บท 1: Oh Goddess
Nothing but destruction lay scattered across the landscape in the remains of a village. All was quiet, save for the crackling fire consuming what was left of the once-thriving town of Riversend. Just hours ago, children had run and played while their parents haggled in the marketplace. Those days of simple joys felt like a distant memory.
Not a single person was left unscathed by the royal knight's attack. Lying on the ground was a sixteen-year-old boy, dressed in a tattered blue top and solid black pants, ripped just below his right knee. Covered in blood, his once-blonde hair was stained a deep red. His bluish-gray eyes gazed up at the night sky as he lived his final moments.
"Peace wash over me as the sea does the shore. Take my pain and make it no more. Bless me, oh goddess up above, help the one I truly love. I pray now not for my life, but for my love to survive this terrible night. And if I must die tonight, allow me to see one last beautiful sight."
With those final thoughts, he saw a shooting star and closed his eyes. The boy was dead... Or was he?
He thought he was. Surely, he must be. He knows the Knights blade pierced his chest. As he lies there thinking whether he is dead or not, he suddenly realizes it's been a few moments since his last breath. He opens one eye and looks around, surprised to see his surroundings have changed. He was in a bright room with 10 pillars holding up a magnificent ceiling.
*Clears throat*
He looks to the front of the room and sees a beautiful woman with long, black, curly hair, wearing black pants and a loose, flowy black top with a golden belt and heels. Perhaps the most notable thing about her was her skin it was neither dark nor light but patches of both and her eyes were two different colors one purple and one golden yellow
She sees him looking and waves.
"Hey, sweet cheeks, hate to break it to you, but you're not quite dead yet so umm, get off my floor it's been a few thousand years since I last had it cleaned."
He gets up slowly not taking his eyes off of the beautiful, strange woman.
"My name is Alex, who are you? Where am I? How did I get here?"
She clapped her hands and perked up.
"Ooo, questions, it's been so long since I last answered any. Hmm, where to start... Oh I got it names lets start with my name. I am Hecate, Goddess of magic and night and oh so much more. As for where you are, you, my friend, are in the realm of the gods. Well not really. It's more like the foyer or waiting room of the gods but it's as close as any mortal will ever get."
She starts laughing and looks at Alex only to be met with his bewildered face.
"And as to how you got here"
She clasped her heart
"I heard that beautiful prayer and it moved my ancient heart. I just had to meet you and do everything in my power to help your dreams come true. So, I yanked your soul out right before death got to you and brought you here for a little chat."
Alex scrunches up his face as he rubs his temples. After a moment of silence he takes a deep breath and looks at the beautiful goddess before him.
"Hecate, I won't lie to you this is a lot to process and I feel like you skipped over a lot of information. But allow me to put it bluntly when I ask, am I dead or alive?
She puts her hand out like she is about to say something then stops.
"Have you ever heard of Schrödinger's cat?" She asks hesitantly.
"Who the fu-" Alex begins to respond before Hecate cuts him off.
"Forget about it. So we have you the person then we have you the soul. You the person is dead. Gone. Swimming with the fishes. Pushing dais-" Alex cuts her off.
"I get it I'm dead"
"Now see, that's where it gets complicated. Alex the person is dead, but Alex the soul is alive and kicking. So, in the traditional sense, yes, you are dead, but don't worry—that's easy to fix. Next question." She motions to a table that magically appears, set with a tea pot and two chairs.
Both of them move to the table, and the pot pours two cups of tea. Hecate sits in silence, sipping at her tea, as Alex processes everything, staring blankly off into the distance. Minutes pass like this before the sound of a cup hitting a plate brings him back.
"I'm sorry did you say you were a goddess? I thought the gods either never existed or were all dead." Alex breaks the silence with his question before downing his glass of tea, causing the teapot to immediately float and pour another one for him.
"We exist in the way a thought exists. Only the more thought and offerings we get, the more powerful we become until we can eventually affect the physical world. I think therefore I am becomes you think therefore we are."
"Could you elaborate on that a bit more? You exist because we think you do yet I've never heard of you."
"Okay, think of it like this: You are in a dark room by yourself. There are no doors, windows, or other openings. Would you feel safe or a little uncomfortable?"
Alex thinks for a minute before he answers.
"I would feel a little uncomfortable I guess."
"Now let's say one billion people are all thinking that the darkroom is unsafe. That thought alone creates something—a sense of unease, a feeling, an idea. It starts small, a whisper in the back of your mind. But as more people believe in it, the idea takes shape, becomes something real, something that affects everyone who enters that room, even though there's technically nothing there. It's like the fear of the unknown manifesting into something tangible."
Alex furrows his brow. "So... you're saying that thoughts can turn into reality?"
"Exactly. Belief is powerful. Now, scale that up. Over time, people across history believed in gods. They believed in magic, in forces they couldn't explain. And eventually, those beliefs gave form to us. We were born out of thought, need, fear, and hope. The more they prayed, offered sacrifices, and believed in us, the stronger we became. We started as whispers, but belief made us real."
"But why haven't I heard of you? People don't believe in gods anymore, not like they used to."
Hecate nods. "True, belief has faded... at least where you're from. But some of us remain—sustained by myths, stories, symbols, and those who still remember and worship us. Think about it. Even if you haven't prayed to me, stories of witches, goddesses, or magic still exist in your world. I may not be on the lips of your people, but the fragments of belief, scattered across time and space, keep me here. In the same way that old fears never truly die, neither do old gods."
Alex looks down at the table, processing this. "So it's like a collective consciousness keeping you alive."
Hecate smiles, leaning back. "Exactly. Gods exist because people believed in us once. And as long as we remain in even a single story, a single memory, we still exist. That's the beauty of it- Oh also There's other worlds out there who solely worship me hell I have entire galaxy's praising my name in one way or another. Hang on why pray to a goddess who you think is dead or never existed?"
Alex chokes on his tea.
"Yeah, about that, what you heard was more of like a final dramatic farewell. It was poetry and, umm, the thoughts of a dying man. I used Goddess as a figure of speech."
"Why Goddess, not God?"
"Because men bring nothing but death and war while women create life and nurture"
Hecate smirks, leaning forward with a glint in her mismatched eyes.
"Now that we've cleared up the life and death bit, let's move on to more pressing matters." She taps the table, and suddenly, the room begins to shift. The pillars twist and melt into shapes Alex has never seen before.
Alex stiffens, gripping the arm of his chair. "What—what's happening now?"
Hecate rises, her voice echoing in the changing room. "You're not dead yet, Buttercup. But if you want to stay that way, we've got some work to do. Let's get started, shall we?"
Before Alex can respond, the floor beneath him vanishes, and he's falling.