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―Ah...!
She was lamenting.
The Tree of Life, whose origins were a mystery even to itself. A single drop of its sap could turn a desert into grassland, and grassland into a forest. That was who she was.
Had things gone as they should have, her overflowing life force would have enriched the entire world. But the scar left by the Evil God prevented that from happening. The pain, so excruciating that she could barely hold onto consciousness, often became so unbearable that time lost all meaning.
She could still vividly recall those eyes—black, wicked scales covering them, filled with mockery and malice. Those eyes belonged to an incarnation of evil, one that had once tried to engulf the world in death.
―Verdandi...! Urd...! Skuld...! Pour the Water of Life into me...! The invaders have returned! I don’t know if I can hold on any longer...!
The goddesses, who were meant to care for her, had fallen silent long ago.
The goddesses, who should have poured the Water of Life into her branches that reached all the way to Asgard, no longer responded.
The gods, wiped out in the God-Slaying War, were gone, unable to heed her calls.
And yet, she kept crying out, again and again. Her perception of time and reality had long been shattered by Nidhogg’s poison. She was still locked in a struggle, battling the minions of the Evil God from...
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