Silent Gods

The campus gymnasium was a sanctuary of darkness and silence.

The candles still burned, but their light was no longer warm — it was cold, bluish, as if the fire itself had learned to fear what was happening. The circle traced on the floor

pulsed with a light that did not belong to this world, and the air was thick with incense and fear.

Asa was behind Ivy.

Her hand was still on the girl's shoulder, and her nails, black as obsidian, barely sank into the flesh, as if she were savoring the contact, as if she were learning to know the body

she would consume.

Ivy could not move.

Her eyes were fixed on her friends, on the fraternity that watched her with terror. Maya, Jack, the others — all still, all paralyzed, all prisoners of the horror they had evoked.

Then Asa leaned in.

Her voice was the sound of the void learning to speak, the sound of nothingness taking form.

Then her breath slipped into Ivy's nose.

It was not a normal breath. It was not air. It was the abyss making its way through the girl's nostrils, a cloud of darkness entering her body like a poison, like a promise, like a

condemnation.

Ivy felt the cold.

It was not the cold of fear. It was the cold of something creeping inside her, making its way through her lungs, spreading through her blood, consuming her slowly from within.

— No — she whispered. — No, please...

But Asa did not stop.

Her breath continued to enter Ivy's body, and the cloud of abyss grew denser, darker, more alive.

Ivy's eyes began to change.

They were blue, a pale blue like a winter sky. But as the abyss entered her, the color began to fade. The blue turned gray, and the gray grew darker, until it became the color of

ash. Her eyes were two pools of mist, two mirrors of a void that had no name.

Her hair, long and dark, began to wither.

The strands drooped, lost their luster, and the hair began to fall one after another, as if life itself were abandoning them. Some fell on her shoulders, others on the floor, and the

sound of their fall was a whisper lost in the silence.

Her skin began to wrinkle. Wrinkles appeared like cracks in arid earth, carving deep furrows on her face, her hands, her neck. Her skin lost color, became gray, transparent, as if

life were slowly abandoning her.

Her nails began to detach from her flesh.

The first fell without a sound. The second followed, then the third, then all of them. They fell to the floor like petals of a dead flower, and the blood that dripped from her fingers

was dark, almost black, as if even her blood had been contaminated by the abyss.

Ivy looked at her hands. She saw the nails that were no longer there, saw the blood flowing, saw her skin wrinkling.

— What... what are you doing to me... — she whispered.

Her voice was a thread, a thread about to break.

Asa did not answer. Her breath continued to enter Ivy's body, and the cloud of abyss grew denser, darker.

Then Ivy's eye fell.

It was not a violent movement. It was slow, almost delicate, as if the eye had decided to abandon its body. It rolled down her cheek, then her chin, then fell to the floor with a wet

sound, a sound that echoed through the gymnasium like a gunshot.

The second eye followed.

Ivy was blind. Her eyes were two voids, two cavities staring at nothing.

But it was not over yet.

Asa reached out her hand. Her nails, long and sharp as claws, pierced Ivy's back with an ease that did not belong to this world.

Ivy did not scream. She could not. Her body was too weak, too consumed, too empty.

She felt Asa's hand making its way through her flesh, through her ribs, through her organs. She felt the goddess's fingers closing around her heart.

Then Asa withdrew her hand.

Ivy's heart was in her hand.

It was still warm, still pulsing. It beat against Asa's palm like an imprisoned bird, like a last attempt at life refusing to surrender.

Asa raised her hand. Ivy's heart hung in the air, pulsing, alive, terrible.

The fraternity watched.

Maya felt vomit rising in her mouth, Jack stared with his eyes fixed on Ivy's heart, on the blood dripping, on Asa's hand holding it tight.

Ivy's body fell forward. Her face struck the floor with a dull sound.

And Asa smiled.

A slow, cruel, magnificent smile.

— The greatest mistake of your lives — she whispered.

Her heart pulsed once more in her hand.

Then it stopped.

Silence fell like a cloak.

And Asa, the goddess of the incarnate abyss, the primordial void that had preceded light, looked at the fraternity with eyes that were two pools of obsidian.

