"I am the golden flame of hope in times of despair, but I am also the calamity of death that drowns gods in a sea of despair and terror. The true terror of all that is divine, monster, and entities in space." Godwyn, the Golden.
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Realm of Men, Midgard.
Scandinavia.
Godwyn leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His golden eyes, like two pools of molten gold, swept the surroundings with sharp, vigilant attention. After making sure the abandoned house was truly empty, he finally lowered his gaze to his own stomach.
In the center of his abdomen, a horrendous wound throbbed with agonizing pain, lightning still crackled over the burned and purple flesh from the mighty blow of Mjolnir's hammer.
Odin's bastard son inhaled deeply, feeling the agonizing pain of his blood and flesh burning infinitely from the seemingly impregnable lightning. His brother truly showed no mercy in his attacks.
"Boy, you have to hurry. Fleeing to Midgard might delay the Jotun Slayer for a while, but it won't hold him for long." Godwyn wasn't surprised when a male voice sounded in the abandoned house.
Godwyn looked at his waist and, attached to his belt, saw a talking head, looking at him with only one eye remaining, in place of the other eye was an empty socket. It was the head of an old man with horns.
Mimir, God of Knowledge and Ambassador of the Aesir Gods.
"I know, but I have no strength." Godwyn replied in a weak, exhausted, and hoarse tone. He had used all his strength to survive the blow of the physically strongest god of the Nine Realms.
Still being conscious even after being hit by Thor already showed how resilient he was.
"And that will make you famous, boy. Not many gods, Aesir or Vanir and Jotuns, could survive your half-brother's blow." Mimir commented with a touch of admiration in his voice.
He personally saw a thirteen-year-old boy withstand the blow of a God like Thor. He could count on his fingers how many gods could survive an attack from the God of Thunder.
"I will open a passage between worlds. When that happens, Thor will find us, so run with all your might and jump from Yggdrasil without hesitation." Mimir spoke with a tone full of dignity.
"Then let the Norns decide our fate."
Godwyn's lips couldn't help but curl into a sarcastic and malicious smile.
"May those old hags be damned, I want them to burn in the cold of Helheim and become food for Hræsvelgr." He spoke coldly, cursing the witches of fate without any hesitation.
Mimir couldn't help but click his tongue in admiration at the child's courage or foolishness, but he had to admit, he liked those words.
"HAHAHAHA!!!" Mimir laughed and spoke with a similar boldness to Godwyn. "Yes, damn those old hags!!!"
He had been tortured for a thousand years by Odin, died and recently revived, fear was the only thing he didn't possess at that moment, especially after going through all those tribulations in his life.
Godwyn smiled hearing Mimir's words.
"You seem more interesting than you look, old goat. It seems I wasn't wrong to cut off your head and revive it."
"I thank you for that, Odin can be quite creative in his tortures." Mimir replied with a slightly desolate tone.
"Don't worry, old goat." Godwyn's voice sounded cold. "If he thinks I'm going to cause Ragnarok..."
He looked up, an electrifying red glow danced wildly in his golden irises, the golden color of his eyes was the same color as his hair.
"Since the All-Father fears that I was born to cause Ragnarok, I will do so and watch him be devoured by the World-Devouring Wolf."
Mimir watched the boy consumed by hatred and couldn't help but let out a long sigh. Seeing a child carrying such great hatred was truly sad, but he believed the things Godwyn went through would only strengthen him, that was what it meant to grow and mature.
Learning from pain and continuing to live despite the circumstances.
"I'll start." Mimir's voice carried an unwavering seriousness.
Godwyn nodded. Despite the exhaustion and the throbbing pain that threatened to bring him down at any moment, the thirteen-year-old boy forced himself to stand. He leaned on the long spear, which was much larger than himself.
Mimir's single eye glowed with a golden light, a shimmering beam of energy was shot from his eye and collided with the space in front of Godwyn. The energy tore the fabric of reality, opening a rift between worlds.
The instant the passage appeared, the sky over Scandinavia plunged into deep darkness. Storm clouds spread in seconds covering the entire country, and deafening thunder echoed through the skies.
Godwyn didn't hesitate, he ran towards the rift.
Milliseconds before crossing it, he saw, in the place where he had been a moment before, a huge fat, red-haired man holding a hammer covered in lightning. He looked at him with calm and electrifying blue eyes.
Thor, God of Thunder, Storms, and Strength.
Even with his large and fat appearance, the God of Thunder was one of the fastest gods in the Nine Realms.
Godwyn crossed the portal and wasted no time admiring the dreamlike landscape of the space between worlds. The celestial blue around him seemed insignificant compared to the need for survival. He shot forward and, without hesitation, jumped from the colossal branches of Yggdrasil and fell towards the celestial blue immensity.
But the joy of escape didn't last long.
"Dodge, Godwyn!!!" Mimir's alarmed voice tore through the void.
How could he dodge something in free fall?
Instinct acted even before his mind processed the threat. Without time to think, Godwyn used his War Spear as a shield, but the hammer had still hit him in the middle of the chest.
The pain that followed was indescribable.
