Death isn’t so bad. The worries of life fell away in the face of that vast emptiness. Points of light dotted the void. Killian couldn’t tell if he was moving or if they were, but without any senses, they were the only sense of momentum he had.

The pinpricks of luminescence, he somehow knew, were immense. Suns and stars even less hospitable. The heat didn’t touch the frozen cold of Killian’s supersonic travel. In moments, even those immense celestial bodies became small. As his perspective continued to grow he saw it.

A tree. The Tree. In an instant Killian knew that he was looking upon creation in its entirety. The fullness of it threatened to overwhelm a mind not ready, so his thoughts shied away. He turned from the entirety of creation and saw a different light to the earlier stars. Different to the luminance of The Tree.

Somehow, the light was stronger and yet calmer than the lonely flames in space. His time in the desolate nothingness was coming to an end. It had felt like an eternity and a moment, all at once. His travel hadn’t been a physical one, but he had still had to traverse the distance to his destination.

The radiance enveloped Killian then. So bright that he tried to shield his eyes, but his form wasn’t real. His arms had no substance to protect him, his eyelids just as helpless. The serene and all-encompassing light began to unmake him in it’s intensity.

To Killian, it seemed that there was a guilt in this. In his unmaking there was a care and a gentleness of intent that removed all fear. It was a terrible feeling, but not of pain. It was the feeling of change, something Killian had not felt in a long time.

So brave. Welcome, my champion. I am so sorry.

The words came from the light, within and around it. The words were the light, the light the words.

Sorry?

For your loss. My gain is the theft of your fate, and for that I am sorry. Let us speak properly.

The light which was everywhere became a pinprick again. It sped towards Killian, becoming a tunnel of light. At the end of which was a room. Killian gasped at each new sight as the room seemed to form around him. He had never seen with such detail, and never had such sights to behold before.

A grand table of the finest design imposed upon the middle of a glorious banquet hall. It had two seats, both together in the middle of the table. The chairs would probably be insulted if you called them thrones, Killian thought. Their golden filigree danced miraculously around the arms and legs, lavishly crafted. The table had been laid with an incredible selection of dishes and meals that made Killian remember hunger.

Finding hunger, painful hunger, taking hold, he tried moving over to the table. Desire preceded action, and looking down at himself, Killian saw a strange body. It was silvery and ethereal, but he found it allowed him to cross the space. Feet not quite actually falling on the luxurious rug beneath them, Killian glided over to the table.

Shovelling different delicacies into his gullet, Killian barely looked at the opulent plates and dishes that he tossed aside. The food began to work its magic, filling his astral body. Still he continued to glut himself on the feast before him. Dreamily, he looked towards the second seat at the table. He had filled one, and the other to his left sat empty.

The delicious food, sating Killian’s hunger, reminded him of something. He wished he had given Sherrin his bread roll, if he, himself, was just going to die anyway. Rin was always a skinny kid. Killian and the even larger Dack had often tried to give him more than his share. Yanni had been the only one who could make him, and he started to eat less when she was taken.

The guilt that ate at him was distant, however, as though it was someone else’s life he was looking at. Their hard times seemed so small, now that he was dead. They were everything to the young people living through them, but he wasn’t one of them any more.

Not wanting to focus on that, Killian inspected the room. At one time, being in a room like this would have two effects on him. The first would have been an increase in saliva as he looked at the flagrant wealth available to take at a moment's notice. The second would have been terror at being caught there.

The invitation this time was implied. Killian knew he was simply waiting for his host. He also knew that he had no interest in stealing, for now.

As though waiting for Killian to be ready, the light in the doorway faded. What was, a moment ago, pure brilliant white light seemed to grow a shadow. The rest of its form followed after the shadow, before a resplendent woman walked into the room.

Killian had never seen such grace before. Without a misplaced motion, her whole being swept around like smoke on ice. A dress of flowing motion, of mist trapped in fabric, swept about her. She didn’t make a sound as she moved to the seat next to Killian.

Her skin was a deep, rich chestnut colour. She bore no clear race, but her divinity was evident. From her, a scent of cleansed land after rain pleasantly washed over Killian. He watched every motion, every strand of luxurious hair, with the intent of a zealot.

“Hello, my Champion.” The Goddess spoke. She began to pick at food with her fingers, throwing a grape and catching it in her mouth. Chewing, she smiled at Killian and his whole being felt like butterflies had taken up residence.

Her casual nature was at odds with her celestial origin. Killian found himself disarmed, though, as they sat in relative silence for a while. He didn’t feel uncomfortable in her presence, instead a warmth took hold inside him. A feeling of acceptance flowed from the Goddess to himself

“My…” Killian struggled to find the word and started again. “Goddess. Please, tell me why I am here.”

“Well,” She chuckled, as though there was some hidden joke in his words. “That is certainly the question most would ask. I understand your meaning though. To explain it all would take a great deal of time and be far too much. So, I shall start with the most important. I am at war. All of the gods are. A war for control, for dominance. A war to decide the fate of all things. The battlefield for this war is the Tree. Upon its ancient boughs, in its timeswept leaves and dew drops, Yggdrasil holds all the knowledge in existence. Indeed, all of creation swings from its branches. The howling upon its eon-warped wood can be heard in the back of the minds of all who live. A vast land, larger than any one planet, the battle is both fierce and contained. Your home of Genia is one of many battlegrounds for this secret war. Some lands contain powerful densities of magic, coalescing to make what you know as Aspects. All beings are in some way a part of this war, but I have chosen you to be my general. I am not a god of war, or of death. I cannot grant you the ability to raze worlds to the ground. I am the Goddess of New Beginnings. It is at my own beginning that we meet. As your strength grows, so too shall my own. Your soul cried out, more than any other, for change. For something different. For a new beginning. It was that intense, pure craving for a better life that awoke me.”

