Prologue
On a night where the moon was positioned high in the sky, shining down on the world of the Gods, a goddess forged a plan.
The fifty gods sat around a large wooden table, their gazes directed at the battle that was laying out before them. The scene made the gods smile, their eyes sparkling with delight.
The largest god, who sat at the head of the table, seemed amused by the sight. His white beard fell over the table, covering some of the scene. The god did not notice, however, too busy staring at the dark image before him. His one eye shone with pleasure as blood splattered the ground in the scene. The rest of the gods reacted the same, enjoying the death they were seeing.
The gods had not stopped enjoying watching humans fight to the death, even after hundreds of years. It was the best entertainment they had, and they often wondered why they didn’t hold the tournament every year. But if the cruel gods did that, there would not be enough humans. Fifty dying every year for the enjoyment of the gods was taking a step too far, and the gods would grow tired of the tournament, better to only hold it every hundred years. Though they were cruel, they were not that cruel.
The scene that was playing now, though quite brutal, was one of the most entertaining tournaments they had watched in centuries. The gods were all smirking with delight and cheering for their champions, cursing when someone would go down. Currently, there were only thirty-six heroes left, each one fighting for their lives. It was the fourth challenge, meaning that there was still one challenge left.
At the rate the heroes and died off, the gods had began to feel nervous if the challenges would go on. Luckily, for the gods, a fifth and final challenge would be happening. It was up to the gods to keep their hero alive. If the champion’s blood spilled, it was the god’s duty and burden to bear.
A red-haired god swore, leaning back in his chair. His hero had died. Only thirty-five more remaining.
For the rest of the gods, every death that wasn’t their own champion was something they wished to see. Every drop of blood that was spilled on the battlefield was a sight of all the gods pleasured in.
As the screen on the large table faded to black, all fifty of the gods looked around at one another, handing out glares. The lady sitting beside the largest of the gods lightly touched the bearded god’s arm, smiling with reassurance.
With the end of the second challenge, the gods were bound to feel worried for their champion’s survival. The goddess of love, Freyja, replayed the things she had seen her champion do. She would have to visit the girl tonight in her dreams if she wanted her to continue to survive.
Freyja always enjoyed visiting champions in their dreams. She found it to be a good way of connecting with the human world. Her current champion—a fiery red-headed girl—could win the whole competition. She had the fight and desire, along with knowledge to outsmart the rest of her competitors. Though, if the girl wished to win, she would have to continue to fight hard for the champion of Hel, the goddess of death, was even more brutal and heart-less than a god.
Freyja had watched her champion fight like hell against the goddess of death’s human equal, landing many hits against the girl. The fiery girl, though, had been close to losing her life, and that worried Freyja far more than it should have.
Normally Freyja did not care for the champions, she instructed. She knew they would die, anyway. This new champion, however, she had a potential none of her previous champions had had.
Freyja only hoped that it would pay off.
She cared for the girl she had visited in dreams and did not wish to see her corpse laying on the ground. She wished to see the girl standing with her hands up in happiness at her victory. Freyja knew it was a stupid hope, but hoped nonetheless.
As Freyja watched the other gods leave, she noticed one had stayed. Nott, the goddess of the night, stood watching Freyja. The two great goddesses looked at one another, their eyes locking. Freyja knew not all the gods enjoyed watching the heroes die. Nott was one of them.
“Your hero is strong.” Nott said, bowing to Freyja.
“So is yours,” Freyja said. “The two of them have formed a bond.” The goddess of the night nodded.
“For that very reason, I hope they live.” Freyja stared at the other goddess. Confusion on her beautiful face.
“Forgive me, Nott, but there is no way both will live.” Freyja said, raising her eyebrows. Nott hinted a smile.
“Do we know that?” She said. Freyja’s confusion only deepened. “The tradition is for there to only be one winner, but tradition can break.”
Freyja thought about it for a moment. She supposed the other goddess was right, though she was not confident anyone was brave enough to defy the gods.
“That would take a very brave soul.” Freyja said. her hero was brave, but brave enough to defy the gods? Freyja wasn’t sure.
“She could do it.” Nott said. Freyja knew exactly who she was talking about. “That girl could do anything if she only dared.” Nott finished.
Nott left without another word, leaving Freyja even more torn. Her hero would not do what Nott said, but Freyja wanted to keep her hero alive. She wanted to see both Nott’s and her hero alive.
On a night where the moon shone down onto the world of the gods, a goddess made a vow. A vow to keep the girl of eternal flame alive.
Freyja, the goddess of love, was going to create a hero that would be spoken about for millennia to come.
