《Superheroes in the Modern Age of Gods and Heroes》


 Chapter 1: Fallen Idols and Coffee Tete-a-Tetes

    ¡°. . . Heroes are and have always been, beyond the reach of the common man, glorified and lorded, they stand at the peak of humanity, remembered in epics, sagas, legends and myths. Immortal and undying, their fame, feats of bravery, the list of their deeds and their often-tragic endings, are retold and passed down generation after generation. Their true death staved off so long as their songs of glory are sung.


    ¡°So too will Heron¡¯s Shadow¡¯s song of glory, sacrifice and her tragic loss to us all, be remembered and retold, forevermore.¡±


    Staring up at the huge screen in the middle of the huge throng of people, all crowded and packed into Cronos Square, a young teenage girl stared and mourned the loss of her hero, the huge crowd all her companions in grief. Heron¡¯s Shadow, a superhero of a generation, distant grand-daughter of Horus, the Egyptian God-King, once she flew with an army of birds of prey, now she sleeps in the Mausoleum of Heroes.


    While heroes come in many forms, many achievable with effort, learning, dedication or skill, to be a superhero, you have to be born with your gift and all gifts come from the ancient gods and all descendants come from the Grand Temple of Nexus. The teenage girl watched with the rest of the crowd as the Speaker of Heroes, finished his soft and simple eulogy, one that had become the traditional honour for fallen heroes, though only the greatest of heroes earned the Speaker himself giving the address. The girl knew that the sadness would pass, as it did for all the rest of her idols and heroes, because that was just the way of the world.


    She still remembered the lessons from her history class and of her History Teacher, Mrs Morgan, telling herself and the rest of the class of her own girlhood heroes and their eventual fall and how a few of them had even made it into the history textbooks siting on the desks in front of each of the students. Just another form of retelling the epics of legends.


    Tears rolled down her face as she realized that her idol was now reduced to a story to be retold, a figure to be remembered rather than watched. Shaking her head, the girl turns and pushes her way out of the crowd of mourning, the press of bodies having become suffocating. With much effort and grim desperation, she breaks out of the crowd, finally able to take a deep breath, her body sweaty and shivering.


    Turning to look back at the massive screen, now showing the many scenes of Heron¡¯s Shadow¡¯s tribulations and triumphs. Closing her eyes in pained remembrance and turning away again, she pulls the hood of her jacket over her head and skulks away, the world suddenly feeling so much colder and unsafe than moments before.


    Hurrying, her pace swift, even rushed, and almost a jog, she headed home, in the hopes that it will feel safer than the world outside, shame burning in her guts, remorse clogging her chest at her urge, her need, to run and escape to safety. However, as she was about to leave the square, she noticed the figure of a man standing apart from the crowd, not just physically or figuratively, but innately, like he was beyond them, as if one or the other could not exist at the same time and place.


    A divide separated them, with even an inch being the breadth of existence.


    Then he turned and looked at her, and she discovered that the distance that existed between the crowd and him, didn¡¯t exist between the two of them. There was a bridge, a connection, between the two of them, one that baffled the girl, and unnerved her, because she had never seen this man in her life, or not her life that she had memories of.


    She stared at him with unease, noting down his every detail trying to place where this connection came from. He was dressed in a suit and tie, with a formal yet still relaxed tone to his presence, the black suit with emerald green tie seemingly a reflection of his demeaner. Warm golden blonde hair, the colour of molten gold, with its undertones of red and orange, cut short on the sides but was long and straight on top and at the back, reaching well beneath his broad shoulders. Low forehead, razer straight nose, bold cheekbones and firm jaw outline form his face, a clean handsome look, even a little gorgeous in some respects, especially if you see his clear summer green eyes. Tall but not lanky, muscular but not exaggerated, he was perfectly balanced and proportional, with a solid stance even when relaxed, she realised that to many of her friends, this was a wet-dream worthy male.


    Yet she felt no attraction whatsoever, that connection almost whispering to her.


    ¡°Family.¡±


    She had only glanced down for a moment when she heard the voice, rich and mellow, filled with care and deep kindness, making her gaze jump up from the pavement and from her minute distraction. She stared at the man, now suddenly only a few feet away, a shiver going down her spine, her body freezing in shock as she stared gobsmacked as the word ¡®family¡¯, he had spoken, chimed within her as the name of the connection.


    There was just one problem with that.


    She had been in foster care for her entire life. Her entire life. From the moment she arrived in the hospital to now, she never had a family, no parents, no siblings, no relatives and no pets. The man¡¯s eyes were infinitely gentle as he reached out his hand, his voice soft and soothing to her suddenly raw nerves.


    ¡°You have questions, many that you didn¡¯t even realize you had before this moment and I will answer them all, no matter how difficult they may be. All I ask in return is the chance to explain everything. There is much for us to talk about Alannah Aine.¡±


    Aine Ashling shivered, hope and fear bloomed in her in equal measure before reality and logic reared their ugly heads, the chances of a man in his early thirties being her father were actually fairly decent, but would he just suddenly appear? Reason dictated not. She took a step back and shook her head as she turned to walk back to the crowd, hoping to lose the stranger and then leave via a different street. And how do I understand Alannah means ¡®dear child¡¯?


    His voice called out to her, full of pained understanding and wistfulness.


    ¡°Please Aine, I know you have no reason to trust me, I know that I have yet to earn it, but I promise you that I never abandoned you, I¡¯ve been here by your side your entire life. I watched on as you made your first sound, as you first opened your eyes, at your first steps and listen to the first word you ever spoke.¡±


    She looked back at him, his expression heart-wrenching as he held out a length of thin silver chain in his hand, dangling at the end of it was a triangular piece of green and gold metal. Aine¡¯s heart thumped in her chest as the amulet she had since birth became warm, like it had found a long-lost part of itself. Suddenly a random thought jumped out of her tangled mind.


    ¡®The best clich¨¦ is the oldest one.¡¯


    She pulled her amulet out and looked at it. Its form was of a Celtic Knot in the shape of a cross with each of the limbs of the cross being of equal length. The centre of the cross was dominated by a beautiful rough roundish green garnet, while each of the cross¡¯s limbs had a polished amethyst inlayed at the centre of the knots on the limb. If you looked and felt closely you could tell that the amulet was not whole, it was missing exactly four pieces, its true form being a circle, however the amulet seemed to have been intentionally made that way. Which meant that there were four pieces somewhere in the world that fit and were apart of her amulet, why four pieces and not one piece or two pieces she didn¡¯t know.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    But Aine looked up and back to the stranger, a man who was presenting himself as her long-lost but ever near father. He did say he would answer all her questions. But the lessons of the modern world haunted her, could this be some elaborate trick, Aine closed her eyes, her emotions overate from repeated highs and lows. Aine clenched her teeth, opened her eyes and straightened her back, staring at the man with a quiet but still fierce determination, her voice firm and rock steady.


    ¡°I know a caf¨¦ close by, you have thirty minutes to convince me, if you fail to do so I want you to leave and if I ever see you again, I am calling the police. Agreed?¡±


    He sighed, his expression of pained acknowledgement clearly telling her it was less than he¡¯d hoped for but more that he had expected, he gestured in the direction of the caf¨¦, clearly, he was aware of the caf¨¦¡¯s existence already. Whether that was from knowing the area or from knowing her, was up for debate, still, Aine wouldn¡¯t let it shake her decision, she had promised thirty minutes and she would decide on everything after that.


    They walked side by side, Aine keeping an arms-length of remoteness between them, for the short distance to the caf¨¦, her mind running though the questions she had that needed to be answered. After maybe ten or so minutes of walking down the street, lined with apartments and small businesses they arrived at her favourite caf¨¦, nestled on a street corner. The rich aromatic smell of coffee greeting her, the familiarity reassuring her as he pulled open the door and held it for her. It was jarring that this man, a man that could be her father, had yet to tell her his name, it became the first question she determined she would ask, best that she didn¡¯t stay in the disadvantaged position of him knowing who she was and her without even a clue as to his name. She glanced at the caf¨¦ bar looking for the face of the owner and her best friend, also a fellow ward of the state, Jillian Fitzgreen, and the reason she felt that it was safe to meet her supposed father here.


    Jillian worked like a storm behind the bar, almost single handily working the expresso machine and chatting up a storm with the caf¨¦ customers, Aine felt a smile creep out onto her face despite her current personal issues. The green eyes of the man standing beside her followed her gaze and looked between them, his eyes calm and kind, he knew of their close friendship, he also knew that Aine had helped fund the initial start of the caf¨¦ with Jillian with a loan. Jillian had insisted on it being a loan and not a gift, paying Aine back every penny and with interest every month down to the hour. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he watched his daughter, he glanced to the corner of the caf¨¦, a table had become free as they walked in and now one of the staff had just cleared and wiped it down, so he gave a light cough.


    ¡°A table is free in the corner Alannah, they will bring us our coffee there, I took the liberty of ordering for you, vanilla and hazelnut latte, two sugars, full cream milk, with a peanut cookie on the side. A bit sweet but I suppose it is one of your few indulgences.¡±


    His voice clearly displayed his fondness, but Aine suddenly realized that not even her coffee order was safe. And when had he ordered them coffee? And why hadn¡¯t Jillian noticed her yet; Jillian normally has a sixth sense for when Aine would show up. The door behind them opened and a couple walked in hand in hand, the young man using his shoulder to hold the door open, her ¡®father¡¯ quickly pulled Aine out of the way just as the couple almost flattened her. Aine almost blew her top at both her ¡®father¡¯ for touching her and the couple for almost running her down, when a chill runs down her spine, when it hits her, they couldn¡¯t see her or him.


    He is looking at her with kind patience, like a father in peaceful and expectant joy waiting for his child to take their first steps, she stared at him suddenly slack-jawed as it occurred to her that her ¡®father¡¯ may not be completely human.


    ¡°I¡¯m not, I never was, and that couple is about to steal our table if we dawdle much longer here by the door, not to rush you of course Alannah, I can free up another table if you want to take your time. But it won¡¯t be your favourite spot in the corner if I do, I have limits that I have to abide by at the moment and it will be hard to subtlety influence someone who just sat down to suddenly need to leave. Not impossible mind you but certainly more difficult than making those who have been here a while feel a need to move on.¡±


    Aine stared at him, before turning and quickly walking to the table, sitting down before the couple made it half way across the distance from the door to the table, it was petty, but her not so human ¡®father¡¯ was right, this was her favourite table. She stares at the couple as they suddenly change direction in a seemingly natural way and sit at a table nearby, before looking at the calm indulgent smile on the man now siting opposite her that just screamed ¡®caring father¡¯. It irked to her to say the least, even if he was her father, not that she thought he was yet, he didn¡¯t get to look at her like that, not before she let him. It didn¡¯t matter what reasons he had, he wasn¡¯t there for her, he had never held her as she cried or cheered her as she triumphed, invisible ghostly presence didn¡¯t count as being a father. Not to her.


    His smile dimmed at the look on her gentle featured face, he sighs as he realises that he is still trying to move too fast, his eagerness to be apart of her life after so long on the sidelines was coursing more harm then good for his cause.


    ¡°I apologise, I am being overly invasive, it must be uncomfortable for a virtual stranger knowing the things I do about you, no matter the reason he gives, you have been more than generous with your courage and patience in continuing to agree to speak to me. You probably have questions, but before you ask, you have a choice to make. On the one hand, I can give you a normalised truth of the events of your birth and we can pretend that we are both completely human and your life goes on as normal, the strangeness of today a memory we can conveniently forget with time.


    ¡°You won¡¯t have to change your life or be involved in the dangers that come from this part of your heritage, but you will also never truly know who you are or where you come from. You will also never have the chance to complete your amulet. I don¡¯t say this to try and force or bully you, I simply won¡¯t be able to hide you from the eyes of others like me if you know who you are. ¡®Ignorance is bliss¡¯ is not just a saying Alannah, it has meaning, it can keep you safe, but only if you stay ignorant to your heritage.


    ¡°On the other hand, I can tell you everything, from the complete truth of your birth, to the lineage, gifts and dangers you have inherited and the reasons they were hidden from you, but you must know that once you do know everything, I wouldn¡¯t be able to silence the truth of your existence again, you are not a babe anymore.


    ¡°Now you can make this choice now and only now, I won¡¯t be able to visit you like this again, not for a long time, maybe even a lifetime, so take your time and ponder what you want and if you want your current life to remain unchanged, because it will be dangerous to tell others, not only to you but to them and not for the reasons you may think. Everyone has a heritage and lineage sleeping in them, it may be many times removed from the source, but it is still there, and times are changing, ancient magic, powers and history are awakening, just as new, wonderful and terrible events are occurring. Heron¡¯s Shadow¡¯s death was merely the start of them and things are bound to chance in way you don¡¯t understand, not yet or maybe ever.¡±


    His eyes were filled with a pained love, the kind where you were torn between what you wanted for your child, Aine stared into them and realised that he truly believed that he was her father, whether it was a fact to her or not was secondary. She also knew he was telling her the truth, his words resinated with something inside her and it wanted to know, it wanted to come out, this other part of her wanted to be free of the darkness, it wanted to take hold of it¡¯s history, it¡¯s past and then seize it¡¯s future.


    She took a breath, closing her eyes, the beat of her heart like a giant, battering her ribs in a bid for freedom as she felt the world narrow, a life altering decision was upon her, the classic two roads stretching out before her and the choice was all her own. Breathing out she opens her eyes and stares dead into his, her voice firm with determination.


    ¡°You seem to have me at a disadvantage Dad, care to tell me about yourself? You who really are that is.¡±


    His eyes actually glowed, his skin starting to shine, his body broadened and grew, becoming larger than mere human and closed in on starting to look heroic.


    ¡°My name is many and to many tribes and clans, to some I am Lugh L¨¢mhfhada, to others as Lleu Llaw Gyffes and many more names and titles besides those to others more. I was once a High-King of the Isles and now a God of the Celtic Pantheon and you, my Alannah Aine are my daughter.¡±

 Chapter 2: Uninvited Guest, Awkward Father, Inquiring Daughter

    Aine stared at him, his body giving off a gentle light and warmth like the sun in winter, his eyes kind. She swallowed and asked, her voice trembling.


    ¡°I¡¯m a demigod! What happened to my mother!? Why did you wait 23 years to tell me!? Arhhh, how do I not have any . . . signs . . . that I am the daughter of a god!¡±


    He smiled patiently, he reached out and cupped her face in a gentle caress, his touch warm and soft like a feather, as his thumb brushed her cheek. She was angry that he looked at her like that, furious that he just reached out to touch her without ask after not even answering even one of her questions. But the moment he did, her eyes became wet as she leaned into his slightly rough hand, she had never felt this, never felt so safe and loved, she could feel it through his hand, his emotions and even almost his thoughts. All of them were of her and how much joy and happiness he felt that she acknowledged, accepted, him as her father. His voice was gentle as he spoke next.


    ¡°The statement that you are a demigod is only half true. As you are not demi anything, because you have no human, or otherwise mortal, half. As for where and who your mother is, that is a tad more complex and the reason why there were no signs or clues to your divine heritage, that is the simple part but it in turn is tied to a more multifaceted and longer story. This long story also explains why I didn¡¯t tell you sooner about your heritage. Or be the father you were entitled to. But I try to can make amends here.


    ¡°Some years ago, before you were born, a few gods with my pantheon received a grand prophecy, so powerful and with so much inevitable momentum that it would be impossible to divert or change. It would happen and any that attempted to stop or revolt against it would be crushed by it. Nexus itself advised against being a mere bug before a tsunami. Soon, we gods gathered in council, within our own pantheon, but as some of us reached out to friends in the other pantheons we discovered the terrible truth. It was not just us in Britannia that were to be swept up in the grand change, but our entire world. And so, we were forced to ally and speak to those we would have much rather have fought to the metaphorical ¡®death¡¯ with.¡±


    He paused with a grimace, clearly still disinclined to the necessary measure, his eyes flicked to Aine¡¯s face, his expression softening back into a fatherly smile. Aine got a clue that her part in the story was coming up, as her father continued.


    ¡°We . . . we made a bargain, we couldn¡¯t interfere directly, but our children could, or so we thought until . . . we learned that our ¡®children¡¯ were already apart of the grand change. Only, they were the children of an ¡®us¡¯ from other worlds and other realities, demigods that due to many reasons, were banished, sent, taken or were even coming of their own volition to our world. They are ¡®our¡¯ ¡®children¡¯, the gifts ¡®they¡¯ wield come from ¡®us¡¯ and in name ¡®they¡¯ serve ¡®our¡¯ interests, but can we trust them? Nexus says not and we are inclined to agree, until they prove themselves were cannot leave the stability and wellbeing of our world in their hands.


    ¡°Nexus also informed us that we were forbidden from interacting physically with mortals, manifesting on the Mortal Plane or interfering in the changes that would happen in a physical manner. Which dashed our plans of creating a stabilising element within the grand change to try and direct or control the actions of the whole, since we are forbidden to lay with mortals to create ne demigods.


    ¡°Heron¡¯s Shadow is or was one of the last Gods Blood Heroes, a child or a lucky descendent of a demigod, those that are left now lay under a doomed star, and ill omens surround them. Horus attempted to have Heron¡¯s Shadow retire and step aside, but she refused, we suspect that either fate or even Nexus itself, made an example of Heron, the goal being to clear the way for others. And . . . and to show what happens to those that refuse to bend to the winds of change. If it is fate¡¯s will then it is clear that all the heroes of the current age will fall into the Kingdoms of the Underworld to make way. If it was Nexus then it was a warning, brutal and clear, that those who refuse to get out of the way will die, and that we, the gods, do not take ¡®no¡¯ for an answer if we wish for our descendants to live beyond the grand change.¡±


    Her father, Aine still could not get over the shock of having a father now, let alone that he was also a god, sighed, clearly forlorn and reminiscing; Aine realising that this may not be the first time that her father had encountered the children or descendants of the gods under ill fate, and maybe. . . maybe even his own. She watched his eyes, seemingly lost in thought, memories and sorrows of an old past intruding on this modern present, stealing his attention from current¡¯s problems. Not really knowing why, maybe because she wanted their reunion not to be tainted with hurt, but his pained sorrowful expression cut her heart and made it ache, she reached out her hand and clasped his in a firm, but hopefully comforting, grasp.


    His eyes regained their glow and presence as he turned his gaze back to her, his expression containing his joy that she cared and a determination, for what Aine didn¡¯t know, but she knew, in the deepest part of her, that it was about her. Her father looked down, gathering his thoughts, before straightening his back and looked up to gaze into her eyes and starting to speak again. Aine felt a shiver down her spine as she stared back at his serious expression.


    ¡°We, the gods, came to a . . . understanding and an alliance . . . of sorts. We needed something to bind our pantheons together, while also providing a loophole in the rules by which we were bound by to limit our interference. It was Freya of the Norse that provided a compromise, Aphrodite of the Greeks that gifted the answer and Isis of the Egyptians that offered an example that sewed it up nicely. Freya offered herself in a marriage, but only to one that was her equal in both magic and war, Aphrodite suggested that rather than marriage, the oft product of marriage, children, should be the answer. And Isis concluded that, like her son Horus was once the God-King of Egypt, so too could their fully divine children walk the Earth as true gods, albeit in a limited form.¡±


    Her father kept his gaze on Aine, his expression becoming guilty.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I suggested a means of sorts in Faerie, a land that existed as one with the Earth but a step to the side and one that was relatively simple, especially for a baby, to leave, if some help was provided from both sides of the veil. It was a variation on how in the old days some would, both the desperate and the despicable, trick mortals by switching out and kidnapping their babies, though whether to raise as their own or to devour depended on the Lesser Fae using the trick.¡±


    Aine had a mildly horrified expression form, before shaking the image out of her head as a thought came to her, she looked back to her father, her voice hesitant.


    ¡°How did you stop us from . . . becoming gods . . . I guess?¡±


    Her father smiled kindly as he responded.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t, you are a god, merely an extremely weak one, near mortal in fact, we, your parents hid your divinities, placing them out of sync with you. Now that you have changed from when we parted you from it, now that you have grown at a mortals rapid pace, while your divinity is still infantile, it will take centuries for it to play catchup as it will be growing at a pace it normally would have. It takes many centuries for a god to grow and appear before mortals, even if it sometimes appears that they spring from nothing fully formed and grown.¡±


    He ponders for a moment before he smiles, his eyes crafty with mischief and humour.


    ¡°Have you heard of how Athena, Greek Goddess of Wisdom was born?¡±


    Outside the caf¨¦, thunder suddenly rumbled, and a storm began to brew, iron grey clouds gathered, threatening to disgorge a downpour of rain and erupt with lightning in a thunderous fury. Aine looked out the windows of the caf¨¦ with a frown, her gaze turning back to her father, his eyes gleeful, it didn¡¯t take a genius to know that he was teasing someone. The question was who? Athena? Or one of her parents?


    The question must have been clear on her face because he grinned, glanced about and then whispered over the table to her, which, if you tried whispering over a table you would know that it was futile. If you actually whisper, the person across from you wouldn¡¯t be able to even hear you, so really it was all an act on his part, more body language than anything else. But that didn¡¯t mean she could keep herself from playing along, as she leaned in to listen.


    ¡°Athena was born from the mind of Zeus, King of the Greek Pantheon of Gods, after Zeus swallowed Athena¡¯s mother, Metis, whole, after he had laid with her, due to a prophecy that should she carry a son, that son would eclipse in wisdom and overthrow his father. However soon after Zeus was struck by crippling headaches, so desperate was he to remove the issue he ordered that his head be spilt open with a great axe. From the wound sprang Athena, fully armed for war and with a beauty to stop the sun in the sky at noon, and wisdom that not only eclipsed Zeus, but all the Greek gods.¡±


    Aine looked at her father with a distasteful look on her face, while the story portrayed Zeus in a poor light she didn¡¯t see where the mischief in her father¡¯s eyes came in. He continued smiling, as he continued speaking.


    ¡°What few know is that Athena was born ahead of time, every god has a personal territory, commonly referred to as a domain, a pantheon often links these territories or domains together. Examples would be Faerie, Olympus, Yggdrasil and so on, these worlds are built using the personal territories or domains of the gods apart of that pantheon, sort of a membership fee almost to join a club. The more gods, the more robust and stronger the Pantheon¡¯s Divine Kingdom, now this is not the same for every god, there are exceptions, gods of the underworld like Hades, Hel, Osiris to name a few.¡±


    He gave Aine a happy grin as thunder roared outside and rain began bucketing down, taking a glance outside with mischievous raise of his eyebrows before looking back at her.


    ¡°Long story short, with Athena running amok in Zeus¡¯ domain, trying to get out, teenage angst as the modern world calls it, Zeus was forced to let her debut into the world ahead of time.¡±


    Lightning stuck a street lamp just outside the caf¨¦, her father lost his grin, his eyes darkening with a flash of fury, his green eyes fading to grey.


    ¡°You seem to forget, you are not the only god, now how about; You! Butt! Out! Of! My! Teaching! Moment!¡±


    The sky roared and rumbled, shaking as if an invisible war was being fought, before the storm of grey clouds, pouring rain and thundering lightning abated. Aine stared at her father as his eyes brightened back to a now tired green, weariness showing on his face as he slumped slightly in his chair, a worn-out smile on his expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Alannah, I felt someone spying and when I clued into who it was, I decided to tease them, but it is clear that they either had a short-fuse today or I took it to far.¡±


    Aine looked out at the sky as she asked, her voice shaky.


    ¡°Was that Zeus?¡±


    Her father laughed, his face and mood better for it.


    ¡°No, just someone borrowing his power and authority, Zeus is too proud of Athena to regret anything wrong or embarrassing he may or may not have done that led to her creation. No, the reason I told you that story was to give context to your situation, you and the others like you, are not currently connected to your domains, your personal territories. It is in these special personal places that reflect who a god is, indeed, it reflects what they are a god of as well, it is the root and foundation of their, and your, identity as a god and the source of your divinity, your power.


    ¡°Without it, you are still a god, immortal and eternal as any god is, but ultimately, you are without the strength to affect the grand change to come. Now I know that I have told you the ¡®why¡¯ of your existence, and I am truly sorry that it wasn¡¯t out of love but necessity that you were planned. The ¡®how¡¯ and with ¡®whom¡¯ is what I have yet to tell you, it is a longer story and full of more than a bit of my own foolhardy arrogance.¡±


    Aine raised her eyebrows, her face must have been making that face daughters only make to their fathers, that one that said, ¡®you promised, and I want it now, not later, now!¡¯ face. He winced and gave out an awkward chuckle, pulling at his collar and looking away as he cleared his throat and sighed.


    ¡°So, as you might have guessed, it is a story that I really wish to tell at a later date, not only for my own sake, but also because it will unnecessarily complicate things. So instead, I hope to distract you with a shiny offer and that is, do you want to reconnect with your divinity and hear about something else instead?¡±


    She stared at her father, his helplessly uncooperative and reluctant expression, it was clear that this was a tale that he found not only embarrassing, also damaging to his prestige. She could also strangely tell that what he was most worried about, what he feared above all else in this situation, was looking less than infinitely capable in front of her, his daughter. She was strangely happy that he cared so much about how she thought of him.


    Not mentioning that he was totally trying to avoid doing as he promised, but at least he was being up front about it. She suspected that he didn¡¯t think he would make as much progress in talking to her, as if he had thought that he would have more time to tell her who her mother is. Instinctively, she knew that a possible sticking point was her mother, maybe their relationship was poor, a thought suddenly struck her, if it was, did this mean her parents were divorced?


    She stared hard at him, as she took a calming breath and told him her thoughts on the matter.


    ¡°. . .¡±

 Chapter 3: Cursed Fate and Last Gambles

    ¡°Theoretically, if I wanted to accept this rather bare and open attempt at bribery, would reconnecting with my divinity be . . . painful? Like ¡®feeling¡¯ like you are being dragged bare-arsed through a rose hedge, burned alive or some other horribly inconvenient but ultimately non-life-threatening pain? I mean I¡¯ll still do it . . . probably, but I¡¯d like to know beforehand, so I can prepare myself, or you know, talk myself out of it. Whichever seems better at the time.¡±


    Her father raised an elegant eyebrow, a human would have to go to a beauty parlour for a similar effect, but he could probably wake up looking like that. She paused, is that why she never had bed head? As if gods just don¡¯t do sloppy appearances? Or if they do it was likely intentional . . . maybe. She looked back to her father¡¯s eyes, who was looking back at her with amusement written on his face, she blushed, Jillian said she had a ¡®face¡¯ when a new or random thought would pop up in her head, one that said she was off in her own world of thought. Her father didn¡¯t mention it, clearly trying to stay in her good graces, as he responded to her question, his voice and posture now relaxed with a poorly disguised mirth.


    ¡°No, from others that have re-synced with their godly domains we have observed that it is a mix of an itch and maybe something I guess that could be described as a ¡®good¡¯ pain, similar to a wound on its way to mending. Though that is not absolute, merely what we have so far observed, with only one notable exception, though given the domain he was reconnecting to it is completely acceptable. This is quite ¡®cutting edge¡¯ as mortals might say, theory, which is another reason I delayed appearing to explain everything to you.


