For the first time in a long time, Freya felt such an unpleasant and almost forgotten feeling of... annoyance. In fact, whether she, the goddess of beauty, who is at the top of the blessed city, is sad and angry – there is no one who would refuse her, and if there is something that she wants, but can not get, then her lovely children are always happy to help her. But for some reason, this time it's different-as if someone is interfering with her.

The goddess glares at the grimoire that has returned to its place - even her gift has been rejected. And yet Sire was so gentle and kind – a man's heart must have trembled at the sight of her. And for her sake, for the sake of her shining eyes, he should have at least looked at the book – but the next day the grimoire was returned untouched. Sire didn't even have time to talk to him – he ran into the Dungeon, as if inspired by something. He did get the magic, but it wasn't what she wanted. This folio was supposed to bind them – her gift to a mortal hero in his hour of need – but in the end, he revealed his magic himself. Freya sighed and twirled a curl around her finger. You couldn't underestimate Miach that much.

She had never really gotten along with the Celtic deities – their natures were too different. she, young and beautiful, eternally blessed and revered, was completely alien to what the Irish gods lived. They were more like spirits and fairies than they were, gods born in Tenkai – and they rose later than the others, giving up their land to humans. And even then they, proud and beautiful - "the most beautiful, the most refined in dress and arms, the most skilled in playing musical instruments, the most gifted in intelligence who ever came to Ireland" - still could not calm down for a long time. They lived as mortals, and perhaps that is why many of the gods were inspired by the idea of living in the Lower World. But Freya still couldn't get along with them – because of the Morrigan. The cursed goddess of war and death.

«It's funny that you cling to men like that. You are also a goddess of war – but while you lure men to the confines of your bedroom, I will go with them to the battlefield and meet them after death»

Freya clenched her hand into a fist for one brief moment – even in mortal lands, Morgana's taunt continued to sting her. The Morrigan was as beautiful as Ishtar and Freya, but she preferred the blood of her enemies and the raven's feathers to the finery of her finery, as if mocking them.

But still, here at the top of the world, surrounded by loyal and better children, it was she, not Morrigan, so Freya's anger soon subsided. She should not be angry, she is the wind and love, a charmer and a lover.

But still dear Bell…

Miach is a weak god, weak from his love for children. He had lost everything for the sake of one who had been overtaken by a cruel fate – and perhaps she might have respected him if he had not stolen the shining will-o ' - the-wisp from under her nose. Freya was not against it at first – the longer her beautiful, cherished, sweet Bell goes to her, the more desirable their future reunion. But now-she couldn't even touch him, so carefully had Miach's little shadow covered him.

He changes – sometimes it is even hard for Freya to find the radiance of his beautiful soul, as if it is covered by a dense opaque cloak woven from the dust of extinct stars. It doesn't really bother her, but it's annoying - she wants to look at someone who will be hers more often than they give her. also, the goddess is sometimes hurt by the dark abyss that cute Bell wears on his left hip-a weapon too aggressive and dark for such a light person and Freya would never allow him to wear something like this. the goddess sighs and calms herself – it's okay, as soon as she gets it, then she will present him with a weapon that will set off his radiance with her own. For now, all she can do is enjoy what's happening. And yet ... Miach is such a weak god, but he manages to protect him without even knowing that one of the dominant goddesses is targeting him. A laudable ambition – if Freya was kind, she would even let Miach stay after everything that happened next. Or take that hound girl under his wing – she's good too, too bad she's not a boy.

And yet Bell changes under the care of the god of healing – he is so beautiful and bright when Freya can finally see him clearly through the tangles of the day. But he becomes calmer, as if adopting the quiet and delicate nature of his god, and Freya is jealous, wanting his ridiculous embarrassment and fear that were in his early days. Perhaps it would have been better if some goddess had picked him up – he would have continued to be just as charmingly shy and constantly shy.

Ottar, her faithful child, is now preparing a new adventure for the little hero. a few children of the other gods might die, but Freya didn't care. Let their souls return to heaven and be reborn, to die on the path of becoming a hero is a great blessing. It is a pity that the rascal Loki has equipped her children for another expedition – and there is a brave man, and the princess of the sword, and the ninth hell. if they heard about the minotaur, they might kill him prematurely-oh, how wrong that was, she wanted to push Bell a little more, just a little more, because boredom was poison to gods like her.

Freya leans back in her chair, feeling the wind's kisses on her skin. After all, that's what they came down for-to play with the destinies of mortals, weaving them into amazing heroes. And at the same time, she can forget the scornful words of the bloody goddess of war.

If you are a warrior – where are your spears?»

