The Beast of Salt (Saga of the Gods #1)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

August 23rd, Year 1, 10th Era

Guardian Mausoleum, Salt Province

W ax melts along the iron candelabra in the Guardian chamber.

The only person who matters to him sits in the cold stone chair he only uses once a year. Her curly hair is cut short for the summer to alleviate the discomfort from her terminally pregnant body.

He grunts, folding his arms over his chest, while she mutters prayers to the gods to protect their child, who is due to be born tomorrow. Avina is healthy, and the Healers have no reason to suspect anything problematic.

He cracks his bruised and bloody knuckles. For the last two weeks, chopping wood has not been enough stress relief, so he has taken to sparring with some regularity.

No, he isn’t nervous about the love of his life possibly dying in childbirth.

The King of Treland is simply preparing to storm the afterlives and personally strangle all six gods if his woman comes out of this in any other state but alive.

He runs a hand down his russet plait, recalling the other pressing matters that keep him up at night.

Sapphire Palace guards caught wind again that King Ceowald is bribing guards in a vain attempt to escape his prison in the dilapidated Queen’s Chambers. The fucker is asking for an early death at his axe. Slode was recently sent to the palace to provide muscle for Bertie, whom he and Avina appointed acting Governor in the Ridge.

Then there are the fucking Manchineels over in Timber. Who knew their family bred like bloody rats? Already, he has fended off two assassination attempts, leading him to appoint Grim as the Governor of Timber to reign in the slimy bastards.

If that is not enough excitement, there is planning for his and Avina’s joint coronation as King and Queen of Treland, which will double as their wedding. And, of course, they welcome their child while raising their two adopted children: Thora and Bjorn Sigvidsson Redwood.

Avina sighs and twists her head up at Sigvid with the steely expression he has grown to know accompanies her increasing stress over their unborn child.

“My little Queen, everything is going to be fine.” He cups her cheeks, nearly covering her face with his large hands. He stares into her beautiful blue eyes, wishing he could take away all of her distress and birth the damn kid himself.

Her hands fly to her extended stomach with a sigh. “My mother died in childbirth. What if my only fate in life is to provide the heir of Treland and honor the prophecy?”

The heir of Redwood will deliver

A child whose line shall live forever.

Uniter of all, she whose blood strengthens them all.

Sigvid pulls her tightly into his arms, kissing her forehead with a chuckle. “The heir to Treland is currently in Blackwood harassing the staff for laughs.”

That earns a snort from Avina. “Thora says she does not wish the role of heir apparent. She only wants control of the Drengr Army one day.”

We shall see about that.

“We should get you back to Blackwood, my little one.” He holds out his hand to help her up. “I will draw you a hot bath and get a pitcher of that strawberry lemonade you enjoy.”

Once he has her to her feet, Sigvid wraps a protective arm around her shoulders. As they turn towards the stone door, it slams shut.

“What the fuck is happening?” He groans.

The candles' flames grow to three times their size. Then, they extinguish except for one.

An ethereal figure materializes next to the small flickering flame. Sigvid pushes Avina behind him and approaches the intruder, but another candle ignites, and a second dark, ghostly figure appears.

Then another and another.

“Who are you?” Sigvid demands, even as the sneaky suspicion in his gut grows more pronounced.

The first figure steps into the flickering light, which reflects off its spectral form. Sigvid goes rigid as he meets the ghostly stranger. The resemblance is striking as if he is looking into a mirror. Everything from his facial structure, beard, broad shoulders, and muscle tone is eerily like his own–as if his image is reflected as a ghost.

The Briny God.

“I am so proud of you, my boy.” He barks.

Sigvid’s hand snakes behind his back to clutch Avina’s wrist.

A thicker pillar candle ignites, and a newcomer appears—an ethereal woman with long, flowing hair that morphs with her fluid gown. Surprisingly, she is out of breath for a goddess.

“Briny! We were to all appear at once.” Maeve chastises as she fixes her hair.

The Briny God glances at her while fluttering his hand over one of the flames. “I could not control myself.” A mischievous grin twists over his lips. “They were about to leave the room, and I had to stop them. And do not tell me our entrance was not perfectly timed, Maeve.”