    ¡°Blatantly selfish I acknowledge, but I have grown remarkably jaded and indifferent to the opinions of most others over the centuries. Especially when it will be my child that would bear the price of maintaining my good repute, I have had more than enough of my children die due to ¡®following¡¯ in my footsteps or ¡®living¡¯ up to my reputation. It is empty and hollow, with nothing but fleeting platitudes and apathetic glories that do nothing to comfort, only to remind me that my children are still dead, and it was for an ultimately petty and small reason. Especially in comparison to what could have been.¡±


    His voice had transformed halfway though, from having only a hint of bitterness to being consumed by it, it was cold and grim by the end, harsh and grating to hear and spoken as a whispered hiss, aching with pain and regret. Aine stared at her father, his shine gone, and a gloomy oppressive atmosphere now surrounded him, the smell of ozone present in the air around him, the air feeling charged. As if a storm that had swallowed the previously clear sky and bright sun and was now about to break out, terrible in its potential and threatening violence as it sat on the skyline of wrath, on the cusp of roaring its pain at the world. It was a cold hatred, one that had been supressed and pushed down, compressed and restrained, losing any of its previous heat, no matter how hot, as it coiled tighter, the danger of it increasing as it waited, slowly trying to find its breaking point.


    She was terrified.


    Aine swallowed nervously, a chilly drop of sweat slid down her spine as she stared at a volcano, one that if it went off would unleash a new ice age and a decades long blizzard. All it needed was a spark in the right place, a hole in the armour, a reason to vent, with the only things holding it back being a worn pride and good heart.


    But they were quickly beginning to tarnish from the harsh indifference of time and cruel neglect of solitude. He was lonely, desperate and growing increasingly dangerous and indifferently selfish in response, with an ever-growing fear of emotional loss. Aine wasn¡¯t a psychiatrist or a therapist, in no why a mental health expert or analyst but sometimes you don¡¯t need to be one. Sometimes it is just instinct, that feeling in your chest clutching your heart like a stress toy, the thing in your guts twisting them out of shape or the numbness and cold you feel in your legs when you freeze and lock up in place.


    It tells you to be careful, to take caution needed here, to stop, think and then act or it simply cripples you.


    Here, at this moment as she stared at her father, as she truly sees the dark thoughts and emotions he possesses, Aine knows he is at the edge of sanity, that his grip, tight and crushing, was about to shatter the cliff he is hanging from. She had sensed it, his joy of her accepting him as her father, even if they were not that close or familiar with each other yet, he has hope. Which also meant he was at his most vulnerable emotionally. She had a feeling that if something happened to her, he would not cope, he would simply let go and explode in a self-obliterating suicidal frenzy. Suddenly, instinctively, she glanced at the blackened and scorched street light outside the caf¨¦, almost threateningly close to where they were sitting, it had certainly been dangerously close to the public.


    Her thoughts rolled back to something he had just said, ¡®blatantly selfish I acknowledge¡¯, she thought he had been angry over the danger to the public or over the gesture itself, but she realized that it was about her.


    He had been furious at perceived threat to her, his daughter, possibly his last and only, whether the threat was real or imagined was unimportant. She could tell that he had had other children, but what happens when you keep losing them and have only stories and legends among mortals to console you? She had not read or even heard of many tales or stories of either Lugh L¨¢mhfhada or Lleu Llaw Gyffes having children, or even the rare grandchildren that were born, that ever lived past their relative youth.


    She quickly glanced back to him, he was like her, he had moments where he retreated into his own mind, lost in his thoughts as he was now, except that his thoughts were dark, lonely and painfilled. Trapped with his regrets and for who knows how long he would remain so, she swallowed her fear, terror even, even after she thought she understood, as she reached out to touch a man trapped in the darkest and most nightmarish place a person could be. She was not only afraid of him erupting, but also of him and his rejection of her help, her comfort. It was scary to offer something so new and fragile, her hope, to someone, to risk them casting it aside for whatever reason.


    Perhaps due to pride? Shame? Guilt?


    But he was trapped.


    He was alone.


    If she didn¡¯t help him, isolated from others as they were by his power, even as his grim presence now began to drive others even further away, she touched his hand again. The effect was immediate, he looked at her, not in a lost pondering way, not really seeing her, but intensely, focused like a laser, the darkness in his eyes, now steel grey, like lightning skittering across her skin.


    Before it was gone.


    Drawn away and locked down, viscously crushed and wholly compressed into a small quiet place, to slowly coil tighter and grow ever more dangerous.


    The sun was back. Seemingly breaking past and annihilating the gloomy storm


    The bright summer green eyes full of joy and mirth, the kind and fatherly smile on a youthful and handsome face, his golden glow and warm presence.


    All of it was back, all in an instant, like the dark terrifying loneliness had never existed.


    Like it was all in her head.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Aine stared at him, her expression hardening, the fear in her still there, driving her to confront him about it, if not for his own wellbeing, then for her own peace of mind.


    Just so that she never had to feel this cold sweat of fear and the knee-numbing sense terror from him ever again.


    Not from her own father.


    ¡°You cannot and should not hide it, from others or yourself. I imagine even gods can break, if pushed far enough, is there really no one you can trust, who you could talk to, who would understand?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer, his smile remaining unaffected and just as sunny, like she had not said anything, and he was still waiting patiently for her to talk, which she guessed was answer enough. He didn¡¯t reject her, not obviously at least, merely pretended like she never offered.


    Which strangely made her feel worse.


    Even more than she thought outright rejection would. At least it was clean and honest.


    This . . . this was just festering and unhealthy.


    And so, she got up and walked away, heading for the caf¨¦ door.


    ¡°Weakness is exploited, my Alannah Aine, even by those who are our friends, so never give them the option, the option to betray your trust. It is common among mortals, I know you have seen it, heard of it, the higher you go, the more common it becomes and between gods it is at its most verdant. And it is brutal and savage. A constant cycle of survival of the fittest, the problem being, you don¡¯t get to die. You linger so long as you are remembered¡±


    His voice came from behind her as she walked away. Yet she found herself slowing to a stop at the sound of his voice, the smooth timbre of his voice and her own longing for a loving father holding her there, binding her in place. His warm tone and gentle voice were worth basking in.


    Just like the first rays of sunshine after the chill of night.


    Yet she knew it was an illusion, because this was his mask, when he was at his most controlled, it probably wasn¡¯t to begin with.


    He had probably been like this in the beginning. Radiant and warm, handsome and kind.


    But that was what made it the perfect poker-face.


    Especially if he did just as he just said, hiding the changes in his personality, hiding his weaknesses and concealing his grudge against . . . seemingly everything, from his past to the present.


    Maybe, she thought, that she was the only exception.


    But then that could also just be her own wishful thinking.


    ¡°I . . . have my regrets, I can tell you that even now they . . . provoke my other emotions, stoking the embers of my pride, my anger, whispering recriminations and self-pity. Most recently they were responsible for the ¡®how¡¯ of your birth, along with my over-confidence, my own arrogance. You can probably tell, you are more . . . insightful . . . of my emotions, my weaknesses, my regrets, than I confess I would like. So, you can no doubt guess that the ¡®how¡¯ of your birth is now another of my regrets and now a sore topic of conversation for me.


    ¡°Which in turn led me to try and avoid the topic, even if I did promise to explain it. The reasons of it touches on those very weaknesses. I¡¯m old and I¡¯m tired my Alannah Aine, I come from a time when family, clan and bloodlines were at their most important, things like national or even cultural identity were distant ideas, far into the future. But unlike others in my pantheon and outside of it, despite or indeed maybe because of my heroics, my talents, my prowess and even my luck, my fate, I have nothing tangible to show for it.


    ¡°Before you, I had no children currently living, what sparse descendants I might have are now so far removed from me that they have little if any of my heritage left in them. As for these children I have from an ¡®I or me¡¯ from another world or multiple worlds whatever the case may be, it is salt ground into an already raw wound. I reacted . . . poorly.¡±


    He stood, the sound of his chair being push back accompanying his ascent, his footsteps drawing closer to her as she faced away from him.


    ¡°Your birth was complicated, due to my emotions, my plans and schemes, all of which stems from regret. You, my Alannah Aine, do not have only one mother, you have three, it is why your amulet is missing four corners of its circle, each of us have a piece, but and here lays the problem, my dear Alannah Aine, it was not our, or rather my, intention that you be so. To have a child between two gods is both complex and simple, the complexity rests in how you wish and plan for the child to turn out. What domains and traits do you wish for them inherit from you; how will those things mix with what your partner wishes the child to inherit from them.


    ¡°The simplicity is the act of procreation, similar in terms to most mortals, barring the unfortunate few and often most deserving. The ¡®act¡¯ for godly procreation resides in the divine nature of our divinity, often at the heart of our domains and divine territory, for some it is a divine fire, others a divine spring, perhaps a divine tree or even a divine rock. There are other forms it can take, too many to name all of them. However, whatever it may be, it is innately tied to your domains and territories, the act of drawing out a part of it and using it to form a new god with your partner doing the same is the ¡®act¡¯. From there you project the domains and traits of yourself you wish them to inherit to the new divine ¡®heart¡¯ or ¡®soul¡¯ if you excuse the expression, it is simply easier to explain if I use it, before gifting a part of your divine territory to them.


    ¡°These act as the seed for your child¡¯s own divine territory, their own domains and their own divine . . . ¡®source¡¯, yes that sounds better and is a tad more accurate, and whatever future growth they may have. It is thus theoretically possible for a god to have more than two parents, but it isn¡¯t necessarily a good thing, the more influences, the more variables and thus the greater danger of failure.¡±


    His hand came to rest on her shoulder, warm and gentle, but regretful and sad at the same time.


    ¡°I, in my arrogance and pride, my hope, and my fear, chose to initiate plans with three goddesses. Due to rules the Council of Pantheons had decided on to prevent a pantheon from using our current crisis to expand their own power, they had to be from outside my own pantheon.¡±


    Aine stared out the glass panel windows of the caf¨¦, he was inching closer, as if afraid of what happens next, what happens if she knows whatever great truth he is keeping from. Stalling wasn¡¯t doing him any favours in any case. He continued after taking a short breath. Steeling his nerves maybe?


    ¡°I had three children with them, my Alannah Aine, or more accurately, I had formed the potential for three children with them, because all three failed to form into a divine. I, in the belief that I was powerful enough in my other secondary domain, did not commit and offer the largest of my domains.


    ¡°I would have been fine if I had stuck to just two, but it was my greatest opportunity I couldn¡¯t let go of the chance to have children out from under my curse, outside the fate of my own pantheon. So, I took the chance, and, in the end, I spread myself too thin, causing all of them to fail, the only thing left was to watch them wither and dissipate.¡±


    She turned to look at her father, his expression blank, calm and collected.


    His eyes, however, hollow and sorrow-filled, like an ocean full of tears, him too proud to allow them to fall. Those eyes stared at her, desperate for her to understand as he continued, like a car trapped on the train tracks, going too fast to even throw himself out, he was committed. Now or never, he had to tell her everything.


    ¡°I realized I couldn¡¯t do it, I couldn¡¯t watch more of my children die, I acknowledged that it would break me, these children didn¡¯t even get to open their eyes, breath deep their first breath. All because I, their father, was greedy and a fool, a cursed fate is not so easily escaped, especially not when I blatantly thumbed my nose at it, dared it to try.


    ¡°I called in a favour, one I earned long ago, in times when I walked the world before I gained my godhood, to save what I could of the children I had so arrogantly damned by letting chance and fate have any say in their birth. There is a cauldron, of life and rebirth, able to bring back even the dead, if the conditions were met, fate however had always stood in the way whenever I had tried before, but this time . . . this time fate did not hold all the cards.


    ¡°This time my children were only ¡®dying¡¯, I still had a chance.¡±


    He stared at me, his gaze sad and pleading as he spoke on.


    ¡°I gathered them in my arms, knowing that none of them would ever know their mothers or me, that whatever happened next, these tiny sparks of divine potential that I denied the chance at life, would now be the sacrifice for another.¡±


    Aine shut her eyes, she was having her own regret now slap her across the face.


    She just had to know why and how she was born. Curiosity kicked the cat to hell indeed.


    He watched her, his expression knowing and bitter. But he wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°I placed them into the cauldron, offered half of my strongest domain as fuel for the fire beneath and poured in the mist of sleep and dreams, the water of talent and skill and the apples of eternal youth. I offered everything I had, every treasure I had ever fought for, every gift I had ever received due to my gift in the damned art of war, everything I had ever gained from the fame I had built on blood.


    ¡°I gave it all back to fate. Hoping it would take all that it had given and let me have you, to hold you in my arms, for you to open your eyes, to take that first breath. My last attempt, my last desperate gamble. My last hope.¡±


    He whispered it, his voice breaking.


    ¡°My Alannah Aine.¡±

 Chapter 4: Sorrow within Pride, a Fatherly Reluctance

    Aine lifted the glowing, cherry crimson blade from the bellowing fire and burning coals, her eyes drawn to the wavy superheated air as it rolled of the blade. A fluid, half-practiced, half-instinctive movement placed the blade on a glossy, pitch-black obsidian anvil, embellished with silver inlayed script and marred only by soot and ash. The moment the blade and anvil touched, like lovers in lust, passion sparked and burst, the anvil lit up with life and heat to match the blades¡¯ own, gaining a golden vermillion hue.


    She lifted her hammer in one hand and held the tongs in the other, eyeing the glow of the blade and anvil, before hefting her hammer and bring it down on the lovers, sparks flying upon contact, even as they writhed in the pain and pleasure of becoming. The blade thinned and lengthened under her hammer¡¯s forceful and firm pounding, the perfect combination of rough motion, precise technique and instinctive need to reach the climax of the moment. The culmination and meeting of present and future.


    Time stretched, minutes rolled by slowly, painfully, as the momentum built between the threesome, the moment drawing closer, the screeches and groans of hot metal colliding resounding within the forge¡¯s back workshop. Aine obverses the repeated collisions of metal on red-hot metal, waiting, before she suddenly lifts and thrusts the blade into the room-temperature oil, contained within a stone barrel beside her. The explosion of smoke, moisture and heat, fire lighting up the surface of the oil, even as it begins to boil, in that moment, in a split second, the momentum breaks, the thrill of that perfect moment, the rush of ecstasy, the peak and beginning of creation.


    She lets out a long sigh, finding erotic innuendos and sexual connotations in metalworking is a sure sign that the six months of zip while she was undertaking an apprenticeship under her father¡¯s watchful eye for the Domain of Crafting, was unhealthy.


    Still, at least she was exploring her powers getting to know her father was awesome, learning his skills, listening to his stories and gossip of the past.


    He was mellowing. He was even letting himself be happy, really happy, not just his usual illusion of it.


    The dark emotions, his regrets and fears, they are taking a backseat, not gone, maybe they will be with him forever. But at least he can let his guard down, seeing as I promised to stay out of the thick of the coming conflicts. Aine knew that he was holding back, not just about the rest of the powers she inherited from him but also her mothers, but she could wait. She had the time apparently, not to mention she had plenty on her plate with her shop opening up soon.


    Drawing the blade from the still-boiling oil, Aine smiles as she sees the faint script marking the length of the blade, only faint, but still there, the blade now had the beginnings of a name, of a soul of its own. Aine knew that only with time and actual use will the soul of the blade grow any more than it is now. Only when it finds its destined partner, its soulmate, will it become complete, to have the chance to become great. Even legendary.


    Anything is possible if given the right circumstances.


    Not willing to rush the finishing touches of her baby of forge and fire, nor the finishing touches of its twin, its sheath, Aine took her time, with it being late afternoon by the time she had finished both, even with a touch of magic to help the process along and give it a beautiful polish.


    Carrying the sheathed sword, Aine walked out of the work area of her shop and into its storefront.


    The forge in the back, the shop and all its trimmings in the front, the vast and wild forest to the right, the bottomless mine in the basement, her living area above and a locked door to the left. Her father had told her that this place was connected to all her domains, even those she had yet to awaken, they were still there. The left door was a symbol of that connection and their continued sleeping presence and potential.


    All of it was hers, her mystery to solve, expand and enrich, hers alone.


    Her Divine Territory.


    The physical representation of her Divine Domains.


    Which, for now, was her Major Domain of Crafting and her Minor Aspects of Wealth, Fertility, Skill, Art, Oaths, Law and Truth, inherited from her father. She also inherited the Major Domains of Life, Death and Rebirth and the Minor Aspect of Hearth from the Cauldron of Rebirth.


    Sounds impressive right? Well it would be if she had earned and mastered them all. Inheriting them just means that she has the needed talent to learn and master those Domains, which is why she has to learn all forms of the Domain of Crafting from the ground up. Until now Aine had focused on her Domain of Crafting, along with her Aspects of Wealth and Hearth coming second.


    Why those two? Well Wealth because she was currently broke having quit her job to learn from her father, mostly due to his dire warnings of doom and conflict in the near future. Opening a shop that sold weapons and armour during a conflict seems a solid, if a tad mercenary, plan to make a living. Hearth was because she wanted a home, she wanted it to be welcoming and warm, but most of all she wanted it to be safe and healing for her father and her future customers. Plus, there is a special magic within the Domain of the Hearth, a magic that draws those that have a need of something she can willingly provide.


    Whether that need was her knowledge, such that it was, her talents and skills, her craft or even just a place to rest, her Domain of the Hearth, and thus her shop, would draw their feet though streets and alleyways to arrive before her storefront.


    Seemed like a good business opportunity in her mind.


    Breaking away from her thoughts she glanced around the storefront for her father and her mentor in the Aspect and Domain of Crafting.


    Her eyes quickly found her father seated at the customer waiting area, next to a cheery hearth and a mug of chilled cider on the small table beside his lounge. He was holding a trashy romance novel in one hand while holding his head with the other, leading his elbow on one of the lounges¡¯ armrests. He told her it was for research purposes, the trashy romance novels that is, but she thought he simply enjoyed how simple everything seemed to be in them, that basically all of them had an ending that was perfect and happy.


    Not something he had much experience with personally, but she guessed that meant you had to find it where you could then. Even if it wasn¡¯t your own.


    ¡°Alright, old man, time to admire and reflect on the perfection that is my baby, not that I don¡¯t see why a gun or something a little more modern wouldn¡¯t have worked just as well.¡±


    Her father glanced up at the sound of her teasing voice, his expression distasteful of her mention of guns, as he placed his book on the small table, while rising to his feet in the same fluid moment.


    ¡°Because my Alannah Aine, you will be hard pressed to find any gun with a soul, from any era, let alone in these modern times of mass-produced and manufactured junk and scrap-metal. Even master and grandmaster gunsmiths, those that have spent decades making dozens, even hundreds, of guns will have little if any True-Named examples. Guns are just far too . . . modern and changeable. Not to mention wasteful.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Aine rolled her eyes, smirking as she rebutted in a calm and familiar tone.


    ¡°Bows are just as wasteful in terms of ammunition, not to mention slower to fire, harder to learn and less compact.¡±


    Her father looked like he had eaten shit at her line of argument, it was the same face he always made when guns were compared to bows, even crossbows where not so reviled, though he disliked them as well, it wasn¡¯t at the same level as his dislike of guns.


    ¡°The simply elegance and vast history of the bow is incomparable, thousands of years and hundreds of dynasties, nations and cultures, all perfecting and refining the Art of Archery. And that is not even mentioning those individuals that relied on it to ascend to godhood, the possibly the greatest achievement a mortal can achieve in any discipline. ¡°


    Aine stared at her father¡¯s grumpy expression, tickled at his insistence and dogged belief that old ways were best. She didn¡¯t necessarily disagree, but neither did she agree. Aine had the feeling that things were changing, and that was not just the obvious changes that came with the coming of the alien demi-gods. She had the feeling that these new demi-gods would bring a change, an evolution even, to what it meant to be a hero, from how they fought to how they lived.


    Why did she feel that way? Because of the budding inspirations for weapons and the beginnings of new and strange ideas for armour that where appearing in her head. They where growing more and more frequent as the fated arrival of the foreign demi-gods approached.


    She had even given into the compulsion to make a suit of leather armour.


    A prototype if you would.


    It was rudimentary and untested in comparison to the ideas in her head, flawed and lacking something important. It was as if she lacked that last important key inspiration that would complete that idea she had in her mind.


    As if each should be unique, individual, to the one that would wear it. Instant recognition of who they were should follow the sight of the armour, without even looking at their face.


    It was frustrating to say the least, being practically stymied from the onset.


    Aine glanced down, catching sight of her newborn sword, sheathed and awaiting inspection. Not that she was worried, which is probably why she so easily got distracted from getting her father to review it. She was confident. This was her graduation sword.


    Why?


    Because instinct.


    Aine lifted it and stopped her father¡¯s lecture before it could really pick up steam. He paused and stared at the sheathed sword in her hand. She smirked to herself, he was making that expression of pride and sorrow he always made when she performed above and over his expectations.


    He made that face every time.


    Aine knew he had wanted her to learn quickly, knew he had high expectations and knew he would not let her skate by on mediocracy. But he also wanted more time teaching her, to be with her, after all the time he had to spend in the background and at a distance.


    The fact that her Major Aspect was Crafting, that she was his daughter and that he devoted himself to teaching her, made absorbing and applying knowledge that should have taken years to learn and decades to master, happen in mere months.


    But even then, this was just an apprenticeship.


    Her father could only teach her so much of the basics, to only help her form the basics of her foundation of knowledge and skills. The rest she would have to discover for herself.


    Those secrets of the craft were what made the difference between a master like her father and a grandmaster like Hephaestus, a true Divine of the Domain of Craft. Unlike her father who was mainly a champion and secondly a king, Majoring in the Aspects of Heroes, War and Rulership. Not to say her father was not a powerhouse in terms of his skill in Craft, just that he did not devote himself to it as Hephaestus and others like him did.


    She as a guppy in comparison to both or either of them.


    But that just meant she had so much more to learn and to master.


    Aine looked forward to it. Just like she eagerly looked forward to learning the rest of her Divine Domains and Aspects already discovered within her and those still hidden.


    But most of all, her scarcely controlled impatience to meet her mothers, to know them, to learn from them, to see that same look of pride her father currently wore, on their faces. She fervently promised herself she would see it. She would prove that she was worth the cost. She was not a mistake or accident. She is and always will be, worthy of their pride.


    She was worthy of their love.


    Aine continued to look at her father, waiting for him to take her minor masterpiece, understanding his reluctance to confirm her apprenticeship, had indeed drawn to a close. Still, her father was a brave being at his core, willing to face the majority of his fears and confront them head on.


    Even if he was on the verge of tears at the prospect that his little girl had grow wings and was starting her solo flight. Aine¡¯s smile softened from a smirk to a smile of hope and comfort at the sight of her father¡¯s throat bobbing with emotion as he reached to take the sheathed sword from her hand. His left hand closed over the hilts¡¯ grip, while using his right to draw the sword from the sheath to observe the blade of the sword in the open light.


    He pointed the tip of the sword to the fire, his arm extended straight while his eye followed the length and breath of the swords¡¯ blade searching for imperfections. His gaze lingered over the faint magic script that flowed down the middle of the blade, confirming that it was innate and natural.


    The sword held a True Name and thus it contained a Soul.


    He sighed, tinged with both pride and joy, but also a reluctance and melancholy.


    It was a perfect example of a sword, encapsulating all the techniques of mortals and enhanced with her use of her own magic to awaken the innate and natural magic within materials of the sword. Honed to an edge, but not so thin as to make the blade easy to chip and weighted to have perfect balance between the blade and the hilt to allow for both greater control over its movement.


    Breaking your wrist trying to control an overly and/or awkwardly weighted blade is an unpleasant experience and an often fatal one if it happens while you are in the thick of battle. A moment of lapsed concentration, for any reason, let alone breaking the wrist of your sword hand, is a good way to get killed.


    He turned his gaze to his daughter, to his Alannah Aine.


    ¡°Who could have asked for a better student, for a better daughter. Certainly not I. My Alannah Aine, you have surpassed all my expectation, virtually flown over all obstacles and tasks I put in your way, swallowed whole all the lessons I could teach you. With this sword you have proven that you are ready to hone your craft without anyone¡¯s care or guidance. You have proved yourself ready to walk your own path.¡±


    He sheathed the sword and handed it back to her even as his arms swept wide before embracing her and planting a light kiss on her brow, his face and voice thick with more emotions than just pride.


    ¡°Congratulations my apprentice, congratulations my talented and skilled little daughter, all grown into her own and ready to face the tasks and duties ahead of her. Congratulations on earning your place amongst the Gods of Forge and Craft.¡±


    Aine felt a hum in her chest and a lightness of body, hearing those words of pride and love from her father was something she always dreamed of, from childhood all the way to adulthood. But soon she noticed her shop and the lounge area were glowing, though the greatest light came from her forge area.


    She glanced at her father, questions in her eyes.


    He smiled with fatherly devotion and love, holding one arm around her shoulder he swept the other before them, indicating the whole of her Divine Territory.


    ¡°You did not just prove yourself to me, my Alannah Aine, you proved yourself to your Major Domain and to your Divine Source. Your territory changes and advances to match your inner self, your skills, your experiences and your feats, growing and evolving as you do. This is just one small step forward, but still an important one, your territory changing proves it.¡±


    He stared down and beamed at her, his heart beating fast with his wild hope and belief that his Alannah Aine would be safe and well, her feet set upon a different path to that of her siblings.


    His lost and fallen children. His eyes dimmed for a moment, before brightening fiercely, his gaze turning to his daughter¡¯s apprenticeship graduation sword.


    ¡°It deserves a given name don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Aine followed his gaze to the sword held in her hands. She closed her eyes, trying to capture the idea and inspiration that she used to create this very sword, trying to find the connection back to the need that helped form the inspiration for the sword.


    There!


    Her eyelids snapped open, the name appearing like a fiery brand in her mind¡¯s eye.


    ¡®Solemn-star!¡¯


    Aine looked at the entrance of her territory, her connection to the need, one that called for a weapon, a sword, that would reflect a distant and unbiased judgement, was so strong, so clear and so . . . near.


    Her father followed her gaze and was surprised by her next words.


    ¡°Its name is Solemn-star, the one that holds it is clearheaded and logical, unaffected by passions, fears and desires. They who hold it becoming a supremely dispassionate judge, most distant spectator and the keenest critic. They remember all that they see and hear, knowing the truth from any lies or embellishment within their memory.¡±


    Aine¡¯s gaze drifted to the handle of the door to her territory as it began to turn.

 Chapter 5: A Wolf in a Maze, Heroes on the Run!

    Walking through the maze of alleys and side-streets, Cristofer Roark Berglund or Leif Odinsson as he had named his online character in Modern Age of Gods and Heroes: Superheroes, reached a crossroads. Sighing to himself, Leif glanced left and then right, wishing Asta hadn¡¯t gotten herself lost or if he himself hadn¡¯t gotten lost, both of which should be impossible, considering not only had they entered the first side-street together both of them had Chosen to be the children of wanderer Gods. He is the son of Odin, All-Father of the Norse Pantheon, while Asta is the daughter of Freya, the Lady of the Norse, the both of them being the Beta-Players of Sweden and Denmark for Modern Age respectively.


