You'll regret, Freyja thought as she choked the life out of the vile creature, pulling the lock tighter and ignoring the flashes of pain the vardøgr was managing to inflict in its desperation. Good. Let it be desperate. Let it die by her hand and know it.
Eventually the vardøgr stopped struggling, and Freyja didn't loosen her grip. She knew well the last ditch effort of going limp in hopes the person attacking would stop. Freyja would not stop, not until she was sure.
When she dropped the body, the copy that looked just like her, its eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. Breathing hard, Freyja watched it as though it might suddenly come back to life. But it was dead and still and finished.
The magic shield had left her and Freyja felt the weakness taking over. She turned quickly, remembering how the copy had wanted to keep her out of the basement. Already unlocked she took the few steps towards it and yanked the door open.
There was a blast of cold air and something a little familiar on the air, the smell that came on an abandoned battlefield at the end of winter. The smell of death.
She took the stairs with care, unsure of what might be waiting for her but fearing she had a good idea of what it would be.
Freyr's body was tied on the floor, hands and feet both trussed behind his back, his clothes soaked with old blood. Freyja called out his name and ran to him, even though it was clear from even a glance that he was dead. The basement was near freezing - there was some sort of cold air machine pumping right in their direction - and touching Freyr she found him hard and chilled against her fingers.
Freyja wished she could kill the vardøgr all over again.