— You will all die — she said.

Asa began to dissolve into the air.

It was not a movement. It was not a gesture. It was a change of state, as if matter itself had decided to forget its form. Her body became mist, became shadow, became void.

Her figure shattered into a thousand particles of darkness that rose toward the ceiling like a swarm of blood ravens.

The cloud expanded.

It was the abyss breathing, seeking, devouring. It moved like a hungry animal, like a predator that had caught the scent of flesh, like hunger itself taking form.

Then it fell upon them.

Maya felt the darkness entering her lungs.

It was not a breath. It was an invasion. It was the void making its way through her nostrils, through her mouth, through the pores of her skin. It tasted of iron and ash, of blood

and silence. It tasted of everything that was most wrong in the world.

— No — she whispered. — No, please...

Her words were swallowed by nothingness.

Jack screamed. His voice was a cry that broke before it was even born. He felt the cloud wrapping around his arms, squeezing his legs, slipping under his skin like an infection

that had no name. The veins inside his body imploded one after another, his heart gave a dull burst. Jack stood dazed, trembling. His teeth began to be spat from his mouth

along with his internal organs. He fell to the ground and did not get up again.

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The other students fell one after another. The screams inside the gymnasium died out like dead fireflies.

Their bodies were puppets without strings, marionettes of flesh and bone that Asa's cloud consumed with a brutality that did not belong to this world. Their skin wrinkled, their

eyes dimmed, their hair fell like dead leaves.

But Maya did not fall.

Her body convulsed, and her skin began to crack. They were not wrinkles. They were cracks, like those that form on arid earth when the sun never stops burning. They

widened, deepened, and from every crack emerged a thread of darkness moving like a serpent.

Maya looked at her hands. She saw her skin splitting, saw the black blood dripping, saw her fingers bending at angles that did not belong to the human body.

— Help — she whispered. — Help me...

Her voice was a thread, a thread about to break.

Then her skin split open.

It was not a cut. It was a tear, as if something were trying to come out from inside her. The crack widened on her chest, and from the wound emerged a hand — a hand with

black, sharp nails, a hand that belonged to the abyss.

Maya fell to her knees. Her body was an empty shell, a vessel that Asa's cloud had consumed and abandoned. But the hand continued to emerge, and the arm followed, and

the shoulder, and the body.

Asa emerged from inside Maya.

Her body was still wrapped in an aura of darkness, but her eyes — her eyes were two pools of obsidian burning in the dim light. Her lips were black as hunger, and her right

hand was still stained with Ivy's blood.

Thora saw her.

She saw Maya's skin splitting, saw Asa's body emerging from her entrails, saw the cracks widening like an opening into hell. She saw Asa's hand rising, reaching, preparing to strike.

She had no time to react.

Asa was before her.

Her face was inches from hers, and her lips were slightly parted in a smile that did not belong to this world. It was a smile that had seen the birth and death of a thousand

worlds, a smile that asked no permission, a smile that tasted of blood and eternity.

— Thora — she repeated. — The Valkyrie of thunder. Thor's heir.

The name was poison on Asa's tongue, a poison that burned, that destroyed, that killed just by being spoken.

— Asa — Thora said. Her voice was thunder, but the thunder died before it was born, swallowed by the darkness that surrounded the goddess of the abyss.

Asa laughed. A laugh that was not human, a laugh that seemed to come from very far away, from a place where time did not exist and death was only an illusion. It was the

sound of an abyss laughing at a world it did not understand.

Her hand rose. Her nails, long and sharp as claws, found Thora's neck. The tips of her nails traced a thin line on her skin, and blood began to flow, warm and red.

But Thora was faster.

Her hand found her sword, and her silver armor gleamed like lightning. The blow was violent, and Thora's blade met Asa's arm.

It was not a cut. It was a wound that would not close.

Thora's blade penetrated Asa's flesh, and black blood splattered onto her armor. The blood was thick, viscous, as if it were not blood but something else — something older,

darker, more deadly.

Asa looked at her arm. The blood that flowed was black, and her lips widened in a smile that was beauty and threat.

