No! It wasn't possible! She was dead! Crushed beneath the frozen limbs of the Yggdrasill. Her Yggdrasill. She tried to be angry, to be furious. She tried to let the fury well up inside her, but every time she tried it was quenched by her surprise, guilt, and the one emotion she never thought she'd feel again: Love.
He stood before her motionless, save for the flickering of his body through its textures. His ice-covered skin shifted and spun: Smooth, rigid, pointy, flat. She wanted to reach out, to feel the cold of his skin streak with warmth at her touch.
Her long dead love. His cold black eyes glistening with the twin-suns light, barely noticeable through the deathly rapid-fire blizzard.
Her voice came out smooth, her butter colored eyes welling up with tears.
"Hekate, my diamond, my life, my love," Ymir spoke for the first time, his voice rocky, yet alluring and beautiful.
Ymir. One of the Titans, the species that dominated Earth before the Elder Race. After the Elders had waged a war against them, and won, Odin, the Chief of the Elders, and his beautiful wife, Juno, had made sure that the Chief Titans were destroyed, mind, body, and spirit. Ymir, somehow, had escaped the destruction of the soul. If only Hekate had known sooner, if only she had known that his spirit still remained…
But unbeknownst to either the Titans or the Elders, she and the Frost Giant had been in love. Hiding their infatuation for each other, from both clans, it was the day they decided to run to the end of the Earth, away from the Great War, that Ymir had been murdered.
No, not murdered. Annihilated.
But now she had found his spirit, his soul, the aether of his being. And now they were united. Even through death, they were together.
"My Love," the Frost Giant began, "You have been destroyed by ice, by Excalibur, the sword which I created." He breathed in deeply, savoring the last memories he would have of Hekate.
"Ymir, we are together," She was beginning to worry, her brows pulled together in confusion, "Why would that matter?" They were in a Shadowrealm, the World of Ghosts. And, probably because of her love for Ymir, she had been pulled to this particularly nasty realm. Her love's prison.
"Hekate, I have been here for eons, I know every dying secret and every living breath of this place," Something in his voice made her take a step back, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "My Dear, I can, I must, send you back to the world of the living.
"No! I will not leave you!"
"You have no choice; I cannot bear to watch you rot here in this place."
"Then come with me!" Hekate pleaded, "I was the most powerful of the Elders! I can tear this Shadowrealm apart piece by piece! I can release you!"
He shook his head, eyes downcast. "No, every immortal human, Elder, Were creature, and Next Generation on the planet, plus the adjoining Shadowrealms, would hunt me down like an animal." Tears were streaming down Hekate's jet black face.
"No," She whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ymir glided in an angelic manner towards her. He slowly pressed his cold, icy lips against hers and..
Thump, Thump, Thump.
Hekate's own heartbeat startled her; she strained to open her eyes in this new, light filled world. She was sitting on a dirt back road in Mill Valley, California. Unbeknownst to her, a large, vine encrusted hedge was slowly reforming itself behind her.
She was Alive.
But without Ymir, she was dead.
Then a thought hit: She had spent millennia, no, eons, in the Underworld Shadowrealm and she had spent her whole life studying the Dark Arts. And now that she knew where Ymir was, and that his soul still existed, she could bring him to life...
Then she stopped. How? If she brought him back in his ice covered body, he would be instantly destroyed by every immortal being on the face of the Earth.
There was another way. It had only been attempted by one other being...ever. And it had almost worked...if the patient hadn't spontaneously burst into flames.
But she would be more careful.
There was an intricate, complicated, and extremely delicate spell that could bring back the dead; but in another's body. What if Ymir's soul could be transferred into the vessel of another being; specifically a human.
But would a humani be able to contain Ymir's power? Yes, it was Ymir's soul, and his mind, just his memories would be gone.
The Goddess with Three Faces shrugged as she stood up: Ymir. Alive. It was worth a shot.
The nurse checked her clock, 6:06. Another one scuttled up to the sweated woman lying in the hospital bed, her pulse was still.
One of the other nurses handed a beautiful baby boy with dark, cold ices and a slight bluish tinge to his skin, to the female doctor. She lifted the baby into her arms. When he grew older he would be different from the other humani: Stronger, smarter, all-out better. He wouldn't remember his previous life or his eons of memories, but, worst, and best, of all, he would forget the love he felt for the Goddess with Three Faces.
"Doctor, the parents are both dead" a young nurse said, interrupting her reverie, "What will his name be?"
The Doctor regarded the girl with stunning butter-toned eyes, "We shall name him," She said, smiling down at the baby, recalling millennia of memories they had shared, "Ymir."