Silent Gods

Cassandra was sitting on the sofa.

The afternoon light came through the window, but it didn't warm the room.

It was a tired light, as if it had walked too far to get there.

A light that no longer wanted to illuminate anything.

It stopped halfway, hesitant, as if it too knew that there was nothing left to brighten.

Ksenia wasn't there.

Her voice calling from another room wasn't there.

Her light step on the parquet wasn't there.

Her scent on her skin, on the pillow, on the coffee cup that was still on the table, half empty, for days, wasn't there.

The cup had become a monument.

A sacred object.

A remnant of life.

Cassandra didn't have the courage to touch it.

The coffee was cold.

The phone didn't ring.

Life was suspended.

---

She didn't eat.

She hadn't eaten for three days.

Food had no taste.

It felt like chewing paper, swallowing dust.

Every bite was an effort, a battle she always lost.

Her stomach was a knot.

Her throat was a closed door.

Her body no longer wanted to cooperate.

She didn't sleep.

When she closed her eyes, she saw Ksenia being taken away.

Nasrin's shadows enveloping her.

Ksenia's body slumping in her arms.

Her voice screaming her name.

The silence that followed.

A silence she could no longer fill.

Every night was the same:

she woke up in tears, hands reaching toward the void, heart beating so hard it hurt.

As if her heart wanted to leave her chest to go looking for her.

She didn't work.

The FOID had called.

Several times.

The office, colleagues, the captain.

An agent with a worried voice asking if she was okay, if she needed anything, if she wanted to talk to someone.

Cassandra hadn't answered.

She couldn't.

How did you explain that her girlfriend had been taken away by a Persian sorceress to a realm of goddesses and monsters?

How did you ask for help for something no one could understand?

How did you tell a pain that didn't belong to the real world?

The void was a wall.

And she was on the other side.

---

Rhea was beside her.

Always.

She didn't speak.

She couldn't.

There were no words that could heal that wound.

There were no embraces that could fill that void.

But Rhea was there.

On the other side of the sofa.

A hand on her shoulder.

A silence that wasn't abandonment, but presence.

Sometimes Rhea brought her food.

A plate of pasta, a soup, whatever she found in the kitchen.

Cassandra looked at it.

Touched it with her fork.

Moved it from one side to the other.

Then left it there.

Rhea didn't insist.

She took the plate, carried it away, came back to sit beside her.

There were no words.

They weren't needed.

"She'll come back," Rhea said at one point.

Her voice was a whisper.

Not a certainty.

A wish.

Cassandra looked at her.

Her eyes were red, swollen.

There were no more tears.

They were gone.

Only exhaustion remained.

"I don't know if she's alive," she said.

"I don't know when.

And that's worse than everything."

Rhea nodded.

She said nothing.

The silence returned to fill the room.

But this time, Cassandra felt something different.

A crack.

A tiny fissure in the wall of the void.

Not hope.

Not yet.

Just the awareness that she wasn't completely alone.

And in that moment, for the first time in three days, she breathed a little deeper.

---

"You have to go out, Cass."

Rhea was standing in front of her, arms crossed.

Her voice was firm, but her eyes… her eyes were full of that worry you feel when you watch someone slowly sinking, and you don't know if you'll be able to pull them back up.

"I can't," Cassandra said.

"You can. And you must."

"I don't feel like it."

"It doesn't matter."

Rhea sat beside her.

She took her hands.

Her fingers were warm, alive, strong.

The tattoos on her arms moved with her muscles, as if they too were trying to convince Cassandra to breathe.

"Sofia invited you to dinner. It's been days since you left the house. You don't eat. You don't talk to anyone but me."

"I talk to you."

"It's not enough, Cass. It's not enough. You have to breathe. You have to see that the world still exists. Even if you don't want to."

Cassandra shook her head.

The movement was slow, heavy, as if even that required an enormous effort.

"I don't want to see anyone."

