The Old Gods are Dead; Ch. 1

Far down the road, beyond Raven’s Stream, just past the brush, was a quaint little cottage, tucked ever so neatly in the trees. Streams of water poured from the roof in an ethereal manner, enforcing emotional transcendence. Such a region detached one’s self from reality and allowed one to bask in the possibilities of our world. The area’s inhabitant was an average frail old woman, with silver hair, which upon adjusting the angle of the light, would appear a crisp lavender, almost emitting an aura of magic upon a simple gaze. Completely isolated from the rest of the universe, the star of our story and inhabitant of the Ru’an forest, Artemis, was strange in her idiosyncrasies, for there was never a day in which she would stray from her schedule. With such perfection residing in her realm, Artemis never thought twice about life in the outside world, but, I will give a hint; it bathed in chaos, and washed in anarchy.

The gods of the ancient world were angered by humanity, as humans had become disgustingly savage creatures of the night. And the worst of it all? Humans truly and prominently believed in the cruelty of their ways, as they cared not for their morals, but more for their currency, and power; leading to a race of animals having no regard for the wellbeing of one another. Who could they ask to interfere but the frail woman of the woods? Who could they turn to but Artemis? And so, we come to the present day, as Artemis sits knitting in her chair, with Gerald and Bob Marley at her side. Ever so calmly, Bob Marley purrs, and oh-so-lightly nudges Artemis’ leg, before continuing to huddle with his siblings, because of course, what little old lady’s home is complete without her cats; Gerald and Bob Marley, (whom you’ve already met) Selena Quintanilla, Alexander, and of course, Sacniete, named after the traditional Mayan word for “white flower,” as her fur is like that of a cloud, pure and lovely. Do take care to remember them, for they will be critical for the journey to come, as what little old woman’s adventure is complete without her cats? Now, for our story, beginning in the year of twenty-eighteen, and coming to quite the resolution at the end of time, shall unfold as of this moment.

Can you picture Artemis walking into a bar? I’m afraid for this moment you will have to, my dear. Regardless, let the image fill your mind. She takes small steps on her toes down the road, raw wooden staff in hand, and breath steady, despite having walked for so long, for so many miles. 

Soon enough, her destination came into view. The golden-yellow light spilled from the windows, and the sounds of men drowning themselves in sorrow soon came into the picture. The pitter-patter of her feet hitting the sidewalk could barely be heard in the ambient sounds of the night. Artemis felt as though Athena was watching her midnight walk. All eyes were on her, the owls indicated as such.

The door swung open, an indication for all to turn and stare, as the frail woman walked into the bar. Flushed cheeks and red eyes glanced at such a strange image. A woman and her cats stroll into the bar. Stranger things have happened in New York City, have they not? Artemis’ hair flowed, and her stride, though she appeared frail, was built upon power. A single head remained turned. Blond hair, blue eyes, strikingly pale, and ordinarily handsome, his gaze remained unfaltering. Zeus. Always such a curious young man; however, his reputation with the ladies was unfathomable. This one was a heartbreaker, no-strings-attached type of guy. (I know. Life is full of disappointments.) Athena was at his side, stroking his back, comforting him as though he were a child. Although, he did frequently act like one. (I wonder what her deal is with the owls? They’re never this popular at night; so, I suppose I am to assume something went down, as Artemis has already done.) Artemis headed directly for Zeus and Athena, wondering, what in all of the realms could’ve possibly happened?