    Modern Age being the brainchild of the oldest and most powerful AI and corporate entity, N.E.X.U.S. Corp, or simply Nexus, created by an American-Australian married couple living in London, UK at the onset of the 22<sup>nd</sup> century. A century later and Nexus is the Paramount Gaming Giant of the world, with patented, cutting edge technology, they basically own the Internet apart from a few holdouts and is the owner of the only working virtual reality multiverse. Which, in layman terms, is basically a catalogue of interconnected yet standalone virtual reality games, managed and run by Nexus. Modern Age is the latest and greatest of the virtual reality genre, coined as the End of the Gaming Industry, as there was going to be no reason to make another game after it.


    Nexus, the AI, Owner and CEO of N.E.X.U.S. Corp, famously and yet politely, scoffed at the notion of an end to the gaming industry, while in interview. Stating that while they had no plans of creating a new reality at present, the reason being is that we are simply focusing on the Modern Age reality.


    (Fun fact: Nexus does not use the term ¡®game¡¯, using the term ¡®reality¡¯ exclusively when referencing its creations.)


    Leif, being the top E-Sports Member of the Swedish Olympic Team, E-Sports becoming part of the Olympics at the insistence of Nexus on January 21<sup>th</sup>, Yr. 2247, was invited along with other top E-Sport community members, such as Asta, to Beta-Test the new Nexus ¡®reality¡¯. The only guidelines Nexus offered them before tossing them into Modern Age for a 3 month long, physically suspended, virtual reality dive Beta-Test, was:


    ¡°Think, breath, live Modern Age as its own reality. If you don¡¯t, you will lose, which will often result in death! And death in this reality carries little of the problems of death in your original reality, it has a whole host of its own. The ambiguity of the mortal soul, the potential of there being afterlife, the possibility of resurrection and/or reincarnation, these are not issues to debate. Indeed, there are no uncertainties in these things, all mortals have souls, there are afterlives and you do have a chance to resurrect and reincarnate. Will you have these options from the get-go? Answer: No.¡±


    The Beta-Testers were also recommended by Nexus to ¡®group up¡¯ depending on the Pantheon of their divine parent, all of which is free to be chosen by any player, with the exception of a few select gods. The reasons are varied, and Nexus refused to get into the details, but suffice to say, some gods were simply not available to be chosen during character creation. Now, the reason being for ¡®grouping up¡¯ is that the gods of Modern Age will be ruling Earth in a ¡®hand-off¡¯ type of leadership, the players, i.e. the Beta-Testers, will be thrust into this world as clear outsiders.


    What you can achieve is up to you and how you play the cards both fate and luck offer you, and a lot of that will be determined by your chosen divine parent, so think carefully on your choice. Pick one that is incompatible with how you wish to approach the reality of Modern Age and you will suffer for it if you did not take that incompatibility into consideration and plan accordingly.


    Leif was offered the opportunity as the top E-Sports player from the Scandinavian Region in the last Nexus World Tournament to pick one of the Scandinavian gods from the restricted list as his divine parent. Which was when Leif chose Odin. There were other options, but Odin won hands down for Leif, not just from the coolness factor but also from the competitive angle as well.


    Leif glanced down at his phone absent-mindedly, checking if the signal was back, it was admittedly futile, as Leif suspected he was only going deeper into this maze of concrete and steel. It was still undecided whether it could be deemed a labyrinth as of yet, seeing as there were no traps or other means of death or maiming. Though it was obvious that there was some kind of magic or force at work about this place, which was either leading him astray or to some place it had in mind.


    Or, it was keeping him busy while it led Asta somewhere.


    Real name Hilda Mikkelsen, while her character¡¯s full name is Asta Brand-H?r, is famous for her cool under pressure and unflappable attitude, both in real life and in game realities. Leif met her first during his early days in E-Sports about 6 years ago when he was 15 and she was 17, and they had been sparring partners and rivals ever since. However, that rivalry didn¡¯t stop them from allying with each other when the situation called for it, which is why she was the first person he had got in contact with after being offered the chance to be a Beta-Tester.


    He knew if he had gotten the offer, then she had as well, the two of them being on par with each other all things considered, to set up a meet once they were in Modern Age. Arriving at the Temple of Nexus upon finishing character creation, they had the option to go anywhere on Earth, though they were encouraged to choose the home ground of their respective divine parent and patron. They had been at a loss really after arriving in Oslo, Norway, (they had both considered it neutral and relatively unfamiliar ground), as there was no guide, tutorial, mission log or any indication that this was in fact a game.


    The pair of them decided to go somewhere secluded and test out their physical ability in these supposedly demi-god bodies. Which was how they ended up in this maze.


    After getting separated and since he had nothing else to do apart from wandering within the maze once he found out he couldn¡¯t find Asta or get out, Leif was at a crossroad, both physically and mentally. He checked his phone again before he decided to set about fulfilling his original intent.


    Testing the limits of his new body.


    Just as he decided that however, a growl echoed behind him, as loud as thunder and just as startling, Leif whipped around after a momentary disorientation.


    Part of him wished he hadn¡¯t, when a gust of hot, breath hit him in the face, the smell of rot, putrid and lingering, like being nasally assaulted. The view sucked as well.


    It looked like a forest of giant flesh rending teeth would have looked like if Leif was honest. Taking a slow, measured step back, so as to see more of the big picture, his immediate thought was somewhere in the area of ¨C FUCK!


    ¡°Now what do we have here then, a mortal Son of Odin walking the lands of Midgard once again, I thought I smelt one, I was surprised to be honest, I heard talk a new wave of demi-godlings was on its way. Odin should have known better then to let his whelp out early, but I guess he wanted one of his runts to get a head start on the rest, even if it ends up being eaten.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The deep, guttural tone of the beast, coupled with its sheer size, filling up the alley that Leif had just walked down and topping 4 metres at the shoulder, had him remembering the old stories his grandfather use to tell him.


    Fenrir.


    Also known as Odin¡¯s Doom, the Wolf of Ragnar?k, Father of Wolves and one of the Three Monstrous Sons of Loki.


    Did Leif think this was Fenrir?


    Answer: No.


    Did he think it mattered if it was or wasn¡¯t Fenrir?


    Answer: Not really.


    Why? Because either one of them was both big enough that they could eat him whole.


    Leif glanced left to right and behind him, mentally measuring the other exits clearance, the measurement being, would a giant-ass wolf fit.


    The wolf seemed more amused by his attempt at stealth than angry.


    ¡°Fear not mortal Son of Odin, you are in both luck and yet bear ill-fate that you walked into this place, I will not eat you here in the Sideways Path, it would mean breaking my father¡¯s oath. But you are ill-fated indeed now that I have your scent, I will enjoy hunting you, demi-godling. Know that you will be the meal of Harkon Hatisson, Grandson of Fenrir, do you have the courage to name yourself to me?¡±


    Leif had the sneaking suspicion that this was some kind of trap.


    So, Leif decided to do the smart thing and sidestep the question, answering with the truth but not the answer the wolf wanted.


    ¡°I was named Roark Berglund by my father and I fear that you may choke, your eyes too big for your gullet in your desire to eat me, Grandson of Fenrir. Especially if you let me go this time, I may prove to be your doom in the future.¡±


    Leif wasn¡¯t an amateur spewing nonsense, he was role-playing, a fun fact about Nexus and the realities it creates is that the world responds to your actions and your words. Things that were said in passing or half-heartedly made oaths oft come back to bite their utterers in the ass. While oaths upheld, bold undertakings or doubling down in a no hope situation on the off chance you live, can pay dividends.


    Lief had no doubt Harkon, if that is its real name as the denizens populating the worlds Nexus create are completely capable of lying their asses off if it suits their agenda, would hunt him down and attempt to eat him. Leif thought he might as well make a story out of it.


    Harkon let out a rhythmic growl, one that Leif expected was laughter, but maybe it was just trying to clear its throat.


    ¡°Truth, but it is meaningless all the same. Cunning indeed. But witted rabbits make for the best prey, a long chase keeps one in good shape, but be careful Son of Odin, there are others that will seek to make you a meal. Be sure not to get eaten before we meet again, I would hate to have to kill a sibling or cousin for stealing my prey.¡±


    The rumbling growl (very likely laughter, probably) continued, as the monster circled past Leif to the left and then casually disappeared down the left-hand side alley.


    Leif blew out a breath while putting his hands on his knees and leaning over, before breathing in deep and straightening up, looking up at the sky and seeing only the night sky and so many stars. That distant, beautiful scene calmed him like no amount of deep breaths could or would, the knowledge that whatever else, that both wolf and he were just so much dust to the stars above.


    Equally insignificant.


    Leif stared at those far away, distant lights and knew that now more than ever he was lost. Nexus had been slowly but surely eliminating any and all discernible differences between the realities it created, and the one Leif and the rest of the Beta-Testers came from.


    He took stock of what he needed at the moment.


    One: A guide or even a guideline on how he should go about approaching Modern Age.


    Two: He needed a weapon, a set of armour, skills, techniques or magic to defend himself with.


    Three: He needed to figure out a way out of this damn maze.


    Leif¡¯s attention was drawn away from the stars and his thoughts by the sound of footsteps, coming from the alley opposite the alley both he and Harkon had entered the crossroads through. Leif stared hard at the alley, which he decided was north, the sound of footsteps coming ever closer, before suddenly stopping. Leif felt sure that they, whoever they were, had stopped just before the bend in the alleyway ahead and just out of his line of sight.


    Leif flinched when the sound of footsteps sounded out again, before launching himself at them once he realised that they were now moving away from him.


    He ran at a breakneck pace. Chasing the sound of footsteps.


    His momentum increasing with each long stride he took, almost flying as he past the bend. The pace of the person ahead breaking out into a sprint as well.


    The sound of their running seemed to fill the alley as Leif was kept just out of sight of his target.


    Leif noticed his surroundings starting to burr as the speed he was running at continued to accelerate, as well as the fact that despite his rapid fleet-footedness, his heart rate remained steady. His flew past more and more forks and crossroads, following the sound of his goal, listening out for the confident stride ahead to tell him which path to choose.


    The concrete jungle of the maze all seemed to have become the same, a common blurring. With Leif moving as fast as possible, even with his sight tunnelling ahead of him, he couldn¡¯t discern doors, windows or building fixtures. The jarring lack of anything apart from concrete walls and road made him feel a lot like how he suspected a rat in a maze would feel.


    That shocking thought broke him out of his narrow-minded chase.


    He also discovered the rapid sound of his heart was pounding in his ears, beating so quick it might as well be the heart of a rabbit on the ragged edge of exhaustion.


    The blurring and tunnel vision should have been his first clues, this place was dangerous.


    No pits full of spikes or poisoned arrows in the walls and then the wolf not ripping him apart were just false negatives.


    The dangers of this place were more subtle than that.


    Like tricking him into chasing an illusionary sound, dragging him both deeper into the maze and trying to exhaust him to death, managing to do so without him even noticing the danger he was in.


    Stumbling over to a wall, before practically collapsing against it, Leif held his pounding head as he wondered how long he had chased the sound of those footsteps. He strongly suspected if he had been fully human his heart would have long exploded from the strain he had put it under. Clammy with sweat, droplets falling from his forehead like rain he swept his long blonde hair back and out of his face.


    Every swallow was a struggle, like shoving sandpaper down his throat it was so dry. He was so tired.


    Official amendment to the things he needed.


    1<sup>st</sup>: Safe place to rest, preferably with something to drink, food is optional but would be appreciated.


    2<sup>nd</sup>: A guide or even a guideline on how he should go about approaching Modern Age.


    3<sup>rd</sup>: He needed a weapon, a set of armour, skills, techniques or magic to defend himself with and not get lost in and tricked by magic mazes.


    4<sup>th</sup>: He needed to figure out a way out of this damn maze.


    Leif clumsily pushed himself away from the wall, only to have his hand catch on something, his attention instantly (sluggishly) drawn to the new discovery.


    A door handle!


    Leif¡¯s exhausted brain struggled to process this new clue and come to a useful and obvious conclusion. But it still managed after a few moments.


    Door handles mean doors, doors mean exits. Turn the door handle, leave evil maze.


    If anyone had been watching Leif, he likely would have preferred just dying of thirst and fatigue, rather than pathetically slapping and scratching at the door handle. As desperate and single-mindedly focused on the idea that doors meant exit as he was, Leif completely ignored the fact that when he first collapsed against the concrete wall, there hadn¡¯t been a door there. He also completely forgot any notion of the possible danger that could lay beyond the door.


    Why? Because mazes suck and especially this one!


    Finally, Leif manages to end his desperate ¡®dog needs to pee¡¯ door routine and push the handle down, shoving his shoulder against the door and push it open.


    His body tilted forward without the support of the door and collapsed onto the floor. Which he discovered was shockingly comfortable, his mind quickly beginning to fall unconscious as he some how felt as safe as he had during his childhood. He could almost smell his mother cooking in the kitchen and almost feel himself leaning against his father¡¯s firm yet protective chest.


    The sound of a woman¡¯s voice, soft as a feather while as tough as nails also, was the last thing he heard before falling to sleep in the crook of his father¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Well, looks like the Aliens came to the party early, wonder what happened to the poor sod though, looks like someone made him run a marathon.¡±

 Chapter 6: Sandwiches and Direction

    Aine stared at the golden blonde-haired young man, now sleeping on one of her lounges in the comfort of her customer waiting area. She controlled the hearth forming a warm and cosy fire, while having her father disgruntledly throw a soft and fuzzy blanket over him.


    ¡°All I am saying is that this boy should be made to stand on his own two feet. You should never coddle a hero, especially not a demi-god. A hands-off approach to raising your children is the standard for most Divines. You are special, the exception to the rule, so to speak.¡±


    Her father having the clearly biased opinion that every Divine¡¯s child should have to live via the mottoes of ¡®the survival of the fittest¡¯ and ¡®the school of hard knocks¡¯, with the sole exception of his own daughter. He wasn¡¯t even the least bit abashed and said it with a completely straight and even earnest expression on his face.


    Aine could only roll her eyes at the blatant and unashamed show of favouritism.


    ¡°Ssoooo, I just leave him to perish of dehydration and malnourishment on my doorstep? Sounds like great free advertisement!


    ¡°¡®Come one, come all, don¡¯t mind the corpse by the door, he wasn¡¯t a paying customer or even a browser. Just some unfortunate layabout that collapsed and I couldn¡¯t be bothered to offer a drink and a sandwich, so the poor sod shuffled of his mortal coil, real shame that. If only he had used the last of his strength to say, ¡®What ho, a store of weapons and armaments, how fortuitus, I request a look at your brochure.¡¯, I could have offered him a complementary mug of ale and a hot meal. But oh well, it¡¯s not like the poor fellow would have sung my praises for, oh I don¡¯t know, <u>saving his life</u>! Oh no, not at all! In fact, I dare say it would be impossible!¡¯¡±


    Aine didn¡¯t bother with her father¡¯s opinion, because she suspected he made the suggestion mainly because of his dislike and suspicion of an unapproved man potentially knowing where she lived.


    Not that she would say her suspicion out loud.


    That would be an embarrassing conversation starter for both herself and her father, especially if he tried to inform her of the intricacies of ¡®the Birds and the Bees¡¯ metaphor for reproduction in all its wonderfully awkwardness.


    Still, the poor sod was a handsome specimen of a demi-god, though it is apparently very rare to come across an average looking child of a Divine. Odd that, huh.


    His golden hair, strong nose, bold features, charming mouth and chiselled jaw formed quite the pretty picture, very top-of-the-range masculine stereotype, if you like that sort of male.


    Though she had heard from an ex of hers that said all guys like ¡®that¡¯ are all appearance and no substance, she took it with a grain of salt due to the fact that her ex sounded rather hateful about the subject, as mysteriously her ex looked nothing like guys like ¡®that¡¯.


    More of a dark-and-brooding, bad-teen artist type, if she was honest about her ex.


    Her ex had been hot, in a jaded and mouthy sort of way, but even Aine lost interest in that particular type of sexy in a short amount of time. A tad to self-absorbed for a long relationship.


    A dark chocolate that was a bit too bitter and not smooth or sweet enough to cover it up.


    The blonde on her couch looked more like a piece of steak to Aine, packed with iron and filling, suitable and tasty on any number of occasions and with any number of embellishments. Still, time will tell if appearances are deceiving.


    Her father let out a rather loud series of coughs, with Aine finding herself biting her lips in the anticipation of finding out. She quickly turned away while whistling as she walked off to her bar/customer service area, pulling an empty mug from a tray of them as she walked past it and poured a draft of mulled mead.


    Aine pondered as she poured, watching absent-mindedly as her father walked over to his previous lounge and side table, picking up his mug of now cool cider, his trashy novel having disappeared. She wasn¡¯t sure when, but she suspected it was around the time her exhausted guest arrived.


    The legendary High-King of the Isles and Champion of the Celtic Pantheon, Lugh L¨¢mhfhada couldn¡¯t possibly be seen reading some bargain bin romance novel, no sir. Maybe a grand epic, a heroic saga or a Shakespearian Tragedy, but trashy romance? Not on your life. Aine continued to grin even as her father glanced scheming at her guest, his thought of getting rid of a fly buzzing around his daughter clear on his face as he sipped from his mug. She knew her father wanted to toss the half-dead sod out on his ear, she also knew he would resist the urge to harm the little demi-god.


    Finishing up the pouring of mead, Aine opened the fridge to see her prepared sandwiches. Not to toot her own horn but her ability to make an awesome sandwich was leagues ahead of what it once was.


    But that was mostly down to the Aspect of the Hearth. It made her a veritable wizard when at home, the more skilled she became with the Aspect, the better and more powerful she would become within the walls of her home and within her Divine Territory.


    Which was, in her own opinion, one of the best things about the Hearth Aspect, while within those places, every aspect about her Divinity and even her general ability is amplified.


    It is little wonder why the Hearth Aspect is oft considered a Domain in its own right. If it wasn¡¯t that so many other Domains laid claim to it such as Travel, Home and Civilisation, it probably would be. One of the best examples and most famed of the Aspect, is Hestia, Goddess of the Home and Hearth and while born one of the Original Six Olympian Gods, is not counted as a member of the Twelve Main Gods of Olympus despite every other Original being counted as a member.


    Aine considered the Hearth Aspect a potent asset and while not individually powerful, it provided an excellent home field advantage and a comprehensive increase in ability to the owner and others if the owner so wished. Hestia being counted for seemingly so little by the other Olympian Gods didn¡¯t make sense to her when it came down to it and disappointingly, she had no one to ask at the moment as her father claimed he had no knowledge of any nefarious goings on. So, she could only shelve her curiosity for the moment and drag out the large tray of sandwiches and pick up the mug of mead.


    She had a guest to save from starvation.


    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


    Leif woke from unconsciousness to the glorious smell of food, the rich aroma of warm honey and subtle hints apple and spice. However, his eyelids felt like lead, while feeling lightheaded and drifting in a seemingly lucid dream.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°So, do you know which god or goddess his divine parent is?¡±


    The voice was clearly female, one with a smoky yet deep and crystal-clear quality to it, arousing to the senses as well as refreshing, the kind of voice you instantly sit up and pay attention to if you hear it. Carrying the faintest of accents, something that came less from the culture one has grown up within and more from the genetics that formed your mouth and tongue. Like how some people can twist their tongue or others can whistle.


    ¡°Odin. The All-Father of the Norse Gods. A god of Death, War, Magic, Wisdom and Kings among others. Highly skilled warrior and leader, a master of magic and wise enough to know when and how to use said power and knowledge, though he is a tad lecherous. Lucky enough to have many sons, unlucky enough that both he and many of those same sons are destined, doomed and fated to die. They are bound to die in or after certain events, in a certain order, in certain ways and so on. The first of the events that lead up to their deaths however have always been thwarted so far by heroes and demi-gods and their children, and their children¡¯s children. All the way into our current Age.


    ¡°The rest of us gods have either the same circumstances or similar ones, with our children staving off our fated doom, often paying the ultimate price to do so as well. The only ones that don¡¯t have this fated demise and inevitable end are the you and the other Earthly Divines, your divine sources are tied to Earth and its fate, for better or for worse.


    ¡°Like a marriage, except instead of a humanoid or divine being, it¡¯s with a sentient and aware lump of mud, water and rock. With a slow but all-consuming temper, one perfectly content with and very able to devour and obliterate any god or being that irks it.¡±


    Leif felt a little slow on the uptake of his situation. There being not one but in fact two gods standing nearby discussing things that are very likely lightyears beyond what he needs to know at present. Still, more information is only dangerous if you intend to act on said information. The second voice was definitely male, powerful and bold, bright and carefree with a subtle hint of . . . something deeply unnerving.


    Something both dangerous to Leif and likely anyone else, who didn¡¯t own the other voice in the current conversation. The woman, no, the goddess, spoke after a slight pause.


    ¡°As the son of Odin, can you tell what powers he inherited?¡±


    The god replied smoothly and with an oddly disgusted tone.


    ¡°The Aspects of Battle and Judgement. The Domains of War and Death combine and share the Aspect of Battle, while Judgement resides within the Domain of Wisdom. However, the Aspects of the Divine Domains are all a demi-god will ever able to master without connecting to or be given a divine source. Domains are the sole providence of Gods and very few demi-gods ever rise to surpass and supplant their divine parent, which is what they would have to do if they wish to gain access to a Domain. Though exceptions to the rule do exist. The most famous of which being Heracles.¡±


    Leif could physically feel the hair on the back of his neck as a shiver ran down his spine at the mention of one of the most renowned or at least the most documented hero and demi-god ever said to exist.


    Did he really stumble on the opportunity to hear how Heracles apparently beat the system to become a god and would this method be useful to himself and other players?


    The god continued, his voice having drifted into indifference, the danger Leif had instinctively felt before, gone, he couldn¡¯t help thinking this guy was rather creepy, who gets more threatening the happier they were?


    ¡°Heracles was basically a god in all but power even before his mortal death, beloved and worshipped by countless mortals, his name and fame reaching from one end of the know world to the other. His deeds fabled, his feats of strength legendary, his story one of tragedy, labour and finally triumph, his status as a man capable of tasks beyond the limits of other heroes, even other demi-gods, was renowned. But gods can never have even a hint of mortality within them, so despite having the momentum to ascend, the chains of his mortal half, his mortal soul, bound him firmly to the coil of mortality.


    ¡°Now some say it was a plot by Hera, Queen of the Olympians, hating and fearing Heracles would do the impossible, as he had done so many times before, and somehow rise to become a god while still mortal, so she plotted his death. Others that it was Zeus, out of fear that Heracles would surpass and supplant him as he had done to his own father, so created his own son¡¯s doomed fate. Another theory is that one of Heracles¡¯ divine siblings did it out of jealousy for the attention and pride Zeus held for Heracles. In all honesty any and all of them could be true knowing the minds and fears of the Divine and the Olympians in particular.¡±


    Leif listened intently as the male god spoke, discovering the background and legends that a Nexus made Reality was built on, learning about the characters within them and their individual and personal relationship histories where key. Now if only the goddess would stop waving what smelled like a beef, lettuce, cheese and mustard sandwich under his nose. Leif wondered why his sense of smell had to be so acute, so tortuously accurate about a silly sandwich, when he didn¡¯t manage to smell a giant man-eating wolf creeping up behind him. Leif threw the question to the back of his mind as the god continued.


    ¡°The end result is the same whoever the mastermind, Heracles died, poisoned and in agony, with ironic results. His mortal half, his mortal soul, taken personally by an old rival of Heracles, Thanatos, God of Death, Reaper of the Dead and the Doom of Mortality, to the Underworld and Kingdom of Hades. His divine half, some say bolstered by his fame and deeds, by the love, belief and worship of so many mortals who considered him invincible, having bested even the God of Death in trial by combat once before, rose to Olympus and took his place as a god.


    ¡°The other theory is that Zeus saved his son, whether out of guilt or genuine sorrow is up to debate. Zeus, watched with grief and/or guilt at the sight of his favourite son suffering from the poison his skin burning and melting like wax, suffering the effects of dying as a mortal but unable to do so due to his divinity. Unable to watch his son writhing and screaming in agony, his thrashing so terrible they made the mountains and land quake around him, Zeus separated his son into two halves, allowing the mortal half to descend to Elysium, while carrying his son¡¯s divine half to Olympus. Again, whichever the theory, the result was the same, Heracles become a god of the Olympian Pantheon, perhaps the most arduous feat he ever accomplished or his easiest, depends on who you ask.¡±


    Leif would have rolled his eyes if they were open at that last comment.


    The goddess hummed in contemplation, before responding, her tone ponderous.


    ¡°So, what Domain did Heracles gain? If he became a god, no matter the route or method he took to get there, he had to have had at least one Domain, right?¡±


    The god chuckled mockingly as he responded.


    ¡°Good question, one whose answer lends credence to the first theory I mentioned, whereby Heracles achieved godhood on his own merit alone. Heracles is considered by mortals as the first God of Heroes, with the Aspects of Fame, Combat, Strength, Endurance, Labour and Invincibility as he has suffered no defeat without trickery being involved first. In my mind, his Domain and Aspects leave little doubt over how he became a god, Zeus and the other Olympians¡¯ opinions aside.¡±


    The goddess seemed finished with questions as the next thing Leif heard her say was more of an order, or more probably, a request.


    ¡°You should go fetch me some more iron and materials from the mine and forest, unless you finally want to let me do it for myself now that my apprenticeship is over, I¡¯ve almost run out from forging Solemn Star.¡±


    The other god scoffed.


    ¡°My Alannah Aine has the hands of an artisan, while suited for labour, it should be rewarding labour, you, my Alannah Aine, are Grandmaster of the Craft in the making, they should be used doing what they are best suited. They should be crafting and forging things mortal minds are incapable of even dreaming of fashioning, and what gods tremble at the mere thought of attempting. I will fetch you some more supplies for now, I can use them to help guide you to create some helpers to perform the more menial tasks within your Territory so you can focus on honing your craft.¡±


    Leif heard footsteps moving away, when moments later, after they disappeared, a soft voice whispered in his ear.


    ¡°Time to wake up, my sleeping beauty, you should have fulfilled your want of guidance and need of direction after hearing my father¡¯s informative lecture, haven¡¯t you? Besides you really should eat and have something to drink, my restorative sleep enchantment can only do so much to help a body without the necessary nutrients to actually recover.¡±


    Leif¡¯s eyelids sprang open with ease and leaning over him was probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, the wild yet graceful beauty of her form branding itself into his eyes like looking at the sun like an idiot. She took his breath away in world shattering shock and awe . . . wait did she just call him her ¡®sleeping beauty¡¯? And how did she know about him feeling at a loss on what to do in Modern Age? Who is this lady?

 Chapter 7: Powers on Display and Upfront Bribery

    Aine grinned, the expression on his face priceless, which made her feel oddly . . . refreshingly naughty.