"You don't have to see anyone. You just have to eat. You just have to go out. You just have to remember that you're still alive. You'll get Ksenia back, I promise."

Cassandra closed her eyes.

She felt the weight of Rhea's words.

She felt the weight of her own exhaustion.

She felt the weight of everything.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I'll go."

---

The restaurant was elegant. Dim lights. Dark wooden tables, worn by time and hands. Candles that flickered like hearts trying not to go out.

Sofia was already seated. Her dark hair, her bright eyes, her smile that seemed like an offering.

"Cassandra," she said, standing up to hug her. "You look beautiful. I'm so glad you came."

Cassandra didn't answer. She sat down. Her hands were clenched around the napkin.

Sofia talked about the favor she had asked Cassandra for her daughter. An internship at the FOID. She told stories about work, about friends, about her life that kept flowing as if nothing had happened. She laughed. Tried to get a smile out of her. Told her about a colleague who had made a blunder in a meeting, about a cat that had climbed onto her balcony, about a movie she'd seen and liked. About her divorce and many other things.

Cassandra listened. But she didn't hear. Her mind was elsewhere. With Ksenia. With her scent of incense and sand. With the sound of her voice. With her body that was missing.

"Do you think my daughter has any chance for the internship?" Sofia asked.

"I'll see what I can do... don't worry," Cassandra replied.

"I'm in your debt... know that... anything you want," Sofia said with an intense and provocative look.

Cassandra understood. She didn't answer. She only felt her friend's legs rubbing against hers.

"Your Ksenia is really lucky... very lucky," Sofia continued, not knowing the situation.

"Yes... very lucky." Cassandra's eyes grew wet and quickly, before surrendering, she left the restaurant.

She walked down the street, her eyes screaming the pain. She was heading home.

Then the air changed.

It wasn't a noise. It was a scent — herbs, aloe, something ancient that didn't belong to New York. A scent that smelled of healing, of life that endures. A scent that was already familiar to her.

Eir materialized without a sound.

The room didn't light up, didn't tremble, didn't change.

Simply… she was there.

As if she had always been present, invisible, waiting for Cassandra to be ready to see her.

The goddess of healing wore a white cloak that seemed made of snow that had fallen without cold.

Her hair was snow-colored, but not old: new snow, pure snow.

Her eyes were two pools of light that didn't blind, didn't judge, didn't punish.

They warmed.

Cassandra looked at her.

She wasn't scared.

It was the second time.

And by now she wasn't afraid of anything anymore.

Unlawfully taken from NovelFire, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I have a message," Eir said.

Her voice was a balm.

A thread of silk that doesn't break.

"From Ksenia?" Cassandra asked, with a thread of a voice that seemed to come from very far away.

Eir nodded.

She handed her a small scrap of parchment, worn at the edges, as if it had been carried through worlds that don't know time.

Cassandra opened it with trembling hands.

She read the words.

"She loves you, Cassandra."

The tears came immediately.

Tears she thought she had finished.

Tears she could no longer stop.

Tears that seemed to come from a place deeper than the heart.

"When will she come back?" she whispered.

Eir looked at her.

Her eyes were two pools of light that contained truth and pain together.

"If you want her back in your life… you will have to go get her by force. With the force of your love."

Cassandra held her breath.

"Ksenia was never just a girl," Eir continued.

"I have read and understood the prophecies of the gods.. And you need to know.

You need to understand."

Cassandra wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"Understand what, Eir?"

The goddess stepped closer.

Her presence didn't cast a shadow.

Her presence erased the shadow.

"You will have to accept her," she said.

"You will have to share her burden.

The burden of the Lost Daughter of the Desert."

Cassandra was speechless.

Her heart was beating hard, as if it wanted to leave her chest.

"Take me to her…" she whispered.

"You know where she is.

Please, Eir."

The goddess closed her eyes for an instant.

A gesture that seemed like a ritual.

