding, we can only guess at their true power.”

Emily reached for my hand, her voice gentle. “William, breathe. We’ll figure this out.”

But anger welled inside me. “I don’t want to figure it out—I want to go home.” I turned abruptly and strode out of the vault, the sterile hum of technology fading behind me.

Outside on the steps of the metal pyramid, I sank down heavily, head in my hands. The desert wind whispered through the strange alien jungle surrounding us. The weight of everything was crushing.

After a moment, Emily appeared and sat quietly beside me. Her presence was steady, but I could sense her own worry beneath the calm.

“I’m going back to Earth,” I said quietly, my voice raw. “With or without you. I need to get my revenge.”

Emily’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she said only, “Then I’m coming with you.”

I looked at her, touched by the simple, fierce loyalty in her words. She reached over, taking my hand and holding it tight.

Slowly, others began to gather outside the pyramid. Ragnar approached, his usual stoic expression shadowed by concern.

“So this is where we are,” he said, his voice low. “You and Emily. Together.”

I nodded, trying to steel myself. Everyone seemed to be wrestling with the enormity of what they’d learned—where I came from, who built the civilizations we relied on. But Emily seemed different, more withdrawn, as if hoping the world could shrink just enough to keep me close.

Then, without warning, chaos erupted.

A sharp crack echoed through the still air.

Ragnar’s eyes widened in shock as he clutched his throat, staggering back.

A bullet had struck him.

His face paled as he fell to his knees, blood spilling between his fingers.

“Ragnar!” I shouted, leaping to his side.

Emily gasped, horror etched across her face.

The peaceful air of the pyramid’s steps shattered in an instant.

Someone among us had fired.

And the hunt for answers had just turned deadly.

---

“VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA” CHAPTER 2: “GHOSTS IN THE STARS”