60th floor of the Dungeon. A place where no one has ever been, according to common talk.
In reality, someone is there, and she moves casually along the purple stairs that dot that place perpetually immersed in the dark, as if the Dungeon itself didn't know how to model itself and had preferred to hide in a thick black mist.
At the top, there is a source of crystal clear water. The fountain that makes it possible to use it is made of pure marble, and from above, from an unspecified point of the ceiling, a candid light gives the place a divine allure, and in fact it is just like that.
Even the one who has tried and fought to get to that deep point of the Dungeon is divine.
Long silver hair, look of the same icy and mesmerizing color, a very open robe composed of dark red-dotted feathers, high-heeled shoes and flowers in her hair. A looker, the Goddess of Beauty Freya.
She approaches with a ticking and sure step to the source, where a booming voice asks her a question:
"Goddess Freya, bearer of beauty and disturbance in hearts, I feel a bursting desire in your chest."
A spontaneous, almost grateful smile rises on the woman's beautiful lips.
She kneels and joins her hands in prayer.
"Powerful Fate, lord and controller of every living creature, of every god and mortal, grant me the desire that burns my flesh so much!"
This is how Freya is made, passionate and ardent in communicating her desires.
A column of steam rises from the source of water.
"You know what this means, Freya..."
Fate, or Destiny, the Supreme God, the one who has no form but who is thousands of times more powerful than the most influential god. Nobody can escape his designs, but whoever wants - and succeeds, above all - can go down to the 60th floor of the Dungeon to ask him a question, a wish to be fulfilled. Logically, for each request there is a price, directly proportional to the size of the desire. Nothing is impossible for Fate, but one must know how to repay him adequately.
"Sure."
That single word weighs more than a rock. Fate continues:
"Tell, Freya of Beauty, tell your will aloud."
With the speed of those who expected nothing else, Freya stands up and joins her hands, putting herself well under the divine light.
"I... I want a son with snow-white hair and passion-red eyes."
Fate is silent for a moment, but not by indecision.
"You know that gods cannot have natural children because of their eternal condition. You know the Law, Freya: what never dies requires no replacements."
"I know, but I don't care."
"Then you will also know that you will have to renounce at your immortality; immortal wombs don't generate, Freya."
"I know this too."
There is a moment of silence, and the water of the source incredibly begins to produce a blue flame.
"You will have a century of pleasures, but you will have to be careful not showing your hedonism too much.
Your son will grow up healthy, he will rise among the adventurers and will enjoy the gift that distinguishes you.
Onyx waves and sea eyes will be the only real obstacle between you two."
At those words, Freya's eyes narrow into slits.
"Onyx and sea...?"
Fate urges her, in a swirl of blinding flames and floating drops of water.
"Now go, go back to Hermes, he is waiting for you."
Freya is an untiring seductress, enough to have made Gods, Human and Demi Humans collapse at her feet.
This is the turn of the god Hermes, who doesn't know about Freya's plans...
The nine months of pregnancy proceed in a state of continuous wonder on Freya's part, who as divinity didn't have the slightest idea of what motherhood entailed. She doesn't mind seeing her flat stomach swollen with life, rather it gives her an incredible sense of power.
She often caresses it, far from Orario and from every big city, alone in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of the countryside, from where she often leaves, disguised as a beggar, to get food in nearby villages, thanks also to her dazzling powers.
"Poor Hermes... I almost regret having used you like this..."
In mid-January, a whimper shakes the sleepiness of the old farmhouse.
Freya's child comes to light breaking the muffled atmosphere of the snow that comes down whitening everything.
The desire of the goddess has come true: the little one is gorgeous, with fair skin and white hair like the element that reigns supreme in the surrounding landscape. The eyes, red like passion, are a little darker than those of Hermes.
Freya smiles when she notices his hair, already quite thick, slightly wavy like that of the god she has left behind without too many compliments, as she has already done in the past with other unfortunate people. Hermes, involved in Fate's designs, has given birth to a child but he doesn't know it, he cannot know it.
"I'll call you Bell." the new mother whispers to the little one, enraptured by the fact that she has created such a perfect creature.