"Ksenia is at the court of the goddess Freyja," she said.

"She is at the court of the destiny that called her."

Eir raised a hand and wrapped it around Cassandra's head.

The palm pressed against her forehead, her fingers holding the rest.

Cassandra closed her eyes.

and she found herself in a place she had never seen.

A place that didn't belong to New York.

A place that didn't belong to her life.

A place that only legends would have the courage to tell.

The court of Freyja.

A palace of stone, of bones, blood, and seduction.

And there, at the center, she saw Ksenia.

Not the Ksenia she knew.

Not the girl who laughed while making coffee.

Not the woman who slept beside her.

This Ksenia was… something else.

Beautiful.

Terrible.

Sovereign.

Seductive and lethal in every inch of her skin.

The skin of the East.

The hair stirred by the wind of an ancient world.

Dressed in silk that took your breath away.

Her eyes… her eyes were a border: sand and light, desert and destiny.

And beside her, like a shadow, like an eagle watching its prey, stood Freyja. The goddess of war and pleasure incarnate.

Freyja looked at her with an intensity that made her blood boil.

The goddess didn't speak.

Didn't smile.

Showed excitement and dirty desire.

But her hands were on Ksenia's body.

A slow gesture.

An intimate gesture.

A gesture that didn't belong to Cassandra.

The goddess's fingers slid inside the silk, along Ksenia's skin.

A sacrilegious gesture.

As if she were reading a sacred text written on her beloved's flesh.

As if she were reclaiming what only Cassandra had the right to possess.

She touched her in a morbid and possessive way.

And Cassandra…

Cassandra felt something break.

Jealousy wasn't new.

It had always been there, a shadow that Cassandra had learned to keep at bay.

A fierce, primordial instinct that she had always controlled.

But now…

Now there was nothing left to control.

Jealousy exploded.

Not like an emotion.

Like an earthquake.

Her heart tightened so hard that for an instant she thought she would die.

Her throat closed.

Her hands trembled.

"Take your hands off her," Cassandra whispered, but the voice didn't come out.

It was a thought that burned.

Freyja tilted her head.

As if she had heard the thought.

As if she had found it amusing.

Cassandra saw Ksenia close her eyes.

Not for pleasure.

Because the goddess's presence was too strong, too great, too divine.

But Cassandra didn't see this.

She didn't see the divinity.

She didn't see the destiny.

She only saw another woman touching her girlfriend.

She only saw Freyja's lips that had dared to press against Ksenia's.

She only saw Freyja's hand going inside her clothes and gripping what was her property.

And it was enough.

"Eir," Cassandra said, with a voice that didn't sound like hers.

"TAKE ME TO HER."

Eir didn't answer immediately.

The goddess of healing observed Cassandra as one observes a wound that is about to open again.

She observed her like a thirsty beast.

"Cassandra… the world of the gods is not made for humans."

"I don't care."

"You cannot enter without paying a price."

"I don't care."

"You cannot enter without changing."

"I don't care."

Eir looked at her.

Her eyes were two pools of light that contained sadness and respect together.

"Jealousy is a fire that burns everything it touches."

"Then I will burn."

"Freyja does not fear you.

But she despises you.. she wants what you have."

"Ksenia is no longer just a girl.

She is the Daughter of the Red Desert.

She is the choice of destiny."

"She is mine, damn it, Eir.. Ksenia is mine and she will be my wife."

Eir closed her eyes.

A slow, painful gesture.

"Ksenia doesn't want this, don't you understand?" — "She wants you to know that she is alive.. and she wants to keep you safe."

"STOP IT, EIR!!!" Cassandra shouted.

"Ksenia will deal with me as soon as possible, she won't get away with hiding her origins from me, I guarantee you that" — "she will get back this suffering of mine.. with interest."

Her voice was a growl, a sound that didn't belong to the woman who had cried on the sofa for days. It was the voice of a woman fighting for what she loved.

