40.0834° N, 22.3499° E

A palace hidden in the mists and clouds among peaks: marble and limestone architects were carved out of the collective imagination and expectations of the mortals.

There was a celebration—a warm welcome for the new member of the Olympian family.

She was not an outcome of infidelity, or at least the Olympian god-king claimed so. And of course, the jealous god-queen was not present.

The celebration couldn't care less about her drama. The air smelled of otherworldly vinery and rendered cattle fat.

One of the Olympians left the crowd and walked to the cliff, outside all the extravagance. She took off her mask, sipping the fine work of Dionysus, and stared at the sunset she had dreamt about for so long.

Phebe’s steeds extinguished their solar flames as they marched down into the clouds, then the void. The fading light shined upon the goddess’s face and revealed her somber beauty. Any mortal would put their fragile mind and life at risk for staring at her face for too long. Her beauty was indeed a curse.

She desperately wanted a way out: to free herself from the choices made for her.

A disturbing smell caught her attention; she swiftly put her mask back on.

Dry and hacking coughs followed the unholy smell of alcohol and burnt herbs. She saw someone laying on the trees, with a bottle of wine at hand and a pipe in the other.

“Trust me and climb down; you do not want to mess with the gardener here.” It was a sincere warning as the god of fertility in charge of the garden happened to be a streaker who never wore pants.

“Ahhh….allfather’s beard, you scared the soul outta me, lady.” A set of shiny, aureate armor rolled off the trees. His cape tangled with the leaves and twigs as he tried to jump off the giant magnolia tree. Needless to say, he landed on his back instead of his feet.

She finally got the chance to take a better look at the being in front of her. He was in a full set of golden scale armor with exotic accessories hanging from his waist. Red ribbons and jade pieces from the far east; an empty sword sheath filled with nordic runes; and even a kibisis only Olympians own(at least she thought so). His helm resembles a boar’s head with golden tusks sticking out and the only part the metals and leathers did not cover were the two holes for his eyes. She was confused about where did he stick his pipe to smoke. His cape was made out of silver quills that seem harmless but are actually sharp, hallowed, and poisonous.

“Aren’t you a mix and match of different realms, warrior?” She commented. Under the mask, she lifted one of her brows and was curious about the stranger’s origin. “Where are you from? The East, the North, or here? My apologies, I have not heard of any stories of a deity like you.”

He got up with the speed that defies his intoxicated body and exaggerated armor.“Well, m’lady, I was born in the villages in the Nine States, I served the Vanirs, and now I am just here to drink because I bought an invitation from Dionysus.” As he was talking, smoke started to come out of the openings of his helm. An unpleasant smell followed.

“Eww, is that tobacco mixed with world tree leaves? Why would you purposefully damage your body? You know that not even divinity can fully heal you from it, right? Do you know how many mortals die from it?”

“Like you care, m’lady. Excuse me but I don’t think you know them as I do cuz I was born and raised by them, alright?” He sounded drunk and emotional.

“Well, I spend all my time with them. Like, they are always talking to me. The perk of being around the dead all the time.” She said with a hint of sorrow in her voice. “I am, sadly, the queen of the underworld. ”

“Well, my apologies then. You should meet Hel; you ladies have so much in common.” He reached for his kibisis and started aimlessly searching for something in it. “Why are you wearing a mask? You got half of your face rotting too, huh?”

“How do you know...who are you?” It seemed her curiosity was properly placed.

“I told you, I ran errands for the Vanirs. I have been down there, and I am telling ya, all the underworlds are connected; you just have to bribe the boatman with the right currency. ” He took out some dark tobacco leaves and started rolling them.“That face problem of yours happens to everyone who spends too much time down there. The remorse and hatred down there ain't good for nobody’s skin.” Finished rolling, he whispered some incantation to generate a spark of fire above his gauntlet. Years of services had taught him basic Pyrokinesis out of necessity.

“You better stop smoking before someone else smells you and mistake you for committing arson or facilitating unauthorized rituals.” Once again, she gave her a sincere warning.

“Chill...I’ll choose to drink more then. You know what, I’ll tell you how to stop your face from decaying and even a way out of the underworld.” He stared at her full chalice and made an offer. “In return, may I have some of that wine to make my breath smell better, to begin with?”