Maeve sighs just as all the flames reignite, leaving Sigvid and Avina in the center of the circular room, with six ghostly gods and goddesses surrounding them.

The pantheon of the Endless Shore.

“What is the meaning of this?” Avina steps forward with a defensive hand on her stomach.

Maeve’s expression softens. “My lovely, bright girl.”

Avina’s brow furrows.

“I need an explanation from the two of you,” Sigvid points between the two patron gods of Treland with a commanding tone. “What is this about?”

The Briny God strokes his hand through his braid. “Maeve and I could not bear to observe the dismantling of Treland. What with the corrupted provinces and Sacred Stones,” he shakes his head.

“To rectify the issue, we chose our champions,” Maeve clarifies. “You are both halvgud . Avina is my true daughter. Her mind is a gift of the gods.” The Goddess studies Avina as if she is the wonder Sigvid has considered her since the war. “I chose the baby conceived by Viktoria Redwood and Ceowald Bloodstone. Her blood may run crimson with Ridge and Timber, but her mind is mine.”

The Briny God strokes his beard, shifting his stance so he no longer looks directly at them. “I-er possessed your father for a wild night with Frida. It is difficult to materialize a full form on the mortal plane,” he mutters.

Sigvid is not usually left speechless or bereft of a snarky comment. At this moment, he gapes at his god, hoping this is all just a bad dream.

“Your strength and dashing good looks are godly,” The Briny God smirks.

“You created us for the sole purpose of reunifying the Sacred Stones and the country?” Avina's unconvinced tone mimics Sigvid’s sentiments.

Maeve and the Briny God exchange a knowing glance.

“Not just for Treland.” A wispy voice interrupts the family reunion.

They both whirl to see a short, hooded goddess. His lore suggests she is Noxumbra, the Goddess of Fate.

“The fate of the Endless Shore is at stake. Thrain may also be a halvgud, but he is of a Draemonium origin. ”

Draemonium are a myth–a horror story to frighten little children back into bed. They represent the opposite of the benevolent gods–like Maeve or the Briny God. Legends state that if the drauger of the Abyss–led by their overlords, the Draemonium–are to control the mortal realm, they will plunge the world into darkness and decay.

At least, that is what the ancient legends foretold.

Sigvid stares unblinking at the Briny God. “You are saying Thrain had no choice. That his bloodline condemned him to act out his atrocities?” He counters.

Noxumbra shakes her head. “Everyone has a choice, Sigvid. You chose to kill Rendel, just as Avina chose to stay at your side after you captured her. Your love is not from any meddling of the gods.”

“Thrain made his bed,” the Briny God adds. “Yet, that does not excuse Freyr’s actions. His evil cannot overtake the Endless Shore.”

With the knowledge from the gods, Avina’s fate is more significant—not just to Treland but to the continent. Their child will invigorate the souls of their people.

A shiver along his spine solidifies the sheer magnitude of uniting Treland.

“Thrain is not the only child of a Draemonium walking Treland,” the Briny God adds in a seemingly throwaway comment that causes a collective hiss from the rest of the gods.

“That information was not to be disclosed at this time!” Another god steps forward with his massive fists shaking. He is the size of a grizzly bear, wearing only a pair of trousers and a large fur as a cape.

The Briny God holds up his hands in surrender. “Oh, come on, Ingvar. It's not like I said who. Besides, the big secret of the night is her future.” He nods to Avina.

Sigvid steps before her, placing a protective hand on her stomach. “What do you mean her future?” He growls.

The Briny God’s gaze drops to her stomach with a wry smile.

“Uniter of all, she whose blood strengthens them all,” she whispers to Sigvid.

He whips around to look down at her belly, smiling ear to ear. He kisses her head, deeply inhaling her floral scent. As he pulls back to meet her gaze, his broad smile fades, and he whispers. “I do not have enough weapons or Drengr to raise a daughter.”

She smirks. “If she is anything like her papa, she will hold her own.”

One of the goddesses behind them sighs loudly and steps forward. “Enough of this saccharine family reunion. It is time to discuss your child’s fate in this newly established House of Sigvidsson-Redwood.”