    Aine rolled her eyes at the feeling before she slowly turned away from the man on the couch and walked over to the huge hearth on the right wall. This hearth was mirrored by the hearth on the left wall of her waiting/leisure lounge, forming a perfectly synchronised image, with couches and side-tables arranged in semi-circles facing them, creating a walkway between them straight to the service desk. Turning back to him and she dipped her hand into the fire and as she took it out, held a ball of writhing fire on the centre of her palm. His eyes darted between her face and the fire held on her palm of her hand, Aine smiled as she turned her attention to the fire.


    ¡°Want and need, two similar things out of context. It is just that both seem to have only a minor difference in terminology. But is that a fact? The truth is, what you ¡®need¡¯ isn¡¯t always what you want, and what you ¡®want¡¯ isn¡¯t always something you need. That is my self-determined role, I sort the difference between them, sort out what someone ¡®wants¡¯ and what someone ¡®needs¡¯. Then I offer what they ¡®need¡¯.¡±


    Smiling at the flame in her hand, she closed her eyes and whispered under her breath. Tapping into her Domains and Aspects was an interesting experience, different in the form and type of experience for each. However, things only get difficult, mind-bending or painful when she tries to use two or more Domains or Aspects at the same time or in rapid succession. In this case, Hearth, Crafting and then Wealth.


    Hearth was for protection, both for herself and for the other party, as well as empowerment for her other and following abilities. Crafting was to gain inspiration, an idea on what they ¡®needed¡¯ to leverage their present challenges in a favourable direction for themselves. Wealth was how she made the deal fair and profitable for both herself and the other party, Aine wasn¡¯t interested in ripping people off for momentary gain. A river full of fish could provide more in the long run than a single hunt ever could.


    Aine let the warmth and heat of her hearth billow out, let it swell and fill the area around both her and the man, its heat formed a barrier of safety, of protection to keep chill of fear far from them. Its light chasing and scattering the shadows and darkness of ill-fortune and the unknown. Just as a campfire would warm a weary traveller or a torch would light their way in the dark of the night, driving away both cold and shadow from their place of rest or their path.


    A frown formed on her face as Aine felt the throb of a headache burst behind her eyes, even as the flame on her hand soon began to change, twisting and moulding itself into a shape. Aine took a deep breath to steady herself, before casting the flame on her hand back into the fires of her hearth, causing it to roar with her power. Both she and the man on the couch stared into the blaze and watched as it transformed into an image, a vision, of a sword being made, the burst of sparks from the hammering of cherry crimson steel. Before the image changed to a man, shirtless and with sweat dripping from his body as he swung a pickaxe into rock and stone, discovering the treasures of the earth as he reaches out to pick up a lump that glimmers with a lustre of wealth.


    Aine smirked at the image before glancing at the fellow on one of her couches.


    ¡°A sword, huh, I would have guessed a spear for a Son of Odin, but I guess that would be stereotyping, I guess fate is really interested in you alien demi-gods. I hadn¡¯t even put out the welcome mat and it had already sent both you and the inspiration for your sword to my humble abode.¡±


    She turned and walked to a mostly empty rack of swords, trailing her finger down to the last and most recent addition she had added to their small number. Aine didn¡¯t like making swords, not out of any modern thinking of them being outdated but more out of a learned dislike of killing and battle in general. She had seen what it had done to her father.


    Heard of what it had cost him in the long run of time. Even in spite of what it had gained him, she knew from his own lips that he would have traded it all to have his children back.


    So, Aine didn¡¯t like swords. Or any weapon really.


    She only made them when the inspiration hit her. She wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep until she did. But then, that just made her dislike them all the more, it was terribly rude to keep a girl from her beauty sleep. Did they have any idea the kind of weathering and damage a blazing hot forge did to a person¡¯s skin? Aine felt like she needed all the beauty-sleep she could get because despite her love of creating and working with metal, she liked to feel beautiful as well.


    No woman doesn¡¯t want to be considered attractive.


    Still, this sword was special to her.


    Solemn-star. Her graduation piece and her first True-Name weapon.


    She had hoped to keep it with her, if only for a little while. She could feel the pride and joy she felt when her father told her she had completed her apprenticeship whenever she glanced at it. Even if the event was still fresh and only hours old, she wanted it to still feel the same decades or even centuries from now. Having the sword by her side would have helped her hold onto that feeling of pure joy.


    But that would be selfish and cruel.


    Solemn-star wasn¡¯t an ornamental art piece. To just be viewed and admired for its form, beauty or message. Nor a simple lump of metal in a swords¡¯ shape. It had a soul, one born for the perils of war and the harshness of leadership. It was born to make the hard and lonely sacrifices of one who stands in judgement, grave and distant, but ever shining in fulfilling in its honour bound duty.


    It desired to find its purpose and place in the world, to discover its soulmate, its partner, just as we all do. Who was she to deny her special creation its own dreams and path?


    All memories fade, for good or for ill, Aine smiled as she took Solemn-star down, she would just need to make new and better ones in the future, and she hoped to give Solemn-star the chance and opportunity to do the same.


    Turning back to the demi-god, Aine stared at him in thought.


    ¡°You appear to need a weapon my fine fellow, but before we get into that, perhaps introductions are in order. I¡¯ll go first as the host, shall I? My name is Aine, an Earthly Divine and this is my home, temple and business all in one and you are most welcome to stay by the safety of my hearth under my protection.¡±


    Aine held Solemn-star in one hand and gestured with the other that it was his turn.


    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


    Leif sat up and pushed the blanket that lay atop him to the side, before carefully getting to his feet and clearing his throat.


    ¡°My name is Leif Odinsson, I am not quite sure how I managed to arrive here, but I was in dire straits, I can only profess my profound thanks that you were kind enough to offer me your generous help. Thank you, Divine Lady, for saving my life.¡±


    The goddess, and Leif was certain that she is indeed a goddess, whatever an Earthly Divine may be, chuckled.


    ¡°Not even bothering to hide it, impressively bold and honest if foolhardy. Or so my father would say.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Her eyes meet his, the wisdom he found there, kind and with well-meaning intentions.


    ¡°A warning, from the daughter of an ancient and powerful god to the son of an old and more powerful god, what is old and powerful will also have enemies just as old, if not older, and maybe just as powerful. It is the nature of beings with both age and power. Especially gods, if what my father has told me is any indication, tend to attract enemies, with their demi-god children often falling prey to those enemies.


    ¡°Though, most ancients seem able to tell who or what fathered or mothered an individual or what-have-you, so perhaps there is simply no avoiding the dangers of being the mortal child of a god. Still, best to try and avoid as much of that type of danger as much as possible.¡±


    Leif felt his lips twitch in a pained fashion as he had already encountered that very situation.


    However, the question he felt was most important, considering the issue of his general safety having been answered, was where this goddess¡¯ place of residence is and how did he find Asta and get back to Oslo. Preferably without offending his current host or running into any of his ¡®in-game¡¯ father¡¯s enemies, or the one he had already met for that matter.


    Leif glanced at the sword held in her graceful hand. He found himself a tad slow on the details today, noticing, or indeed, not noticing details until it served little point in doing so. But still, he did not mind noticing some details even if they were slow in coming to his attention.


    Like the way her dark honey golden, a sublime mix of blonde and brunette, seemed to waver and float, like fire or just maybe her hair simply wasn¡¯t bound by the laws of gravity. Or her skin looked like smooth, luscious, caramel silk but also had an almost golden bronze metallic sheen to it, as it carried a faint but warm glow of light and heat.


    When you stare into her honey and molten gold eyes, you can feel the sweet heat roll through you and should her eyes drift away, to observe you, you can tell where she is looking by the wandering heat of her gaze. And should they stray from you to something else?


    You were suddenly ice cold and in the deadly chill of winter.


    As if you had been thrust out into a blizzard naked from a toasty warm bed, that had a roaring fireplace close enough that you where roasting marshmallows not even moments before.


    It was distinctly unpleasant, especially for the not short but also not long duration she had been staring and taking that sword she was now holding from the weapon rack.


    He had the discrete impression that her gaze was addictive and her smile, formed by soft, rose gold lips was a deadly weapon when paired with a seductively angelic yet still regal and boldly beautiful face. With beyond supermodel height and a perfectly proportioned, but incredibly well toned and fit body, it was every inch the face and body of a warrior goddess and divine queen.


    Truly a breath-taking beauty. Yet he felt she either didn¡¯t notice the affect her gorgeous beauty had, or it could be that she simply didn¡¯t care.


    Leif realise he had been staring slack-jawed at his host and a goddess for an embarrassingly long time, men had been turned into animals and hunted by their own hounds for less. However, she walked over to the bar or maybe it was a service desk, or both? Nope, definitely a bar, as she poured herself a mug of something from a tapped barrel behind the bar and walked back, a thick and frothy head.


    Taking a seat beside his old couch and next to the side table with a tray of sandwiches and a mug of some beverage he had once again failed to notice due to his surreal surroundings (that was his excuse and he was sticking to it), she, Aine, looked at him and gestures to his old couch.


    ¡°Take a seat Leif, wet that parched throat and fill that hungry belly of yours, we have bargaining to do. Some might starve you or leave you dying of thirst to distract and undermine your ability to make good and sound decisions, I however lack the moral bankruptcy to go through with that sort of tactic unfortunately. So, take your time, no rush and all. But if you want, we can make small talk while you eat to pass the time. I would love to hear about the world you come from. Are demi-gods common there? Do you and others like you serve your divine parents as champions and act as heroes to the people of the world you come from? Why did you come to this world? Have you been to worlds other than this one? I . . . I am sorry.¡±


    She let out a warm and jovial laugh, leaning back into her couch, sinking into its buttery softness as she did so, the sword she had been holding now across her lap, her other hand still gripping her mug. Bringing it to her soft smiling lips and taking a long sip, her eyes closing in the pleasure of savouring the taste of it, before lowering it and sighing contently.


    Her eyes opened and flickered towards Leif¡¯s still stumped expression from her previous barrage of questions, her smile becoming a mischievous grin.


    "Never mind, it¡¯s too much trouble to explain I¡¯m sure. Instead, maybe we should talk about the price of this.¡± She gestured to the sword on her lap. ¡°Of course, while I wish I could give you a friendly discount, I¡¯m not sure I know you well enough for you to count for it, rules you see. But if you were to say . . . tell me about yourself, I¡¯m sure I will be infatuated with all the delightful details. Still, I cannot force you to do anything you don¡¯t want to, and I don¡¯t want to impose.¡±


    Leif regained control of his facial expression and raised an eyebrow at her apparent, and she made it clear it was deliberate, attempt at bribery. The fact that she was so . . . fun and easy to communicate with, was a first for him, like she didn¡¯t even consider herself as a probably centuries old goddess, with the power he couldn¡¯t even guess at the present. It was both unnerving and refreshing at the same time, unnerving because he wasn¡¯t sure if the other shoe would ever drop at a wrong word. Refreshing since the only other person he had ever felt so at ease around was Asta.


    He considered the backstory of this ¡®reality¡¯ Nexus had created, on the fact that the reason for the arrival of ¡®the alien demi-gods¡¯ wasn¡¯t exactly clear to anyone apart from a coming war. While those that may know more on the details of what the war was for or where the lines would be drawn, weren¡¯t sharing. It was also clear that this world had a similar mythology to his own reality¡¯s, though with some clear differences as this world¡¯s mythology was Nexus¡¯ version of it.


    Leif could only believe it would simply a matter of poetic licence.


    But, from the clues he had from both before and after arriving in this ¡®reality¡¯, he could guess that they, being the gods and community of this ¡®reality¡¯ knew next to nothing or at least very little about what sort of world he and the other Beta-Players and the future players came from.


    It gave him a lot of leeway on what he could share and using the connection in their realities¡¯ shared myths and similar geographical layout of their realities¡¯ world, he could share things he thought might interest her.


    That is if he could discover where in the world and what mythology in the world she was from.


    But for now, it was clear she was mostly interested in them, ¡®the players¡¯ and others like them back in their own world. As he thought on who the most recognized heroes his world had to offer, the subject of heroes reminded him of the superhero comics his great-grandfather, a fastidious and avid collector, had let him read as a child.


    Though only the more common and replaceable ones.


    The rarer ones were locked in his vault and Leif fully believed his great-grandfather would very likely take them with him to his grave like some ancient Egyptian pharaoh.


    Glancing at the Goddess Aine, who waited patiently while sipping her frothy and nibbling on a sandwich which made Leif¡¯s stomach growl ferociously with ravenous and staved hunger. He reached over to the tray of sandwiches and grabbed what looked like a chicken and avocado sandwich triangle, quickly taking a bite and only moments later finding himself biting his own fingers in his eagerness to scarf the rest of the morsel down his gullet. Leif picked up the other mug, clearly placed there for him, and took a long draw, moistening his parched throat considerably.


    The loud and honestly amused, good-natured laughter of the goddess beside him made Leif blush only slightly as he felt his actions entirely justified. Those sandwiches were magic.


    She spoke from her place seated beside him, her voice as deeply sweet and as tempting with a hit of bite as a good toffee apple, smiling with pleasure at his rapture over the sandwiches.


    ¡°It is good to see you enjoying them, I would have been forced to hate you on principle if you had abstained from them out of some kind of entirely unnecessary caution. I¡¯m hardly going to poison you after saving your life. What a completely illogical and wasteful use of time. Not that time means much in my domain if I don¡¯t want it to.¡±


    Leif mulled over and stored that little titbit of information as he continued eating, before proceeding to get his other thoughts in order. As Leif opened his mouth and he awkwardly realised that this would be basically the second time he had spoken in the entire time he had been here as her guest. He hadn¡¯t thought himself much of a listener.


    However, he quickly managed to come to the logical conclusion that simply appreciating the goddess and admiring the raw beauty of her voice was eminently more preferable to hearing the sound of his own voice.


    But needs must and so Leif decided to soldier on.


    ¡°In my world, those that . . . transcend, I guess would be the word, mortal limitations and exhibit abilities that are beyond on the norm of what most mortals would ever possess and yet put those same abilities to use in protecting and saving the lives of others are most commonly called . . .¡±


    Leif paused for dramatic effect as the goddess leaned closer, her lips parting in anticipation and her eyes glowing with curiosity.


    ¡°Superheroes.¡±

 Chapter 8: Going Down Memory Lane and Cursing Fate

    Aine pondered the grand sagas and epic tales that Leif had told her as she stood in her forge lost in thought. These stories were recorded within ¡®comics¡¯, some even spanned multiple comics, which were then listed as ¡®Vol.1¡¯, ¡®Vol.2¡¯ and so on to allow the order in which an individual Superheroes¡¯s story should be read to be known. In the end, Aine did offer Leif a small discount, for his information, it was novel if nothing else.


    Smiling as she recalled the bargaining that went back and forth between them. Leif was at a natural disadvantage, after all she had saved his live and he had little to no clue on the price of a sword, let alone an enchanted sentient one. Aine could have gouged him horribly if she had had the desire. But she had no such want or desire. She might have felt the inclination to rip him off if he had been a dick, but Leif had been nothing if not a gentleman to her. She liked that in a man.


    Having tried the ¡®bad ones¡¯ once or twice herself but lost interest after that. Jillian on the other hand, was a serial ¡®bad boy/girl¡¯ addict, Aine had been forced to eat buckets of ice-cream on no few occasions due to Jillian after a bad break-up. Aine¡¯s smile widened at the thought of her friend¡¯s face covered in some kind of triple-chocolate or something ice-cream bemoaning the fact that all the decent hot guys were taken.


    Utter bull. Jillian could get any man or girl she wanted, decent or otherwise, if so inclined.


    She just liked fixer-uppers and the like. Both in love and in friends. Aine was Jillian¡¯s only real success story, if it wasn¡¯t obvious. They had been friends ever since Jillian decided to walk up to the girl, that had until that point, preferred her own company and asked if they could be friends. Aine was at a low point in her childhood at that point, having been just rejected from another foster home, and Jillian¡¯s offer was her rope out.


    Her father had explained that Jillian was much like herself, she didn¡¯t belong among mortals, just in a different way. Jillian wasn¡¯t a demi-god or even a descendant of a god.


    She was the daughter of a Greater Fae, which one her father wasn¡¯t clear on, he didn¡¯t walk among his former race as much as he used to, but he did know that whoever she descended from was an enchantress or enchanter. They are one of the Fae that often moved among and mingled with, mortals. But by no means did they belong among them. Their presence often tore families apart, caused feuds to erupt between lifelong friends and started wars out of jealous passion between royal and heroic suitors alike.


    They were doomed however, with a tragically short attention span for love, though lust would be the better word. Not that they themselves would agree, of course.


    Aine knew from her father that Fae were tightly tied to Nature and the World itself. Enchantresses and their male counterparts emulating a less than pleasant side of both, despising the trappings of any and everything, constantly wondering all over and leaving a trail of broken hearts and chaos behind them.


    Aine had scoffed at the idea that Jillian was even remotely alike or related to them.


    Her father however had simply smiled and informed her that chaos often begets order.


    The children of these kind of chaotic enchantresses are Fae that can be likened to bee queens or lion prides, while often just as unlucky, or rather self-sabotaging, in love, they do delight in settling down and forming communities. Now, just because they prefer not to sow chaos and then walk off while leaving a mess behind for others to suffer from, does not mean they are by nature, goodly beings.


    They belong just as little as their more chaotic parents do among mortals.


    Just for a different reason.


    Cults, organised crime syndicates among other things are just a few things that this kind of Fae can get up to if they so choose. This is not to say that humans are not perfectly capable of creating all these types of organisations by themselves, just that these Fae do it better and often with far longer reaching consequences.


    A few, like Jillian, find creating a healthier community more to their liking.


    But they still do not belong.


    And for the same reason as their less then kind members.


    They are not, can and will never be, mortal.


    They are other.


    And even if they start with purely good intentions and wants, they will often become twisted by time, continued isolation and their desire to belong and fit in. The longer they feel themselves not fitting into the mortal communities they create, the worse their feeling of isolation becomes and the more dangerous they will become.


    Now, Jillian is a baby in the terms of the Fae, she has centuries to go ¡®bad¡¯. But Aine¡¯s father believes that Jillian is one of the lucky few. Because she has someone who is just as other, if not potentially more, as she is, in Aine.


    Thus, Jillian¡¯s chances of going ¡®bad¡¯ dwindled sharply.


    But it will never vanish completely, as not even a human can remain unchanged over a scant few score years, let alone a being that will live hundreds if not thousands of years.


    It will be up to Aine to help her, to keep her sane or so her father says. Aine could only roll her eyes at this sage advice from her father. How is that different to any other real friendship?


    Aine paused in her remembrance, feeling like she had gotten lost and off topic. What was she thinking before Jillian? Aine taped her chin in thought, blowing her cheeks up like a blowfish as the wheels in her mind churned.


    Which quickly draws a burst startled of laughter from her father, before he started awkwardly coughing to cover it.


    Though embarrassing for her, hearing it allowed her pick up her previous line of thought.


    She¡¯d kicked her father out of the mines, so that she could let Leif get to work paying of his debt. That was the price her power told her to offer.


    Working down in her mineshaft.


    Sounds awful doesn¡¯t it?


    But it did fulfil both their needs, her need for a continuous supply of material for her to forge and he needed a way to work off his debt that was both reasonably safe, if he stayed on the first level of her mine, and profitable enough that he wasn¡¯t forced be her slave for the next few centuries. Part of the deal they made also included her setting up a beckon of sorts for Asta, so that she could, if she was still in the Sideways Paths, find her way unconsciously to Aine¡¯s door and to safety.


    Aine liked that part of the deal the best.


    Even after everything that had happened to him, Leif still had the presence of mind to be concerned about his friend and be willing to work off the price that needed to be paid to bring Asta to safety. Also, it brought her another customer. But mostly it was the friendship feels that Aine liked.


    Yup, loved those feels.


    Aine¡¯s father stared at her, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully as he did so, before he started speaking.


    ¡°You seem to be terribly interested in that boy. Not trying to pry. But as your father I feel you can do better. You shouldn¡¯t obsess over the first divine-blooded mortal you meet. There are tens of thousands of other potential candidates for you to choose your consort from, don¡¯t limit yourself to the first one you meet even if he is an oddity.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Aine glanced at her father, before making her eye-roll as obvious as possible for him to see as she looked away. Her father let out an awkward cough, as to cover his embarrassing overthinking, before taking another attempt at sounding out his daughter¡¯s thoughts.


    ¡°Are you trying to figure out how to bait him into staying in debt? He is a hard worker; in just two hours he has already churned out three loads of ore. Fairly impressive, considering how weak of a demi-god he is. My first estimate of him was that he was barely better than a mortal in peak physical condition, which is the standard for the lowest rung of demi-gods having barely inherited the divine blood of their godly parent.¡±


    She turned to stare hard at her father.


    He promptly decided to verbally back pedal.


    ¡°Joking, just a joke my Alannah Aine.¡±


    Aine watched as her father runs a hand through his golden hair ruefully. She couldn¡¯t help but smile, even after all the time they had spent together, her father was still finding hard to figure out where he stood. It was clear he wanted to be involved now that he had the opportunity after standing on the sidelines for so long.


    But his little girl was all grown up by the time he had the chance and had lived a far less then sheltered life as a ward of the state and now even his small part as her mentor had come to an end as well.


    It was hard for him to find a place in her life. And to be a meaningful part of it as well.


    Aine¡¯s heart ached and her nose became stuffy. She walked up to him and put her arms around him, leaning her head against her father¡¯s chest. Tall as she is, her father is still a miniature giant.


    Which suited her just fine.


    Her father¡¯s strong arms slowly and carefully embraced her in turn, controlling his enormous strength so as to offer the safest of harbours for his daughter, as he gently kissed the top of her head. Aine looked up at her father, a smile gracing her lips.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to struggle to find a place in my life, you¡¯re my father. Whether you want a place in my life or not, you already have one. There will probably come a day when you regret being so eager.¡±


    Her father¡¯s expression became deadly serious as he growled out.


    ¡°If such a day truly does come and I have truly become such a wretched fool, I hope providence offers me the opportunity to gut this future self like the mongrel cur he is.¡±


    Aine rolled her eyes at the impossible logic and simply found happiness in the sentiment.


    Her father offered a query, apparently having given up on guessing what his daughter had on her mind.


    ¡°So, what are your plans then my Alannah Aine?¡±


    Aine stepped out of her father¡¯s hug, though as she did, she had to laugh at her father¡¯s suddenly devastated expression at her unexpected abandonment in response to his question.


    ¡°Firstly, I¡¯m going to wait for this Asta to arrive, I have to fulfil my side of the bargain after all. Secondly, since she should be in better condition than Leif since I¡¯ve started to assist in guiding her onto the fastest but least demanding path to here, I will see if I can do some business. Thirdly, I will try and see if I can pick up some inspiration from her. Then I can see if I can get her to make a deal for it.¡±


    Aine pressed her fingers together, forming a bottomless triangle in front of her and tapped her chin with the tip, as she explained her plan to her father. Her father frowned in thought as he replied.


    ¡°But what are your plans for the far future, what do you seek to accomplish by opening up your Territory like this to the mortal realm, to Earth through the Sideways Paths? This will draw attention to you! Not only from these demi-gods, which I hope was actually intentional on your part, but from other gods and Earthly Divines. Remember that you and I are not the only members of both groups in existence.


    ¡°We went through the danger and the trouble to anchor your Divine Territory at the very farthest edge of Earth¡¯s surrounding Sideways Paths, just close enough to still be considered a part of Earth, so it can still offer you its strength, but hidden far from the notice of the others. You are entirely self-sustainable within your Territory; you could have avoided the coming war and its dangers almost in its totality.¡±


    Her reached out and with both hands gently held her by her shoulders, care and worry in his eyes as he leaned over to stare deeply into her own gaze.


    ¡°You could have still visited Jillian whenever you wanted and if you are worried about the taxes and rates on the land we used as the foundation for your Territory, you needn¡¯t have, I have already seen to it, it will be taken care of for centuries. I have asked a friend to tend to it in return of a favour he owned me and trust me a few centuries is getting off light compared to the magnitude of the favour I did for him, but still surely long enough for the war to either blow over or for everyone else to be dead and thus no danger to you.


    ¡°You can be safe and far from the dangers of both the politics, schemes and general contemptable nature of the gods and from the machinations of Nexus and fate itself. You don¡¯t have you place your self in danger, my Alannah Aine.¡±


    Aine stared up at her father and knew he just wanted to protect her, that he loved and cherished her more than he did his own honour, pride or duty. But she also knew that she had a role to play in this war, if that is what was going to happen, and staying hidden at the edge of the world, concealed in some far branch of the Sideways Paths, would only delay whatever destiny fate had planned for her. It wasn¡¯t out of pride or arrogance that she believed she had a role to play either, she wasn¡¯t having delusions of grandeur, she knew because it was the World that first offered her a deal.


    It would send demi-gods to her when It chose to and she would offer a safe haven, aid and succour, and It in turn would protect, hide and guard her from those that would seek her with ill-intentions, sending their efforts astray.


    Seemed like a good deal to her, basically free advertisement and protection.


    But there was a catch. There always was. But at least this one didn¡¯t seem too terrible on the face of it - Complete Neutrality.


    She would offer the same hospitality and guidance to all that enter her doors, unless someone acts to harm, detain, scheme, threaten or provoke either herself or someone in her care first and only after a warning to desist has been issued first.


    So Aine knew that these demi-gods would make their way to her, they didn¡¯t have any more choice in the matter then she did really, the World would have sent them to her regardless of if she had agreed to its deal or not.


    It would have just been less polite about how they found their way in.


    Aine smiled at her father and covered his hands on her shoulders with her own.


    ¡°I think I was marked the moment I was born, you said it yourself, you offered anything and everything that I might live on, that the three could at least continue on as one. What if that included being of service if it needed me?¡±


    Her father flinched and reeled back as if she had struck him, his expression morphing into one of abject horror.


    And then ruinous hatred.


    Rage and fury actually burned in his eyes as he shook with immensity of his wrath.


    ¡°ACCURSED FATE!!! HAVE I NOT GIVEN YOU ENOUGH! I HAVE I NOT YET PAID ALL I OWED! WHY NOW MUST MY DAUGTHER BE YOUR INDENTURED SERVANT! NO, I REFUSE TO LET THIS BE! MY DAUGHTER WILL NEVER SUFFER UNDER YOUR YOKE! SHE IS NO ONES SLAVE!!!¡±


    His ire was staggering and sharply reminded her of how terrifying it is to be near her father as his bottled-up emotions erupt. And with no clear target in sight for it to unleash itself onto either. Aine realised she had not only poked the still very raw wound of her birth in her father¡¯s heart, she had ripped it open again and poured salt on it.


    Aine reached out to hug him, words of apology and comfort on her lips, desperate to sooth his precariousness emotional state. Her father, however, sidestepped and turned away, walking for the door of her Territory. Aine shouted as she raced after him, struggling to keep up even at a run, in comparison to his walk.


