Ard sat on the edge of the cliff of the mountain overlooking the dale of Asgaard. The view was breath taking. It must have been the most beautiful realm of all – masterpieces of godly architecture, grand buildings embedded in lush green valleys and forests with the hall of the gods, Valhalla, majestically towering over all and everything. He took a deep breath. The aromas of a thousand living and growing things and of molecules lifeless but yet alive flushing through his brain, calming his mind. His home, his responsibility.

So far he had never doubted the Elder Gods, not to think of the Norns. He had still been so young in comparison to the original gods. 300 years seemed like the blink of an eye next to the thousands of years the first gods had already dwelled in the higher realms. This was the main reason why he didn't dare to trust his own judgement fully. Was it a lack of experience? A lack of understanding? Was he perhaps to idealistic to see the bigger picture? The Norns would, should know. Surely they would do what's right and what serves the higher purpose, after all they were the makers of fate, the executioners of the will of the source.

Sometimes Ard didn't see the meaning in all this. He was raised with the teachings of the Elders. They taught the godly children about their purpose of existence, the importance of their role as the keepers and protectors of the realm of man, the fragile race, chosen by the source for a reason. Now almost a grown, mature god, Ard wasn't so sure any more about the nature of their role. Keepers and protectors they were supposed to be but he began to see the superiority the gods seemed to claim over men.

The girl who's life he took, believing it was the right thing – what happened to her? She must have been a threat of some kind that they wanted her dead, her flame not just flickering but extinguished for good. How many lives had she lived? Would she come back? If she had been in her third incarnation then the gates would be closed now and her soul forever lost. Being taken out of life by the aether could mean that there was no return for her. Exactly that might have been the plan. But who's plan? The little ampoule he carried that day was kissed by the Norn of the future. She would have given it intent, given it the breath and will of the highest power. But was it really the will of the highest power? Too many unanswered question.

Ard didn't know the circumstances, all of those thoughts were nothing but speculations. He was told nothing and he wouldn't be able to speak to anyone about it. He only knew that things were amiss when he returned to Asgaard after his mission and the girl wasn't there. After he asked Heimdall the gate keeper about her arrival and then realised that he knew nothing about it, Ard smelled the betrayal and stormed into Valhalla where he was already expected by the Elders and, to his biggest surprise, the Norns. He almost froze when he saw them standing there but he marched on, pretending not to be intimidated by the immortal and mighty females.

He felt the anger boiling in his core the more he entertained that thought. They had deceived him into committing a tyrannical act. The gods are meant to preserve life, not take it for egoistical purposes. He was told that the girl was the next chosen maiden and that her threads were woven that way...to be taken from this life by him. Skulla had seen her end, decided her end.

Neither of this made sense. It felt like corruption. The Elders, the Norns, maybe even his so called father. Wodran didn't raise Ard and his brothers. He gave them into the care of Amms, female godly servants, appointed by the elders to raise the rare godly offspring after the hold was put into place. As young gods, Atlas, Arl and Ard were guarded and treated like treasures. The gods used to have many children until the day the source descended in form of the highest god and made them all sterile. He said only very few gods would now be able to have offspring but only in unions with half gods or humans, beings with fertile DNA, blessed by the Norn, who would execute his wishes and weave a thread for the life of a new soul. The Divine Source, in form of the highest god in flesh, left a part of itself within one of the original gods, Wodran, Ards father, so he could reign as king over the realms with wisdom and strength. Another part of himself, the Aether, the highest god left in the grail, a cup made of gold, crafted by the most able smiths in the realm, only to be used for divine purpose and with permission of Wodran himself. Locked away in the grail's chamber and guarded by Fenris, the giant wolf. Fenris would only answer to Wodran.

These days Ard's father kept to himself in one of the halls of Valhalla. Once a feast throwing, beloved and praised ruler by the gods of Asgaard, these days very few got to see or speak to him.
Ard never saw him as a father. He wasn't even sure what having a father would really feel like. All he ever did was to make sure that his sons would have their place in the godly army of the realm and follow an honourable path of existence as warriors.
When his brother Atlas went with Hella to Niflheim as her price to keep the peace treaty between the gods of Asgaard and the giants of Niflheim to stop the war, Wodran changed from being a distant father to an essential stranger to the three young gods. To lose his son this way seemed unbearable, especially after previously losing the mother of his children in such tragic circumstances.