“Yeah, sure, here. ” She handed him the chalice, expecting more information from him. And also she could use some company.

He put away his rolled tobacco and took the chalice with both of his hands and bowed to her, as any gentlemen in the east would do. Then he quaffed down the whole chalice of wine in seconds without any spilling out. He handed the chalice back to her after his loud burp. Indeed, she had never met any immortals as sloppy as the drunk in front of her.

“You are a golden nugget of surprises, aren’t you?” She imagined how a drinking contest would go between him and Dionysus.

“Huh---burp---I like that name. From now on---burp---you can call me that. Nu...gget.” His lips were getting numb and his tongue was getting slow. He slowly walked towards the garden cliff, trying to cool himself off with the windy edge of the glorious, floating palace.

“Dare I say this is too strong to be called wine. What kind of grapes are in this?” He took off his helmet, hung it on one of the trees around him, and shook his head to shake off the sweat that reeked of the smell of alcohol.

Eager to see what he looks like, she lifted her obsidian-colored dress and followed him to the cliff.

His hair, short and spiky; his beard, patchy and uneven. Without the shiny and exaggerated helm, he looked mortal, and not even a good-looking one.

She found astonishment, as well as disappointment. She imagined more radiant and heroic features from this mysterious drunk.

“Sorry, I don’t have the face that Baldur or Apollo has. I am in shining armor, but I ain’t a hero, and you ain't a dame in distress.”

“Your turn now; it is only fair that I got to see your face.” He said. “Let’s see how badly the dead have affected you, m'lady.”

Out of courtesy and desperation, she could not refuse. She slowly lifted her painstakingly sculpted ivory mask and shifted it gradually to her right, only revealing half of her face.

Her eye was the color of amber, with splashes of emerald within. Her lightly freckled wheat-color skin reminded him of the ink-wash paintings his Yaya used to paint. Especially those with sceneries and landscapes.

“This is how it's supposed to look like.” She said that with a heavy heart as she continued lowering her mask, revealing pale and wrinkled skin and a lifeless, cloudy eye. “And the rest looks like this. I cannot see any color, or smell the floras, and barely taste the vinery. ” Suddenly, tears started to drip off. The tears from her healthy left eye were clear and glinted like gems; the tears from her dying right eye were murky and bloody. Clearly, she was robbed of her youth, her health, and her beauty.

The colors of the garden started to fade away as the plants started to decay: the vibrant greens were slowly consumed by the morbid greys. Her strong emotion triggered a blast of her concentrated divinity. The grudges and the resentments of the dead were the fuel of her power.

“Not bad, not bad at all. You could make a real kind-looking old lady. ” He had little experience dealing with weeping goddesses, so he did what he did best: bad jokes. “Hel had it a lot harder than you. She could barely keep her eyeball in her eye socket. And the smell was like a whole feast went stale.”

That did not work at all. The ring of decay and death was still expanding around her. He had to try something else. He squatted down and started picking off the crystallized tears from the garden. “If you keep on crying, I soon will have some very potent divinity gems at disposal. And you have no idea what I can do with those.” He was telling the truth. Tears of any deities were one of the few arcane ingredients sought after throughout the realms.

He stood up, crushed one of the dazzling gems in his gauntlet. A surge of energy erupted within his palm, flowed through his hand, his spine, and his head, creating a tingly sensation. What he did was punishable by banishment, as stealing and consuming another deity’s divinity could be viewed as an act of war.

She stopped sobbing, and the ring of decay stopped expanding. She felt a gentle tap in her memories and emotions as if someone was selecting the good memories and magnifying them to make her stop weeping. “What..what did you just do? Wait--you can just adopt, consume, and even edit my divinity? That means your divinity shares the same similar properties. Are you also a deity of Spring and Life? Or are you a deity of Death and afterlife...”

“Yo, you know what, these could help, too.” He interrupted her and crushed one of the dull and crimson-colored gems. A burning sensation spread across his body, and then came the pain. To her, it felt like someone was casting a fog over her traumatic memories and soothing her pain.