    ¡°Wait . . . Daddy, please wait . . . I didn¡¯t mean to throw any blame your way, I was just . . . I was just saying that I may have a part to play, maybe I always would have. That maybe the three, two, one or however many of us would have always had a part to play. I mean why should we get to be special. Everyone else is bound to this ship as well. Daddy please . . . don¡¯t leave like this . . . I¡¯m sorry, please don¡¯t leave.¡±


    That last part she spoke as barely more than a whisper. A prayer almost.


    But her father heard it like thunder and it almost dropped him to his knees. Aine blinked and her father was suddenly in front of her, his chest covering the whole of her vision and he wrapped her up in his arms and held her tight. She heard his voice as he whispered to her, his tone as gentle and soft as it had ever been.


    ¡°I will always love you, my Alannah Aine. And I will never abandon you or leave you behind. You are my everything, my world. Without you I will lose the last of whatever purpose I have left. Never doubt that, whatever anyone says or what may happen, never doubt that.¡±


    Aine nodded her head, the confident young woman and sly business-minded goddess was gone and just the scared little girl who longed for a family of her own, one that would never leave her, remained. Aine let her arms wrap around him and her hands twist themselves into knots in her father¡¯s clothes as she gripped them tight, her silent tears soaking into his tunic.


    Aine step away after a good long while, arms crossing themselves as she held herself, looking up at her father as she searched his expression. She was about to speak when the handle for the door of her Territory twisted down and the door swung open. Aine turned to look at the door as a woman stepped through. Aine¡¯s eyes shook and her body shuddered as her Territory rumbled, her father glanced up and then back to Aine, before turning his torso to stare at the woman. Shock run through him the moment he laid eyes on her, the cold feeling of inertia coiling and twisting his intestines. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Aine spoke first.


    ¡°Why . . . do you feel . . . like family?¡±


    The woman stares at the two of these tall, gorgeous and practically glowing beings nonplussed as the building they all stood with in slowly stopped shaking. She hesitantly responded to Aine¡¯s question.


    ¡°I am Asta Brand-H?r, Daughter of Freya and I¡¯m just looking for my friend. He got himself lost as per usual and I have to find him before he gets himself kill.¡±

 Chapter 9: The Gut the Cur Motherly Alliance of the Lioness, the Lynx and the Owl

    High above the mortal world, between the clouds and the stars, lay a gossamer net of true silver and diamond invisible to the mortal eye, crisscrossing the world. Both cage and security, infinitively thin and yet absurdly vast, exists Nexus¡¯ Divine Territory, the Divine Crossroads. Allowing both instantaneous travel and almost omniscience knowledge and surveillance of the mortal world, it was even whispered that it could perceive knowledge of other Divine Territories. Both feared and yet still used by all Pantheons, the Divine Crossroads offered the gods of Earth the knowledge of almost every event at any location, all at one place and at any giving moment on Earth. Past, present and some say future, if Nexus wishes that it be known.


    Each silver thread representing a possible path and hallway, each diamond a crossroad and hall, and within one such grand hall, three goddesses stood, staring at a globe of the World. Floating above a fountain pool of molten true silver, virtual and yet solid, the World slowly turned before the three of them and their ever-watchful gaze.


    The three goddesses differed from each other vastly in dress and appearance, but each were beyond mortal words such as beauty or gorgeous. Unless they were willing to humanised themselves, the eyes of mortals would likely burst, and their brains burn to ash trying to make sense of these goddesses divine and almost alien beauty.


    One of the goddesses, dressed in a fine, soft leather, dress, a golden belt, with a gilded sword and its sheath attached, wrapped around her waist. A regal, thick cloak made of troll-bear fur and hide, the long, thick fur platted and studded with amber, and bound with rings of silver rested upon her shoulders. Her glowing hair, like thick honey and molten gold, captured in a long braid, rested beside her neck descending past her chest, stopping an inch before touching the floor. Blue eyes, the colour of the Nordic fiords, inherited from her father, gazed at the globe, a look of cold determination and a chilly thirst for revenge reverberated within their depths.


    Her hand of translucent white, her graceful long fingers wrapped round and grasped a spear of dragon bone and dwarven gold, rose. Her wrists covered in hard studded leather bracers of iron, a thick band of gold, set with amber, enveloped her strong but lithe upper arm. The supple muscles of her arm, almost unnoticeable before she used them, showed long practice and experience, as she thrust her spear at the World before the three of them.


    ¡°Twenty years. Twenty years we¡¯ve stared at this cursed globe and for what? That bastard son of a cur and a giant has vanished and taken our daughters with him. For twenty years! He stole them from us, denied us the chance to hold them, to even see them, let alone watch them grow!¡±


    Her firmly toned yet feminine body, a warrior¡¯s body, shook with her rage, her heavenly voice, originally deep like the ocean, now sharp and furious like a storm at sea.


    ¡°We had so little time to even do that! To see their first steps! To hear their first words! Just a few scant mortal years to see them come to womanhood! To guide them as much as we could! HE TOOK IT ALL WHEN HE STOLE OUR DAUGHTERS!¡±


    She slammed her spear down, its base hammering the black diamond floor to the sound of thunder, the hall shuddering only slightly despite the fury and power within the blow. Her volume lowering to a vengeful hiss, full of venom and malice.


    ¡°And yet here we stand, and stare at a wretched globe, instead of hunting him down and turning him into a screaming red eagle! Tell me Athena! FOR WHAT!!!¡±


    Her gaze burned at the goddess in question. Dressed in a pristine white toga, a golden bronze breastplate resting over it. Similarly armed with a spear, Athena had a shield of gold, the face of which bore the Head of Medusa. Medusa¡¯s eyes covered simply with a white ribbon of cloth, her serpentine hair slowly writhing and undulating, their forked tongues slipping from venomous mouths, tasting the air and using what they find to smell for prey.


    Only a few are able to surprise Athena while she wields her shield in hand or rests nearby.


    A white maned helm, a pair of bracers and leg guards, under her arm, on her forearms and around her shins respectively, each of gold bronze straight from the Forge of Hephaestus himself, and indestructible to all mortal, and many divine, means. Her long, soft and rich brunette hair, flowed as a waterfall down her back, completely unrestrained. Fair skin, tanned by the outdoors and days on the battlefields, glowed with health and vibrancy as it covered a body refined by practice and battle, partly hidden beneath her apparel.


    Eyes of greenish blue, like the Aegean Sea, inherited from both her mother and her grandfather, stunningly deep with wisdom while cunningly secreted but sometimes revealed, like pearls in the deep ocean, a piercing, razor-intelligence and patience dwelled. Her gaze, chillingly cool and placid, swept over to glance at her raging ally.


    ¡°By all means Freya, go ride your chariot and trumpet your horn all over the mortal world, declaring war on Nexus themselves in the process, looking for your daughter. It matters little to me if you are impaled on your own grief and pain induced idiocy. If there is anything to be learned from my wild child and wilful sister Artemis, it is that to track and hunt a cunning and scheming hound like Lugh Macnia L¨¢mhfhada, the key will be who is more patient. Even Artemis can cool her mind, her eager restlessness for success and the taste of blood, when she hunts such a prey.


    ¡°But far be it from me to advise you, my fellow sister in loss. It is not as if I have not also lost my daughter! You are not the only one who is eager to see their daughter Freya.¡±


    Athena curved her gaze back to the globe, her refined classic features still, her expression stone-faced and emotionless. Only her more numerous words and the hissing and agitation of Medusa¡¯s serpentine hair revealed her emotions were not as sedate as she would have her allies believe. It was clear that even her wise patience had begun to thin. The knowledge of her first and only child¡¯s girlhood basically having come to an end burned her willingness to remind still. Like the heat of the sun evaporating a deep pool of water over decades with no rain, what was left, if any, was minute.


    Freya tightened her grip on her spear and a tick of muscle as her jaw ground her teeth together clearly showed Freya¡¯s growing frustration and deicidal intent toward her ally. An intent that was quickly quelled and soothed by the third member of their Triumvirate alliance, as it had been so many times before.


    Dressed in silken garb, its threads not of actual silk but instead made from flexible and soft gold, her choice of attire let much of her darkly golden coffee coloured skin show. Though light of clothes, she was heavily draped with jewellery, with much more of her skin being covered in precious stone crafted artistry than the golden cloth of her dress. Emeralds, the largest of which the size of a fist, the centre piece of her necklace, and gold were the primary materials of her jewellery.


    Where it would look tacky on most, she carried her ostentatious use of gold with a divine and regal bearing, with power and purpose. She seemed to glow with a royal majestic yet powerfully forceful and ravenous sexual energy. A true Queen of the Heavens, confident in her grip on her divine sovereignty, and with her feminine sex, aggressive in her hunt for more power but never at the cost of lessening her own worth.


    However, she carried a polished smooth amethyst and green garnet rattle on her sash of ocean blue silk next to a black iron and emerald sceptre, both of which stood out. But her hands could be seen resting upon rattle, the spectre forgotten, caressing it with a love and a gentleness that seemed out of character for her. It offered a softening of her general character, a gap in an otherwise impervious suit of golden regal authority, harsh justice and sexual confidence.


    Her hair, long and a blood red so deep it was black, a red that stories say her hair had been dyed from her many conquests. It defied the mortal laws of gravity, floating and drifting around her shoulders, as if rejecting such limitations, such be the concerns of lesser beings. Eyes of heavenly gold, bright and warm, though at times they can be brutally harsh and scorching, a trait she shared with her brother, flickered from the rattle to the brawl on its eve.


    She sashayed to Freya, her hands hovering just over Freya¡¯s tensed arms and body, her golden claw covered fingers only a hair width from Freya¡¯s skin, her lips against the other goddess¡¯ ear.


    ¡°Be calm, Freya. It is not Athena you rage against. Any harm you would do to her and any that would be done to you will have no sweet taste of blood, only the harsh bitterness of ash.¡±


    Freya breathed deep the heady yet airy scent of the other woman; a natural fragrance as smoky and saccharine smelling as divine and sexually charged as perfumed incense. Freya whispered, her voice rough and dark with a need for either blood or sex.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Do not start that what you will not finish Ishtar!¡±


    Ishtar grinned, her lush lips were so close though they might as well have been miles away from Freya¡¯s ears, ears that were now flushed hot blood red with either anger or lust.


    ¡°I never do my fierce Norse beauty.¡±


    Freya closed her eyes, the voice of the other goddess as delectable rich, pulsating and invigorating as a lioness¡¯ heated growl. Ishtar¡¯s claw-like non-touch traced Freya¡¯s arm, distracting and soothing her anger, redirecting it into another, and more satisfying in Ishtar¡¯s opinion, emotion. Her hair coiled around the two of them, strands drifting just beneath Freya¡¯s nose, not close enough to tickle, although alluringly close enough for Freya to inhale more of Ishtar¡¯s sensual scent.


    Ishtar could feel the gaze of Athena, could feel her frustration, but Ishtar ignored it. Athena had never needed Ishtar to sooth, redirect or otherwise soften her emotions. Ishtar knew that what she did, seducing and controlling Freya¡¯s emotions, was something that Athena would never accept being done to herself. Until twenty mortal years ago Athena stood among the small number of virginal goddesses in the world. Though technically since no intercourse is or was required for the creation of a divine child, she is still a virgin, but try telling that to the others.


    Ishtar understood Athena; stoic, logical and rational. Although Ishtar was no virgin, having indulged and delighted in the power and pleasure she had over both men and women alike for the entirety of her existence. But twenty years ago, like Athena, it had been her first attempt at having a child, in her case it was her first in a history almost five thousand years or so long.


    It had been a terrifying and exhilarating new experience.


    One that Ishtar likened to her old war campaigns and conquests against other gods, those days long past when gods could, and did, walk and wander the Earth.


    Freya, similar to herself, is a goddess who delighted not in the tactics and strategies of war but the thrill of it, though they still acknowledged the need for them. Both Freya and Ishtar were also beings that enjoyed passionate lust and sexual desire.


    Ishtar bit her tempting lips in a strong carnal delight as Freya let out a lynx-like groan of sensual frustration at Ishtar¡¯s teasing non-touch, her seductive whispers and intoxicating natural perfume.


    Yes, both enjoyed this, their little games. Sexual. Passionate. Risky. The perfect distraction from your pain is drowning yourself in a different emotion. Mortals would call it unhealthy; Ishtar would respond that the gods have never been the healthy sort.


    Like the similarly sexual Ishtar and like the virginal Athena, for one reason or another, Freya had been childless until twenty years ago. They were coping with their lose in the least destructive ways they could.


    The shared event and shared pain tied them together, one made stronger by the fact that they had, all of them, lost their daughters. They formed an unbreakable bond born from their sorrow, an alliance, to find their children. Then they would castrate the mongrel cur who took them, for his cruelty in stealing the limited time they¡¯d had to watch their daughters grow up in the mortal world.


    If there was one thing, they could not forgive, it was that! Stealing those few scant years their children were required to grow to maturity in the mortal world. All while they, their mothers, bereft, cast aside, used without the simple reward of being able to see or watch over them. Unable to even know their daughters, to see how they grew up in the mortal world. A blink of time for their divine mothers, but precious for the very same reason. He stole it all!


    Still, Athena, in the end was not free feeling enough to let Ishtar control or influence her emotions, even to help her ease them.


    Athena refused to be anything but rational one hundred percent of the time.


    Ishtar respected that.


    Still, she wondered what Athena would look like if she was as wild and unfettered as her siblings.


    Freya suddenly sprang away from Ishtar¡¯s sensory embrace. Her eyes staring at the globe with a fever-pitch as she took control of it from Athena. Reaching into the neck of her dress Freya draws a triangular section of an amulet, of green and gold, after which, she held it out toward to globe.


    The globe suddenly twisted and spun before stopping, all in the blink of a mortal eye.


    The Anglo-Celtic Isles centring itself before them, Londinium to be exact, of the High Kingdom of the Isles.


    Ishtar stared at the Isles thoughtfully.


    ¡°Tis ruled by the descendants of Queen Boudica after her successful reclaiming of the Isles from Roman rule. She and her descendants would unite the whole of the Isles into a single High Kingdom, the individual kingdoms being the Northern Kingdom of Alba, Southern Kingdom of Prydain and the Island Kingdom of Eire.


    ¡°And while united in preparation of a Roman attempt at reconquest, it never occurred due to the splintering of the Roman Empire after the disastrous reign and death of Nero.


    Her eyes glanced to Freya.


    ¡°Though it did serve them well in fending off the later invasion of the Saxons and the even later Norse invasion, instead forcing the surviving members of both invasions to assimilate into the already established kingdoms, much like the Roman civilians before them.


    Freya turned her head to glare at the blatant verbal slap to the face as both the Saxons and obviously the Norse were her Pantheon¡¯s followers. Ishtar clearly indicating that their followers¡¯ failure at conquering the Isles was a consequence of their own failure to best the Celtic Pantheon.


    The same Pantheon that Lugh Macnia L¨¢mhfhada belonged to.


    Freya responded frostily.


    ¡°It was weakness that drove them to seek green fields and meadows, unable to withstand the harsh icy beauty of the Norse-Lands, their weakness has nothing to do with me. Now, if you are done being snide because I walked away from our little game, I felt my part of my daughter¡¯s amulet resonate.¡±


    Ishtar and Athena¡¯s expressions became grim with their grave interest, moving to stand on either side of Freya. Staring at Londinium, Athena cocked her head, almost owl-like.


    ¡°Then we are to believe your daughter resides in Londinium?¡±


    Freya grimaced; her expression vexed.


    ¡°Leave it to Lugh, the cur, to place our daughter in a Neutral City. Typical of him, so close to his own power-base yet so far from his own Pantheon¡¯s influence. Nexus has never allowed any Pantheon to create so much as even a tiny shrine in a Neutral City, any that exist before the city had been decreed as Neutral would be either repurposed or taken by Nexus. The perfect place to hide my daughter from me and likely your daughters from you as well.¡±


    Ishtar however moved closer, arms crossed, her gaze never wavering from the city of Londinium.


    ¡°Do you know why Lugh¡¯s children always die?¡±


    Athena and Freya turned to look at each other, then at Ishtar. Athena raised a sculpted gracefully curved eyebrow.


    ¡°Enlighten us.¡±


    Ishtar smirked, but her eyes were cruel with a harsh light.


    ¡°Lugh is beloved by fate; he is the Luck Thief and the Fortune Taker. He is brave, noble and bold. He is also cunning, ruthless and cruel when he believes it is necessary, perfectly willing to scheme and use another¡¯s honour to kill them. The master of many and varied skills, all of which comes to him with ease, ever adaptable and progressive due to his ability to stay current and up to date with the mortals. He manages to master every new technology the moment it is created.¡±


    Ishtar knew she sounded bitter; it¡¯s because she is.


    ¡°But there is a price to pay for being the favourite of fate. For fate is jealous. It will allow no other to rise to challenge its beloved. And all of Lugh¡¯s children are fated to emulate him. All of them become heroes. And all of them die to become legends. So, fate has decreed.¡±


    She looked at her allies. Her eyes were chillingly apathetic and cold, very unlike her usual heat.


    ¡°Lugh despises fate. He hates it beyond words. Though it has blessed him beyond telling, it has taken all that he loves in trade. He is paranoid and terrified that fate will lay its hands on his newest children, he would never willingly risk them being at its mercy. Look deeper, Freya.¡±


    Freya frowned as she focused on the resonance between the amulet and herself, and the connection it had with her daughter. Soon, a path, winding and convoluted, ascended at an angle from Londinium. Athena drew a harsh breath, her gaze becoming steely with cold wrath.


    ¡°Lugh is insane. The Sideways Path . . . it is madness for your or any of our daughters to be there. Monsters, giants and dark and best forgotten gods dwell in that maze of lunacy, even we gods fear and would flee from the beings that lurk in its depths beyond the reach of Earth¡¯s Territory. Why would he do this, go this far?¡±


    Ishtar responded calmly; her tone cold with hatred and more than a little dread.


    ¡°Because he is afraid. Both of losing another child and what losing them would make him do. He walks a line between what is sane and insane, while wearing a mask for the world. He is willing to take risks with our children that you or I would never willingly let our daughters take. It is why we were not given the opportunity to object in the first place.¡±


    Freya frowned; her confusion clear on her face as she asked.


    ¡°He is willing to take such risks because he is afraid of losing them. That makes no sense! Why risk endangering them at all if he is afraid of losing them?¡±


    Athena glanced at Ishtar before answering in her stead.


    ¡°Because he can fight the dangers within the Sideways Paths. But he cannot fight fate. How can you kill that which has no true form, how do you kill the past, present and future without destroying the world? Lugh has chosen the risk he can fight over one he has no control over.¡±


    Lifting a hand to Freya¡¯s shoulder, Ishtar questioned her.


    ¡°How did you find her, your daughter? We have tried using the amulets before with nothing to show for it. Why did it help you now?¡±


    Freya smirked grimly; teeth bared as she glared at the glowing mark hidden within the Sideways Paths.


    ¡°I guess even these Alien demi-gods do have a use. One connected to my Aspects found my daughter, what the nitwit is doing in the Sideways Paths is beyond me but, her suicidal tendencies aside, she has most certainly earnt herself a reward.¡±


    Athena turned to her allies; her eyes determined.


    ¡°Then we should find her, your daughter, and maybe find clues, or even better Lugh himself, so as to lead us to our own daughters. I think we can entreat or if necessary, otherwise motivate Lugh to tell us where they are if he is there when we arrive don¡¯t you?¡±


    The cruel and vicious joy that blossomed on the faces of the three goddesses would make Nexus itself wary of their intent as they turned and walked out of the Hall of Nexus, marching for Londinium and the Sideways Paths connected to it.

 Chapter 10: Vengeance Comes!!! On Chariots and in Style!

    The trio of Goddesses were forced to take a roundabout method of arriving at Londinium. As Nexus has forbidden the Ancient Gods from walking the Mortal World in order to enforce fate¡¯s will, the three of them travelled to Londinium using the Divine Crossroads.


    However, Londinium had long been declared a Neutral City, thus free of overt divine interference. In part due to the sheer number of Pantheons that sort to lay claim to it for various reasons and ancient history. But also, in part, due to the power and symbolism the city had long held and represented. So, Nexus, to forestall the inevitable and entirely pointless back and forth of wars between all parties, divine or otherwise, declared it Neutral and thus untouchable. Unless one wanted to be smote, that is.


    Which meant that the three of them were doubly not meant to be there. As in Nexus would smite them into piles of sand and then use their remains to create a lovely set of glass statues as lawn ornaments.


    If Nexus had a lawn, that is.


    Most likely they would be placed in a museum at an exhibit of what happens when you choose to ignore the rules. Nexus has always promoted educational content.


    But the Sideways Paths were not a part of the Mortal World. A part of Earth, yes. Or at least part of the Sideways Paths belongs to Earth¡¯s sphere of influence. But the Mortal World? Never.


    Which left the three of them with little choice but to face the hazards of entering the Sideways Paths from the Divine Crossroads.


    Which Nexus simply loathes anyone or anything doing. Why, one may ask?


    Because it opens a path. One that connects these two nigh infinite and vast network of highways and side roads of sort. One, the Divine Crossroads, is based on order and efficiency. The other, the Sideways Paths, is birthed of chaos and nightmares.


    And once connected, they both try to infect/alter the other in order to merge the two highways into one. However, the two of them work almost entirely differently and neither is compatible with the other, beside both sharing a similar function of getting someone from point A to point B.


    Sanity vs madness. Squares vs circles. Order vs Chaos.


    However, Nexus has never forbidden anyone from doing it.


    ¡°Nexus is more relaxed in its control over the world and we Divines than we think. It only intercedes when it can see no or very little benefit of the situation for anyone. When something simply promotes chaos or it weakens the world as a whole, these are the times Nexus acts. Creating a connection between the Crossroads and the Paths is agitating for Nexus, by ultimately it is something of a virus test run. Beneficial in the long run, tedious in practice.¡±


    Athena explained her plan to her two companions. Freya held the reins of her chariot, focusing on controlling her two giant lynxes to keep them from suddenly veering off. She adored them but their lack of discipline, put simply, is horrendous. Glancing at Ishtar, Freya could only stare in longing at the gold, burnished bronze and bejewelled chariot, drawn by eight gold sun-maned fiery lions. Ishtar allowed no disobedience or discord among her lions, if one acted out of line, all were punished. No obstacle or foe, not even certain death, could deter them from following the control of Ishtar¡¯s reins.


    Their discipline, unshakable. Their loyalty, unbreakable.


    Legends say that Ishtar¡¯s lions were the reincarnations of the greatest soldiers and warriors, granted by Ishtar the honour of being her protectors and servants. Freya had once questioned her on the matter of discipline. Ishtar had responded by handing her black sceptre to Freya and nodding to her disobedient lynxes.


    ¡°To rule over others, to command obedience, one must be willing to use the rod as punishment when necessary. Those that only offer a gentle hand to those that follow them may gain their loyalty, but rarely unconditional obedience. Obedience is learned from repetition of both reward and pain. It is a like a muscle. Your cats must learn that you are their master. Beat it into them when they disobey, reward them when they obey. Even the dumbest of creatures avoid pain and seek benefits. You have to be willing to teach yours that obedience to you is the only way they will benefit.¡±


    Freya sighed as she recalled Ishtar¡¯s words of advice and then glanced back to her two preciouses. Ishtar had not taught her anything she didn¡¯t already know. Freya only had two lynxes to draw her chariot, not due to lacking numbers but if she had more, they were fundamentally and increasingly uncontrollable. Freya lacked the will to be cruel to them. They were her babies.


    Her Valkyries? She could be as cruel to them as necessary. But her precious little pussy cats? She became soft as a ball of yarn. Cats and yarn were a disastrous combination.


    Ishtar called from her chariot to them as Freya and Athena were sharing Freya¡¯s chariot.


    ¡°Nexus prefers order because order is predictable. What is predictable can be automated. What is automated can then be left unattended. What can be left unattended can thus be ignored for the most part. But Nexus also understands that without chaos, the world will grow stagnate. Personally, Nexus allowing these demigods to come to our world is just that simple. They are merely a stimulant. A shot of adrenaline, if you wish to use a mortal phrase.


    ¡°Whatever war is coming on the horizon . . . it is one that will be the result of their addition to the balance of power within our world. I have seen such decisions by Nexus before in my long time. Nexus may seem beholden to the World/Fate, but ultimately, it is Nexus who rules and decides all. The World/Fate is merely Nexus¡¯ automated creation.¡±


    Athena¡¯s expression became thoughtful and pondering. Freya smiled at the expression. Athena had her moments. Moments when, Freya wished she did not cling quite so tightly to her virginal ideals. She could be quite adorable when she became lost in thought.


    Glancing at Ishtar, Freya knew she wasn¡¯t the only one to feel so. Freya suspected if Ishtar actually believed any of her own theory.


    Ishtar had done it before.


    She proposed a reasonable theory, one that would catch Athena¡¯s attention and get her lost in her own giant brain, just to see that very expression on Athena¡¯s face.


    However, Freya had to disturb her from it sooner than see wished as they had reached their destination within the Divine Crossroads. It would take all of their attention from here on out. The Sideways Paths were not nearly as safe as they could sometimes appear. Gods and other Divines had perished in the twisted labyrinth of the Paths before. All that was dark and monstrous which appeared on Earth either came from, retreated or has been banished to the Paths. The Norse had another name for the Paths, just like many Pantheons had their own name for it.


    When they had first walked its paths, its many branches and roots, large and small, it appeared as a tree to them. The Norse Pantheon named it Yggdrasil the World Tree. A limitless, boundlessly massive tree that connected multiple worlds together with Midgard being just one of them resting within its branches and roots.


    Even now the Norse could only see the Paths as branches and roots.


    The Paths were subversive like that. Uses your understanding of it, from what you have been told and from what you believe of it and uses it to help you see it as such.


    And if you have no understanding of it? It uses the surroundings around you to help your mind adjust its own nature into something you can understand and use.


    Because it wants to be used.


    It wants you to walk its paths. It will lure you in with wordless promises of adventures, knowledge of far off worlds and all the power that lay there. One could mistake it for an endless trove of riches, knowledge and source of power and growth.


    If it wasn¡¯t for all the monsters and the mind-addling tricks it plays on you.


    The goals of which being that you never leave. Gods and Divines were just another type of prey to it, simply a touch bigger and more nutritious, than most.


    And Lugh had left her daughter at the very edge of the Paths within Midgard¡¯s territory of influence. Freya¡¯s teeth clenched together as fury billowed up from within her.


    Madness. Blatant, uncaring, unforgivable insanity. And on top of everything else he had done.


    And she would make him pay for it.


    All of it.


    Even if she had to rip it out of him. Nothing, not Nexus, not Midgard and certainly not Lugh and his schemes would keep her from her daughter, from her child.


    Her little Gersemi. It was the name she had given her daughter, within her heart of hearts, meaning treasure in the old tongue. To Freya, her only daughter and child her greatest treasure. Not gold, not jewels, not fame, not power nor authority.


    And today Freya would finally hold her in her arms.


    The three of them stepped off the chariots and walked to one of the many walls of the many roads of the Crossroads. Reaching out, the three of them held out their hands and arms to the wall. Below them, the floor transparent, lay Londinium beneath a spattering of clouds. Tiny and distant.


