The world snapped back into place like a door slamming shut.
One moment I was standing before Hel's throne of bone and frost, the air heavy with old power and older grudges—and the next I was back in that same void-drenched space, suspended between sleep and something far worse. My breath came out in a sharp gasp, as if I'd been underwater. My heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of my chest.
Hel watched me with that unreadable expression she always wore, half pity and half disappointment.
"You return," she said, voice smooth, almost bored. "Good. I was beginning to think the vision frightened you into unconsciousness."
"Vision?" I croaked, then steadied myself. "No—I'm fine. I just—"
I wasn't fine. But that wasn't the point.
I straightened. "I need to know how to use these blessings you gave me. I've had them—apparently—for months, and I still can't do anything. So how am I supposed to help you if I can't use them?"
For the first time, Hel hesitated.
That worried me more than anything else.
She tapped her chin, thinking. "How to use them… hm."
A pause.
Then: "I don't know."
I blinked. "You—you don't know?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "It's been a very long time since a mortal has been blessed by any god. Let alone two. You are… delicate. I assumed you would simply figure it out."
"Delicate," I repeated flatly.
Hel stepped toward me, boots silent even on the frost. "Your eye, however, is not active. That part, at least, I can fix."
Something in her tone made my stomach sink. "What do you mean fix—"
She grabbed my face.
Her clawed fingers dug into my cheeks.
And before I could even inhale—
she ripped my eye out.
I screamed—loud, raw, primal. White-hot agony swallowed everything. I felt the wet heat spill down my cheek, felt cold fingers wrench something vital out of my skull.
I didn't even have time to collapse before something was shoved back in.
A different shape. A different weight. Burning—like molten metal, like lightning, like a star being forced into bone.
The left side of my vision—black, gone, destroyed—suddenly exploded back into existence.
Shapes. Light. Frost. Hel's pale face.
More pain.
I kept screaming, not even realizing the attack had already ended, that the horror was over. I stumbled back, hand flying to my face, breath hitching uncontrollably.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I shrieked once my voice returned, echoing through the empty void.
Hel stared at me as if I were a noisy child.
"That is the price of getting stronger," she said calmly. "Your mortal body was too weak to access Odin's power. And do you really expect to use a god's blessing when you can barely withstand the residue of it?"
"You could've warned me!"
"Yes," she said simply. "But you would've ran."
She wasn't wrong, which only pissed me off more.
I tried to blink away the stinging in my new eye—and froze as the world sharpened sharply. Not brighter—clearer. I could see the faint pulse of Hel's magic in the air. I could see fine cracks in the frost at my feet. I could see—
Everything.
"Your blessing is not dormant because of inaction," Hel continued. "It's dormant because you are too weak. Gods do not bless mortals anymore. They haven't in… well." She tilted her head. "A very long time."
"Then why me?" I gasped.
"You agreed in your dream," she replied.
I choked. "That wasn't— I didn't know—!"
"Oh, child." She laughed under her breath. "Mortals never know what they agree to."
I dragged in a shaky breath. "You say god like there's many of them. How many are there? And what do they actually… do?"
Hel's expression shifted—softened, even—as she began pacing around me.
"There were twelve major gods," she said. "Ten once walked your realm. Tyr watched over Fides. Balder protected Castimonia. Vidar ruled Ipse. Freyr guided Lues. Bragi watched Laetitia. Loki—my father—ruled Dolus."
She paused.
Then added quietly, "And then there was me. Heimdall. And Hodr."
I frowned. "You said once. What does that mean?"
Hel's face went blank.
Only her voice carried weight.
Heavy. Final.
A cracked childhood lullaby turned funeral song.
"It means few are still alive.. the rest are dead."
"…Gods can die?"
Hel laughed—a sharp, dark sound. "Anything can die, Mavis. Even eternity."
Silence pooled between us.
I swallowed hard. "What happened to them?"
"That," she said, turning away, "is a story for another time. You will know what you must. When you must."
She lifted a hand.
"Hel—wait, I still have questions—!"
A pulse of cold blue light surged outward, swallowing my words, swallowing Hel, swallowing her throne, swallowing the vast frozen void around us.
"Grow stronger, Queen of Fog," Hel's voice echoed faintly. "Or you will break long before your destiny begins."
The world shattered—
—and I was gone.