“The teardrop from your lazy eye got some kick to it; I can still feel the burn in me, thanks to you, Lady of the underworld. ” After absorbing her divinity from the tears, her memories and emotions raced across his mind, causing him to lose his balance and tumble.

If his bad taste of humor would stop the weeping, maybe empathy could do the trick. He wanted to see what she saw, and he tried to understand why she wept.

“Are you all right? I tried to warn you. I am more than a symbol for life and the return of srping; I am also the embodiment of the afterlife and a listener of the dead. Death is burdensome, is it not? ” She asked.

“It’s suffocating... I find myself saying this a lot, but I am sorry for what has been done to you... I am sorry I tapped into your memory--I--can help.” The carefree drunk was shocked by what he saw, and his tears ran down. Nothing is more potent than a shot of mixture that contains alcohol, empathy, and divinity.

He reached for his kibisis and took out a handkerchief. “It was meant for you, I guess. First time for me to be this weak in front of a lady, damn it.” Unlike her, his divinity was not powerful enough to form diamond-like tears. “I just want to make you stop weeping, and I failed miserably.” He sighed and wiped his tears. “I was always the jester in my old batch, ya know, back when I belonged to something. Odin’s beard was I good at being funny.” He sauntered towards the edge of the garden and sat down by the cliff with his legs hanging over a river of clouds. All was dark beneath but few visible sparks coming from the free city-states and villages of the mortals.

“You said multiple times you can help. How? When?Why?” She followed him along the way and was eager to find confirmation in his words. She would do almost anything to escape the underworld, to escape the fates that were made for her.

“What’s the rush? I only help friends, and you don’t know me yet. Besides, Allow me to introduce myself.” I was Freyr’s courier and cupbearer, Gullinbursti. ”

“The golden-bristled. Hmm, I see now. It seems Nugget is a proper nickname. ” She stood next to him by the cliff, enjoying the views below. “Anyway, how much did you see, and how much can you help, friend?”

He reached for his kibisis again. “Everything I need to know: a beloved daughter of Demeter, unwilling wife of Hades. And I thought arranged marriage is only a mortal thing.” He took out a drinking horn and a clay jar with a wooden cork on top with some clanking sound.

“To new friends, to a new gig, let’s have something I have been saving.” He lifted the seal of the jar and handed her the drinking horn. “Come closer, I don’t want any of this stuff to go to waste. We drink, and then we talk about the deal. Drink from Freyr’s horn and keep it. The property of his divinity is harvest, wealth, and health. Should work as a talisman down there, blocking some voices and some creepy ghosts.”He tilted the jar and poured the alcohol into the chalice and the drinking horn in her hands.

“What do you get out of it, Nugget?” Everything comes with a price. Favors from the immortals do not come cheap, and most of them end up in servitude and exploitation. “All I took was a pomegranate from the underworld, and the price was my freedom. What price would I pay for this?” She knew that better than anyone.

“Drink and relax, and you will not owe me a thing. You are merely keeping these trinkets safe for me. When you are done freeing yourself, I will be collecting them from you. And for all your trouble, you get to use them. So technically, you are doing me a favor.”

“Trinkets? What do you mean?” She took a sip. The alcohol was sweet and savory, creating tastes of a full course meal in just one sip. It tasted mortal but undoubtedly exotic and potent.

“Oh, I’m gonna arm you to the teeth, you’ll see. Look, here’s the map of the underworlds, my shield, my weapon, and a bunch of coins for you to bribe Kharon. Oh, remember, only use the turquoise one.” He took the chalice from her hand and chugged everything down, and left the chalice by the cliff.

“Yeah, yeah, I know how the transit works. You have enough coins to make multiple tours.” She said. “What did you pay for them?

“Nah, they cost me nothing. Freyr was not stingy with his fortune. Well, now he is gone, it won’t be long until someone hunts me down and retrieves what belonged to him: the armor, the sheath, and all. And that is where you come in. After all, I was just a lucky immortal who was gifted with a set of arcane armor. But you, no one would dare search you or investigate you.”

“You are the most calculating drunk I have ever encountered. ”

“Compliment accepted, m’lady. Lucky me. Among all the deities here today. You are most suitable for the job, and you found me.”

“I have not agreed to this arrangement yet, Nugget.”

