―a golden bloodline

she's an exploration,

she's made of outer space

where the torn skin of her thigh had been stitched back together. The cut she made while sleeping was a little too deep than she expected, and in any other given situation she would've stitched the cut herself, but she had taken out her first aid kit for the cookies to fit in her bag. Now that she thought of it, it was a stupidly questionable decision. Without a needle and a thread―glue, even―she couldn't do much, so she had to ask for help.

Astrid, one of the maids, found her tangled up in bloodstained bedsheets in the morning. The wound was nowhere near deadly, no important veins or arteries had been harmed―yet Astrid panicked at the sight of red. Arabella was taken to the healing chamber where nurses had closed the wound with a golden thread that seemed to blend with the skin. The whole procedure was painless, she didn't feel a thing, not even a slight tingle.

And now here she was, body covered in a light dress with gold details; her hair braided back with loose curls around her face. She felt like a character taken out from a fairytale or perhaps she was the one who had been shoved inside one. Either way, she felt like royalty. The tail of the dress swayed along the polished floor while she walked alongside the Allfather himself. Odin had requested the maids to guide her to the gardens as soon as they finished getting her ready.

"You must have a plethora of questions occupying your mind right now, I assume." Odin was not what the girl had envisioned. He was playful. Laidback, even. "Let's start from the beginning of the story, shall we? I would've prepared a play for you, it would've been far more interesting. But sadly there wasn't enough time, you caught me off guard."

A play? What the hell? She thought as her hand mindlessly played with the small flower she had picked from the bush at the entrance of the garden.

"Eons ago, the Queen and I had our youngest child, a daughter named Freya. She was light itself, loved by all our people, cherished by the universe. The stars dangled from her feet and the sun adorned her head. Freya was a goddess worshipped by every Asgardian and she made it her duty to protect them. But as fate would have it, she fell in love―not with a being as divine as her, but with a mortal man."

Why was he telling her all this?

"The man was nowhere near worthy of even standing near her, yet Freya gave up everything for him." Odin picked a golden flower from the bush and gave it to the girl.

"Everything?" She twirled the rose with her soft fingers.

"Her life in Asgard, her title, the gifts the gods had graced her with at birth. All for a mortal man." The look on his face showed disappointment, yet there was a hint of well-masked sadness. "She fell to Midgard, exiled from her own home and Valhalla, cursed to never set a foot on Asgard again. Years passed―mortal ones, of course―and Freya gave birth to a little girl, a demigoddess, if you may. Tragically, she couldn't hold her in her arms too long, for she―my dear Freya―died like a mere mortal, leaving the little girl with nothing but her father. The things that happened after, I'm sure you know them all too well, my dear."

Was she the little girl from the story? Was she the daughter of a goddess? Her mind was racing with assumptions and questions. Her mother did die when she was barely an infant. But if she were to be the girl from the story, why had her father hidden this from her? Unless he didn't know either.

Before she could open her mouth to ask, Odin proceeded with the story. "There's a prophecy written in the stars about the little girl. A girl with the sun hanging from one hand and the moon from the other. Fear no dark, for she sheds light from her starlit soul. But do fear the dark that may follow a star's death." Odin paused. "The goddess of the soul, shall bring prosperity and light, or devastation and darkness."

They stopped walking a golden arch at the far end of the gardens, where the whole realm could be seen.

"The sword of light, Freya's own weapon, is hung among the valley of stars, and as it is written, only her descendant can find it."

There was a pause, none of them spoke as they stared at the cloudless sky. Bella's heart was beating way too fast for her liking, her hands slightly trembled, and her eyes stared deeply into the sky. What the hell was going on?

"You see, my dear, as you might've already figured, that little girl is you."

Her world stopped spinning for a second. She couldn't think of anything, any proper response. Nothing. Her brain was overworking trying to process such a crucial and life-changing piece of information. Her ocean eyes were wide, her mouth a little open as she took in everything. Her late mother, Nina, hadn't been human all this time. Was her father aware of that? Did anybody else know? Did Thor know? Oh, God, Thor. That meant Thor was her uncle and Odin her grandfather. That meant she wasn't entirely human, she didn't fully belong to Earth.

"Don't be afraid, my dear. Just look at the sky, look how the stars shine for you." As in cue, the warm tone of blue that painted the sky melted into a deep blue―thousands of golden stars adorned the darkness. "Find it, child."

Arabella went rigid, eyes still glued on the night sky and its infinite stars.

The sword. She was supposed to find the sword.

But how the hell do you find a sword amidst a never-ending graveyard of stars?

Her wandering eyes moved back and forth between each star, every one seemed identical to the other. Any star could be the sword for all she knew. Perhaps it was a trick of Odin to make her look like a fool, who knew? It could all be a scheme. But the story was too precise, too detailed to be made up. And then she felt the urge to lift her arm, it tingle, ached even. So she did. As her arm lifted, the stars began to shift to the middle of the sky, creating a supernova.

A burning sensation flowed through her veins―it was the stardust igniting a light in her soul as her hand reached for the colliding star. A bright light flashed through the sky as the supernova exploded, scattering stardust throughout the night, and from that cosmic dust, the sword of light was molded. The golden sword dangled in the sky for a second before descending to the girl's outstretched hand.

A gasp left her lips as her hand came in contact with the sword.

"Come home, child."

Her feet no longer touched the ground; the sword had raised her to the sky to find her place among the valley of stars. A dress made of gold adorned her frame, fragments of solid stars merged to form the piece of clothing. A set of shiny stars rested on her braided hair, contrasting with her dark waves.

She looked golden, almost heavenly.

It hurt.

It burnt.

Light ignited her veins as her bones strained under the weight of the souls inhabiting the valley of stars. The dark blue of her eyes was completely gone, it was replaced by a bright gold. Flesh and bone were torn apart and placed back together by the cosmos. Her veins pulsed and throbbed as they gave into the fire. Everything looked so tiny from up there. It was all too overwhelming, too agonizing. The burning, the light, the heaviness. Everything.

Then it stopped.

It stopped and the star child descended to the ground ever so gracefully.

"Welcome home, Ara."

author's note

hi, long time no see (again). hope y'all are healthy and doing fine. so, were you expecting what happened? tell me your thoughts on the chapter, i want to know! there will be two more chapters (i think) left and then the book's finished, so stay tuned! also, thanks for commenting and voting, it means a lot🤍

as always, thanks for waiting for me to update :) & i hope you stick around!

―L