— You are strong, Thora — she said. — But not strong enough.

Her hand closed around Thora's wrist, and her nails sank into her flesh. The nails penetrated like needles, carving a deep furrow that reached the bone. Thora felt her radius

cracking under the pressure, felt the pain shooting through her arm like lightning.

— Áskell — she screamed. — Áskell, help me!

Her voice was a war cry, a cry that came from a place where silence had been the only answer for too long.

Askel saw her. He saw the blood flowing from his sister's arm. He saw Asa's nails sinking into her flesh. He saw Thora's face contorting in a grimace of pain.

— Thora... — he whispered. — Thora...

— Help me! — Thora screamed. — Help me stop her!

Askel hesitated. His eyes were fixed on Asa, on the goddess of the abyss, on the void that had preceded light.

Then he moved.

His hand found Asa's arm. He gripped it, and his fingers closed around the goddess's flesh. He pulled, but he felt something breaking beneath his fingers.

It was not Asa's arm that was breaking.

It was his own.

Around his forearm, a slow dark vortex rose like the body of a serpent. The darkness tightened around his arm like a vice, and his bones snapped in two with a dry sound, like

wood splintering.

The flesh tore.

The bones came out, fragments of white piercing the skin like the fingers of a corpse trying to escape. Blood sprayed everywhere — on the floor, on his armor, on Thora's face.

Askel fell to his knees. His scream was a sound that did not belong to this world, a sound of pain and terror, of rage and despair.

His arm was a bloody stump, and the broken bones jutted from the flesh like a cruel offering.

— Áskell! — Thora screamed.

Her voice was thunder, but the thunder died before it was born.

Asa turned to Thora. Her obsidian eyes were two pools of void staring at the Valkyrie.

— Stupid mortals — she whispered. — Stupid gods. You cannot stop me. You do not understand who you are dealing with.

Her voice was a whisper, a breath, a shadow of words.

Then she began to dissolve.

But before disappearing, her hand rose. Her nails, still stained with blood, found Thora's chest.

The blow was violent, precise, like a dagger piercing flesh. Asa's hand struck Thora's silver armor, and the metal cracked.

The crack widened, and the armor shattered into a thousand fragments that fell to the floor like tears of light. The tips of Asa's nails penetrated Thora's flesh, and blood gushed

from the wound like a river of pain.

Thora felt the weight collapsing upon her. Her body was a dead weight, and her breath grew short, labored, broken. She felt her ribs shattering under the pressure, felt her heart

beating too hard, too fast.

She fell to her knees.

Her armor was destroyed. Her arm was bloodied. Her chest was an open wound bleeding without pause.

Asa's body was solid when she struck, but it dissolved when she moved, as if matter itself could not hold her. Her obsidian eyes were two pools of void staring at Thora with a

calm that was more frightening than any scream.

— You are not strong enough.

Then she began to dissolve.

The cloud of darkness retreated, thinned, transformed into a thread of abyss that slipped through the gymnasium doors.

— I will return — she said.

Her body vanished.

The gymnasium was silent.

The bodies of Ivy, Maya, Jack, and the other students lay on the floor like puppets without strings. Their skin was gray, their eyes were empty, and their bodies were consumed

by the abyss.

Thora was on her knees, her arm bloodied, her chest an open wound, her breath labored. Askel was beside her, his arm a bloody stump, his broken bones protruding from the

flesh.

— Thora... — Askel whispered.

— Áskell!!!

Askel's arm was a bloody stump. His face was pale, almost transparent, and his breath was short, labored, as if he were trying to cling to life with his nails.

Thora looked at him. Her storm eyes were full of a sadness that seemed as ancient as time itself. Her chest was an open wound, and blood flowed slowly over her silver armor,

now cracked and destroyed.

— Áskell — she whispered.

But the Viking did not answer. His eyes were closed, and his body was still.

The houses in the neighborhood surrounding the campus had turned on their lights when they heard the first screams coming from the gymnasium.

The lights turned on one after another, like eyes opening in the dark, and the windows filled with pale, frightened faces. Some had called the police already at the first screams,

others had gone out into the street to see what was happening, others had closed themselves in their homes, praying that the noise would stop.