“Come on, keeping a Qián-Kūn-Dài safe to earn your freedom? I’d take that kinda deal any day.” Kicking his legs like a kid on a swing, he refilled the chalice with more alcohol.

“Celestial Pocket? Is that what you call a kibisis up north? Pardon me, one of the disadvantages of learning languages from the whispers of the dead is that you understand the word’s meaning, but often fail to learn its origin.”

“Nah, the Vanirs and the knew the craft, they just don't wanna make them for the Aesirs. Those mead-drinking, ax-swinging fools would weaponize everything. My ma gave it to me, said it was a reward from the war she fought. Ahem, anyway, back to business,” He raised his voice. “Once you have bribed the fugly boatman, tell him to take you to the Land of the Reeds, which is similar to your domain, Elysian Plain, but reassembles a dessert. There you will find the Necropolis to see The Lady of the West. I don’t have any connections around the Niles, so you are on your own once you are off the ship. ”

“What are you going to do? What is your part in this plan?” She asked.

“You still need an Elisinian ritual to summon you to the living world. And that is where I show up, butcher some cattles, spill some blood, chant your name, you know, think about you. Hehe.” She could not tell that was him joking or flirting, but his grin sure was creepy.

“So that is why you help me? What do you want from me? Beauty is my curse. And you could be affected since you are raised by the mortals. Is it courtship you are after?” Her reply shared the same tone, playful and relaxed. The exotic brew has done its job.

“Hehehehe, you seriously flattering yourself now? Your divinity doesn’t even have the property of desire or love. Don’t think of mortals as lust-driven animals, would you? I have made deliveries for goddesses like Freyja and Inanna, and I always return untouched.”

“Now that is just funny. Someone bragging about not laying with those two. You are definitely the first, Nugget. ”

“Just want you to know who you are working with. My line of work requires punctuation and confidentiality. The helm stayed on, no matter what. ”

“Remember to sacrifice rams and pigs. Any other offerings may cause some unwanted side effects to the facilitator.” Yet another warning came from Persephone that proved her right later. “Still, what is your motivation? What are you looking for?”

“Yeah, I ask myself, what am I looking for? Freyr gave way his sword and left with some giants. My last order was to cover all his trail. He even bound me with an oath and now I have to carry an empty sword sheath for him.”

“Let me guess, you are one of the trails. You are also a loose end.”

“With his disappearance, the alliance between Asgard and Vanaheim was at peril. The one-eyed boss had sent out the Valkyries to investigate. All Freyr’s former subordinates are being hunted down for questioning as we speak.”

“And it is only a matter of time until they find you, confiscate your belongings and find clues to Freyr’s whereabouts. ”

“Wow, impressive. I know we found each other for a reason.” He smirked.

“Save it. You purposefully targeted me. Only mortals believe in coincidences.

“Most impressive. Just like I said, I am asking you for a favor here. Do not overthink it. Now come on, give me a response.”

“So, did you read my memory through consuming some of my divinity? Violating one’s mind is worse than violating one’s body, you know? ”

“Nah, Koree, I only saw what I needed to see. And what I saw was enough for me to do what I do.”

“Wow, we are calling each other’s birth names now. Mind if you ask yours?”

“Dà-Láng, it means ‘the first born’.”

“Wow, such a mundane name for a shiny Nugget. Alright, I shall take the deal and navigate my way back to the living world.” She raised Freyr’s drinking horn. “To Dalang and Koree! To freedom and oath! ”

“Yeah, to the Boar and the Maiden. To the unlikely partners in crime.To the crickets that are tied by the same string. ”

“Now, my friend is storytime; let me project my memories into your mind. You will need them to access my kibisis and my belongings inside.”

“I have only heard the dead talking about memory projection. Almost all of them saw flashes of their past in their dying breaths. Is this similar?” She asked as Dalang took off his gauntlets and prepared to work his powers.

“I like you more and more, ya know. You know so much more than those lustful and vain pieces of works in this palace. And yes, the memories are just like shadow puppetry.”

“Finally, someone who is alive sharing their memories with me. ” She said it with such a relief.

“Hahahaha, good one.” His hands reached for her temples, and a link was created.