Today, the dungeon is so quiet that Bell can even hear the still-nameless blade humming sullenly in its scabbard – its fury never abates, but it calms down a little when they come out of the Dungeon after a good hunt. Lili hums to herself as she stares at the walls around her – Lili, after all that has happened to her, remains strong. as soon as she realized that she would never leave her, she seemed to take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders – Bell is so glad that she has begun to recover from her endless sadness. He likes to see the people around him change – and he feels that he is changing.

Lord Miach is a god who wants to pray. Bell never expected to find himself in such a congregation – his dear grandfather always said that he needed to find the Familia of a pretty goddess and quickly charm a lot of girls. But right now, Bell wouldn't trade his Familia for anything, because here was Naaza, his mentor and sister, the best teacher anyone could wish for. And Lord Miach, kind, wise, calm – Bell never had any parents, and he couldn't even imagine what it would be like, but it seems to him that his god has become something like a father to him. He calms his worries, explains and instructs, and makes him talk about everything. The first time, the words didn't come at all, but lord Miach looked kindly and waited patiently for Bell to tell him what was bothering him. And Bell talked and talked and talked, words and worries and fears flowing out of his heart like blood from a wound, and the good god listened. And suddenly Bell realized that there was so much about him that he didn't know it would ever kill him. How strange to feel so calm when anxiety had become his own sister during the time he had been wandering around the city, slowly losing hope.

Since then, Bell feels much calmer, as if he feels an invisible support behind him – but he still worries about the cold of someone else's gaze that follows him constantly. Lord Miach whispered protective words in his ear – making him feel a little better. He's as kind as summer and as wise as the wizard in Grandpa's fairy tales – so Bell will do everything in his power for him.

But the main thing is to stay calm. Bell's blade, a living weapon, bursts with anger every time it comes out of its scabbard. If you do not feel the rhythm, do not balance the ardor of the dagger with your own calmness – you can lose your head and disappear. Bell still doesn't understand the reason for his fiery rage – but even so, Bell trusts this weapon with his life.

«The blade and its owner are inseparable, like two sides of the same coin. And a living weapon communicates with you with a part of its soul»

"It's too quiet today,"- Lili stops abruptly, clutching the straps of her oversized backpack. She frowns, "And there are no monsters at all. Too weird. "

Bell listens. It is really quiet. The dungeon is never so quiet – it is like a living thing, always in motion. And when it subsides, sinking into a deathly silence-it means that something is going very wrong.

"Lili," - Bell slides his hand to his hip, his palm hovering over the hilt. The silence is so absolute that Bell can swear he can hear the dagger itching like an angry hornet. - "Keep moving. But keep a little distance. Are you wearing mail today?"

"Yes" - Lili nods curtly, and the tension in Bell's chest eases. He simply couldn't continue to take Lili to the dungeon with him while she was completely defenseless - so, after a brief argument, they chose to protect Lili together. That was better than nothing, - "Do you have a bad feeling about this?"

Bell nods, looks down and sees a scattering of red spots. The blood is still fresh – Bell quickens his pace.

«The only thing we really fight is death. She always wins, but we will fight this battle until we surrender to her. The healer is the one who keeps life. Never forget that»

There's still someone out there somewhere who needs help. Bell feels the danger ahead on his skin, but he has to go. Lili hurries up from behind, the heels of her boots beating a rapid rhythm. A chill runs down my skin.

Bell flies into another "room" among the curved corridors of the dungeon and digs in on the spot. A nightmare come to life, a beast from the floors below, a creepy demonstration of the bestial essence of the Dungeon - the Minotaur. In his strong hands is a huge two-handed blade. The bloodied adventurer is sprawled against the wall – Bell can still hear his painful moans.

"Lili," - Bell whispers, keeping his eyes on the beast, - " Lili, listen to me. Run, run to the other floor. It's morning, high-level adventurers are descending to the floors they need. Run and bring them here. "

Lili stiffens behind him, and he can feel it on his skin. Bell can still hear the painful moans, the heavy animal breathing, and the sharp clang of an enraged blade .

"I'm fast enough. Lili. Don't worry about me, "- he whips out his dagger, feeling a painful bite, only tightening his grip on the hilt, - "Run, Lili. For both of us. Otherwise, we won't get out. "

"Don't you dare die,"- Lili's voice shakes in shards, but she's strong - one of the strongest people Bell has ever met – " Just don't you dare die here."

"I won't," - The writing on Bell's back burns like fire, he can feel it. His head is blissfully cold, and in his heart trembles the rage shared with the dagger. Lili hesitates for a moment and rushes into the corridor – the minotaur reacts to the movement and rushes to her.