    But mere distance meant little to the Paths.


    From nowhere an enormous branch, its bark, grey-brown, thick and ancient, its leaves lush, vibrant and emerald green, appeared before Freya and the others. The other two saw it as a branch of a massive tree as well, because Freya led them in calling it, using her connection to their desired destination.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Freya turned to both Athena and Ishtar; one of her brows raised in question.


    ¡°We will need all our attention and power focused on forcing the Paths to take us to my daughter and my now quite cute little demigod. Lugh Macnia L¨¢mfada is a scheming bastard and cur, he will have influenced the Paths to make finding the location an increasingly difficult and hazardous task. That also doesn¡¯t count any charms, enchantments and sorcery he has laid to guard against, hinder and kill any others. We are effectively walking into a trap, one birthed from the mind of, who, as Ishtar puts it - is a desperate genius at the very last strands of his sanity.¡±


    A ferocious grin spread across her face as a bloodthirsty madly churning light swirled in her terribly deep and cold fjord blue eyes.


    ¡°Shall we put the mad cur out of his misery?¡±


    Athena¡¯s body sparked and glowed, her softness and scholarly philosophical air faded, as she marshalled her Domain of War and Aspects of Battle and Strategy to her in full force. Her armour, golden bronze, became more complete, covering her body in its entirety, a spear appearing in one of her hands, her shield with Medusa¡¯s head of serpents hissing and dripping venom in the other. Her helm appeared over her head to finish the image of a giant golden bronze statue of a warrior come to life.


    ¡°I have planned and strategized his torture and death without end. The thought of it, along with the belief I would find my daughter one day, is the only thing that allow me to keep from crumbling. Let this be the day I take one more step in finding my child. Let this be the day I take the first small taste of revenge for the pain and separation he forced on me.¡±


    Athena¡¯s voice held twenty years of patiently gathered, calmly stored and vastly accumulated wrath. It is a fury she refused to allow herself to vent or take the edge off. It now lays on the verge of psychosis.


    Ishtar on the other hand, smiled grimly as she calls on her own Domains of War, Justice and Absolute Power. Her ostentatious jewellery and golden finery seemed to melt as her hand closed over her black sceptre. The gold tarnished and became a glossy and polished black as obsidian glass, covering her seductive body in chain and plate armour, long black silk robes and cloak covering them. The emeralds and jewels faded, becoming many and tiny lapis lazuli specks over the armour, like stars upon the dark of night. Ishtar¡¯s head is graced by a black iron crowned helm and mask of her own face in silver. Her pitch-black iron sceptre also transforming, becoming a lapis lazuli rod, a column of measurements, like a ruler, scaled its full length, that seemingly and illusionary extends all the way to beyond the heavens.


    ¡°Lugh, because of your pride, because of your arrogance,


    Because of your love, because of your beauty,


    Because you wore a mask of lies,


    Because fate blessed you,


    Because you did not cherish what you had when you had it,


    Because you did not withdraw your hand from that which you should never have reached for.¡±


    Ishtar¡¯s voice, cold, harsh and full scorn and judgement as she recited a poem. It lacked any of the seductive heat it usually held, the playful teasing and veiled innuendos of lust and games. Frigid and wintery, both in word and intent, Ishtar further declared.


    ¡°I will tear you asunder. I will drink your blood and eat your innards. Burn your body and soul and scattering their ashes in a frozen waste. It will lay far from the warmth of the sun and the sight of the moon and only your ghost will know your fate. I will pass my judgement upon you. Know and tremble, simpering cur, Inanna-Ishtar; Queen of Heaven and Earth, Conqueror of a Thousand Cities and Ten-Thousand Miles, Usurper of Thrones and Domains, Destroyer of Mountains and Heroes, comes for your head. TODAY, I TAKE VEGENCE FOR THE DAUGHTER YOU SNATCHED FROM MY ARMS AND STOLE FROM MY BREAST.¡±


    Her voice echoed and boomed. Freya and Athena stared in astonishment as they realized that Ishtar¡¯s announcement travelled down the branch and into the Paths. It shattered the space between them and their destination, revealing a simple wooden door within a dark area of torn and broken space at the end of the branch. Ishtar mounted her chariot, now black with obsidian and blue with lapis lazuli, gathering the reins and lashed them. Her lions, now as if born of black velvet covered iron and shadows, their eyes burning with the fury of stars, roared and bounded forward at her command. An army of chariots rose from her shadow as she passed from the Crossroads to the Paths, drawn by midnight stallions with silver hooves and bearing powerful Jinn warriors.


    Freya and Athena quickly leaped onto Freya¡¯s chariot to follow. Both realizing that Ishtar had used them to find Lugh, all the while hiding her army in the darkness of her shadow, waiting silently within the Sideways Paths for her command to go to war.


    For twenty years they waited. Neither Freya nor even Athena managing to detect them. While the sting of embarrassment and anger burnt their cheeks, a cold fear seized hold of their guts.


    Ishtar seemed to care more for butchering Lugh than finding her own daughter. Freya had seen the terrible mad hate in Ishtar¡¯s eyes as she bellowed to Lugh across the Paths. It was a hate born from despair, of a fear confirmed . . . of a daughter forever gone.


    Freya didn¡¯t understand, her own daughter yet lived, why would Ishtar¡¯s have perished.


    Athena spotted her confusion and answered it, her tone trembling.


    ¡°Our daughters birth stalled, lacking essence. Ishtar seems to fear that Lugh harvested the essence he contributed to two of the children and gave it to the remaining third, to ensure that one of them would live. The rest is obvious. When you discovered your daughter, Ishtar had her answer, and in her mind, Lugh¡¯s as well. She believes that Lugh sacrificed her and my daughter and chose yours.¡±


    Freya felt her form grow cold and stiff. Her mind rebelled against the terrible idea of it. She took a shuddery breath and slowly shook her head.


    ¡°Not even Lugh would do such a thing. Whoever he may be, whatever his faults, no one can deny his love and cherishment of his children. He would never be able to choose which to sacrifice and which to save. He is able to be ruthless, but not like that. Not to his own children.¡±


    Athena gripped her spear tight as she whispered to herself.


    ¡°I hope you are right. I pray to Gaia you are right. And I hope Lugh lives long enough to tell that to Ishtar, because if not, I doubt your daughter will live much longer past him. Ishtar isn¡¯t in the most stable frame of mind.¡±


    Freya looked ahead at Ishtar¡¯s back.


    ¡°I hope so too, because I don¡¯t want to have to kill a woman I . . . that I care for. Not one wronged like she. Like we all were.¡±


    She looked beyond Ishtar to the simple wooden door.


    ¡°Lugh, it is your time to step up now. You finally have your chance! You can finally, directly, protect one of your children. Don¡¯t misstep now!¡±


    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


    ¡°. . . TODAY, I TAKE VEGENCE FOR THE DAUGHTER YOU SNATCHED FROM MY ARMS AND STOLE FROM MY BREAST.¡±


    The power of the voice slammed into Aine¡¯s Divine Territory, shaking her store as if an earthquake had decided to rock a cradle. Aine attempted to speak, her dusky rose lips trying to form the words. But the only the sound of the roar of lions and the battle cries of male voices seemed to exist at the moment.


    She turned to Asta, grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the door of her Territory and shoved her behind her. Concentrating, she spoke directly to Asta¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Go to the back, between the bar and the forge you¡¯ll find an elevator. Leif is down it. Get yourself down there as well. I will find you both when the coast is clear.¡±


    Asta hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth to try and speak.


    Aine could already guess from her emotions it was an offer to help, to fight alongside Aine and her father. Aine bellowed to her mentally.


    ¡°I said, GO HIDE! I will find you after it is safe!¡±


    Asta could only be astonished to feel her body move of its own volition as it turned away to run for the back of the store.


    Turning, Aine stared at her father¡¯s woefully pale face.


    ¡°I guess Inanna-Ishtar is one of my mother¡¯s then?¡±


    Her father flinched at the sound of his daughter¡¯s voice in his own head, turning to look at her. His expression must have said it all. Or most of it. But he still answered.


    ¡°Ishtar, she goes by Ishtar these days mostly. Yes, she is one of your mothers. And it appears she has a very low opinion of me. I know the rage in her voice. It is a rage I have felt many times. The rage at the death of a child. Your own child.¡±


    A look of torment flash in his eyes, remembering his losses. But it is quickly buried under grim resolve. He turns to face the door and begins walking to it.


    ¡°Ishtar is the most powerful, oldest and also the most volatile of your mothers. Worshipped as the Queen of Heaven since before the Pyramids of Egypt, a goddess born during the Dawn and at the Cradle of Civilization. Pride and Arrogance are as much her bane as they are mine. They are common in both kings and queens it appears.


    ¡°From the sound of it she has her army with her, which means that she intends to kill however many who happen to get in her way as it takes to get to me.¡±


    Her father turned his head and glanced back at Aine.


    ¡°Ishtar is as violent, ruthlessly merciless and savage in battle as she is as passionate, lovingly indulgent and protective of those who belong to her while out of it. No harm will come to you so long as she realises that you are her daughter, not from her hand nor from anyone else¡¯s so long as she breathes. It is simply a task of both of us living long enough for her to realise who you are through her bloodthirst.¡±


    Aine smirked at the word ¡®simply¡¯, clearly her father had forgotten that everyone here wasn¡¯t an ancient warrior king and veteran of hundreds of battles. She realised that he also seemed to intend going out of her Divine Territory to face her mother and her army directly. Seemed like a poor tactical decision in her admittedly novice opinion.


    ¡°I think it would be best to maybe stay here, don¡¯t you? A little more defensible right?¡±


    Her father chuckled as he grabbed the door handle.


    ¡°You underestimate your mother¡¯s power and the terrible power of her army. Conqueror of a Thousand Cities and Ten-Thousand Miles, Usurper of Thrones and Domains, Destroyer of Mountains and Heroes are not just idle boosts. I can only say that I would be able flee if forewarned, but surrounded and forced into direct conflict? Even if she doesn¡¯t fight me in single combat, I would still drown under the number of powerful warriors in her army. If she does seek me out alone, she would still just as easily crush me. I would not be the first god to be felled by her if it happens. All fear her strength while a weapon lays in the palm of her hand. Trickery and subterfuge, before or out of combat, is the only way to get the best her.¡±


    Aine guessed she looked suitably impressed because he smiled grimly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t come out, anyone of her soldiers could end your existence. Wait here, even if you don¡¯t go out to meet her, she will be able to sense her connection with your Divine Territory. After all, part of it belonged to her for ages past.¡±


    He slipped out the door, but before he closed it Aine saw a grand tide of black horses, chariots and garbed warriors behind him. Her heart launched itself into her throat at the sight. She then heard his voice on the other side of the door.


    ¡°Remember stay here, no matter what happens to me or what you hear. Stay inside, coming out is certain death. Remember!¡±


    Aine swallowed her fear and worry as she waited by the door. Until a sudden sound of a thunderous clash and scream of metal on metal over-rode the general sound of charging horses and roaring lions and warriors. She quickly pin-pointed the sound of her father¡¯s emotion in the distance by straining all the senses available to her, both physical and extraordinary. She swore she could almost see him, see his green and gold fiercely glowing aura in her mind. She watched as he seemed to dance as much as fight.


    Impossibly graceful. Perfectly powerful. Striking a sublime balance between the two that expanded beyond the sum of it.


    But it all quickly ground to a sudden, sickening halt as another aura appeared.


    Black, with hundreds of thousands of star-like blue specks within it. But the stars were . . . fading. Like tiny candles being blown out. Slowly but surely, she could feel the aura¡¯s misery, feel its hope gradually dying out as each star disappears.


    She watched in horror as the aura lifted an enormous blue pillar, one long and sturdy enough to hold up the Heavens itself. Before bringing it crashing down on her father.


    All within a single moment.


    Her father struggled. But the pillar simply rose before crashing down again. No technique, no subtly.


    Just rage and fury and sorrow and pain.


    So much sorrow. So much pain.


    An ocean made of tears. A world full of pain.


    The pillar rose and fell. Over and over.


    Until her father stopped moving. Until his aura dimmed to almost nothing.


    Fear welled up within her, as Aine watched the black aura approach her door.


    The handle turned halfway before pausing. A pause that seemed to last forever.

 Chapter 11: Doors Not Taken and Some Girl Time

    Ishtar stared down at the broken form of Lugh Macnia L¨¢mfada. Her gaze cold, pitiless and drained of emotion as it swept down his bloody shattered form. She had left him with a spark of life, not a small mercy on her part, but a larger cruelty. To die so easily, so simply, would do nothing to sate her rage at his selfish whims. Ishtar lifted her gaze back to his face.


    Even broken it held a handsome beauty with a masculine charm that drew the eyes.


    She had fallen for that face. Let herself be seduced by it.


    Let herself be deceived!


    Turning his face with the end of her lapis lazuli rod, she stared into his one still open emerald summer green eye. Impressive and yet she had still expected it. If he had been unconscious, she would have been disappointed. It would have meant she had been even more mistaken about him than she had originally thought. And there is only be so much disappointment she could tolerate. Even from her enemies.


    ¡°You stole my daughter. I waited and searched for over two decades. I admit, it is a tiny and insignificant amount of time to a goddess of my stature certainly. But it might as well have been a hundred lifetimes to a mother waiting to finally hold her child. Especially a daughter who had been STOLEN FROM HER! A mother who then finds out that it had been a waste of time, of living in futile hope. Her daughter¡¯s father had long harvested her essence for another. That at the end he was nothing more than a CHILDKILLING, MURDEROUS, KINSLAYER!!!¡±


    Ishtar lifted her rod and looked as if to use it to crush Lugh¡¯s skull to express her fury.


    Her agonised longing for her lost child!


    But chilling calm stilled her hand and restrained her impulse.


    She wanted to savour his pain. To drink his suffering slowly. Milk it for all it for all she could. Turn it into the finest wine and stare into the depths of it. She had to do it all before she finally snuffed out the last of his spark.


    She knew it wouldn¡¯t bring her daughter back.


    Ishtar had no illusions of her revenge being an ultimately pointless and unfulfilling endeavour. Whatever tortures he suffered would never be enough to help her heal the aching void.


    But it would be a distraction from it.


    One sweet enough to hold her attention so she didn¡¯t have to think of her and her daughter¡¯s ultimate fate and empty dreams she had held for them. Of how she would never hold her. How she had been denied her chance to teach her to dress and speak. To groom and pamper herself. How to rule and hold men and women in helpless thrall to her whim. To fight and conquer her enemies, including any fools that refused to worship her as the goddess and daughter of Ishtar she was.


    Ishtar had missed her chance to spoil her daughter rotten. To fight and scream at her when it all came back to bite her. To make up and spoil her again. She had missed her chance to show her daughter how much she loved her. To show her how precious she is to her mother.


    Ishtar felt tears form and roll out, flowing from her mask and down. A storm appeared over Londinium, the clouds thick and were a ferociously grim grey and black. They blocked out the sun to cast the city into a sorrowful false night. The rain fell from the clouds like knives and arrows, cold and ruthless. Lightning flashed and danced among the clouds as thunder rolled and deafened the city.


    Lugh choked out from the mighty branch of the Paths, his voice raw and as broken as his body.


    ¡°I would never, NEVER, harm my children . . . I could never do that to them, to myself or to you, their mothers. But I couldn¡¯t leave them like languishing as they were. As mere sparks of essence on the cusp of . . . of being. I admit I had been arrogant, my pride blinding me to the folly of my actions. I did reach too far. I reached for a dream, a hope, beyond my power to sustain. To even grasp properly!¡±


    Tears rolled from his one undamaged eye, joining Ishtar¡¯s and adding to the power of the storm below them.


    ¡°I could have chosen to save only one. I could have used my one chance to . . . to save any one of them. Without sacrificing any of them to achieve it. But I only had that one chance. If I choose only one, the other two would have stayed as they were, on the cusp of . . . of becoming. Before they finally faded. Their tiny, soft and fragile spark finally giving up and flicking out.¡±


    He stared up at Ishtar¡¯s silver masked face, his face twisted in a grimace of agony, an expression of pain no mere physical wound could force him to make. He raised his head and let out a savage howl of tormented heartache.


    ¡°I COULDN¡¯T CHOOSE TO SAVE ONLY ONE. I HAD TO SAVE THEM ALL. SAVE ALL THAT I COULD!!!¡±


    His head slumped down as he whispered in pained confusion.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t let my little ones die again. I had to save them all. The price didn¡¯t matter . . . they were my children! I had to save them. I had to. It was my fault . . . I had to save them. Had to give them a chance. It had been done before. My girls could do it again!¡±


    Ishtar stood frozen, shock rendering her motionless, a fear should she move the hope she had discovered would sputter and die, holding her still. Slowly, carefully, Ishtar knelt beside Lugh, slipping her hand beneath his head, to cradle it gently. Her lips dry, Ishtar stared into the dying eye of Lugh.


    ¡°I give you this one chance. If my daughter yet lives . . . if she still lives, tell me where! Tell me and I can still save you, I will spare you, I will protect you! SO, TELL ME WHERE MY DAUGHTER IS, LUGH!!!¡±


    Lugh stared at her blankly for a moment, her bellowing so close seemingly stunning him. But finally, just as Ishtar became tempted to start shaking him like some ragdoll, he pointed with a twisted arm, like a branch that had been trodden on, toward the wooden door.


    Ishtar felt fury, like a flood, drown her. Her hands tightening on his head, Lugh let out a silent gasp of pain as Ishtar¡¯s strength threatened to crush his skull like an egg.


    ¡°I KNOW FREYA¡¯S DAUGHTER IS IN THERE LUGH. WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!!!¡±


    Lugh twitched and spasmed, his shattered legs and arms flailing painful like noodles of meat, helpless to defend himself. He choked out in agony, his voice harsh and raspy as his words were broken up as he struggled to speak.


    ¡°Three became one . . . a tri-fold . . . goddess. Only works . . . with sisters or . . . those born . . . at the same . . . time. Works best . . . with . . . triplets born . . . of the same . . . mother. I . . . used a . . . trick. I fooled . . . magic . . . into believing . . . the three were . . . born of the . . . same . . . origin! They . . . the three of them . . . live . . . but . . . can never . . . separate.¡±


    He stared at Ishtar, his gaze accepting of her rage, grateful almost. Still quite painfilled though.


    ¡°Only . . . way . . . to make . . . it . . . work! For . . . all . . . of them . . . to live!¡±


    Ishtar stopped crushing Lugh¡¯s skull. Soon her body began to shudder with relief and soft sobs. Her hand stroked Lugh¡¯s face as she swooped down, her face inches from his, her lips parted. A gentle warm light, full of life, creation and authority, breathed from her lips into his. It merged with his dwindling spark, protecting and nurturing it. Slowly but surely it stared to heal the devastating damage done. Ishtar stared into the eye of the male she had brought low, only to offer him a saving grace at the last moment. She whispered and cooed gently to him as she stroked his golden and bloody hair, not minding adding to her already blood drenched hand.


    ¡°Good boy.¡±


    Knowing he would live, Ishtar let go of his head, allowing it to drop with a slight thump on to the bark of the branch beneath them. Rising with imperial and divine grace she stood and walked away from his comatose form. Her need of, and interest in, Lugh Macnia L¨¢mfada had reached an end. What happened to him now mattered to her smatteringly little. Ishtar walked toward the door reaching for the handle. As she grasped and began to turn it, she paused halfway.


    Ishtar glanced down at her bloody armour as she reached up with her other hand to touch her chillingly cold silver mask.


    She looked <u>terrible!</u>


    Ishtar let the handle go, allowing it to turn back into place. Ishtar turned and walked to her waiting army. With a mere point of her finger she conveyed her will to her warriors. Like bees skittering and buzzing before their queen, her Jinn warriors quickly and speedily erected a huge and gorgeous tent of silks, cloth and precious metals.


    An enormous bronze bath was carried inside and quickly filled with scorching hot water before Ishtar¡¯s Jinn handmaidens and bodyguards quickly took over. While her bodyguards rushed to her side, her handmaidens scattered petals of flowers to blanket the floor already covered with the soft hides. They placed candles and incense around the tent before lighting them as they fanned the area inside the tent to allow the perfumed scent to spread.


    And all before Ishtar had taken a dozen steps away from the door.


    Her handmaidens were soon by her side and disrobing her, her bodyguards surrounding and hiding them from the sight of others. Ishtar walked to her tent as her maidens striped her bloodied armour from her form and before casting the pieces away, the pieces falling through the branch and down into the clouds below.


    The pieces struck the clouds as rays of light, shattering and dispersing them with a supreme might, like heralds of the heavens. The sun, once again free to shine down and warm the Earth below, seemed especially bright and joyous after the clouds dispersed.


    Ishtar waved a hand with royal allowance as she entered her tent and her army parted like a black tide, opening a path through their blockade. Freya¡¯s chariot soon thundered through the gap at haste, clearly travelling a breakneck pace and ramming speed. If the army had not parted, Freya had clearly intended to smash her way through.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Soon entering the centre of the army, Freya¡¯s chariot continued on with extreme speed before Athena noticed that the other side of the army wasn¡¯t moving to make way. Athena pointed ahead as she shouted over the rushing wind.


    ¡°They are not going to part Freya. We¡¯re in the centre of the army, they have all the advantages. We cannot fight them while we are surrounded. Not with just the two of us!¡±


    Wrenching on the reins, forcing the chariot to a rapid halt, Freya stared at the wall of black armoured Jinn blocking her chariots way forward. Her lynxes were only inches from the closest Jinn warrior. Her eyes travelled to the simple wooden door beyond their backs, the army clearly willing to use their very bodies to bar it from her, behind them.


    Leaping from the chariot with Athena fast behind her, Freya marched to the front line of the army, a menacing snarl twisting her expression into something malevolent and terrifying. Switching her stare from the door straight into the gold on black eyes of the Jinn standing front and centre, his rank clear from the gold trim of his armour and cloak.


    The Jinn¡¯s eyes stared back at her own from his silver mask fearlessly, perhaps even with a hint of mocking at her sheer arrogance. They served at the pleasure of the Queen of Heaven! Did this vain Divinity think they could be intimidated into moving aside with a mere scowl?


    Freya could read the look in his eyes; she had not seen it for some time, but she could still recognise it. Just as always it provoked a response from her as a blistering rage welled up and into her chest. Just as she clenched her fist to knock his head from his shoulders, the sound of Ishtar¡¯s voice drifted to them from within the grandiose tent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother Freya. Adar-Malik is too persistent in following his duty to step aside and too stubborn to die. The number of beings to have attempted to see to his demise number in the tens of thousands. He refuses to stay dead. Besides, wouldn¡¯t you prefer looking into my eyes?¡±


    Freya gritted her teeth, her body coiling with supressed power as she continued to stare into Adar-Malik¡¯s unconcerned eyes, ignoring Ishtar and her blather. Athena¡¯s hand came to rest on Freya¡¯s shoulder. Her hand didn¡¯t restrain or hinder Freya, it merely served as a call for caution. A simple and calm attempt to advise her not to act in haste.


    One which, Freya forced herself to heed.


    It is always a fool¡¯s errand to argue with advice from a Goddess of Wisdom. So, Freya swallowed her pride.


    Stiffly, Freya turned back toward her chariot, leaping back aboard and seizing the reins. She waited only long enough for Athena to join her, while casting a dangerous look at Adar-Malik, before snapping the reins to set off at a light trot. Spotting the high tent near the centre of the army, Freya pulled on the reins, steering the chariot toward the tent.


    In moments they were before the tent¡¯s entrance. Freya stared at it, her jaw clenched in defeat as she contemplated the gruelling task of facing Ishtar and having to confront her of Ishtar¡¯s abandonment of her . . . of them. Freya, grim-faced, took a deep steadying breath before stepping forward. Athena who had stood and waited for Freya to gather herself, followed calmly behind her, acting in a very ¡®wait and see¡¯ manner to the situation. Schooling her expression to be blank and reserved, inside however, Athena worried for Freya. Freya and Ishtar had been . . . very close . . . over these past twenty or so years. Athena did not wish to see blood spilled between them.


    Ishtar¡¯s bodyguards pulled the entrance open for them and her handmaidens offered refreshments as they stepped inside. Freya grimaced, clear further frustrated at Ishtar¡¯s narcissism and false niceties. They were clearly now on bad terms. Why pretend otherwise? All she wanted, all she cared for, was her daughter. These insipid courtly games of Ishtar, whatever her purpose, were irksome and Freya had had her full of being led about by the nose by Ishtar!


    Slapping aside the tray of drinks, Freya stared at Ishtar, lounging within her massive bath, its water the colour of milk from the heat and scented soap. Several of Ishtar¡¯s handmaidens attended Ishtar in the bath with her, using soft hands and cloth to wash Ishtar¡¯s gloriously dusky gold form. The crash of the gold tray and china cups hitting the ground drew Ishtar¡¯s gaze to Freya, a seductive grin playing across her lips. Ishtar bit her lip as she grabbed the hand of one of her handmaidens and pulled it beneath the clouded water, her eyes catching and holding Freya¡¯s.


    Freya scowled at the implication. She, however, didn¡¯t comment on it, but rather snarled an accusation of a different sort.


    ¡°You used me . . . us. You used us! The moment we had no further use in helping you find Lugh¡¯s location; you threw us aside, like so much trash. Now you are blockading the path to the door, to my daughter. You clearly have a new goal seeing as Lugh is laying askew like some broken toy, so rather than playing these pointless games and false niceties, why don¡¯t you just get to the point?¡±


    Ishtar raised a brow, her seductive grin becoming a lazy smile. Her manner like a lioness basking lazily in the sun, Ishtar responded with a teasing yet knowing tone as her a handmaiden combed her hair.


    ¡°First off, you are right. I did use both of you. But if you recall we were all using each other since the start. Pooling our information, what little had been on offer, searching for them together so as to not waste any time going over old leads. An alliance of benefit, where we use each other to find our daughters and the man who stole them from us.


    ¡°Did the relationship between us change? Yes. In the end, yes, I like to think it did change. We became closer, we supported each other in our moments of doubt, our moments of . . . loneliness. But I never agreed to playing fair and share the kill with either of you. Not even in my softest moment. I had always intended to get to him first. I always intended to win the race. I couldn¡¯t risk not getting the information I needed to find my baby.¡±


    Ishtar looked into Freya¡¯s eyes; her expression serious and determined.


    ¡°I need you to know, Freya, whatever I thought he had done, however far gone into my grief and pain I descended, I never had any intention to harm your daughter. I just . . . I needed to hurt him . . . I needed it. I couldn¡¯t . . . I refused to let go of the opportunity to get my hands around his throat first.¡±


    Switching her gaze to Athena, her eyes full of an unspoken apology.


    ¡°Athena, whatever I thought he had done, whether he had sacrificed your daughter or my daughter or both, I would not have forgotten to wring the knowledge of your daughter¡¯s location from him.¡±


    Ishtar regained her ¡®at ease air¡¯ as she glanced between the pair, content with the extent of her admission of regret. She wouldn¡¯t beg their forgiveness. If she could do it all over, she wouldn¡¯t change anything she had done. With a seductive smirk playing on her face she added.