The months pass, springs comes and Freya breastfeeds little Bell, carrying out the second act promised by Fate: through divine milk, Bell absorbs his mother's fascination powers, powers that would have manifested later, as years pass.
Inspired, illuminated by a totalizing love that would have made her a monster in the future, Freya experiences the most complete and rewarding period of her whole life, while delighting herself in dressing Bell with pretty dresses and singing a lullaby created by her.
"Sleep, snowdrop flower
Indomitable you popped up from the cold blanket
You kidnapped my heart
Oh, I wish I could admire
Your soul colored by the wind."
Freya is not without self-criticism, she knows what her personality is like and in her heart she deeply hopes that her son won't be like her.
She, who has the ability to read the souls of others and identify their color, cannot do it with a newborn baby who hasn't yet chosen the path to take in his life.
She touches his head, tenderly ruffling the fluffy bunny hair.
"Don't become like me..." she murmurs, with sad voice and eyes.
The Freya that nobody has ever seen, nobody sees and nobody will ever see.
Mother Freya, weak, vulnerable, full of human doubts.
There are no parents and children among the Gods: each divinity was born thousands of years earlier from sacred eggs, probably laid by Fate itself through its transcendental powers.
Each of them, male or female, has grown to maturity and at that point has completely ceased to age, in body and mind. Only the descent into the Lower World and the knowledge of mortals' tribulations has allowed some of them to evolve in character.
Freya is cradled in her secret and privileged position as the first goddess to have given birth to a son, another god.
"You are the God of Love, Bell..." she whispers often, taking him in her arms and snatching amused cries from him.
Alas, there is no escape from Fate, and when the eternal torch told Freya not to show too much hedonism, it was purely for rhetorical discourse.
Fate knew that Freya would overplay her hand and expose her secret to prying eyes and ears.
One day in late spring, the goddess with silver hair, cut short to make herself less recognizable and with modest peasant clothes, goes to the village of Ceptha to get something for herself and the baby, always taking advantage of her charm.
Her path crosses that of Heracles, a former member of the Zeus Familia, as well as a man with a poisoned tooth against Freya, guilty of having chased his god from Orario and thus allowed the total dissolution of his group.
Heracles is a Lion Man with a thick mane and rust-colored tail, proud yellow eyes that shine in the dark and the temperament of the fearless warrior.
Freya recognizes him and tries to seduce him with her fondling to get food and new blankets for the baby, but Heracles, although subjugated by her malice, has vitriol words for her. The grudge he feels towards her is stronger than her magic.
"Witch... One day you will regret bitterly for having challenged my father..."
Zeus enjoys of an immense esteem among his disciples, so much so to be recognized by them as a father figure.
Freya smiles and licks her lips, clutching the deeply sleeping baby under her long brown robes to her breast.
Heracles grits his teeth, but he can do nothing but hate her with his eyes, Freya's Charm is too strong and he must fight to keep his knees from giving way, however strong they are.
But here Fate intervenes...
Bell, for some strange reason, frees himself of his mother's Charm and bursts into a desperate crying.
Freya's spell has no effect on her son, but she doesn't have time to think about that, as Heracles immediately shakes off that poisonous perfume and uncovers with little decency the breast of the goddess, from which the faint sound comes.
A four-month-old baby peeps out from under the rough dark brown flap.
"What does this mean?"
Freya does not respond, she seems almost sorry for Heracles, as if she was thinking of killing him.
"Who did you take this baby away from?"
With a lightning sprint, Freya generates again an intense whiff of fascinating perfume and Heracles is invested with it and this time he clearly feels the forces abandoning him, even if he struggles and clenches his fists to avoid it.
The woman covered his eyes with one hand, while with the other she supports the child who has gradually stopped crying.
She blows something in his ear, with a poisonous but gentle voice:
"This is my son, my dear Heracles, believe it or not."
Freya's Charm becomes unchallengeable and the man collapses to the ground with a blurred vision, while the woman goes away taking the money he had in his pocket.
"Shrew... It won't end like this..."
He runs a lot, Heracles son of Amphitryon, runs and travels for days until reaching Mount Olympus, the highest in all the earth, the new home of the exiled Zeus.
"Father..." exclaims the beloved Child of the god, as he opens the door of the modest hut he built, "... I have to talk to you..."