I remember the tales my mother once spoke, back when the hearth-fire burned low and the wind howled against the doors — stories of the fall of man, and how their ruin kindled a war between mortals and gods.
The cruelty of men had stirred the fury of the divine, and the gods answered with wrath unending.
She told me, too, of Sol-Halla — the realm of the sun deities, a world bathed in their eternal flame, where light reigned supreme and shadows dared not breathe. Their radiance, she said, could scour away even the deepest dark.
I once believed the gods were pure — holy beyond fault.
But I have seen their hands drenched in blood… and my mother was one of them.
Now, I see the truth—both sides are tainted. Both light and shadow bear the same cursed stain.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
Niflheim: The Realm of Ice
The sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones crashing against brittle branches shattered the silence of the cold forest. The wildlife fled in panic as something heavy struck the snow.
Torga.
She hit the ground with brutal force, landing face-first, her naked body covered in scars and dirt—the aftermath of endless battles. For a long moment, she didn't move. It looked as though she was dead.
But then—her fingers twitched.
Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she forced herself up, arms trembling, muscles screaming. Her body shook violently. Blood trickled down her side as she coughed, spitting crimson onto the snow.
She wiped her wounds with a handful of ice, the cold biting her bruised and scratched skin. The night sky loomed above her—vast and indifferent. Sow fell softly, its pale colour mirroring the softness of her shoulder-length white hair.
Her eyes glowed faintly, gold and wild, though her sclera were bloodshot and her vision blurred. Through the haze, she could make out faint shapes—dead trees, jagged hills, distant ridges carved in frost with stones covered with snow.
Then came the pain.
A brutal, splitting ache tore through her skull. Torga gasped, clutching her head, her fingers digging into her hair.
And then—a voice.
It boomed across the silence, cold, deep, and commanding—like a god's decree.
"HEAR ME?!"
Torga froze, breath fogging the air. Her gaze darted across the empty woods. Was it one of them?
She knew gods. She'd fought them—bled under their wrath. A demigoddess born of both divinity and mortal flaw. Her mother, a sun deity, had led their onslaught.
Torga remembered that cruel smile. And she had sworn—one day she would wipe it away.
But this voice… it wasn't hers. It carried something else. Something darker.
The echo faded. Torga stumbled forward, clutching her ribs. "I must… find… shelter," she muttered, her breath sharp and visible in the cold.
As she moved, her wounds began to knit themselves together—slowly, painfully. Scars sealed halfway, bone cracked and reset, flesh burned and sizzled as it tried to mend.
The healing was never perfect. Unlike full-blooded gods, her human half left her vulnerable. The marks of pain always remained.
She groaned, stretching her battered frame, when something shimmered before her—a trail. Golden, swirling lines twisted through the snow, forming a path that glowed faintly in the night like gold.
She stopped, watching it with wary eyes. "What is this before me?" she muttered, her Norse accent thick and cold. "A trial t'shelter… or a storm t'break me?"
The wind howled.
Then came the cries—wolves, perhaps, or something worse—echoing through the forest.
Torga's eyes widened. She turned toward the sound, instinct tightening her scarred muscles. "I must... move forth," she stuttered, clutching her arms for warmth as she pushed on, limping through the snow that covered her entire feet, freshly healed flesh burning with every step, leaving her bones slightly fixed.
She followed the trail, her lips quivering and body shaking from the biting cold that struck every nerve like a wolf's jaw. Each step was like a battle, the young woman stumbling a she used the trees as leverage to prevent falling.
After much difficulty, she had come across where the trail of gold stopped.
A cave, the light disappearing into its dark depths.
Torga was sceptical, the weight of suspicion present in her gaze, "A cave... it is," she muttered, her breath heavy. From the way caves were, it was known for housing dangerous secrets.
The stories her mother told her included the dangers of dark spaces and the entities that revealed themselves. But there was no use, as she would never believe anything that was spoken from that woman's mouth.
The trauma she received was too deep, the cuts that were inflicted on her from the very blade of the woman who had given her birth, cared for her and gave her nutrients, letting her suckle from her breasts was the same that cut down the true enemies years ago.
"How the gods have forsaken this land," she muttered under her heavy breath, advancing towards the cave, ready to leave the past behind, the stories that were told by Cyra, her mother, now feeling like nothing but lies, and indeed it was.
The cave was warm, and as soon as Torga stepped in, she felt a strong sense of ease. The cursed tattoo branded on her darkened skin just above her hairy loins glowed with a dimly lit light.