Then the flashing lights arrived.

The blue and red lights of the police patrol cut through the darkness like blades of light, and the sound of sirens mixed with the silence of the night. The ambulance arrived

shortly after, its headlights illuminating the scene like an eye opening onto horror.

The paramedics saw a girl in a strange costume trying to lift another boy with his arm dangling, split in two.

Her silver armor was covered in blood, and her face was a mask of pain and determination. She held Askel in her arms, and her body trembled from the effort.

— Help! — she shouted. — Help, please!

The paramedics ran toward her. Their hands found Askel's body, and they lifted him with a delicacy that did not belong to that place of death and destruction.

— He is critical — one of the paramedics said. — Very critical.

— Take him to the hospital — Thora said. — Now. He cannot die. He must not die.

Askel was loaded and rushed to the hospital. The stretcher rolled across the gymnasium floor, and Askel's blood left a red trail on the floor like a signature, like a promise, like a

map of pain.

During the journey, the operating room was notified of the severity of the fracture. The paramedics' words were brief, precise, charged with urgency:

— Open fracture of the forearm. Massive blood loss. The patient is unconscious. Prepare the operating room.

The ambulance lights cut through the night, and the sound of the siren faded away, swallowed by the darkness.

The police officers found themselves facing a horrifying scene.

The bodies of the students lay on the floor. Their skin was gray, their eyes were empty, and their bodies were consumed by the abyss.

Maya was on the ground, her body torn open, her skin cracked like arid earth.

Jack was beside her, his nails detached, his black blood dried on the floor.

The other students were scattered around them, in poses that did not belong to life.

Thora was stopped with guns pointed at her temples.

— Freeze, don't move — said the first officer. His voice was tense, trembling, as if he were trying to hold together the pieces of a reality that was crumbling.

— Hands up and get on your knees — said the second officer. His gun was pointed at Thora's head, but his hand trembled.

Thora raised her hands. Her storm eyes were fixed on the officers, and in them there was no fear. Only a strange, almost incomprehensible peace.

— I am not the monster — she said. — I am not the one you need to stop.

— Shut up! — the first officer shouted. — On your knees, now!

The officers' eyes could not help but look inside the gymnasium, where the campus fraternity had been killed. Their gazes were fixed on the bodies, on the wounds, on the

blood that had dried on the floor.

— John, call for backup — said the second officer. — This is a massacre.

Officer John ran to the car to alert dispatch. His hand found the radio, and his fingers pressed the button.

— Dispatch, this is John. We have a multiple homicide scene at the university campus. Repeat, multiple homicide. Requesting immediate backup.

His voice was broken, uncertain, as if he were speaking through a nightmare.

— Dispatch, respond. Requesting backup. This is a massacre.

But before dispatch could respond, Thora moved.

The movement was so fast that the officers did not see it. They felt it. They felt it in the air parting, in the light bending, in the silence tearing like a veil of silk.

One moment Thora was on her knees, her hands raised. The next she was standing, and her fist had found the first officer's chin.

The man fell like a sack of potatoes, his body striking the floor with a dull sound.

The second officer shouted. His hand found the trigger, but before he could fire, Thora had already vanished.

The lightning in the sky illuminated the night.

Thunder rumbled, and the blinding light struck the campus like a finger of fire. When the officers opened their eyes again, Thora was gone.

She had disappeared.

The sky darkened again, and silence returned.

The second officer stood still, his gun still pointed where Thora had been a moment before.

— What... what happened? — he whispered.

His colleague was on the ground, unconscious. The students' bodies were still there, still, consumed.

The gymnasium was silent.

And the silence was heavier than any scream.

While the sirens of the ambulances and patrols headed toward the gymnasium, Rhea and Piper were embraced under the blanket. Piper held Rhea's face in her hands, holding

it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

— Something must have happened in the city — Piper said. — There is too much movement.

— Whatever happened, the important thing is that you are here with me now — Rhea replied, holding her tight.

The two fell asleep until the new day dawned.

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