Freyda died during childbirth of her youngest, something Ard would never forgive himself for. She was a half goddess and therefore not immortal. The chances of dying during childbirth for a half goddess were slim, but yet it could happen. And happen it did. It was a satisfaction for the gods and they had claimed that she wasn't strong enough to dwell amonst them, despite Wodran's love for her. Her death seemed to confirm their feeling of superiority. It was haunting yet motivating at the same time. He wanted to make sure his mother didn't die in vain. He wanted to make his existence count and protect those deemed lesser than the gods – the half gods, the mortals and all other beings that inhabit the nine worlds. With his father being a god and his mother a half goddess, all three brothers had inherited the strong genetic make up of the gods and were thought of as immortal yet some of the original gods saw them as unequal. Ard would fight to prove them all wrong and would not rest until every being of every realm was equally valued by all.

To take Atlas, Wodran's first born, was Hella's way to degrade the gods of Asgaard and to seek revenge for turning down her advances to marry into the realm in hope to become the ruler one day. Hella had set her eyes on him when he was barely old enough to join the army. A handsome young god, tall with golden brown hair and golden eyes just like his brothers, known for his fierce character, Hella's affection for him soon turned into an obsession. Never would Wodran have married his eldest off to the goddess of the darkness and never mind that Atlas himself was in love with the golden haired half goddess Cierladrean. She was young in comparison to Hella and instead of darkness and bitterness, Cierladrean was full of light and life and love. Back then, Ard saw the wonder in his brother's eyes whenever he looked at his beloved, as if she was the very source of his existence. For him it was always clear that one days those two would handfast and have their fates tied together by Wyrdani. Then Hella took Atlas away. Wodran sacrificed his son to save the human race. She had made him her lover, the dark god of Niflheim. Ard wondered whether his brother's heart was already filled with Hella's darkness, whether all of his fierceness and bravery and compassion had been sucked out of his soul and been replaced with compliance and the negative energies of the realm of the damned ice giants. Nonetheless Ard admired his brother's sense of duty and his silent acceptance of his fate.

As he sat there, Ard tried really hard to shake off those thoughts. Thoughts about his family, his mother and the memories of the sleeping girl's face as he poured the drop of the aether into her mouth. Aether infused with pure death. Death from the source. Liquefied death, blessed by Skulla, seemingly approved by his own father. He obviously didn't know that at the time. But why? Why this girl? That's what she was – only a youngling. Her face so mild and lovely as she slept.
The things Ard had learned about her while he was investigating and following her around, information he needed to pick the right moment to execute the will of Fates, it all swirled around in his head. Her family, her friends, the boy she often met in the early hours of the evening and seemed to like a lot - he had memorised it all in detail, thinking he would retrieve it someday for the girl, saved for a time when her memory was wiped clean to start over again in the higher realms amongst the gods. To tell her about her life as human once she was a half goddess. She would have led a good existence in his realm. The goddesses would have prepared her well for her role. The role of the golden maiden.

The golden maiden was a treasure for the gods. She was a rare gift – full of life and fertility, sent by the aether. The womb of the golden maiden would be blessed to conceive a child and that child would be of significance for the race of the gods. Every year on Beltane the gods would pick a maiden to perform the sacred rite but it wouldn't produce a god child unless the maiden was the chosen one, the golden maiden. There hadn't been a golden maiden since his mother. When Ard was told he had the task to elevate her into this realm he felt honoured. Only a trusted few would know of her upcoming. The Norns would instruct the elders and they would go wherever it takes to find that very special young woman. She would be prepared for her role and treated like the precious miracle that she would gift to the gods. On the night of Beltane she would be revealed to the masses that would gather. They would paint her with the holy golden balm, made of the sap of the tree of life, wrap garlands of spring flowers around her naked body and then a contest would be fought over her. The winner would perform the great rite with her and produce the new blessed life. Her and her child would be treated like treasures and her existence would be full of riches. So bright and fortunate would be her fate.

But all this was now nothing but a future that turned into a dead end. Over and gone. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to change it. The past was in the past and if he was to challenge the Elders and therefor the Norns, surely lighting would strike him dead. His father, or whatever was left of him, would do it. He would send for Thore and have him executed by his godly lighting. If nothing kills an immortal, this powerful surge of energy does. Gods bleed just like humans, but their blood has a golden shimmer and their wounds heal quickly. To kill a god or goddess one would have to cut them and keep their wounds open for days to make them bleed out. Their cells are immune to diseases. Thore's lighting though, it destroys mortals and immortals alike, burns their DNA to ashes with no chance of recovery. The only crime that would warrant capital punishment was disobedience and conspiracy towards all three governing enities – Elders, Norns and Wodran himself. Ard was certainly toying with the idea. Not just because of the girl, but because of his mother, his world and all that was just and meaningful. But was he right? Or was he just an impulsive young god with lack of experience that couldn't see the bigger picture? Was it just hurt pride? Perhaps he should give it time, think about it more and try to make sense of it.

