“Unless you want this ‘normal life’ of yours to disappear forever, you must go with the Pantheon. Tell them you are Freya. Observe, and grow. When you are ready, take that which is rightfully yours and defend your thrice-damned ‘normal life’. Got it, Revian?”

“You’re lying.” I said.

It was a reflexive response.

“No, I am not.” Said Jvorg. “Why would I? Revy, please believe me—I only hold your best interests in heart, and it would go against that to lie at the moment.” He shook his head. “No, if you do not act, if you continue to only protect your ‘normal life’, we are all doomed. By pursuing that, you will not learn what needs to be known, nor will you be strong enough to deal with that which is coming.”

“Then tell me—What comes?” I asked, still reeling from the insults hurled by Jvorg.

He looked up, staring at me for a long moment.

“I suppose it can be said.” He said, eventually deciding to speak. An uneasy expression crossed his face. “There is a threat, one outside our sight for the moment. No, outside my sight, for it is impossible to see exactly what they are. Unfortunately, my augury is based on what I know, the information seen. From that, threads of the future can be pieced together, and I can know what happens. The more information I have, the more I know, the clearer the images get, and the more accurate my prophecies will become. In other words, I cannot see that which is unknown, no?

“And I do not know what the threat is, so I am unable to make them out. But, everything points to something happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“There has been increased activity near the edges of the human occupied space, and strange things happening out there. Entire patrol units disappearing, planetary masses moving in impossible manners, weapons of the like we have never seen before appearing in the hands of some bandits. The more information gained, the more it all points towards one conclusion.”

“What is it?”

Jvorg paused before answering, thinking deeply.

“That…we are not alone. There are other civilizations out there, and they will not come in peace. Within one hundred years, something will happen, and the outcome of humanity becomes…grim.”

“But why me?”

“Why do you matter so much, you mean?” Said Jvorg, scratching his head. “Hmm. I think I will liken it to a lode-stone. You draw people, due to who you are. It is like this for any especially powerful person, or one whose fate weighs heavy on our universe. Things naturally gravitate towards these individuals, and their decisions are more important due to this. This is why it is imperative you get away from Jor. Staying will only bring about it’s ruin, no?”

“So, here is my final word. You need to leave Jor with the Pantheon. Staying will only harm those here, and yourself. Going will open up all the opportunities possible.”

I thought for a while, before standing up to leave.

“Need to consider things.”

“Of course. Just, remember that they will be arriving in a week or two. Your decision will have to have been made by that point.”

Nodding, I left reluctantly, with anger boiling deep down.

Far, far from Jor, stands a planet.

There seems to be something wrong with the green world. There’s something about it which defies expectations. Looking at it causes an uneasy feeling. Something is off. Something so subtle that it escapes notice on the first glance.

The planet is a part of a solar system home to a simple sun. It glowed a gentile yellow, fueling all the plant life on the world. It gave steady, healthy light. This was a star that would glow for the next hundred billion years.

There were other planets in the system as well. Of course there were. First and foremost, three moons orbited the odd world, each of them with their own atmospheres and plant life. While technically moons, these were not the barren dust ridden hunks of rock normally found circling a planet. These were small planets unto themselves, fully habitable. They just happened to be smaller than the prime world, and thus were trapped in its gravity.

Further out, a desert planet spun about. It was covered in sand and dust, and shone a deep tan color, interlaced by black. This was a hot planet; all the moisture vanished from the ground.

It too had a moon. Just one though, and the moon twinkled with a crystalline light like a shiny little bauble seen so often in the hands of a child, who would watch with wonder as light refracted and bounced around the circular object.

That is to say, the moon had no core. It was completely translucent.

This had an interesting effect on the desert planet.

See, everyone knows what happens when you take a lens, and focus light into one particular location. That spot heats up under the light. If that area is dry or has a particular inclination towards combusting, then you might be rewarded by wisps of smoke rising into the air—the light having created enough heat to cause a fire.

The moon, suspended above the desert planet as it was, acted as a massive lens. The sun’s light hits it, and is refocused onto the surface of the planet.

There was no fire though. After all, nothing was left to burn on the planet.

It was still dreadfully hot though, with parts of the rolling sand dunes found on the planet’s surface having been turned into trails of blackened glass, as the focus point from the light wanders across the lands.

A world of ice and cold existed past the desert planet. Its surface was completely white, and strong winds cut through jagged ice peaks and valleys. There was no warmth here. Just a strange and brutal beauty build atop the inhospitable landscape. Still and silent, the icy structures jutting from the ground attested to the extreme environment on the planet; while the snow drifts piling up around them spoke of the wandering winds.

