The Wiches Road : A christmas story

Stockholm, 20 of december of 2024

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special." Bernhard Rosenkrone af Lilleström hummed as he prepared for Christmas in his home in Sweden. In the kitchen, he focused on decorating Christmas cookies to the sound of festive music playing in the background. The aroma of cinnamon and other sweets already filled every corner of what he lovingly called "mon petit château."

During this time of year, Christmas was the most important moment for Bernhard. He fondly recalled his house always fully decorated and the family's playful banter about their neighbor copying their decorations. There was something magical about that time: the lights that adorned the city, the scent of glögg—traditional Swedish mulled wine—perfuming the streets, and the snow glistening like ivory.

At that moment, he was decorating a flower-shaped cookie with pink icing—a tribute to his mother, the goddess Persephone—when a strange sensation coursed through his soul. It wasn't the chill of -5°C but something spiritual, yet not entirely divine. It felt magical and, perhaps, something he had long denied.

Despite being a demigod, the son of the queen of the underworld and supreme goddess of spring, and the godson of Ostara and Hera, Bernhard had never dared to fully explore his powers. Perhaps it was the fear of losing control and destroying a city or punishing entire populations. This fear was completely unfounded, considering he didn't truly know if he even had such potential—but he preferred to fear it rather than test it.

After finishing decorating that cookie, he moved on to his gingerbread house. He picked up the freshly baked batch but, suddenly, he found himself in a dark, EXTREMELY dense forest. A woman dressed in green, surrounded by vines, approached him, while a voice (that wasn't hers) echoed: "Rio, Nick is calling you!" Before he could make sense of anything, he was back in his house, as if he had never left, and thought, "Why is this happening again? First the tarot cards, then the dreams, the pendulum, and now... Ah, better not dwell on it."

He knew this wasn't the work of the gods but something human, perhaps his ancestral magic awakening within him after generations. Still, he preferred to set aside all his power—out of cowardice or fear of... well, even he didn't know.

Overwhelmed with fear and seeking relaxation, he opened Spotify and played a playlist of ABBA, Mariah Carey, Katy Perry, and Marina. He started dancing alone in his kitchen while munching on his homemade gingerbread cookies. But life isn't always a dance, and during the chorus of "Dancing Queen," Bernhard's butler interrupted him:

"Herr, a childhood friend of yours is here to see you."

"Oh, yes!! Dornlund said he'd stop by today so we could finalize our plans for our high school room next year," replied the son of Persephone. "Thank you, Johan."

Bernhard skipped his way to the living room and began, "Friend, I know you're an atheist, but..." until he saw who it was. Robert Whirley, one of the people the godson of Ostara hated the most. In a flash of realization, he widened his eyes and muttered, "The hierophant."

"Merry Christmas, Bernny," said Robert, the son of Aphrodite and godson of Athena and Ares, striding past Bernhard without even waiting for an invitation into the manor. "I love your Christmas spirit—it's so... cute. And why did you call me the hierophant?"

"Uhmmm... Never mind, but what are you doing in my house, Whirley?" said Bernhard Rosenkrone af Lilleström, his eyes flashing with evident anger.

Ignoring the question, Whirley strolled into the kitchen, drawn by the delicious smell wafting through the air. He grabbed a cookie and tasted it. "Wow, this is so good! And... festive, too?! I think it's the pinnacle of your talent that you always decorate cookies with such surreal perfection."