    ¡°Good news though, for both of us Athena, I . . . jumped to the wrong conclusion in the end. As it turns out I didn¡¯t give Lugh enough credit in assessing his character after his disappearance with our daughters. Our daughters are alive, all of them. They all live on as one. In our daughter. Which is why I thought it best we had a . . . talk, before we meet her.¡±


    Freya, and Athena behind her, stilled at the words ¡®our daughter¡¯ their minds quickly attempting to make sense of Ishtar¡¯s meaning in saying them. Ishtar, her eyes hooded in pleasure, whether from their confusing or the care from her handmaiden could be debated, did not keep them in suspense long.


    ¡°We all now share a daughter.¡± Ishtar let out a soft groan as she said the words, staring at Freya and Athena, the pair of them feeling the pleasure in her gaze as it licked their skin. ¡°The three of our daughters have become one. Our one daughter.¡± Her eyes glowed with a deep purpose and desire.


    Ishtar lifted her hand, which had been hidden in the water, out to the two of them. With a lusty gaze she made them a seemingly irresistible offer.


    ¡°Care to join me, my sisters-in-motherhood? Do you want our daughter¡¯s first impression of the both of you to be bloodthirsty, sweaty warriors? Wouldn¡¯t you rather have her first sight of you be when you are at your best? We will have centuries to break it to her that we are not perfect. Let us not start on the first day. Pushing something downhill is a lot easier than the alternative don¡¯t you think? Join me, wash the dust and the sweat from your skin. Freshen up. We can meet her together, united, as a family. ¡°


    Her expression became serious, calm and collected. Intent and intense.


    ¡°Because we have to be a family. We have to learn to share. Because there is only one of her now. Our daughters cannot live apart. Cannot even truly exist separately. So, we need to share her. She is made up of a part of each of our daughters true, but she is also another daughter entirely. She is all of our daughter.¡±


    She suddenly smirked impishly at them as she continued.


    ¡°Or do you have a better plan where we don¡¯t end up going to war with each other as we fight over who can monopolise her?¡±


    Freya and Athena turned their heads to look at each other and perhaps surprisingly or not, it was Athena who released her control over her armour, letting the majority of it fade away. Not only that, the rest of her cloths fell away as well. Ishtar¡¯s eyes narrowed and roamed Athena¡¯s body in undisguised appreciation.


    Freya could only watch as Athena moved toward the bath, Ishtar¡¯s maidens stepping forward, their eyes down and hooded, to lift her gracefully into the bath. Ishtar broke away from her maiden¡¯s pampering hands, gliding through the water to Athena¡¯s side.


    Ishtar circled behind Athena, admiring her battle-forged form, the toned lean muscles of her arms and legs, her defined abs and her pert . . . assets, drawing her eye. Dipping a hand beneath the water, Ishtar slid her hand up Athena¡¯s thigh to her gluteus maximus, which caused Athena to jump and whirl about, her own hand striking out to slap Ishtar in rebuke. Ishtar laughed as she dodged, however, she ran into the strong, tall form of Freya who had entered the bath as well.


    Freya wrapped her arms around Ishtar, her pale skin and the firm muscles of her arms contrasting gorgeously with Ishtar¡¯s dusky gold colour tone as Freya¡¯s arms covered Ishtar¡¯s soft full breasts. Ishtar reached up to stroke the noble, sharp features and contours of Freya¡¯s stunningly beautiful face. Freya stared into Ishtar¡¯s molten gold eyes; her own Nordic fjord blue eyes reflected within them as if they were mirrors. Freya traced a finger across Ishtar¡¯s lips, as out of the corner of her eye she watched Athena trying to wash herself while running away from Ishtar¡¯s handmaidens ¡®attempts¡¯ to help.


    She murmured huskily, her voice rough with an unspoken desire and . . . wariness.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you. Not now. If you could get away with it without paying a grievous price, you would take her and leave us sucking our thumbs. Whatever else we do together, know that I will not be fooled into lowering my guard again.¡±


    With that said Freya let Ishtar go and swam to Athena, driving the maidens away, before asking for her assistance in washing her back. Ishtar watched on as she returned to her old position, her handmaidens also returning to her side. Ishtar had a mysterious smile on her face as she let her maidens continue cleaning her, all the while watching the other two goddesses.


    One of her handmaidens approached Ishtar with an emerald longnecked flask, a suggestive look in her orange on black eyes before inclining her head toward the pair of bathing goddesses. Ishtar lost her smile instantly as a brutally vicious glower replaced it.


    She subtly reached out and grabbed the upsetting handmaiden by her throat and dragged her into the water of the bath, using her other handmaidens as cover for the act. Ishtar tightened her grip on the handmaiden¡¯s throat to strangle her even as Ishtar held her under the water.


    Just before the handmaiden passed out, Ishtar pulled her head out of the water and released her throat; quickly grabbing her by her hair instead, Ishtar used her other hand to cover the handmaiden¡¯s mouth to smother her gasps for air. No need to alert Ishtar¡¯s skittish guests about a disciplinary issue being dealt with through loud gasping sounds. Staring into her handmaiden¡¯s eyes, Ishtar whispered in a furious hiss.


    ¡°You serve at my pleasure, Kalia. You also die at my displeasure.¡±


    Ishtar removed her hand from Kalia¡¯s mouth, brushing her wet obsidian strands of hair away and to the side of Kalia¡¯s face.


    ¡°Since when have I ever needed to drug anyone to have them crawl and beg to have my affections. I am Inanna-Ishtar, I rule as the Queen of Heaven, I own the Domains of Love and Beauty, the Aspects of Sexuality, Lust and Desire are desperate for my commands.¡±


    A dusky look flashed through Ishtar¡¯s eyes as her gaze travelled to the pair of bathing goddesses. A possessive wanting burned darkly in their depths.


    ¡°And what Love, Lust and Desire fail to woo for me, the Domains of War and Authority will conqueror for me outright. I always, always, get my way in the end.¡±


    Kalia smiled, a dangerous thrill in her eyes as she watched Ishtar pine. She murmured in a voice barely better than a hoarsely muttered insidious whisper.


    ¡°And what of making Gilgamesh into your consort?¡±


    Ishtar¡¯s face twitched slightly.


    ¡°And of conquering the Underworld and usurping your sister¡¯s, Ereshkigal¡¯s, throne as Queen of the Dead?¡±


    Ishtar turned her face back to stare murderously at Kalia, who smirked in response as she slurred out teasingly.


    ¡°Just trying to help point out you do not always get what you desire, oh Glorious Light of the Heavens.¡±


    Ishtar sneered viciously in response, before forcing Kalia¡¯s head beneath the water, her eyes hooded with pleasurable yet also vengefully, cruel intentions. Errant handmaidens needed to be punished!

 Chapter 12: Comfy Bathrobes and Deep Uncontrollable Urges

    Freya scooped the water of the bath with a tasteful if ornate, but ultimately blatantly ostentatious, bowl to rinse Athena¡¯s silky, thick mane of brandy brunette hair. Glancing to Ishtar¡¯s side of the bath as she began to pour, Freya witnessed Ishtar pushing the head of one of her handmaidens beneath the water. The slow, gentle push of Ishtar¡¯s hand, the submissive, compliant acceptance of the handmaiden told Freya all she needed to know about how often this exchange happened between them. Possibly even all of the handmaidens and Ishtar.


    A sighed comment from Athena drew Freya¡¯s attention.


    ¡°You missed.¡±


    Freya instantly frowned and promptly without thinking, returned the comment with a firm denial.


    ¡°I never miss.¡±


    Athena turned her head to look back at Freya with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile while pointing at her hair.


    ¡°The water. You missed my hair and poured it over my shoulder.¡±


    Freya belatedly noticed Athena¡¯s still soapy hair and her empty bowl. Gritting her teeth in embarrassment, Freya filled the bowl again and this time focused on the task of rinsing Athena¡¯s hair. Athena glanced over to Ishtar as she murmured to Freya.


    ¡°She distracts you, doesn¡¯t she? You have never been very good at keeping your eyes off her, not in all the time we have worked together. Nor has she been very good resisting her urges to entice you to look. She wants you to look, just like she wants you to touch. The both of you have danced this dance a hundred times before.¡±


    Athena¡¯s voice held little inflection, sounding like a female simply stating the facts. But Freya heard the subtle loneliness and jealousy. Freya picked up a silver and jewelled comb, running through Athena¡¯s hair as she rebutted.


    ¡°Water follows the path of least resistance Athena . . . you know this fact better than most. Also, there is no ¡®dance¡¯ between us . . . not anymore.¡±


    Athena laughed, but it held a sharp, jaded edge.


    ¡°Did I mishear, or did you just call yourself easy?¡±


    Freya just smiled and rolled her eyes as she prepared her rebuttal, getting into the flow of the surprise verbal spar between them.


    ¡°Of course, focus on that part of what I said. And the key to the difference between Ishtar and I to the relationship between Ishtar and you is receptivity. I was receptive to her form of . . . comfort, and you avoided her attempts to . . . ease your tension. Throw up enough obstacles and even Ishtar will get the message that her attentions and needs could be better served and serviced elsewhere.¡±


    Athena remained silent; her thoughts mildly bitter at Freya¡¯s reminder. She felt Freya¡¯s hands as they guided the comb through her hair, gentle and caring.


    Athena sighed as she saw this different side to Freya. She wasn¡¯t just a goddess of War and Death, nor of Love and Fertility. She could number among the Norse¡¯s most noble of character and deed, being a member of the largely more diplomatic, and wiser on the whole, Vanir Clan of the Norse.


    She became the Lady of the Norse Pantheon, embodying the many roles of noble and common women both at home and out on the fields of war, upon the alliance between the ?sir and the Vanir. Her noble spirit and bearing, skill at arms and homely crafts, extreme beauty, sharp wit, ability to lead and gift at controlling a room with her mere presence led her to taking on many roles which Frigga, Queen of the Norse Pantheon, once held before the Clans allied. She may carry herself as a warrior, always so strong and fearless. She may present herself as eager for lovers and the pleasures to be found in lust. But Athena knew Freya had layers yet unseen by most who knew her.


    And Athena cherished being one of the few beings allowed to see this special side of Freya.


    Freya loves as deeply as she is loved in return and it is this hidden side of her, the nurturing, kind and nonviolent side, which she shows to those who have earned it. Athena understood Freya, knew her better than her own Pantheon did. But Freya also understood Athena better than her own Pantheon did.


    Whereas Ishtar attempted to seduce and tempt Athena in plain view, seeking to have her indulge in sensual pleasures to distract and defocus Athena from her worries, something Athena had avoided and resisted.


    Freya instead offered a shoulder to lean on, as a sisterly kindness, rather than as a means of getting between her thighs. And like sisters they fought and argued, raising their voices and wished to strangle the other at times, they grew all the closer for it.


    Athena could admit to herself, if no one else; as a friend, as a sister, as a partner, she loved Freya.


    It left her bitter, the fact Freya and Ishtar could express themselves so openly, so without care or pause, while Athena lacked the openness to do the same.


    She just wasn¡¯t created or moulded in a way which allowed her to do so. She valued logic, self-control, patience, mental fortitude and physical reserve. Athena bore witness to the many scars created from the cruelties and tragedies her family had caused, herself even the cause of some of them.


    She, Athena, was the product of rape and infidelity, of lust and fear. She never knew her mother due to her father¡¯s cruelty, to his fear. She never had a childhood, born fully formed and armed due to her mother¡¯s entire divinity being used to create Athena¡¯s own.


    She, Athena, cursed Arachne to be a spider and Medusa a monster to be slain. Arachne, a woman brave and foolish enough to challenge, question and point out the failings of the gods. Medusa, a woman and priestess of Athena, one raped by Poseidon within one of Athena¡¯s temples, too mortal and weak to defend herself.


    She, Athena, too afraid of intimacy, of love, of lust, of sensuality and of following in her father¡¯s, her aunts¡¯ and uncles¡¯, her many siblings¡¯ and cousins¡¯ footsteps, she made a vow of celibacy. But her pride in her beauty, along with their own, helped create a feud between Hera, Aphrodite and herself that would lead to the Trojan War. A war which would then cause the deaths of more Heroes and demigods than any other in Greek history, Achilles, Penthesilea, Hector and Ajax to name only a few.


    Athena lifted her hands and stared at them, watching the water flow over her smooth lightly tan skin to slowly drip back into the bath.


    She hated the times her wisdom failed her, resented the moments when her emotions overwhelmed her and despised the instances where she even remotely resembled the majority of her Pantheon.


    As the years, decades and centuries past, as the ancient days became modern nights, Athena removed more and more of her weaknesses, her failings, striving to become a being of pure logic.


    To transcend emotions, break away from passion and cut herself off from the excesses of her family.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    To make up for her evils, her betrayals and misjudgements made out of pride, selfishness, lack of control and fears.


    Lost in thought, she came back to herself as a pair of hands, long fingered and oddly smooth yet calloused at the same time, covered and sheltered her own hands. Athena watched as those long fingers intertwining with her own, feeling a yielding and tender closeness press against her back as a feather soft kiss brushed against her cheek.


    ¡°One¡¯s own mind is the darkest place to be lost in, especially one as clever as yours. Don¡¯t go wandering there without me, Athena. Besides, despite Ishtar being a control freak, we are about to finally meet our babies, even one we never knew we had, ¡®our daughter¡¯ as Ishtar put it. It is something to celebrate!¡±


    Freya crossed her arms, Athena¡¯s along with them, so as to hug Athena, pulling their bodies, wet with water and slippery with soap, closer and tighter together. Athena leaned her head back, resting it on Freya¡¯s broad shoulder, before turning it to bury her face against her neck and breathe in Freya¡¯s scent which had mixed with the perfume and soap of the bath.


    They were, however, quickly dragged from the sweet and tender moment by the faint rustling of cloth and a softly voiced murmur.


    ¡°Forgive me for disturbing you, my Most Noble Ladies, but the Most Glorious Light of Heaven wishes to inform you, she has made ready a fashion display so as to allow you to choose your style of dress.¡±


    The handmaiden bowed low, before gracefully stepping back and away from the bath¡¯s edge, maintaining the bow with ease and refinement even as she withdrew. Freya let out a frustrated sigh as she laid her cheek to Athena¡¯s forehead, however she soon made to disentangle herself from their embrace. Athena let go while acting naturally, maintaining a calm expression as she moved to the edge of the bath, but inside own mind, she struggled with the renewed distance between Freya and herself.


    Ishtar¡¯s handmaidens stood waiting as the two goddesses exited the bath¡¯s waters, ready with warm fluffy towels, luxuriously soft silk and cotton bathrobes and a tray of chilled fruits as an afterbath refreshment. Freya allowed the handmaidens to wrap her hair and slip the bathrobe onto her body but carried a faint scowl throughout the entire process. Athena took two towels from the maidens, using one to wrap her own hair, before wrapping the other around her waist haphazardly. As for the bathrobe, she simply draped it over her shoulders and moved on, leaving the handmaidens to make admiring glances after her. Freya huffed loudly as she followed, causing all the handmaidens to turn their admiring gazes to her.


    Freya rolled her eyes at Ishtar¡¯s training of her handmaidens. To think they had been trained to watch and admire their mistress¡¯s naked or otherwise body rather than look away respectfully.


    Freya spluttered and grumbled about a certain narcissist as she trailed along behind Athena.


    ¡°She has absolutely no shame. I am no shrinking violet nor innocent by any means but to actually train her handmaidens to openly admire her body and beauty in any state of dress is vanity incarnate!¡±


    Athena turned her head sideways to look back at Freya, a faint smile showing at the corner of her lips. But an even fainter look of disappointment flashed through her eyes. It had taken not even half a minute for Ishtar to steal Freya¡¯s attention from her, and Ishtar wasn¡¯t even here in person to do it!


    ¡°Perhaps they just cannot help themselves. Ishtar is a beauty few can claim to be on par with and I doubt any are brave or stupid enough to claim to surpass her. Those who did so in the past often seemed to have ¡®accidents¡¯ befall them soon after. Though, how ¡®accidental¡¯ Ishtar just so happening to use a mace on someone¡¯s face is quite debatable. It is also a debate which I will leave others to argue. Though, those ¡®others¡¯ also seem to have had repeated ¡®accidents¡¯ of their own.¡±


    Freya let out another huff of exasperation, quickening her pace to walk beside Athena. Falling in step beside her, Freya glanced sideways at Athena, before looking ahead again. A frown flittered across her face as she sensed Athena¡¯s mood had damped again, Freya had long learned Athena¡¯s expressionless face had subtilties to it. Subtilties which gave her limited insight to Athena¡¯s mood, though, Athena¡¯s thoughts still remained a mystery to Freya. Though not from a lack of trying on Freya¡¯s part.


    Freya had the temptation to just ask Athena about her mood, but her instinct warned her it would be a mistake.


    With Freya still pondering the issue, the pair of goddesses spotted Ishtar, seated on a throne and watching fiery dressed dancers. The dancers, their cloths an oddly revealing combination of tight-fitting silk and loose gossamer fabric, wielded a combination of swords and daggers. Their dance seemed more a graceful fight in truth, seemingly with the goal of disrobing their competition and bearing them before Ishtar for her pleasure.


    Ishtar raised a single finger from her throne, using only it to gesture at the dancers. Whatever the gesture, the meaning clearly said, ¡®get lost¡¯, as the dancers quickly bowed before dispersing into the shadows of the tent. Ishtar rolled her neck before turning her attention to the approaching goddesses.


    Her gaze flickered from Athena to Freya, taking in the unique sight of them fresh from a bath. A not so small flame of desire fluttered within her as her eyes trailed their toned forms. The wet sheen of the residual water on their soft skin allowed the light of the candles and natural light to trace and outline the lines of their still visible muscles, the light playing and dancing as they move toward her. Ishtar simply could not wait to drape them in jewels, silks and precious metals.


    How else could she show how deeply she loved them other than showering them with her wealth?


    No need to answer. Ishtar, the Queen of Heaven, always knows best.


    Smiling, Ishtar manifested a pair of thrones on either side of her, each just as bejewelled, gold and tall as her own. Standing up, Ishtar spread her arms out. Her voice, filled with warmth and bewitchment, like sweet smoke, filled Freya and Athena¡¯s senses.


    ¡°Since I have so many fashion designers, grandmaster tailors and jewellers on hand and with so many different styles, eras and cultures to choose from, I thought it best we have a show to help us choose what to wear for our first meeting with our daughter.¡±


    Freya crossed her arms and scowled. Athena remained expressionless and stoic, though Ishtar noticed her gloomy mood and a hint of her emotions.


    Disappointment, frustration, need and loneliness.


    Ishtar¡¯s gaze lingered on Athena, a possessive ardour eclipsing her other thoughts, one that roared furiously and ruinously to claim Athena and drive away her sorrows with unending maddening pleasure.


    By force if necessary.


    Ishtar squashed the desire quickly before she could act on it.


    Though she soon discovered she had already crossed the entire distance between them, and their faces were now mere inches apart. Her hands rested on Athena¡¯s hips, clearly trying to draw them even closer, her breath coming out in strained pants, hot and heavy.


    Ishtar quickly let Athena go before she could speak, turning away and striding back to her throne. Ishtar felt worry blossom as she analysed her reaction. She had never denied she was mainly a being of instincts and passions, quick to act and slow to forgive. But she made conscious decisions, they may be reckless or hastily made but they were her own. However, her last desire and her body¡¯s act of attempting to claim Athena were not in sync with her thoughts and will. Ishtar could actually feel dread start to gnaw at her guts.


    It would be disastrous if she began to lose control of her own actions.


    She would be little better than a natural disaster. Not that she wasn¡¯t normally, but again, she made a conscious choice to act like so.


    Ishtar pushed her worries and fears down and away; before turning around, a confident smile and an ¡®at ease¡¯ look in her eyes.


    Athena and Freya were staring at her wide-eyed.


    Ishtar knew the issue wasn¡¯t going to just go away as soon as she saw the looks on their faces.


    Still, Ishtar knew she wasn¡¯t going to bring it up, would they? Ishtar firmly believed they wouldn¡¯t. Nothing had happened and it would clearly embarrass her if it were mentioned, whatever their recent differences were, they were not so terrible the two of them would use this small loss of control to embarrass her, would they? Ishtar had a sinking feeling when Freya, a ¡®concerned¡¯ frown on her face, opened her mouth. However, Athena got in and spoke first, forestalling whatever Freya wished to say.


    ¡°I thought we should go with a more modern look. Less shock and awe I know but certainly more approachable. We are meeting our daughter. We want her to want to get to know us. Not stun her into kneeling and worshiping. Besides, shock and awe don¡¯t work quite like they use to in the old days. The modern world is quite resistant and rebellious to the idea of such dramatic worship.¡±


    Ishtar stared at Athena. Her emotions in turmoil at the unexpected . . . assistance, maybe? Ishtar had expected the roles between Athena and Freya to be reversed. Athena repressing her own curiosity so as to not humiliate her left Ishtar feel as if she had gained something. Ishtar couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on what it is, but Ishtar felt it warm a part of herself she didn¡¯t even realise existed.


    Ishtar couldn¡¯t quite be sure if she liked the feeling.


    Still, she wouldn¡¯t look a gift-horse in the mouth, at least not in public. And the idea of Freya, with her gloriously red gold hair, blue eyes and hard regal features in a heavy leather jacket, short top with her abs on display, denim jeans and knee-high boots, did exciting things to Ishtar¡¯s nether regions. Putting on a renewed smile, Ishtar responded.


    ¡°Excellent idea!¡±

 Chapter 13: Throwback Modern Classics and Tender Moments

    Aine paced like a caged lioness in front of her Territory¡¯s entrance, worry etched on her face. It had been little over an hour since whoever defeated her father (her mother?) decided not to enter and walk away. She could feel the weak, feeble glow of her father¡¯s spark and while it felt like it was slowly healing, she knew it could go out with ease if he was attacked again.


    Aine paused for a moment mid pace. Something had just slipped into her Territory though some kind of backdoor. Aine whipped around to face the bar of her shop area.


    Sitting at the bar, a cup of mead held in a shaky hand, her father now swayed unsteadily, looking the worst for wear, his golden hair a bloody mess, pale-faced, his clothes covered in rips and tears, powered dust coating him from head to toe. But he was alive, and it seemed he could move under his own power.


    Aine turned her head to glance back at the flickering flame she thought was her father¡¯s divine flame, then back to her father¡¯s weakly smiling face. Aine threw her concerns for ¡®how¡¯ out the window and focused on the ¡®he¡¯s ok¡¯ of the situation, as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his battered form. He groaned as her arms squeezed him, a final check by Aine to make sure he wasn¡¯t an illusion, and laughed painfully as he held her, not willing to break their hug despite the discomforting amount of pain it caused him. He placed his mug on the bar as he rested his chin on her head, rocking his little girl slowly and letting her calm down. He whispered; his voice soft with tender care for her.


    ¡°You¡¯re ok, my Alannah Aine. Everything is ok. I¡¯m a little bruised and battered but it¡¯s not the worst I¡¯ve survived. Besides, Ishtar didn¡¯t want me dead, just broken and at her mercy.¡±


    Lifting his hand from his mug, he stroked her silky flowing hair, his calming voice continuing.


    ¡°She did offer me mercy you know. She could have finished me off. Yet she restrained herself. Offered me mercy when I could not have been more helpless. She wouldn¡¯t have twenty or more years ago. Wouldn¡¯t have mattered what I said to save myself. Not before you. I¡¯d be nothing but so much ash right now if she hadn¡¯t . . . mellowed. I think . . . mellowed would be the right word for it.¡±


    Aine lifted her head to stare into her father¡¯s eyes, tears unshed clinging to her eyelashes. It broke his heart to see her in tears. But he knew his mere survival is already one of the best outcomes he could have hoped for after an encounter with Ishtar, given his disappearing act with her daughter. With all of their daughters. Lugh was not looking forward to the next few encounters he had with either Athena or Freya. The chances of all three of them letting off with just a beating were slim at best.


    He detested putting her through this, her being scared for him, but he always knew there would be a price to be paid for his actions. One did not pull a vanishing act with the daughters of three of the most powerful goddesses in the world and expect to get away without paying a pound of flesh to each of them.


    Wincing in pain, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to disappear for a while, I doubt I can survive another beating like that let alone two and I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be very well liked by your next three guests. Ishtar is going to be especially mad that I¡¯m already up and moving.¡±


    Aine pulled away from him and glanced toward the door, then back to her father.


    ¡°It¡¯s been over an hour and they¡¯re still not here . . . I think you¡¯re safe to stick around for a while yet, Dad.¡±


    Her father smiled briefly yet fondly at her use of ¡®Dad¡¯, before his smile vanished, his stern and serious expression returning.


    ¡°There are few reasons Ishtar would restrain herself from doing anything. The most likely in this case would be either fear and/or vanity.¡±


    Aine gazed at the floor in doubt. Her thought being: Ishtar afraid? Impossible. Her father found it hard to keep from smiling as he stared at her cute child-like expression.


    ¡°Ishtar is a being of vast pride and immense vanity and has supreme confidence in herself no matter the occasion. But . . . even she has her moments of insecurity. They are rare enough to be a myth in and of themselves and I would not have believed it myself if I had not seen it for myself.¡±


    Using a crooked forefinger her father raised her chin.


    ¡°And my Alannah Aine, the time I chanced upon seeing the Queen of Heaven doubt herself, it lay with her concern over her decision to have a child. Her doubts were surprisingly common for one so imperiously mighty all the time. ¡®Would she be a good mother? Could she be strict enough? Would she be too strict?¡¯ Etc.¡±


    He paused, cupping his daughter¡¯s cheeks with both hands.


    ¡°But the thing she felt the most insecure about was her child¡¯s opinion of her. I doubt today would be any different. Ishtar can be shockingly and deeply insecure given any perceived or imaginary reason.¡±


    He turned his gaze to look at Aine¡¯s simple wooden door, seemingly seeing beyond it. His eyes shimmered with a look of sympathetic understanding.


    ¡°Ishtar fears nothing but failure, her pride and vanity doesn¡¯t allow for it. Her standards for herself is perfection, as perfection means being flawless and thus makes failure impossible. But Ishtar has failed in the past and with terrible consequences. Not just for herself but for others as well.


    Lifting his hand, his mug of mead reappearing in his hand from its place on the bar, Lugh took a sip from his drink, washing the dust and dry from his throat. He lowered his hand, his mug suddenly back on the bar. Aine rolling her eyes at his magic trick while she grinned, if he was willing to play around, he must be in better shape than he looked.


    Lugh sighed, he had had his share of failures, mostly after his greatest era of glory and mostly in the realm of being a parent, but he understood the drive failure would bring to a goddess or god of such pride as Ishtar or himself to become perfect.


    For Ishtar, being perfect had become a complex need, almost an emotional and mental support to her psyche. Doubting herself or hearing criticism, failing to obtain objects or persons she desires, feeling at a loss or uncertain on subjects she believes she is unsurpassed in and any loss of confidence would lead to a fraying of her control.