The sun set in burning orange and purple and red. It had almost disappeared behind the dark green hills. The trees were edged in gold. The beauty of his world almost broke his heart. "No" he thought. He couldn't allow himself such a soft soul, such a vulnerable mind. What was happening to the warrior of Asgaard? He craved for direction and as he sat there, he wished some invisible force would guide him through his doubts. Then he felt hands around his throat.

Ard spun around and stared into the eyes of the Wyrd. He probably would have appreciate this beautiful face so close to him if her hands hadn't tightened around his neck like iron chains. Overpowered by the ancient being and unable to break free, Ard held very still, unable to breath. The Wyrd took in his face with her blue eyes, she looked up and down and smiled.

"Ard" she whispered softly "don't feel betrayed".

As she eased her grip Ard gasped for air.
"How can I not feel betrayed" his voice gruff and breathy. "And especially you should know that you can't cause my death by suffocation."

The Wyrd's smile grew wider.

"Dear Ard, lovely Ard, I didn't come to kill you, I came because you called for me."

"Explain" he demanded. "

"Your mind is filled with doubts and anger, but doubt not and let go of the things that happened in the past."

The young god found it hard not to be lulled in by her voice. What came out of her mouth weren't mere words, it was a song, a symphony. The sound as sweet as the morning dew.

"I know that things are difficult to accept for you and the goodness of your heart is honourable but..." and now her grip tightened again "...don't forget that you are under our command. You must obey the Elders. There is a time for pride, Ard, and a time for trust. Trust the judgement of the three fold goddess. We are commanding you to go back to the Elders, resume your position in the army and wait for a sign."

"What sign?" Ard wanted to know.

"It's time to fight for what is right. Go back and accept the truth. Asereth will help you to understand. You must listen carefully to his words."

Then the Norn backed off, her silluette suddenly blurry. Before Ard had the chance to ask more questions, the Wyrd disappeard.

He clutched his neck. It felt strange, as if fathom hands were still strangling him. What had just happened? A visit from a Norn. He had never seen any of the females in 300 years and now encountered one of them twice in only a day. At least it was the beautiful one, he thought. Surely encouraging a young god to resume his duty and stop being a stubborn donkey was not included in the responsibilities of the mighty entities the Norns were. Tasks like that were far below their status. But yet she came, seemingly responding to his thoughts of ever growing confusion. It must be important he figured. It must be crucial for him to return to the Elders and vow his loyal services for the higher purpose. Surely he just overreacted. He knew that he had a big ego and just didn't like the fact that he wasn't told about the plan. Sometimes things don't have to make sense but might be right nonetheless. He was a godly warrior and would behave like one.

The sky above him was now tinged in indigo and violet, the bridges to other realms a bright yellow light here and there in a sea of blues and purples. Nothing smelled better than the forest behind him in early spring. The view over Asgaard was magical and despite having spent his entire existence here, Ard would never take it for granted. He often came to this place when he needed time to think, but normally only when he was off duty. This time he had dismissed himself without anyone knowing. His return was registered by the gate keeper Heimdall, the all-seeing god, surely the soldiers expected him at the evening appeal. He was the highest rank in the cavalry but surely his soldiers would wonder why is absence was unexplained. His soldiers as well as Hera and Lugh. He hoped his second and third in command would take over.

Hera and Lugh were not only his trusted commanders but also his dearest friends. Ard could always rely on them. Friends since they learned to walk, nothing between the three was a secret. But should he share his treacherous thoughts with them? Should he admit his wobbling faith into the Elders, Norns and his own father? If he couldn't trust those two, who in this world was trustworthy?

With one last look down into the dale, now disappearing into the twilight of the velvet hour, Ard decided to go back to Valhalla. He needed to see his father, had to listen to Asereth and most importantly he had to speak to his friends.

"Eldri, we are leaving!" His call was answered by the rhythmic thumping of hoofs on grass. Ard's beautiful white Bronteos horse came running over the hill. Eldri's majestic silver wings already spread out, ready to take off so Ard jumped onto her back just as her hoofs left the ground and off they flew into the midnight blue sky towards the hundreds of lights of the great hall high up on the other side of the dale.