The Well of Youth

1. The injustice

The world was made up of blinding light and pain, not just physical but spiritual. It felt as if her very soul was being ripped out of her body.

As Beira's vision came back into focus, her eyes followed the glow of magic contained within the crystal Dagda had just taken off her chest. She could still feel a part of herself contained within it, pulsing with divine power while her heart was numb and empty. She wanted to scream and thrash, but she was bound by his magic, which made her a silent spectator to the crime these gods were committing.

While Dagda violated her, their son, Angus, and the wench he fell for, Bryde, waited expectantly in the other part of the room, holding hands. They too watched the crystal, beaming at each other, ignoring where the power had come from.

Dagda placed the crystal in the maiden's waiting hands, and chanted, "Bryde, beloved of Angus, this power is now yours. Let it claim you, seep into you, so you may become the most you can be."

"So mote it be," Bryde said and inhaled sharply as the glow of the crystal enveloped her.

A gust of wind swept her brown hair about, and a blinding light filled the room again. The air reeked of flowers and spring. Beira squinted through the brightness, unable to take her eyes off the crystal. She couldn't feel the connection to its power anymore.

When the glow dissipated, Bryde gave the drained crystal back to Dagda. Their grins sickened Beira's stomach.

Dagda sighed in satisfaction. "It is time to celebrate your union. Today, you become my daughter."

"My love," Angus said softly and leaned his forehead on Bryde's. "I can already feel your powers."

His long hair framed her face like a veil but her grin was easily discernible between his locks.

"It feels divine," she said.

Beira wanted to scream at the traitors, 'Of course, it feels divine. It's my divinity!'

The seriousness of what had just happened started to fully sink in and fill her heart with dread. The unforgivable crime they committed was unprecedented. She would never have believed any deity capable of stealing another deity's powers, especially not hers, but the hollowness within her chest was blaring evidence of everything she was robbed of.

While the insufferable lovebirds cooed at each other, Dagda approached her, leaning his immense weight on his staff. Backstabbing bastard dared to stroke her cheek like a lover.

"I hope that one day you will understand why this had to happen. You crossed the line, Cailleach."

If she could, she would have spat in his face. She hated the name he gave her and refused to acknowledge it. While it originally meant "the Veiled One," people have started using it when meaning "Old Woman" and that did not describe her at all. She was eternally young and beautiful. She was the Goddess of Creation, the Ruler of Reincarnation. She was Beira, the Queen of Winter. That was the only name she would respond to.

"I enjoy this silent you," he said with a smirk, and she wished she could smite him for it. "It's easier to talk to you this way."

He scratched his short beard and looked over at his son.

"Angus and his beloved will put your powers to good use. They will not be wasted." His eyebrows knitted in worry as if he felt sorry for her. "Farewell, Cailleach. This is the last time Angus, Bryde, or I will ever see you. You are mortal now. Enjoy the rest of your life and make the most of it."

Angus took Bryde's hand in his, and they walked away, disappearing into the thin air. Dagda looked back one last time and waved his staff which released Beira from her invisible binds. She stumbled but straightened to her full height.

"Leave the crystal," she said firmly, careful to not let her anguish seep into her voice.

He smiled in a patronizing way and made the crystal float over to her. "As you wish. It is empty now anyway."

Then he disappeared from sight, leaving her in her mountain castle alone.

Beira clutched the cold crystal and shoved it at her chest, longing to feel what was stolen from her. The sharp edges dug into her flesh, and she winced in pain. She was truly mortal if something so trivial could cause her discomfort.

She fell on her knees, finally overcome with despair, and moaned when that also hurt. She was powerless, weak, and fragile like a mere human.

She didn't know what she was anymore but one thing was clear — Beira was no longer a goddess.

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Trivia: How to pronounce Cailleach Bhearra: Ka-leh-ach Beh-rah.