    It would not only be a loss of control over herself, her emotions and actions. It would also mean her divine power, her Domains, Aspects and maybe even her Jinn Army, something that was almost an extension of herself, like her very shadow, would lose its only restraint, a thought that remained a terrifying prospect to him. Ishtar¡¯s army, her shadow, were warriors that existed for only two things.


    The first; to serve Ishtar, the second; to make war in her name and for her glory.


    In the ancient days, when mankind and civilisation were young, the Jinn raided, sowed chaos and made war on mankind individually and indiscriminately, with each small family tribe of the Jinn a minor disaster for civilisation. When no other god or goddess could save them, mankind in desperation prayed to Ishtar, Goddess of Beauty and Desire, all the other gods having failed them. And Ishtar came on her chariot, like a blazing and all mesmerising star from the Heavens, hunting down and conquering each tribe. Like a divine wind gathering individual grains of sand into a massive earth devouring sandstorm, she built and realigned them into a devastating army.


    Her army. An all-conquering and all-sweeping army, one that existed as the dark shadow to her heavenly starlight.


    Like a dreaded night sky, feared by divine and mortal alike, and worshiped out of both love and fear.


    And without Ishtar controlling them, from either loss of confidence or the will to do so, chaos and war would, and could be, the only answer to the Jinn. Put the whole world to the sword, kill and conquer as much of it as needed until Ishtar regained her confidence or was forced to rein them in, forcing them into her shadow as she did so long ago.


    Lugh turned his gaze back to his daughter.


    ¡°Ishtar needs to be in control of all she sees. Total control. All must gaze at her and admire her beauty till their death. All must toe her line in the sand or fear her terrible wroth. All must succumb to her desires or risk her jealous vengeance upon those they love.


    ¡°She is a benevolent tyrant to those she loves and a cruel sovereign to all others.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Lugh could tell his daughter had become confused, feeling he had mixed his metaphors by the look on his face.


    ¡°Ishtar is Authority, just as she is Justice or Beauty and Desire, incarnate. But Authority isn¡¯t always wise and rightful, Justice isn¡¯t always morally right or impartial, Beauty isn¡¯t always more than skin deep or innocuous and Desire isn¡¯t always healthy or happy. Just as mortals are the sum of their parts, their building blocks, both mental and physical, and are complex creatures. We ancient gods are the sum of our Domains, the totality of each and every one of our Aspects, they were formed from our experiences and deeds after all, flawed and riddled with not only our own shortcomings but also those of mankind, as we are and our power is, the culmination of mankind.¡±


    Lugh looked at his daughter lovingly and gently.


    ¡°While some of Ishtar¡¯s Domains, like War, Fertility and Love are just extensions of herself and her deeds, weapons she uses to achieve her goals, they also influence her. Sometimes more obviously and noticeably than her core Domains. Ishtar is fierce yet giving to all and only to that which she loves. Because what she loves is what she wishes to control, because that which she wishes to control are her greatest insecurities, because her greatest insecurities are all that she cares for and are thus her greatest weaknesses.¡±


    Lugh taps his daughter on the nose, causing her to wrinkle her face as she frowns, drawing a soft chuckle from him. Smiling, he continues.


    ¡°You, my Alannah Aine, are Ishtar¡¯s greatest insecurity now. What happens to you, what you do, what you think of her in comparison to everything else, everything to do with her daughter, with you, are now her greatest insecurities. And I doubt your other mothers are not consumed by similar thoughts as well, probably not from an insecure need to control what she loves like Ishtar. But similar thoughts of wanting you to love them at first sight, to have that instant connection between mother and daughter.¡±


    He offered a purely self-deprecatingly smile to Aine. He decided it would be best to leave it ¡®as is¡¯ on the topic of Ishtar for now.


    ¡°Of course, this is all an educated conjecture on my part. Things I have put together from clues I¡¯ve found, our interactions and conversations, stories of her past from those involved and etc. But I¡¯m confident in most of it.¡±


    But he soon nudged Aine with an elbow slyly.


    ¡°Still, a little more knowledge never hurt anyone so long as you take it with a pinch of salt, you already have one mother summarised, there are two more if you are willing to hear me gossip?¡±


    Aine sat on one of her barstools, while giving her father a withering side-eye. She looked away from him while tucking a few strands of her wild, yet serenely floating halo of hair behind her ear with her hand.


    ¡°Thanks, but no thanks, Dad. I think I will wait to meet them. See them with my own eyes and form my own opinions. I let you ramble on because I wanted to know more about the woman capable of handing you, your ass on a silver platter. Not because I think that is cool or anything . . . I was only curious about Ishtar for safety reasons . . . purely safety.¡±


    Aine glanced at her father¡¯s face fugitively, catching a glimpse of his nonplussed expression before he smiled cheekily.


    ¡°Scared for your safety? Maybe there is a slim, irrational chance of that. But I cannot think of anyone in the world now who has less of a need to fear Ishtar than you. Deep down, you know that and I have even told you that . . . So, best odds are, you were scared for me, pup. I don¡¯t have her love to protect me from her anger. Were you hoping for me to tell you her anger cools with time? Ishtar never forgets, never forgives and will hold a grudge till world¡¯s end.¡±


    Her father gave her a sad smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry my Alannah Aine, your mothers and I are never going to be the parents you always hoped for. The happy family you always wished would come take you and Jillian from the orphanage will always be a dream unrealised. I . . . my actions made such an impossibility before you were even born.¡±


    Aine¡¯s eyes moistened, old hopes along with new tears fall for a childhood dream now ruthlessly trampled. He sighed, thinking that he had been doing it a lot. Better she learns now, start healing now, than keep holding out in hope. If Aine were to ever gain the happy family she was after, it would not, and could not, ever include him. He glanced at the door to the outside, the cogs in his mind turning, as a plan began to grow. In couldn¡¯t include him . . . but did it need to? He turned to Aine.


    ¡°I think I made a mistake. What I meant to say was the happy family you want cannot exist with me a part of it but . . . it is completely possible with just Ishtar, Freya and Athena.¡±


    Aine blinked at the mention of Athena, her expression one of shock and her voice high with surprise.


    ¡°Athena, one of my Mothers?¡±


    Her father paused for a moment at her interruption, looking a tad off-kilter at her surprise. But he seemed to quickly draw lines and connected the dots in his own mind as he concluded an answer for her disbelief. He grinned mischievously at Aine.


    ¡°Best not tell the other two she¡¯s your favourite goddess, you might start a war.¡±


    However, a warmly seductive voice drifted from the entrance and simple wooden doorway of Aine¡¯s territory. The voice came through the now slowly opening door, sending a chilling shiver up both Aine and her father¡¯s spines. There seemed to be a cold, threatening, jealous madness lingering just beneath the warmth of that voice.


    ¡°Best not tell which other two, who her favourite goddess is? Typical of you Lugh, you child-thieving cur, trying to teach our own daughter to deceive us!¡±


    Both father and daughter turned to stare at the now open door as three supremely gorgeous women entered. Aine, having not paid attention to her Territory¡¯s heralding of their arrival in her surprise, was left flat-footed and off-balance. Lugh on the other hand, didn¡¯t look overly surprised, just off-guard.


    He recovered quickly enough though, as he offered a swift quip in response to Ishtar¡¯s warm yet icy query and insult.


    ¡°Her favourite goddess? You must be getting old Ishtar, you misheard me. I said favourite goldfish, of course they are not really goldfish, mind you. Just a pet term. We are talking about her wine fish, my gift to Aine for closing her first deal with her first customer. They are in a pond in the forest, Failinis, my hound, loves running through the stream that leads to it, which made it full of wine. Since it is already full of wine, why not push it further. Three wine fish will be able to keep it clean and improve the quality. I got them from a friend in the Celestial Realm of the Middle Kingdom.¡±


    Ishtar¡¯s expression morphed from cold to furious the moment Lugh called her old, but she only began trembling with rage after he persisted in telling his tall tale. Dressed lavishly like a Sixties era queen of crime in full Classic Rat Pack style, slanted fedora included, her clothes coming with price tags that would cost more than most upper-middle class houses, Ishtar had decided to go with a ¡®flaunting her wealth¡¯ look. Dressed mainly in black, with a few dashes of red for contrast, with subtle yet noticeable diamond jewellery and magnificent pair of pearl earrings, she looked gorgeous. Coupled with her fury, she only lacked a tommy gun complete the look.


    ¡°LUUUGGH! You . . . do you really ¡®think¡¯ I cannot tell you are lying through your teeth?!!!¡± The words ¡®think¡¯ and ¡®teeth¡¯ she hissed shook the very air of Aine¡¯s Territory with their sheer vehemence. Ishtar stood, almost beside herself with wroth.


    Mentioning the subject of a woman¡¯s age is always fraught with danger, let alone directly calling her old. Aine stared at her father wide-eyed.


    Lugh only raised one of his eyebrows in response before voicing his defence.


    ¡°Hardly lying. Exaggerating perhaps. Failinis doesn¡¯t actually love running through the stream, but he still enjoys it. A harmless embellishment I assure you.¡± Lugh inclined his head forward minutely, while offering an elegant courtly bow, looking every inch a courteous if battered noble.


    Ishtar growled, the deep, ferocious sound rumbling like a lioness¡¯ thunderous roar, her eyes fixed on Lugh¡¯s pretentious act. She quickly began to long for the tommy gun she decided to leave out of her ensemble.


    Athena coldly rolled her eyes in antipathy at the two of them acting like children and simply choose to walk around and away from Ishtar. Resplendent in a white Fifties Glamour dress, with plunging neckline, pearl and diamond necklace and paired with elegant white silk, elbow length gloves, her hair styled in waves, curled and flared so as to not touch her shoulders, stepped forward in glittering, diamond studded, sleek heels.


    While ignoring the squabbling Lugh and Ishtar, the wiser and calmer woman approached Aine, graceful and with purpose. Her stride long and distance devouring, causing the long slash running up the side of her dress to part with a flourish, quickly revealing her smooth, tanned, athletic calves.


    Ishtar became instantly distracted from her rage at Lugh, her eyes drawn to those smooth, lengthy, exquisite paragon pair of legs and the woman they were attached to.


    Lugh managed to hold his laughter in. Only just though. Survival and self-preservation must have kicked in. One should not draw too much murderous attention when attempting to use the trick of sleight of hand on Ishtar. It¡¯s not really considered a success if you get bludgeoned to death. It can only be considered to have worked if you can distract her but not to the point of creating a new issue. You have to keep just enough of Ishtar¡¯s attention to divert to you and off from the previous topic until something else happens to steal her attention from you.


    Still, it looked like the three of them had grown much closer than he had originally thought. Lugh¡¯s eyes sparkled brightly before he concealed it. His plan for them becoming Aine¡¯s much longed for family unit was looking that much easier to achieve.


    Athena reached Aine, but stopped just short, her eyes gentle and longing. Aine stared into those eyes, long lost from her sight and saw in them all the love she had always longed to see. These were a mother¡¯s eyes, her mother¡¯s eyes. Athena opened her arms out to Aine, not wide open, but just enough for Aine to fit between them. Aine could see that Athena could and would wait forever, patient and ever hopeful, for Aine to lean into her welcoming embrace. Aine, overcome by the rapid changes and the sharp sting of hopeful expectations. Her throat swollen and her nose sour from a pent up, emotional rollercoaster. And as fresh tears spill out and run down her cheeks, Aine leaps from her bar stool and into her mother¡¯s outstretched arms, her body shivering with hope.


    Athena wrapped her little girl up tightly in an instant. Twirling her around and around, Athena held her close, and firmly to her, afraid her little girl was just an illusion, a pretty dream and flight of fancy. With every passing second, Athena grew surer she was real, but also more afraid of the chance of losing her again.


    Freya dressed almost exactly as Ishtar had envisioned her, with a heavy leather jacket, short cotton top, skin-tight denim jeans and sexy knee-high boots, watched on in silence. Athena finally placed Aine down, locking eyes with Freya¡¯s over Aine¡¯s shoulder. Breaking her gaze away from the deep emotions she saw in Freya¡¯s eyes, Athena looked at Aine¡¯s face. Cupping her cheek with her hand, Athena spoke gently.


    ¡°I . . . am Athena and I have waited so long to see you.¡±


    Aine leaned into her new-found mother¡¯s touch, her voice just as soft.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the name you would have wished to have given me, but . . . my name, for as long as I can remember, is Aine. I wanted so much my mother to be real. Thank you . . . for finding me.¡±

 Chapter 14: A Mothers View and the Lioness of Heavens Roar

    Freya watched Aine embrace Athena in silence. Her gaze deep and enigmatic with subtle emotions at the sight. Her gaze flickered to the other pair in the room. Ishtar watched on from the sidelines, though her emotions were less hidden. Jealousy, desire, frustration and love were just to mention a few of the many emotions clouding Ishtar¡¯s expression. Freya, however, felt a greater wariness and concern for the last being.


    Lugh Macnia L¨¢mfada!


    The father of Aine and the treacherous thief that had stolen her from them, Athena, Ishtar and herself. Bitter resentment and deep rage flared within her heart at the memory of the act. Freya forced it down, like swallowing bile. Freya had seen the relationship between her daughter and Lugh. Aine treated him with concern and affection. Freya didn¡¯t care if Lugh¡¯s response to that emotion was genuine or not, she just knew that Aine thought it was. That, and only that, had meaning. The stage they found themselves on was already in motion and set for them, the newcomers to the play. Resisting or struggling against it would cost them more ground than they could possibly gain!


    So, Freya choose restraint, still besieged by her overpowering urge to strangle Lugh the moment she laid her eyes upon him


    Athena, wise as ever, just directly ignored him. Ishtar . . . seems to be just as passionate and complex as ever. Freya focused her sight on the other goddess. Freya could see Ishtar persisting in being as frustratingly two-faced as possible.


    Is she really a raging lioness of prevailing emotions, her actions a mere consequent from her cravings and desires? Did her passions truly rule her like it always seemed?


    Or is she a cunning queen of queens of inscrutable reasoning, her thoughts and motives a mere mystery to all but herself? Were her emotions and passions an act, like Freya feared?


    Ishtar had waited twenty-some years; a mere blink to her accumulated age true but Freya knew from personal experience that that time felt like eternity, before suddenly acting at the most important moment. Had that been a calculated move? Made the moment they were not needed anymore and so could be discarded?


    Or is it like she said, momentary and fuelled by hateful passion? An act of desperate rage, one made out of lost hope and an unquenchable thirst for revenge?


    Freya knew Ishtar said that their alliance had been out of convenience and they had all used each other in one way or another. Freya didn¡¯t want to believe it, but apart from Aine, was there anything genuine connecting them?


    Freya tore her gaze from Ishtar, anger welling up at her fascination with the other goddess. Narrowing her eyes, she instead stared at Lugh. By happenstance, she thought she noticed a plotting expression flash across his face, before it disappeared, his expression showing fondness and love as he watched Aine meet Athena. Freya blinked, her thoughts suddenly suspicious of his intentions, before she shook her head. Her hate and resentment of Lugh seemed to be making her see things. He wouldn¡¯t plot against his own daughter, even if he would against them, and he had clearly been looking at Aine when she had seen that look on his face. Freya turned to look at the mother and daughter pair. She soon captured Athena¡¯s gaze over Aine¡¯s shoulder, staring into Athena¡¯s joy filled eyes. Athena quickly pulled her sight away, refocusing on Aine.


    Freya sighed.


    Was it really so difficult to just have one normal relationship? Ishtar and Athena. Freya took Athena¡¯s example and just ignored and stopped thinking about Lugh, since just looking at the scheming cur made her paranoid.


    Freya wanted to just stop obsessing, over them and focus on building a relationship with Aine, to try and make up for lost time, to be the mother she had never gotten to be.


    But she knew. Knew! Aine had already grown up and started walking her own path, one that Lugh had started her on.


    There wasn¡¯t any time or space for them to guide or advise her, to intervene or protect anymore. They could only watch on and try to be there for her when they could. They had lost all the time in-between conceiving her and now, even Aine¡¯s true birth!


    Finding her like this was bittersweet to say the least.


    Like skipping to the middle or even the end of a book. You got to know how things end, but you also lost the chance to be a part of the story, a part of the journey of it all. The ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the laughter and the tears, the triumphs and loses of her life.


    But Freya regretted only the lost time.


    She did not regret the effort needed to find Aine nor the goddess her daughter had become. She could never be prouder nor more eager to be a part of Aine¡¯s life now.


    Even with the complicated relationships she had with Aine¡¯s other mothers.


    However, . . .


    Freya looked down, sensing another connection to herself within Aine¡¯s Territory.


    She had almost forgotten her ¡®other¡¯ daughter. The alien demigod ¡®another¡¯ Freya had seemingly thrown away. Intense hatred, beyond even that which she held for Lugh, roared to life within her lungs, like choking smoke. Hatred for this ¡®other¡¯ self that could so foolishly throw away that which she had so longed for, ¡®her¡¯ daughter.


    Freya now found herself unsure of how to act to this ¡®other self¡¯s¡¯ daughter. She, the demi-god, is, theoretically, just as much her daughter as Aine is. What or how did she treat this interloper?


    She just didn¡¯t trust her. How could she? She knew even less about her than she did about Aine.


    In fact, none of the gods of this world could bring themselves to trust these ¡®children¡¯ of theirs. It was why before ¡®they¡¯ arrived, the gods had gone to the heartache, at least for Athena, Ishter and herself, of trying to create Aine and others like her. Of creating a new Pantheon, bound walk the Earth itself, never to leave it, willing or not, and able to stabilise it, should these alien demigods prove a disaster.


    Freya made a decision. She would leave it to Aine to decide.


    If Aine wanted a sister, Freya would try to accept this demigod as her daughter. If she did not, Freya would let the daughter of her ¡®other self¡¯ fight and die alone.


    Indecisive? Unquestionably. Cold? Certainly. Did Freya care? No.


    Freya took a deep breath. Squaring her shoulders, Freya marched forward, approaching Aine.


    Athena saw her coming, pulling away from Aine, gently disentangling herself. Freya knew Athena wanted to give Aine and herself space. But Freya didn¡¯t want that.


    Becoming a burr, Freya dashed forward.


    In a mere moment later, she had wrapped the pair of them, Athena and Aine, in her arms tightly. She leaned over and kissed Athena¡¯s cheek to her shock, before breaking the kiss to press her lips to Aine¡¯s forehead. Athena stared at her, almost frozen. Aine looked surprised at first but her expression quickly melted into one of acceptance and leaned her head between her two mothers.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Ishtar¡¯s jealousy and desire shot through the roof at the sight of the three of them together! Those were all hers! Her women and her daughter! How dare them to leave her out!


    It was all Lugh¡¯s fault!


    Ishtar scowled menacingly at Lugh. He was nothing but a tedious distraction that needed to be removed. Ishtar calmed herself at the thought. Her thoughts rapidly becoming cold and calculating.


    Getting rid of Lugh was simple. Kill him! But the consequences would not be.


    Aine would hate her for it.


    Ishtar wasn¡¯t blind. She could see the bond between the pair of them. And as much as Ishtar wished to ignore it, she couldn¡¯t.


    She had not searched and waited twenty years to find her baby, only to lose her due to an impulse.


    Ishtar knew what others thought of her. That she is creature of passions and lust, ruled by her emotions. But Ishtar simply enjoyed being that way, enjoyed the spontaneity of it all. It didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t control herself; she just didn¡¯t like doing it. She preferred acting on her desires, on <u>deciding</u> to do as she pleased and on giving into her emotions.


    But Ishtar hated true loss of control. Of herself or of others. It terrified her. She knew the dangers of it. The momentary loss of control over Athena in her tent had forced Ishtar to tighten her grip on the beast of desire within her. To lessen its chain and freedom. It only had itself to blame, Ishtar sneered angerly. How dare it try to claim Athena before she had finished conquering her. The nerve! The Blasphemy!


    Ishtar hungerly stared at both Athena and Freya.


    Soon, she thought to herself.


    She would conquer the both of them to enthrone them as her queen-consorts, collar and crown them, feed them grapes, sweetly caress and bathe them in milk and honey and drape them in gold and silks as they lounged gorgeously in her bed and beside her on thrones.


    Her starved gaze soon softened, quickly getting over her aggressive fantasies as she took in the sight of her daughter in the arms of her beloveds¡¯. Their daughter. Ishtar did not, however, approach them to join. She knew Freya still held a grudge and Athena had likely reached her limit for physical affection for the moment.


    Instead, Ishter turned and started to observe her daughter¡¯s Territory in actual fact and detail. She immediately became displeased.


    It¡¯s a shop! Or some kind of inn! Or both!


    Her daughter, a princess destined to rule, who should be waited on hand and foot, somehow had a bar and lounge as her Territory! Ishtar felt her hair writhe and billow in her fury at the idea her daughter would have to <u>serve</u> others. Whipping around to stare at Lugh, pointed at him and roared in rage.


    ¡°You made her a SERVANT? She is the PRINCESS of the HEAVENS and you made her a SERVANT!!! She was DESTINED to be a RULER! A QUEEN! Her star ascending to sit beside MINE. You snivelling CUR!!! YOU STOLE HER BRITHRIGHT FROM HER!!! AND FOR WHAT? <u>THIS</u>!!!¡±


    Ishtar¡¯s roar broke the tender moment between Aine and her mothers. The three of them turning to stare at Ishtar jabbing her finger at Lugh and the room around them, shivering in rage. Blazing blue fiery starlight burned from Ishtar¡¯s eyes, the temperature in the room soaring ferociously, her hair shimmered, flowing wildly with the violent power of her rising temper. Lugh, court off guard be the sudden flare in Ishtar¡¯s emotions, almost stumbled as he backed away from Ishtar.


    Athena and Freya seemed to notice the appearance of the room around them for the first time as well. Looking around, they seemed at a loss for words and were very unenthusiastic to help calm Ishtar¡¯s rage at Lugh. Aine quickly appeared between Lugh and Ishtar, her arms raised, and her hands thrust forward and flat, as if she had started pushing against a massive wall.


    Ishtar saw her interfere, and her rage spiked. <u>Aine was protecting him</u>! Ishtar stormed forward, the hand she had used to point at Lugh rapidly become a clenched fist. Pulling it back, Ishtar closed the distance between them in moments, her moves as swift and powerful as a leaping lioness. Ishtar roared with terrifying wrath.


    ¡°Move! NOW!!!¡±


    Aine felt the voice of Ishtar, slam into the protection she had hastily raised. Aine knew it was Ishtar, her father had described her to a T. Her volatile emotions, quick to flare passions, her ridiculous beauty and her dominating, all-conquering power, a power made and harnessed to crush all opposition. She felt her protection crumble, even bolstered by her aspect of the Hearth, like tissue paper before a flood. The air vibrated and shifted from the sound of Ishtar¡¯s voice, shaking Aine¡¯s bones. But even so, Aine didn¡¯t move, resisting the compulsion and command within her mother¡¯s roar to do so. She stared at the fist growing larger, seemingly slowly but in reality, would reach her momentarily. She didn¡¯t blink.


    And the fist, almost the same size of that of a giant¡¯s to Aine now, stopped.


    Just a single inch from her face. Time almost seemed to have stopped, when a storm¡¯s wind slammed forward, knocking Aine off her feet. Aine, left looking up at Ishtar from her own floor, watched Ishtar lower her fist and stare down at her. Ishtar reached into her long coat¡¯s inner pocket and pulled out a rattle. One made of smooth amethyst and green garnet. Aine¡¯s eyes were draw to it. She could feel it. The emotions it held. Indeed, she could even feel the power it had, as though it were not a rattle but a sceptre of power and authority. A queen¡¯s sceptre. Her sceptre.


    Ishtar held it, still staring at Aine, her wayward daughter. Recalling how she had dreamed of giving this rattle to her baby girl, of watching her wave it and imagining of how cute and beautiful it would have been. Ishtar tightened her grip on the rattle.


    *Crack*


    The rattle gained a crack and soon . . .


    *Craaaackasssh*


    The sound of breaking glass and grinding stone filled the air.


    The rattle had shattered within Ishtar¡¯s grip, the pieces of jewel and precious stone dropped, falling to the ground. Freya and Athena stared in horror at the falling pieces. In the twenty years that they had spent with Ishtar, that rattle had never been far from her hands, her caressing touch had polished it lovingly and tenderly. She had loved it in place of her lost daughter, never letting either of them even come close to touching it.


    Aine felt wretched, her heart tightening as she watched the burning rage on Ishtar¡¯s expression become chillingly cold. The love the rattle had possessed had been like an ocean, it had clung to it and infused it, but now it had evaporated and become dust, Aine couldn¡¯t believe anyone could love something so much and still be able to destroy it.


    Ishtar used her thumb to push the shards still on her hand off, clearing and revealing a piece of an amulet. One fourth of an amulet in fact.


    Ishtar looked at Lugh, standing mute and pale beyond Aine, who still stayed where she fell. Ishtar spoke through clenched teeth at him, her voice as bitterly cold as space.


    ¡°You reduce her to a servant. Trick her into letting her Territory become this! You let her stand in front of you, let her protect you! Fine . . . but you were not the only one to have a piece of her amulet. You are not the only one who can awaken the territory and divine spark you willed her. Not the only one who can influence her Territory with what you gave her. I gave her everything a princess would need! She . . . is . . . MY BABY, SHE IS ROYALTY! DIVINE, PRECIOUS AND MINE!!! NOT SOME SERVENT, NOT YOURS OR ANYONES ELSES!!!¡±


    Ishtar thrust her part of the amulet into the air, the amulet, long hidden within the rattle, glowed and seemed to fade, becoming spiritual and ethereal. A massive Celtic Knot in the shape of a cross, with each of the limbs of the cross being of equal length, appeared in the air above Ishtar, the room groaning as it grew taller to accommodate it. The centre of the cross was dominated by a beautiful rough and roundish green garnet, while each of the cross¡¯s limbs had a polished amethyst inlayed at the centre of the knots on the limb. If you looked closely you could tell that the amulet was not whole, it was missing exactly three pieces, its true form being a circle, however the amulet seemed to have been intentionally made that way.


    The western piece, Lugh¡¯s, had already been returned, while Ishtar¡¯s piece grew in size and soon, after matching the western piece of the amulet in size, rose and slipped into the eastern part of the amulet.


    Aine¡¯s Territory shuddered and glowed. The supersized amulet shown with rekindled power, as it exerted its influence over Aine¡¯s Territory as its core centrepiece, and as the physical representation of Aine Divine Spark. Aine felt bloated with power, as green, gold and amethyst light burst from her body and suffused into her Territory. The dimensions of her lounge expanded, the humble and warm wood features and comfortable furniture were reabsorbed into the Territory, Aine¡¯s bar and the kitchen behind it fading as well.


    Aine watched helpless as all that was familiar and her about her Territory got stripped away. Her home was being taken from her and it was by someone who should have loved and accepted her. Aine looked at Ishtar, who was too blinded by her blame for Lugh and her high expectations for Aine, to notice the pain she was now causing her beloved daughter with her good intentions.