Edmund woke in a daze; not knowing what happened, he slowly stands up. “Ah, ugh. What happened?” He says aloud. He looks around with somewhat clouded eyes and sees many logs stacked upon each other, and on top of it was a boar, its stomach cut open and its blood staining the wood. Edmund's eyes widen as he recalls what had previously occurred. Oh heavens. So it wasn't a dream. He thinks with dread.

You are awake, young warrior. As you rested I built the pyre. Your offering is prepared. All that's left to do is to set it aflame. I leave that honor to you, hunter.

Edmund lets out a pent up breath. What’s done is done. He thinks with some frustration. Edmund collapses onto his knees before the offering, and the words flow out of his mouth like wine flowing from pitcher’s spout. “Oh heavens, and unknown god. Thy will is done, boar slain and offered on a pyre. For why you ask these things of us mere mortals, I have no understanding; why blood must be shed on your behalf, why virgins must be tainted, or why wars must be fought for your cause. No, I have no understanding. But the work is done and I offer it to you. Take it as you take from the world, as you take from those who toil under the sun. I have no fealty for you but I am powerless before you, so consider it a prayer. May it console your spirit.” Edmund says without hindrance, somewhat spiteful in his manner.

**BOOM**

An echo of thunder resounds, and a lightning bolt strikes down from the sky. Seared by the heat of the strike, the pyre is set aflame.

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Edmund watches with dreary eyes as the flame builds higher and higher, engulfing all of the wood and the boar. He lets out a breath of relief. It is done. He says in his mind.

Edmund continues to linger on his knees, his energy draining from his body as the setting sun shines down through the trees.

Edmund continues to linger, watching the fire, waiting for it to all burn away, breathing in both the smoke and the smell of burnt flesh.

As Edmund continues to wait, clouds begin to gather, and then, eventually, rain began to fall.

With helpless eyes, Edmund watches as the rain falls onto the pyre, wetting the wood and what was left of the boar. The rain continues to fall until the fire went out, leaving behind ashes and partially burnt wood and flesh.

As Edmund stands to leave under the dark sky he hears a whisper.

Well done, child.

Edmund lets out another breath and begins to walk home.

…

…

Edmund walks into the house, his clothes wet and dirty.

“And where have you been? Look at you! You're drenched!” Edmund's mother calls out.

Edmund walks in and takes off his shoes before closing the door.

“Well? What happened?” Edmund's mother asks. She quickly goes to other room to grab a dry cloth before walking back in. “You were out all day. You're father has already eaten and got in bed. Sit down, young man. You must be starving!” She calls out.

Edmund lets out a breath and takes a seat on the wooden table chair.

“It’s nothing, mom,” He says. “I was out offering a prayer to a deity.” He explains.

Heidi’s eyes widen. “A deity? Why would you do that?” She asks.

Edmund lets out a bitter smile. “Oh, I’m not really sure. For good luck I guess?” He says.

“Good luck? Well, I guess you can’t have enough of that. So which deity?” Heidi asks.

Edmund leans back on his chair. “His name is Galladril. Have you heard of him?” He asks.

“Galladril?” Heidi says as she looks up in thought. “Ah, the thunder god. Yes, I’ve heard of him. A great warrior, I hear.” She says. “But why him? Why not to Hexa, the goddess of love? You could use a girl to keep you company, you’re getting around to that age.” She says.

Edmund lets out a bitter chuckle. “I don’t know. It seemed fitting.” He says. If I could have chosen one, I would have. He thinks.