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Narrator: Stormy seas and lost souls. She’s dreamt of this before… They say dreams are visions of our memories, thoughts and fears, as seen by our inner eye. But what if each one of us is always dreaming even when awake? And we only see what our inner eyes creates for us? Is this what Hel is? A world shaped by Senua’s nightmares? Maybe that’s why people feared seeing the world through her eyes. Because if you believe that Senua’s reality is twisted, you must accept that yours might be too.
Zynbel: You’ve failed the Gods…You’re pathetic… rotten… cursed! What were you thinking? Did you really think you could win? How stupid can you be? Everyone hates her! She’s cursed! Look at you. A warrior? Worthless. Weak. Pathetic. Go on, feel sorry for yourself, because there is no one left to do that for you. Take it! If you’re too much of a coward to fight, then end the suffering! Broken and lost, just like your sword.
Furies: Do it. Go! Do it! Come on. Dead
Narrator: Why go on? When you give everything and face that which torments you, only to find that it is worse than you could have imagined… Why go on? Is it really so weak to ask this? Or are we just so afraid of the honest answer, that we do not dare pose the question? Sometimes the answer lies in a memory… a feeling… a song.
Furies: She’s alive. What’s that sound? It’s a song. Dillion. It’s not real. Listen to it.
Dillion: Senua! Look at me. Don’t give up. Not like this.
Furies: It is not real. It’s a trick, don’t trust it. It’s real. Maybe you’re already dead.
Senua: Who are you?
Dillion: Do you still believe in me, Senua? In us?
Furies: He comes here, it’s impossible.
Senua: Dillion…
Dillion: Come to me… please.
Furies: The light. Go towards the light. It’s him. There he is. It’s a trick in your mind. No, it’s him. It’s real. It’s happening. It’s not him! Go towards him! He’s gone, you’re too slow! We told you! It was a trick.
Narrator: Before she first met him, she was not in a good place. Just a teenager, but not like the others. Barely functioning, she rarely left the house. Her father, Zynbel, made sure of that.
Furies: You can do it! Your body is falling apart. Keep going.
Narrator: Only occasionally did she venture out on her own, collecting firewood and herbs, errands out in the Orkney plains. That was her world. Like this one, barren and lonely.
Furies: Nothing lives here, not even you. It’s pointless. There he is! Under the tree!
Narrator: There he was. The lone figure of a boy, swordplay under the shade of a tree. She remembers the first time she saw him. To her young eyes, he moved as if dancing, and the world danced with him. The gloom lifted, and for the first time in years, she felt… a ray of hope. Day after day, watching from afar, she mimicked him. Perfecting her own secret dance. Wishing those fleeting moments of light would stretch out to last forever.
Furies: You want to believe it’s real, but it’s a trick! You can’t even fight!
Narrator: How does he so effortlessly court the world in bliss? If only she could do the same… see the world through eyes anew… and dance with it just like he does.
Dillion: What’s your name?
Senua: Senua.
Dillion: I haven’t seen you before.
Senua: I’m not… I don’t leave home much.
Dillion: Oh. Zynbel’s daughter…
Senua: I have to go.
Dillion: Wait. Who taught you to fight like that?
Senua: No one.
Dillion: No one?
Senua: Well, I watched…and…
Dillion: You learnt all of that by watching me?
Senua: …
Dillion: You should become a warrior, you know.
Senua: Me?
Dillion: I’m Dillion. I’m here for the warrior trials. You should come and watch…and bring your sword.
Narrator: You can’t put it into words. That moment when you look into the eyes of the one who is supposed to reassure you, makes you feel safe… It only takes an instant. Fear swallows you before you have a chance to make sense of it. And darkness becomes a part of who you are. But her world changed the day the Northmen took him from her. Senua knows that there is no going back to how things were. That there is nothing to go back to at all.
Zynbel: The Gods can see you into your mind. They will use this power to destroy you.
Senua: They won’t stop me. I can still feel him.
Zynbel: Whatever’s left of him, they will never let him go.
Senua: I’m not going to let him rot here!
Zynbel: You’re the one rotting here!
Senua: Leave me alone.
Zynbel: You will die here and all your suffering will be for nothing!
Senua: Shut up!!!
Dillion: Senua.
Senua: Dillion? Is that you? I’ll find you, my love. I promise.
Furies: You won’t survive! She met him by the tree. Maybe it’s a sign! Take it! The sword! Don’t take it! It’s coming from there! And there! What are they!
Senua: What’s happening?
Furies: Druth! He’s here. He’s not really here.
Druth: Senua, imagine, a sword that can slay Gods! Its name is Gramr. It was forged by the God of all Northmen, Odin, and gifted to Sigmund, a great warrior.
Senua: I need this sword. It’s important. Can you help me?
Druth: The sword appears whole, but it is an illusion. It shattered into shards long ago. It is said, a great warrior can reforge Gramr by answering the trials of Odin, one for each shard. The roots of the tree of death will take you to new lands where you will face the trials.
Furies: Go to the shards! The metal. There’s the shard. Go to it. Focus.