"But now you have to take me to her."

Eir sighed..

"I've never known a woman more stubborn, obstinate, and in love than you."

"You haven't seen anything yet, Eir."

Cassandra leaned forward. Her eyes were two pools of fire.

"Ksenia will pay dearly for this... but I love her and I just want her back in my life."

Silence fell between them.

Eir stared deep into Cassandra's eyes. For a long moment, the goddess of healing looked inside her — beyond the anger, beyond the pain, beyond the despair. She saw the wound that had not yet healed. She saw the love that was stronger than fear. She saw the determination of a woman who would stop at nothing.

Eir understood.

She understood that she could do nothing but grant her request.

"Very well, as you wish," Eir said.

Her voice was a sigh, a surrender, an act of faith.

"But there's a condition."

Cassandra clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms.

"Condition? Breaking Ksenia's bones is a good condition?"

Her voice was a sweet poison, a promise of revenge that tasted of wounded love.

"The Valkyrie of Thunder..."

The name fell like a stone into water.

"Thora Ragnarsson."

Cassandra felt her heart stop.

"She is the condition for you to perhaps have your beloved back."

The silence grew heavier. Cassandra felt the weight of Eir's words on her skin, like a cloak too tight.

"I don't understand," she said. Her voice was smaller now.

Eir stood up. The white cloak opened like a wing.

"Thora is the Valkyrie of Thunder, Thor's heir on earth. She is the bridge between the world of men and the world of the gods. She is the key to Asgard's power."

"The key to what?"

Eir stepped closer. Her fingers brushed Cassandra's face. The texts of the gods have never lied for all the past centuries.

"The key to saving your Ksenia. The key to stopping Njord. The key to Ragnarok."

Cassandra felt the world waver.

"And what do I have to do?"

"You must find Thora. You must bring her to Freyja's court and have faith in the destiny that the divine loom is weaving for you and your beloved."

"I'm just a mortal. A cop. A woman looking for her girlfriend."

Eir smiled. A sweet, infinite smile, like the promise of a dawn that has yet to come.

"You are a mortal who loves. And love, Cassandra, is more powerful than any god."

Cassandra looked at her. Her eyes were glossy, but there was no more fear in them. There was only determination.

"Where do I find her?"

Eir turned. Her white cloak flickered.

"Where everything began."

"The Church of Olav. That's where Thora fell. That's where you can find her."

Eir dissolved into the air.

But before disappearing completely, her voice echoed like a distant echo.

"Have faith, Cassandra. The wind will never stop blowing for you."

And then there was nothing.

Only Cassandra, her heart beating harder than normal.

She had to find Thora. Take her to Freyja. Save Ksenia.

It wouldn't be easy. But she didn't care.

She had a mission. She had a purpose. She had a reason to keep fighting.

And that was all that mattered.

---

Cassandra burst into FOID headquarters like a storm that asks no permission.

The office door swung open with a dry bang that made everyone turn.

Her steps were heavy, determined, unstoppable.

She was no longer the woman who had cried on the sofa for days.

She was no longer the girl who couldn't eat.

She was a fury.

A scythe walking.

A creature who had stopped being afraid.

The agents stared at her.

Someone stepped back.

Someone whispered her name.

Someone tried to approach.

She saw no one.

She had only one goal.

Leo and Nyx were bent over a table, immersed in a case.

Scattered documents, photos, bright screens.

Their world was made of logic and clues.

Cassandra shattered it.

"You two," she said.

Her voice was a clean cut.

"With me. Now."

Leo looked up.

Confused.

Scared.

"Director Hale, what—"

"I said now, Leo.

It's not a request."

Nyx looked at him.

Then looked at Cassandra.

She saw something in her eyes — a fire that hadn't been there before.

A fire that wouldn't go out.

Leo whispered:

"Bet it's about Ksenia... let's bet."

Nyx hit him on the arm, but didn't deny it.

