The Old And Forgotten Gods (God Of War)

IX

Ten long years pass. The young boy Atreus, who Eir tried to name Loki but Kratos won that feud, sat alone outside in the cold after waking to his father gone and mother fast asleep. Though, he wasn't surprised Kratos wasn't there. He was tasked with retrieving dinner, so he'd often leave on day-long hunts. Why it took a full day, Atreus never understood, but he knew better than to ask.
After a quick breakfast, the boy stood and headed outside to practice his archery, feet planting in the melting sheets of snow once he bursted through the door, bow in hand and quiver strapped to his back, which led him here. He drew his bowstring, let his deep breath loose, and released an arrow. It sailed far beyond his target, becoming just another stick in the woods. The boy sighed. He knew he'd find it later, likely when he wasn't even looking for it.
Determined to hit the target this time, he grabbed another arrow and kept close focus this time, he held the string until his arm burned, and let it fly— a bullseye!

Eir suddenly called for him. And though he wasn't quite done yet, Atreus put his arrows down and went inside. Though the kid was pure-dead brilliant, Eir still taught him. Mostly language and archery, but Atreus was reading and writing on his own already. Today, Eir gave him a lesson he was especially excited about—the creatures of the norse wilds! Berserkers, trolls, witches, and even the undead. After answering many of her sons questions, Eir sent Atreus back out. He fired a few arrows, missing most of them. He wasn't a bad archer, really, but he wasn't easy on himself either. Frustrated, the young boy sulked off into the woods.

Atreus climbs up and sat cradled into a branch of one of his favorite trees. On days like these, he liked to close his eyes, listen to the forest, and let his mind wonder. This kind of solitude never felt lonely to him, perhaps because he could hear things others could not. Ever since he could remember, the thoughts of others, animals mostly, could intrude upon his own. He couldn't much control it, and he didn't tell his mother or father of it, but it only added to the boys absolute captivation of what might lie past his all-too-familiar woods. As Atreus craned his head in an attempt to hear even further, a desperate cry for help crept into the edges of his mind. Not a whisper in his ears, but rather a shout inside his skull, something he'd never quite experienced before, being used to the soft echoing whispers.
Atreus shot up, and as he did, heard a second voice, a call to adventure, taunting him with a promise of a heroes journey. He jumped down from the tree and ran toward the voices. They grew louder and louder, overwhelming him to the point that he halted abruptly, stumbling as his inertia nearly overtook him. He hesitated there, knowing it would displease both his parents to venture further. In response, the voices only grew more urgent, demanding his attention. The boy could barely concentrate with this cacophony penetrating his thoughts.
He decided to follow the cry for help. Even as he did, the other voice derided the boy, calling him a coward. But if Atreus were to disobey his parents, it would have to come with good reason. Surely, he thought, they couldn't be too upset with him for responding to a distress call. Nearly convincing himself this might be true, Atreus took a deep breath and stepped out of the protective border surrounding the woods he'd known all his life, into the foreboding Norse wilds.
Making his way through Midgard's unfamiliar terrain, the pained cry of a wounded doe rang out, carried on a frigid breeze. After attempting to study the patterns of nearby tree roots to use as a guide back home, he set off in the direction of the injured animal, birds chirping carelessly in the background as he stepped through the crunching snow and followed the cries.
He imagined himself as the Gods from his mother's stories, traveling to distant realms on the great tree Yggdrasil. He was brave Tyr, mapping the unknown for the good of all the realms. He was the mighty Ullr, on the hunt for honor and glory. He was... lost, completely and hopelessly so. The woods now seemed to be a repeating maze of trees and jagged boulders. His growing panic was interrupted by sharp screams of agonizing pain. The wounded animal was near and in true peril. Forgetting his own dilemma, Atreus shot towards the cries of the beast. And there, in a clearing near a creek, he spotted it. A wounded doe lay on the ground. The matted blood-stained fur on its chest heaved up and down as it struggled to breathe. An arrow jutted out of its neck. But what hunter would seek an innocent doe and fail to finish it off?
The animal looked Atreus straight in the eye. It's pained grunts eased now as its pupils contracted. The one she had called had come.

"You're safe now, i'm here," Atreus said softly, clumsily attempting to comfort the poor soul. "you can let go."

The doe's strained breath became shallower, it took one final gulp of air in and ceased to move. Atreus laid his hands on the doe's heart and whispered into the winds a reciting of Norse death rites by his mother's teachings. The boy sighed, and his eyes drifted upward. As they did, he noticed there was far too much blood on the ground for a simple arrow wound. The red stains in the snow trailed off into the deeper brush. Atreus jumped to his feet to follow it

The boy didn't have to go far to understand. The trail of blood didn't belong to the doe, but to the hunter who now lay at pieces at Atreus' feet. The boys stomach rolled as he took in the scene. He held his breath attempting to let the nausea pass. And that's when he heard something else, something hidden in the dark forest, mere steps away and still breathing. He turned to see two creatures from his mother's stories, heaving, vile, undead monsters of pure rage: Draugr.
Atreus' eyes grew wide as they met the empty sockets where the draugr's eyes were supposed to be. The larger one roared, then it charged. The boy reached for his quiver. He found an arrow, but lost his footing. Crashing to the ground, the draugr rushed ever closer. The larger one plucked Atreus from the ground. The monster bellowed, displaying rotten teeth and flaps of decaying gums. It's half tongue flailed blindly like the death throes of a headless snake. It was a truly disgusting sight.
In desperation, Atreus stabbed out with his arrow again and again, and again, and by pure chance he connected, striking the draugr through a hole in its skull. The monster dropped him as the child continued to scream and stab. The boy was lucky but there was no time for celebration. As the second draugr raised his blade, Atreus shot an arrow. It exploded against the draugr's sword, shattering it to pieces. Quicker than the boy could react, a shard of the exploded blade sliced into the draugr's arm. He yelled out in torturous pain. But as the draugr moved in for the final kill, Atreus wasn't afraid anymore; he was angry. The blinding pain turned to white-out rage as his ears pounded. His vision glazed to pure rage.
As the creature bellowed with fury, so did Atreus. Two warriors with nothing left but anger and pain. The last thing that the boy saw before the world went black was a ghostly white hand grabbing the draugr by its throat. A small quiet question escaped Atreus' lips before he fell unconscious:

"Father?"

The man wrapped both hands around the torso of the monster, digging his fingers into its chest and ripped it apart, an ongoing screech echoing out as its body was torn in half, its rotted guts pouring out. Kratos looked to Atreus who lay unconscious on the snow with an angered look. He stomped to him, picking the boy up and draping him over one shoulder, carrying him back to the cabin.