The Pain of Loss

Chapter 1

I groaned and rolled over; throwing my alarm clock against the wall. The metal instrument ricocheted off and landed on the ground with a loud thud of parts. Damn these mortals and their useless inventions. I staggered up and slipped over on the way to the bathroom. Messy white-blonde hair obscured my vision as my feet blindly stumbled towards their destination. I looked in the mirror to my own sky blue eyes staring back at me. Clearly, being a lower goddess didn't help one to wake up. I lifted my shirt and threw it to the ground letting the cool air flow against my chest. The scar from the battle with Loran was an ugly one. It ran from my hip up to just below my armpit. The events of that night were nearly six years ago, but the wound had only started to scar a few weeks ago. Until then it had just been a bloody scab. I carefully ran my fingers along the tender skin and flinched back when it stung. What was that stupid dagger enchanted with? 

The rest of my nightclothes came off and I stepped into the warm shower letting my thoughts run astray. The stupid mortal myth that the shower was the best place of thinking wasn't entirely false. Well, that was my experience. Out of the shower, I pulled on a pair of jeans and my coat, then grabbed the knife that I left on the counter beside the door and set off out into the world. 

New York in the winter wasn't the most pleasant thing on the planet. But, it was better than the Norwegian weather. I had moved from Norway about two years ago when several nymphs had begun to search the Lowground for any sign of runaway gods. When the high council sent nymphs out after you, it was time to flee. For being stuck up bitches, nymphs were relatively smart. One look at you and they can instantly tell you aren't from that world. Just thinking about nymphs put me in a bad mood, they annoyed me to hel and back when I was at home. Thank the high council they weren't around in New York at the moment.

My day's errands were done and I was dragging bags of food back to my apartment when my head collided with one of them. Nymphs.

"Hello?!" I stammered flustered at their presence, "What-um, brings you here to the hole I call my house?" I flushed, trying to cover my mistake.

"Is this the house of Valen... I don't even want to pronounce that surname," one of the two grunted indignantly. I grimaced as I automatically knew who she was talking about. My sister; Valen, who died many years back.

"I'm dearly sorry miss nymph, but Valen died more than 200 years ago. Also, Ingriðottir isn't that hard to pronounce. Just say it how it's spelt; In-Grid-Doe-Tir. Simple," I growled at her barging through the two nymphs to get into my apartment almost slamming the door in the two's faces.

"Then you are to return to Asgard, well that's what you call home, immediately and take her place; if your name would happen to be Mista?" The second voice was instantly recognisable; Daphne. Last time I checked she was in a relationship with Loran's brother; Tori. Which for some reason made her hate me. To be fair, Loran and I played countless pranks on the two. She sounded so robotic, which was strange as she normally sounded very high pitched and squeaky. How in all of the God's names did she manage to ensnare Tori's heart? The question lingered in my head until I realised she was reading off a scroll. Whoever wanted me back didn't even have the guts to come and find me themselves? I shook with anger, I was not going to take my sister's place. There had to be a reason she was killed, and my mission was to avenge her death and slay her killer, not to succumb to the same fate. I knew I would never go back, I could never go back. My body reacted before my mind and I yelled at the nymphs -deep down I knew this wasn't their fault, they were doing on behalf of the council. The ones who sent my sister to her death.

My mouth acted before my brain and I lashed out at them, "I WILL NOT GO BACK! TELL THE COUNCIL VALEN DIED FOR A CAUSE! A CAUSE I WILL NOT GO BACK TO, NOW OR EVER! I-I won't..." I slammed the last of the open door in their faces and curled down against the door breaking into a fit of tears.