"What's going on, Director Hale?" Nyx asked.

"I don't have time to explain.

Move."

She dragged them out of the office, through the corridor, to the cyber analysis mainframe.

---

The room was a temple of technology.

Screens covering every wall.

Servers humming like crazed bees.

Lights flashing like signals from a world that never stops.

Cassandra stopped at the center.

She looked like a statue carved from fury.

"Search for a girl," she said.

"Name: Thora. Surname: Ragnarsson."

Leo looked at her.

"Who is she?"

"It doesn't matter. Search for her.

And search for the Church of Olav in New York."

Nyx got to work.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Data streamed across the screen like flooded rivers.

"Thora Ragnarsson… nineteen years old… sister of Áskell Ragnarsson… expelled student from the University of Copenhagen and enrolled in the Faculty of History and Mythology here in New York.. last trace of both according to facial recognition camera: Church of Olav, New York."

"There's also more, a video from days ago.. in front of Rhea's tattoo shop."

"Where is she now?" Cassandra asked.

"The last camera signal is from about an hour ago.

They might still be there."

Cassandra clenched her fists.

Her knuckles turned white.

"Then search for something else."

"What, Director?"

"Focus on Persian mythology.

Pages lost in time, handed down and recovered by scholars."

Nyx nodded.

Her fingers flew again.

"Search for:

– Daughter of the Red Desert

– Heir of the Red Desert

– Ancient Persian bloodline"

- archaeological findings

The results appeared on the screen.

Ancient texts.

Translations.

Fragments of forgotten myths.

Then a file.

A photo.

Ksenia.

Not the Ksenia Cassandra knew.

A different Ksenia.

Older.

More powerful.

More dangerous.

Her skin was illuminated by a light that didn't belong to this world.

Nyx whispered, incredulous:

"Christ.. Our Ksen…"

Leo continued reading.

"Ksenia Darvishi.

Daughter of the Red Desert.

Heir of Persia's occult arts.

Born from the fracture of the border between light and shadow.

Mother: Zarina, silk shaman, keeper of the Pact of the Red Desert.

Father: Varak, redeemed Daeva, son of Ahriman's shadow."

Cassandra felt her blood freeze.

Anger rising.

A hyena scratching her ribs.

"Ksenia… hid everything from me," she said with a sobbing voice.. "damn you.. how I hate you right now."

A shy tear fell down her face.

Leo continued reading, integrating everything we know:

"The legend says that the Daughter of the Red Desert is the only creature born from the forbidden union of light and shadow.

That her destiny is intertwined with the warrior of the sea, with the Valkyrie of thunder, with Persia.

That her identity was hidden to protect her.

That her nature is too powerful to be understood by humans."

Cassandra closed her eyes.

Silence fell in the room.

Then she opened them again.

They were two pools of fire.

"Print everything for me," she said.

"Everything."

Nyx nodded.

Cassandra turned to Leo.

"Call Cross.

We have to go to the Church of Olav.

Now."

"Director Hale… what's going on?"

Cassandra looked at him.

Her eyes were a promise of destruction.

"Ksenia was taken away.

She's in the realm of the goddess Freyja.

And I'm going to get her back."

She turned to the screen.

Ksenia's photo looked at her.

"I'm coming to get you, my love."

Her voice was a whisper, but it was a whisper that cut through the air like a blade.

"But then you will face my ruthless fury."

Her fist clenched.

"You hid your origins from me.

You hid who you were from me.

You left me here to suffer while you were there, in a realm of goddesses and monsters."

Her voice grew lower.

More dangerous.

"But now I know everything.

And when I bring you back home… you will face the consequences."

Silence fell in the room.

Nyx looked at her.

Leo looked at her.

The servers hummed.

Cassandra turned to the door.

"I have to go find Thora," she said.

"Send Cross to the church.. now."

And she walked out.

Her fury was a scythe walking.

And nothing would stop her.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!