“Goddess,” Killian had listened intently. “How am I to fight for you? I do want to, but I’m not special. I never went to school, I never learned magic. I died in my first real fight.” He was surprised he could make light of it.

“It is not your talents that brought me to you, though I see them more clearly than you do. Your soul is coloured with love, although the world has tried to steal it. Even so, you want better for all. Now, simply, you will have the ability to create such a place.”

“I’ll trust you, Goddess.” Killian said. If she believed in his strength, he could too.

“Good. Our time is short, though we aren’t too rushed. Still, we must begin preparing you. You shall see the world through eyes remade, a filter through which to influence things.”

As she said this, Killian found his eyes unfocus slightly. As though someone had put spectacles on him like Sherrin’s, a new layer appeared to his vision. On this new layer were certain shapes and icons. He saw that the finery about the room now had floating labels next to them.

It was not just a dining table, it was a “godswood table” of “divine level” craftsmanship. The chairs were a material called gold luxantium, and they, along with everything in the room, were divine level craftsmanship.

Looking at his Goddess, his vision stated her as “Genara, Goddess of New Beginnings” and below that said “Ally”. The small page that appeared next to her was a soft green, in contrast to the item descriptions which were the colour of parchment.

“This is your Display. It is your interface with the System that governs power upon the Tree. To ensure that no one god could influence or appear upon the Tree itself, the System was enacted. More powerful than any one God, it establishes the rules of engagement. Most importantly, it is why Champions are needed. Through your actions, and only your actions, our influence and power can grow.”

An icon flashed. It looked like Killian’s silhouette. Focusing on it, it seemed to open, as though unfolding from the icon was a page. At the top it said “Profile” and it was a description of his status and abilities.

-Profile-

|Killian|

Power Speed Will Body Charm

None None None None None

Skills Rank

No Skills No Rank

Abilities

No Abilities

The page also had other information, his age (15), his name (Killian) and other sections that were even less useful now. Things like a status ailments page, which he couldn’t access but he assumed the only one would be “dead”.

“As I said, I am the goddess of new beginnings. We are both at the starting line here, I’m afraid, and I cannot give you little boon or gift beyond a new life. Everything else will come from you, my Champion.” Genara was a solemn figure, and Killian felt his heart lurch. He was desperate to return the easy, happy smile that had filled her visage before.

“It wasn’t a mistake. I’m smart, I’m fast and I work hard. What should my first step be, my Goddess?” His change in address was intentional. Over the course of their conversation, Killian had fallen completely in love. It was the overwhelming love of a child who finally found a protector, and wanted in turn to protect that person. It was not a romantic love, but that of a knight for their liege. He would fight, and strive, to see her goals fulfilled.

“My child. My Champion,” A smile of maternal love spread across Genara’s face, her hand rising to touch Killian’s cheek. His burgeoning worries faded, her touch reassuring him. “I have no worries for you beyond my wish to aid you more.”

“The System interacts with everyone differently,” She continued. “What you see now is unique to yourself. A great amount of my power has been spent to remake you, Killian. We must simply hope that it is enough to tip things in our favour. You are a new piece to the game board, and need to acquire power. Allies, skills and growth are of huge importance.”

“I understand, my Goddess.”

“Much of my ability to assist you is finished. However I do not send you away with nothing. Please, my Champion, tell me your desire and it shall be granted.” Genara’s face bore the kindness and hope that had earlier ignited Killian’s heart. He knew his answer, because only propriety had held him from already asking after it.

“Magic, my Goddess.” It had been Killian’s dream since he first saw a street vendor freeze juice into a shape for a family. To change the reality before him had always been Killian’s deepest desire. The smile upon his Goddess’ face became slightly more coquettish.

“Do we see a grand and powerful archmage in your future, Killian?” He could tell that, impossibly, he was being teased by a goddess. “Would you lock yourself away for the centuries that they do, and return to me a master of the arcane, too wizened a wizard to fight?”

The smile in her words precipitated the “twist” that Killian expected. He’d heard hundreds of speeches like this from someone who wanted to sell something. He smirked, knowing that this was somewhat different.

“Something to speed that along, I think.” Mused the goddess. A gesture of her hand, as though plucking a feather from the air, and her hand held a gem. Glorious and immaculate, the perfect jewel was as incredible a sight as any but the Goddess herself, Killian thought. He felt it take his breath, even as his display explained the item to him.

-Item-

|Concentrated Mana|

Mana is the energy source for all magic. Only through the weight of destiny and the power of a god could this mana be contained.

Even in this space, Killian found himself shocked. Two parts of his mind raged at each other. One part knew that his Goddess spoke true, that her gifts were just that. The other part of his mind knew that nothing came for free. That if someone was offering something with one hand, make sure you can see their other. They were either planning to rob you or kill you.

“I… surely cannot be worthy.”

“It is not mine to keep. It is by your desire that this blessing exists. You must learn to take what is yours, and strive to make that which is not, yours also.”

Shaking, but determined, Killian took the offered gift. As he held it, his display added more words to the description.

-Item-

|Concentrated Mana|

Add to inventory?

Yes or No?

A page showing empty slots appeared. 20 spaces, floating in four rows of five. He put the glorious item into his inventory. The beautiful lump of energy appeared as an icon on the page and disappeared. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It is time for you to leave, my Champion. This place will only become harder for your mind to handle, and I must rest.” The goddess’ eyes seemed to drop slightly, and exhaustion was clear on her features. “My champion. My trusted champion. We shall speak again, as your power grows and returns mine to me. Good luck, Killian.”

It was sudden, but there was no anxiety. It was simply time. The rest would be up to him.

At the age of 15, with a Goddess at his back and the potential to change everything, Killian was reborn.