His body, mind, and soul, everything was shaken by an overwhelming impact. A wave of darkness swallowed his consciousness.
"Wake up, Godwyn! Godwyn!!!"
Mimir's voice was the last thing Godwyn heard before being dragged into unconsciousness.
From the top of Yggdrasil's branches, Thor watched the boy's fall with a look full of complex emotions. Then, without saying a word, he turned to leave.
Mimir's rift had closed, but there was nothing a blow from Mjolnir couldn't solve. Thor opened a rift in space with a devastating blow that shook all of Yggdrasil, making the tree tremble.
As soon as Thor disappeared, an unusual figure emerged from the shadows of the World Tree's branches.
A squirrel, strangely large and with anthropomorphic features, approached the edge of the roots. Its face had a humanoid aspect, and it wore clothes adorned with shoulder pads. In place of its left eye, there was an eye patch.
Ratatoskr.
The messenger of Yggdrasil looked to where Godwyn had disappeared, his expression carrying a mixture of reflection and decision.
"Boy Godwyn… I can't help much, but since you saved Yggdrasil once, I will help you one last time."
Murmuring ancient words, Ratatoskr distorted reality. Godwyn's body was enveloped by a subtle glow as his wounds partially closed. With a final touch of magic, the squirrel diverted the boy's fate, moving him away from the Norse pantheon.
After sending Odin's bastard son to a safe place, Ratatoskr felt another disturbance in Yggdrasil.
It was a brief tremor, but when something the size of a galaxy trembles, it's never for something simple.
"Damn Hotel Valhalla, damn Odin... I hope you become food for the Wolf." The squirrel cursed the All-Father with clenched teeth, irritated by Odin's greed for indiscriminately extracting the World Tree's sap.
Although interdimensional travel was lucrative for the All-Father's coffers, what he was doing was equivalent to slowly poisoning the Tree that sustained the cosmos itself.
A hundred years ago, Yggdrasil trembled once every century. Now, the tremors occurred ten times a year. If this pace continued, the World Tree would die, and with it, everything that existed.
Grudgingly, Ratatoskr hurried back to work.
-
Richmond, Virginia.
Above the city, a pillar of blue light tore through the night sky like a bright comet, violently ripping through the sky, leaving behind a bright and flaming trail.
Surprisingly, mortals did not look up. None of them noticed the blast of celestial energy crossing the skies above them.
In a simple house, three old women calmly knitted as they watched the blue comet pass above them.
"The Golden One Has Arrived."
"With him, the Destined Death of the Gods."
"The Ruin of the Divine World."
The old women murmured indescribable words and continued to weave the thread of destiny of mortals and gods with indifferent expressions.
"Do we want to interfere?" The first old woman asked as she picked up a mortal's thread of destiny.
"Irrelevant." The second old woman replied, crossing the thread.
"Let fate take its course." The third old woman concluded, cutting the thread.
The blue ray crossed the entire city before colliding with a building in the suburbs, an old and seemingly abandoned warehouse.
Inside the structure, the impact opened a hole in the ceiling, allowing moonlight to pour inside, forming a silver circle on the floor.
In the center of the debris, a boy with long golden hair lay unconscious and severely wounded.
Annabeth Chase, then seven years old, woke up to the sound of the crash. Instinctively, she grabbed the celestial bronze dagger beside her.
She wasn't the only one to wake up.
Luke Castellan and Thalia Grace stood up in an instant with weapons in hand, their bodies tense, ready for combat at any moment.
The three pairs of eyes swept the warehouse, their senses on high alert. They expected monsters, they expected a fight at any moment. However, the longer they stayed and nothing happened, then they noticed something was wrong.
Luke cautiously advanced, slow and careful steps, he looked at the entrance of the warehouse, his eyes widened seeing the unconscious golden-haired boy bathed in moonlight amidst the debris from the ceiling.
"Thalia, get the Ambrosia!" Luke shouted as he ran towards the unconscious boy.
Thalia, who had been caught by surprise by Luke's shout, reacted quickly and grabbed the canteen containing Ambrosia and followed her friend without any hesitation. Annabeth, confused, also followed both.
Thalia soon realized why Luke had asked her to bring the Ambrosia, the golden-haired boy was in an extremely pitiful state.
There were only two wounds on his body, but both wounds were extremely mortal.
Annabeth showed a shocked expression seeing the two wounds, one on the chest and the other on the abdomen. Lightning still crackled over the burned and purple flesh, especially the second wound on the chest.
His entire rib cage was slightly sunken and obviously, all the bones in his chest were broken at best.
"Thank you for helping my friend, children."
Suddenly, an aged male voice made the three demigods raise their caution to the maximum.
Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth followed the origin of the voice and found a head of an old man with horns, looking at them with only one eye shining with a touch of calm and strange wisdom. Even without knowing the old man, you would have the impression that he was someone wise and full of knowledge.
Annabeth opened her mouth and couldn't say what she wanted when she saw the seemingly alive and talking head.
"A talking head!!!" She exclaimed, making Mimir let out a laugh, finding the seven-year-old girl's reaction incredibly adorable.
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/GOTSW
Read my other books:
Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos (400,000 words written).
Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.