Gazing into the cave, she found something rather strange: two pearls of red light glaring from the end.
Torga remained still, watching the red light, her eyes squinted. In that instant, the red lights moved, being in a low position before rising. The woman stepped back, cautiously trying to escape this thing. She would normally face this unknown enemy, but this time she was left unarmed.
Moving back, she was immediately forced to stop by something furry and soft making contact with her back, this something as large as her entire form. Her eyes opened wide, then a growl echoed from the object as a small streak of viscous liquid dropped onto her head and trickled down her face.
She turned to face this thing. A grizzly bear stood, its eyes glowing with a red light. Torga stepped back, standing defensively, not to fight back but to avoid the attack from this beast.
She glanced at this towering figure that was surprisingly larger than any normal bear; she noticed part of the bones were exposed, the ribcage and the skull.
It looked like an undead, its growl sounding far different from any normal animal.
Then it pounced on her, ready to sink its jaws into her flesh.
Torga held her own, falling on her back as she held the beast from trying to bite her down. The woman grunted, tilting her head to the side to avoid the saliva from the beast's jaws. With the strength that she inherited from her deity mother, she struck the rib, a squelching sound coming from it.
The bear roared in pain, rolling to the side and releasing Torga, who planned to run out of the cave, but she was stopped by a stinging pain in her ankle, forcing her to the hard ground.
"Fuck!"
Torga turned to face the cause of this pain, the bear's jaw on her ankle, causing it to bleed badly. The woman screamed, struggling as she tried to pull her feet away, but the bear was relentless, dragging her forth.
With eyes darting around for a way to escape this attack, she noticed something, a rusty blade that probably belonged to a warrior who ventured into the cave, the edges chipped like it had been hit by something.
Taking the chance, she reached for the weapon, the tip of her fingers just inches away from the hilt. The bear changed its focus from her leg, now going for her head.
But this meant it had to let go of her leg, giving her the time to drag herself towards the weapon and grab it. The bear loomed just inches from her head, ready to bite down on her throat.
Torga, with precision and speed, drove the blade into the head of the beast.
The bear stopped, its body falling limp, the red eyes going dim. Its dead body dropped onto her body, the force of the weight pressed onto her chest.
Torga grunted, struggling as she tried to push the beast from her, but it seemed that her strength was sapped away by the injury it inflicted on her. The blood she had lost was much and she wouldn't heal from it anytime soon.
She wanted to give up, but the memories of the scars that were inflicted on her filled her with determination.
"I shall not die today," she muttered.
With all her godly strength inherited from her lineage, she pushed the bear off her, her teeth gritting. Then, in minutes, the beast fell off her body.
She stood to her feet, the deep wound that left her feet mangled healing from the little resolve she had. She was able to move now, dragging the sword from the bear's head.
She gazed down at the beast, her breath ragged and heavy.
Lost in the dimmed eyes of the beast, footsteps emerged, shaking her but bringing her back to the real world. The trudging sounds seem to be coming from the entrance of the cave.
Toga turned to face this person, the sword held tightly in her grip.
This person looked like a man, standing at an impossible height that loomed over seven or eight feet. His identity was concealed in a cloak, but Torga could make out the red, scruffy beard and not to mention, the muscular form barely covered in clothing, as she could make out the crimson hair on his loins.
Then she saw it, her eyes widened, it was a red spark, the sound so heavy it almost blew her eardrums.
This was thunder.
Thor Odinson, the all-powerful god of thunder, had emerged out of the blue, and it seemed the reason for his presence was due to her battle in the heavens, spiking the gods.
Torga nodded, moving back, her grip weakened on the sword she held, "No...." she muttered. Then her heel struck a stone, forcing her to the ground.
She was disoriented for a while, the force hurting her as she had fallen bare on the hard ground. She looked once more only to see that the mad god was nowhere to be seen.
Could this be trickery? Did Loki visit me?
Torga stood to her feet, gazing around her. Just as relief settled in, she felt her innards tighten, a gasp escaping her lips, then blood.
The woman looked down, her gaze passing through the middle of her breasts, then she saw it: a huge hand, far bigger than her head, drenched in blood.
Her blood. The mad god was indeed real, and now he stood behind her, his figure looming over her. He held her closer, violating her, his fingers tracing the corners of her body as he stoked her with his lips, chuckling as he did this.
Torga struggled, but it was no use. Slowly, her body began to fall limp, her eyes closing.
Then, she died, now left to die in the cold.