This planet had no moon. However, it was always dark.

The desert planet orbited the sun right in front of the ice planet. They moved in such a way that the ice planet was perpetually eclipsed by the desert, and was always in its shadow. There would be no light for the ice planet, so long as this balance was maintained.

But those were only three of the planets in the system. The verdant green one with three vegetated moons, the brutally hot desert planet, and the brutally cold ice planet. There were more than just three.

A gas giant rippled with massive storm clouds and extreme winds, its entire atmosphere ripping at the dense rocky planet core—which had been weathered away to a tiny fraction of the planet’s total size. Everything else was pure gas and charged sky.

A hollowed out planet drifted about, holes bored all over it. It was a sad and dead thing, more a planet-sized asteroid than anything else at this point. Its entire mass was riddled by tunnels, corridors and twisting labyrinths.

Past that, a metal planet gleamed brightly under the sun’s light. It was small, but incredibly dense. In fact, the density of this metallic mass was even approaching that of a harem protagonist.

The surface of this metallic planet was dotted by geometric structures. Perfect cubes, rectangles, octagons, and other, more isometric shapes jutted out of the ground in a chaotic, but stunningly logical manner. There was some deep-seated pattern dictating the placement and shape of the structures.

The seventh planet was covered in plant life, just like the first, verdant green one. But where one looked warm and inviting, all it’s plant life providing a support pillar for civilization, the other was a deep, deep green. There were no breaks in the tree canopy on the seventh planet. It was wholly covered in massive, rolling forests and jungles, lit only by the small pinpricks of light that penetrated through the tree boughs. This was not a hospitable place. Because, even just a small look around the planet’s surface gives a startling revelation. Brightly colored flowers, long vines descending from tree to tree, thorny bushes, exotic fauna fanning out to capture as much light as is possible—All supported a delicate and thriving ecosystem. Animals can be found anywhere.

But you don’t want to find them.

Everything in these twilight jungles and forests can kill a man in at least twelve different ways. Poison, talons, by wing or scale. Take your pick—there’s certainly no limit to the options available.

There were other, smaller planets littered around this abundant and shocking solar system. While they are still significant, they are not important enough to bear mention in this quick overview.

But, there’s still one thing lingering. A question unanswered.

Looking at the solar system in it’s entirely brings a small sense of unease. There’s something wrong, a small detail off. It’s been in the back of the mind this entire time.

At the center of this uneasy feeling is that first planet, with three resplendent moons orbiting around it. Visually, nothing is wrong. In fact, the planet is quite beautiful—almost paradisiac. It’s a gloriously vibrant place, planet and moons all.

It’s hard to figure out what’s wrong. After all, the planet itself it perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with it—unless you consider paradise as being wrong in and of itself. And admittedly, some cultures do think along these lines.

No, to see the incongruity in the situation would require a step back. View the solar system in its entirety. Watch the heavenly bodies in their dance as they orbit.

And then the uneasy feeling—and it’s source—becomes absolutely clear.

The sun.

It’s a good size, and as mentioned, it’s light is healthy and full of vigor. A star like this can be found practically anywhere in the universe. It’s common to the point of dullness. Which is slightly odd amongst all the remarkable and unique planets in the system.

But that’s not the point. There’s nothing wrong with the sun itself.

However, everything else is very wrong. The laws of nature have been defied here. Common sense upturned. Something has spat in the face of all known laws from physics and science.

For, nothing is orbiting this sun.

All those planets dancing around, and not one seems to notice the star’s mass. Not one obeys its gravitational call, nor the natural order of things.

Instead, the sun, along with every other planetary mass, orbited that first planet with the three moons and happy forests, with the oceans and lakes spanning it’s surface. It stood there, in the middle of this utterly baffling solar system. Rooted in place. As if an angry god has come by, and affixed it into a singular location in space, forever. It would not be moved from its axis. It would not bow to any greater mass. It would sit, a king on his throne as the universe turned around him.

This solar…no, planetary system was far from the proclaimed center of humanity, the Cradle. Earth was far, far away, and the nearest occupied colony was wholly unaware of the oddity which was this system.

But, distant as it may be, the system was not uninhabited.

It was given a name back when humanity first forayed into the stars, after Moonfall and a mad scientist turned god forced them to greener pastures.

This was Crucible.

Home to those gods given life by humanity. One of the three strongest bastions of mankind.