Gullveig is the goddess of order and the lead goddess. She wears a high-necked frock with short, cropped hair, and a severe expression.

“Your child will be born with a potent amount of power, thanks to her halvgud parents.” She scoffs with a cold severity. “To maintain the balance of nature, we are collaring her abilities until she can prove herself to us.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Sigvid is ready to tear through this bullshit. “You will not know what she can do unless you allow her full access to her seidr .”

Gullveig sighs. “You have your Father’s dramatics, I see.”

“Hey, now.” The Briny God steps toward her, but Maeve whispers a few words to hold him back.

Gullveig tilts her head to the side as if bored with their conversation. “We have a compromise.” She holds her hand out toward Avina, who quickly narrows her eyes. “The Sacred Stones, dear. I daresay you do not truly possess ownership over an item of the gods.” Gullveig sighs.

Avina lifts the silver chain from her neck with shaky hands and delivers the nautilus stone streaked with sapphire and redwood to Gullveig. The goddess cups her hands around the stone and mutters a chant. Ethereal runes in bursts of azure shades appear in the air around her hands, and the seidr creates thick static that raises the hair of Sigvid’s arms.

With her eyes closed, she hands the Sacred Stones to a woman with dark face paint wearing a black gown adorned with raven feathers. “Bless them, Astrid,” Gullveig orders in a disinterested voice.

Astrid, the goddess of strife, repeats the process before passing it to Ingvar, the god of war, and then to Noxumbra, the goddess of fate. Maeve is last, handing the stone back to Avina with a faint smile.

“From birth, your child will have access to every ability our pantheon can provide.” Gullveigs’s arms cross over her chest. “But only while she wears the Stones. Most importantly, she must ask for our permission to access the seidr . We cannot predict what other abilities she may possess.”

“Will this collaring happen with all of our children?” Avina asks, and Sigvid wonders how many more children she plans to adopt.

The Briny God coughs, and Gullveig closes her eyes and mutters something close to ‘why.’ “Have something to add, Briny?”

The Briny God steps forward and lays strangely solid hands on Sigvid and Avina’s shoulders. He looks between them. “Aura will be the only one affected.”

Aura?

“I haven’t told anyone about that name.” Avina fervently whispers.

Sigvid smiles down at her, and then his expression morphs into ire. His gruff tone is firm as he addresses the gods, “I am happy to hear we will have a healthy child, but what about her mother? Will Avina survive this birth?”

“Yes.” Everyone but Gullveig rushes to answer.

Sigvid notes the Goddess of Order’s reluctance. “And what about you, Gullveig? Is she going to survive the birth of our daughter?”

She nods. “I would prefer not to intervene in your mundane lives by giving you these simple answers. I wonder if the many ways my companions offer abilities to humans are not good enough for you? Do not answer that. It is redundant.”

“Oh, come on, Gully. What has your frock in a twist?” The Briny God snipes.

Her entire form vibrates, causing Sigvid and Avina to flinch at the tension.

“You and Maeve have doomed us all.” With that, she vanishes.

Avina winces, clutching her stomach. “Contractions.”

All but Maeve and Briny disappear, who approach the halvguds and offer a wispy kiss on each of their foreheads.

“We will be watching,” Maeve whispers before flickering away, leaving only the Briny God.

“I foresaw Aura will be my favorite mortal.” He smiles big at both of them and then fades away .

Sigvid’s eyes are as large as saucers as he pivots to Avina. “That is a lot of information at one time.”

She nods with one hand on her stomach and the other on her forehead.

He places his hands on her shoulders, “You had a name picked out and did not tell me?”

Her cheeks redden. “Aura was my favorite story character as a young girl. She was a warrior princess who saved her kingdom from a great evil and fell in love with a dark, warrior prince.”

“Well,” he stares at her with a crooked smile, “how do you feel knowing you have found your dark prince?”

She beams up at him. “I guess my note to remember me did work after all.”

“You must know I never needed a lock of your hair or a note to remember you, Avina. You’ve been a part of my soul for years now.” He strokes the side of her face with his knuckles. “To a long future together.”

“Together.” She whispers as his forehead connects with hers.