A gust of wind blew from high above the altar of the Vanir, located in the world of Vanaheim.
A silver-haired teenager was tied up in chains, and guarded by two champions that prevented him from breaking free from his bindings.
In front of him was an angelic beauty, with long purple hair and eyes that looked at him with a very sad expression on her face.
"Aila, you don't have to listen to them," the silver-haired teenager said with labored breaths as he looked at the maiden who had sacrificed many things for his sake.
She had saved him when he fell from a cliff during a great battle against the Fomorians. They were a race of monstrous beings whose ultimate goal was to lay waste to every land they set their sights on.