Prologue: The Birth of a Hero
"Push, my love, push... you're almost there."
The darkness around them churned, howled - though nothing was truly there. The realm of death was alive with the echoing sounds of birth, as if every contraction made the ground upon which they stood tremble.
That, at least, was how they felt, for they knew they were doing the goddess's work.
Bargrim petted his wife's hair, his hand placed gently on her stomach, where his soon-to-be child was fighting his way to the prospers of life in death. Just as they. He bided his time, waiting for the goddess to deliver their son, knowing he would be healthy, and strong - and would serve well in the war... a war that had been over many cycles ago.
Cries shrieked through the void around them, first from the mother, then the son. Without further haste, Bargrim took his axe and split the woman's skull in two, releasing her to the confines of death once more.
Within the long, twisting labyrinths of that realm, Bargrim licked the blood from his wife and son and raised the child high above the limitless darkness surrounding them - then threw the child as hard as he could. The goddess would see that he served her well in both life and death, just as they served her now.
"My life I give to You, Dakkru - become stronger by me and empower our people. Empower my son, Fjor, for he will have no mother or father. We live only with You, to forever bring our offspring back to mystical Yliakum and do Your bidding." Dropping his axe into the void, the diaboli stood on the edge of the bridge where his only son was born. He unsheathed the knife on his belt and without second thought he slit his own throat, his lifeless body plummeting into nothingness.
