📖 The Immortal Gazette: The Secret Origins of the Gods
The studio of The Immortal Gazette was a sanctuary of shadows and secrets. Dim candlelight flickered, casting a thousand dancing shapes along the walls. Alice, perched on her favorite chair with her boots lazily propped on the table, casually swirled her tea—again. Her gaze never left the two gods lounging across from her.
Rumplestiltskin was in his usual element, smirking like a fox in a henhouse, golden eyes glimmering with secrets he’d likely sold a few centuries ago. And Loki, well, Loki. Leaning back in his chair with a dagger spinning between his fingers, that damn cocky grin never left his face. He looked like the embodiment of trouble, but Alice was too used to his chaos to flinch.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Alice drawled, her voice like smooth whiskey. “Tonight’s topic is forbidden myths—you know, the gods and stories that were buried, erased, or rewritten. I’m sure you two have plenty of tales to share.”
Loki’s grin stretched wider, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Ah, the real fun begins.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Do you mortals ever realize just how many times your ‘sacred truths’ have been rewritten by the gods themselves?”
Alice snorted, swirling her tea again. “Oh, I’ve noticed. You’re old, Loki. But you didn’t get to be that way by playing nice.”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. “Oh, I love a good cover-up. Let’s talk about the gods who mysteriously disappeared, shall we? Not a retirement, my dear, but a clever little game of vanishing.”
Loki smirked and tapped the edge of his dagger against the table. “Let’s start with the obvious. Nearly every mythology speaks of an older race of gods—the Titans before the Olympians. The Aesir before the Vanir. And don’t even get me started on the Tuatha Dé Danann before those mortals turned them into ‘fairies.’” He rolled his eyes. “A hostile takeover, if you ask me.”
Alice raised an eyebrow, taking a deliberate sip of her tea, then setting the cup down with a soft clink. “You mean to tell me the gods erased each other? Oh, I already knew that, darling. History’s always been written by the victors. But tell me, why would they go to all the trouble of erasing their own kind? Seems like a waste of energy.”
Loki laughed, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying her skepticism. “Because gods don’t die, love. They adapt. Rebranding at its finest. Just ask Zeus, who didn’t just defeat Cronus—he erased the Titans from the memory of mortals. The Aesir did the same thing to the Vanir, and look how well that turned out for the Vanir.”
“Mmhm,” Alice muttered. “A lot of rebranding, a lot of pretending. Ever hear of Xolotl, the Aztec god? Refused to die, just like the rest of you egomaniacs.”
Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, his grin widening. “Ah, Xolotl. Never a fan of staying dead, was he? But let’s talk about the juicy ones. The Canaanite gods. El, Baal, Asherah—they were worshipped as supreme beings. And then came monotheism—bam! Gone. Rewritten. Tossed aside like yesteryear’s fashion.”
Alice cut in, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “You think that’s bad? Try being my kind of god. You know the one who watches over the mortals, seeing them destroy each other—again—and knowing all too well that none of them are ever going to make it out alive. Fun.”
Loki’s grin grew sharper. “And the missing gods,” he continued, spinning his dagger through his fingers. “Baldr, my dear brother, shoved into Hel’s realm and waiting for some prophesied return. Enlil—the god of wind, who was once said to rule the heavens, but just vanished. One minute he was king of everything, and the next—poof—nowhere.”
Alice leaned in, eyes glittering with amusement. “Oh, you’re right. Where do the old gods go when they get tired of playing? I’ve always wondered. Maybe they’re napping somewhere, waiting to make their grand return. But I’ve got a feeling it’s more like… lurking.”
Loki flicked his dagger again, this time catching it with deadly precision. “You’re close, love. The real question is… what happens when these forgotten gods decide to take back their thrones?”
The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows in the corners of the studio stretching just a little too long. Alice sat back, her face unreadable. “So, let me get this straight: All those gods who’ve ‘vanished’? They never really died, did they? They’re still around, hiding in the cracks of history. Waiting. And one day, they might just come back for the seats they were too good for in the first place.”
Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “Now you’re catching on, love. The gods don’t vanish. They wait. And when they’re ready…”
Loki’s voice was low, dangerous. “When they’re ready, the world will remember just who was in charge.”
Alice gave them both a wicked grin, her voice a dark purr. “Oh, I’m sure they’re all waiting. And I’m even more sure that the moment they return, they’ll find me waiting for them too.”
The candlelight flickered once more, and the shadows stretched even farther, as if the room itself was holding its breath.
Because somewhere, hidden in the forgotten corners of time, the old gods were waiting. And when they decided to take back their thrones, everything would change.
Verdict:
The gods don’t die. They don’t vanish. They adapt, hiding in the cracks of history, biding their time. Rewritten by conquerors, whispered about in dark corners, the Forbidden Gods of myth may be closer than we think. The real question is: when they finally return… what happens then?
🖋️✨📜🖤