It’s long been said that there’s a trinity that must be observed, should a society be a strong as possible. Power, wisdom, and tradition. Crucible upholds them all. Its citizens were charged with protecting these values.

Speaking of which, that was another incongruity found in the Crucible system. For all the vast space it spreads across, and for all the planets slowly describing their orbits, there were precious few people living in the system.

Quality over quantity was the rule followed here. And beside, you had to be a special type of person to gain admittance to Crucible. You had to be someone embodying Old Earth traditions and superstitions. You had to have touched on the spiritual side of humanity, and come back from it with something gained. Quite literally, you had to become a god.

Easier said than done, yes. But there are ways of having it happen—even ways which grant a reasonably high chance of success.

Regardless though, this was the hidden haven for those Awakened into the role of a god. This was their home.

And, on that central planet—which is also named Crucible, for whatever reason—there were a few structures. White marble columns supported the massive roof of a grand and ostentatious temple-like building, with room enough to house hundred of people quite comfortably. There were training areas around the temple, and other, smaller buildings who’s use was yet unknown.

On another part of the planet, squat square buildings rested on the ground around a pyramid—whose peak seemed to scrape at the sky, and was capped by a silvery metal reflecting light into the distance.

On a third spot rested a small and homely community, with houses built in a Nordic style with sharply angled roofs to slough off snow, and a large meal-hall set in the middle of all the buildings. Everything was centered on a harbor with various ships of diverse origin docked just off the coast. The smell of smoke, fish, and earthiness hung in the air.

It was in the last of these communities that a man sat, mulling over something in the meal-hall. He was distinctive, with a long white beard and hair under a wide brimmed hat. Dressed in what resembled a robe, he very much looked like that stereotypical wizard who assists the hero with mighty magic’s.

The man was missing an eye as well, with a patch leaving only the right one bare to the world. And that icy green orb was fully capable of freezing men in place, held by the weightiness of his glare. By his side was a staff, propped up against his chair. It was carved with numerous sigils and Nordic runes, and hewn out of a sturdy wood. The top of the staff curved lightly, almost like a shepherds crook. Atop this curved bit sat a pair of ravens, their beady eyes holding an uncanny intelligence.

This was Odin, king among those gods of Nordic origin. Though, it should be stated that Odin is fairly universally feared by the other camps of gods on Crucible. He was possessing of a certain skillset that set cold stones of fear in their bellies.

But that’s besides the point of all these introductions and explanations.

Because, as was mentioned, Odin was thinking long and deeply about something. If one could peer into his mind, they would discover all sorts of interesting things. Worries and anxieties unbefitting someone so strong as to bear aloft such an old and powerful name. Thoughts turned towards the future, and a fear so deep, that one wonders what would frighten this man to such an extent.

To know that would be to give some crucial information away though, so those thoughts will be kept secret for now. Perhaps when Revy arrives….

But for now, let’s just say that Odin has a lot on his mind. As any man with power and influence can empathize with.

However, that burden was about to be lifted slightly.

Another man had entered the large meal-hall. Looking around for a bare second, his eyes fell upon Odin, and the man made his way to where the grim one-eyed man was sitting. Seeing the unknown man approach, Odin lifted his head, and took him in.

The new arrival was tall, buff, and had bronzed skin. He carried a trident on his shoulder, and a crown upon his brow. He wore a robe similar to Odin’s, though his was a deep royal blue. Warm green eyes were framed by the silver band running across his forehead, and the black hair escaping said crown’s confines.

“You sit here looking so dower, Odin.”

“…I don’t want to hear that from you, Poseidon.”

“Sure, sure.” Said the god, smiling affably. “But I’d thought that you would appreciate some news from team three, with Heimdal.”

That caught Odin’s attention.

“What have you heard?” he asked, a slight forcefulness in his voice.

Poseidon grew more serious before speaking, noticing the hungry undertones in Odin’s voice. “They’ll be arriving within the week. Once there, it shouldn’t take very long for them to locate whoever was found.” The god paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know who it is, would you?”

Odin shook his head. “I do not know. Tell me, has the group chartered a ship to Galven?” He asked, mentioning the nearest sizable human settlement.

“Yes. Isis took care of that, apparently. A freighter will be able to take them there, while under cryo-sleep.”

Odin nodded. “Good then. Leave this old man to his drink then.”

Poseidon nodded, and left soon after, leaving Odin to himself, and the worries bouncing around his head.

There was much to worry about. But hopefully, this newest godling which had been found would be the solution needed for so long. The camp of the Norse gods would finally be complete.