Death, the cursed and lovely Goddess
A low, swirling mist clung to the surface of the mirror-smooth river, dispelled only as Edo paddled his canoe through it. The full moon, pale and shimmering, guided his way, faithful and bright in a clear, star-lit sky. He moved slowly, caution leaving his long strokes gentle, gingerly dipping and rising from the water, careful to make as little sound as possible. Even his breaths were focused, whispers amongst a distant, singing wind – a mournful that danced amongst the eddies of white, a tune mirrored in pattern. He paddled on, straining his eyes ahead as the river narrowed, pinched on both sides by dense forest. Thick limbs stretched out across the water, vines tumbling down. As Edo grew closer he set the paddles before him and reached up, brushing his hands through the dangling vines. They were cool, dewy against his skin. Rivulets of water snaked down his arm. He drew away and paddled onwards.
The river narrowed again until he was able to almost touch both sides. He didn’t stop, knowing he hadn’t reached his destination, though the temptation to step on dry land tore at him. The words of his beloved warned in his mind.
“Once you begin do not step off the canoe. The land will tempt you, call to everything you desire and love. Yet if you weaken and venture into that forest you will never escape.”
Her voice sounded just as achingly beautiful in his mind, a haunting song that swelled within his mind. He clung to it, determined to see her again, to hold her. Of course, there was the chance that all she’d told him was a lie, that she was sending him to his death. Her very nature made her unpredictable, a wildfire that would not be contained.
He closed his eyes and heard her soft, haunting laughter. It lured you in, comforted you as you were drawn straight down into blissful oblivion. Her enchanting voice enshrouded you with bliss.
“Beautiful Edo, kind Edo, you are too gentle for me, too human. Why do you torture yourself?”
She’d asked him from the shadows; towards the end of their time she’d done that a lot, distant and aloof. Her cruelty bled through, manufactured to push him away; false, thinly veiled over a silent plea – do not go, remember me – for she had to go; her time, precious as it was, was brief. A flash of a shooting star, fierce and bright but gone all too soon.
As his eyes opened the river unfurled like a bloom, stretching out into a vast lake and, standing proud in the middle of it all, a lone island. The mist seemed to bleed from that island; first, gathering thick around it, and throughout the forest within, and thin streams of white overflowing onto the water. He dared to paddle a little faster, stretching out and dipping deeper, dragging it back before repeating. The canoe glided swiftly, silent across the water, towards the island until it came to a stop on the muddy bank. He set the paddle down and climbed out, his toes sinking a little in the soft mud but he didn’t mind. His hand drifted down to the pocket in his coat, feeling the firm box still secure within.
With a deep breath he lifted his gaze to the shadowy gloom before him, a wall of green and darkness, and he set off. Where no path seemed to be before one appeared before him, narrow and well-worn. The thick mist dispelled as he walked along it, revealing a few more feet in front of him. It snaked and sloped upwards, then down, spiralling down for what felt like an eternity – a descent into the heart of the earth itself. He felt as though he were walking into another land entirely, passing through a portal made for Gods and Goddesses. Perhaps it was, for no mortal ventured into such a prison. Perhaps he had finally gone mad. He thought so as the path led him to a small pool in the middle of a clearing, made silver by the glowing moon. Luminescent flowers clustered around the edge.
He broke from path and went into the clearing; as he did, a low, resounding laugh echoed from all around. He smiled.
“When one seeks out the Goddess of Death it’s generally to die. You always were so strange, Edo,” mused Hela, stepping from the darkness; from the dark silk of her long dress, striking against her rich olive skin and long, obsidian hair, she looked little like what one might imagine a Goddess might be. Unless you saw her eyes first. Those were as dark as the night itself, a void of darkness, a promise of death. They stared at Edo, warring with emotion; their first meeting her eyes had been cold, distant but, with time, he’d learnt to see the emotion in them.
She lingered on the edge of the clearing, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s notice. Her eyes watched him warily. Without tearing his own from her gaze, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out the small, painted music box. He held it out, caught in a shaft of moonlight.
“Now, I think it’s time you’re free, don’t you agree?”
Her eyes tore from the music box and lifted to him once more. “Why?”
“A debt to be paid, a beach in Tahiti and something about revenge on those who trapped you here and cursed me to die young. So, shall we go?”
The Goddess of Death smiled and the island trembled.
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