Hel
queen of the quiet dead
Hel keeps the hall of those who die of sickness and age, her face half-fair and half-corpse; to dream of her is not doom but honesty about what waits, unhurried.
Fragments
She sets a place at her long table for everyone who does not fall with a sword in hand; the feast is patient, and no one leaves early.
Her plate is called Hunger and her knife is called Famine, yet she rules without cruelty — only without mercy.
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