Bell is already there, running to intercept him and holding out his hand. Short, succinct words fall on the tongue.

"Black Arrow! "

A clot of black and silver magic smashes into the wall, causing chunks of stone to fall. the minotaur brakes and turns to face him. Bell goes cold, but catches the blade more comfortably. His anger and calmness - balance everywhere and always. Keep distance.

Don't lose.

The fight starts suddenly and quickly - Bell barely has time to jump back. The huge blade – it's not a dungeon weapon, it's the work of an earth blacksmith-can cut it in half, so Bell can only retreat. The blade burns my palm, but the time has not come, not yet.

«There is no armor on the eyes, the throat is always vulnerable, the insides are as soft as a human's»

Naaza's voice is half the voice of Lord Miach whispering in his ears – Bell jerks his head up and groans painfully, rolling sideways – the tip of the blade catches up with him and cuts through his breastplate-Bell mentally expresses his gratitude for his good service. The shallow wound on his chest starts to bleed, the air of the dungeon bites him – but Bell forgets about it.

He dances with death. Every turn here is a chance to win or lose. There is nowhere to retreat, and there is no way – there is still someone at the wall who is no longer able to fight. So Bell dancing is the only chance. He remembers Naaza's lessons, he remembers the flight of a random adventurer's blade, he remembers the cold fear from his childhood.

He does not hear when other people appear, he does not hear their conversations and shouts. In his ears is the song of the sword dancer, in his eyes are only the silvery swings of a huge blade and the scarlet animal eyes. Dance, Bell, dance with death.

He only needs one chance – his Black Arrow whistles, ripping off the Minotaur's ear. The monster goes wild with pain, its swings only getting stronger. Bell's ears are buzzing – he can feel his wounds distantly, and the way his muscles are screaming from the strain, but he still can't look away.

The tip of the sword cuts into the stone, knocking out a rocky crumb – Bell jumps right on the wide blade. He presses the sword down with his weight, still dancing along the blade, the soles of his boots clattering against the jagged steel. Bell, like a bird, flies up on the monster's shoulders. He only has a few moments.

The blade goes deep into the eye socket of the beast - the Minotaur roars and tries to throw off his light body. Bell crosses his legs around his neck, propping chin on his knee, and plunges the dagger deeper. He is hot, trembling, reveling in rage – the Minotaur slams his back against the walls, roars. Bell can barely feel himself, feeling his bones shake with each blow, but he doesn't take his hands away. The dagger causes the Minotaur terrible pain - and he tries to repay the man in the same way.

Bell doesn't realize what he's shouting – a Black Arrow goes from the tips of his fingers, buried deep in the monster's flesh, and rips through the beast's innards. The Minotaur is on the verge of death – but still trying to take the adventurer to the grave with him. And then Bell puts both hands on the hilt.

- Come On, Moralltach!

The bone breaks, the blade goes deeper and hits the brain. The Minotaur falls to the ground.

And he doesn't get up anymore.

Bell crawls away from him, feeling suddenly tired, and looks up. His hair is covered in blood again as he rubs the moisture down his face and looks up.

Bell sees Lili, someone's green hair, golden light, wolf fur, then sighs and falls into the blissful darkness.

"You're a good sword dancer."

Miach gently runs the back of his hand over Bell's cheek, his white hair glowing red in the moonlight, making him look almost ghostly. Naaza is dozing on a chair next to him, Lili is sleeping quietly next to her, her head resting on Naaza's lap. Miach pulls the blanket over them and returns to Bell.

"Rest now, little one. I'll keep watch. "

And although there is no need for this, the god of healing does not close his eyes until morning.

Tuatha Dé Danann are sometimes not considered gods - some researchers consider them more Sidhe and fae than deities.

"kind as Summer" - Here I refer to Miach as Elrond of the Lord of the Rings. "noble and fair-faced as an elf prince, strong as a warrior, wise as a wizard, stately as a dwarf king, and kind as summer"

the blade has finally found a name, hooray! Thank you very much! i'm glad everyone enjoys reading it, and i'm happy to try for you)

(as you've learned in this chapter, i don't particularly like freya)

There were some questions and I'm happy to answer them:

If you don't mind me asking what made you put bell in the maich familia?

First of all, I really like Miach, it is so calm that it seems like an island of intelligence in chaos. And secondly - Bell is really still very young, he needs a good friend and a father to guide him, wipe his tears and protect (I just really like to write characters-fathers). And Naaza is the best sister.

*a few questions about ships*

I don't really focus on that - there may be light hints, but mostly it's about adventure, friendship and family. I do not forbid anyone to think about the ships they like, but I hope you will not stop reading if you suddenly find hints about your unloved ship.