Freya stood there, she had nothing. Her parents were gone, her brother and sister had disappeared and the desolate canvas on which she stood had destroyed.
She wanted to drop to her knees and be consumed by the ground beneath. She wanted it all to be over and for her to instantly cease to exist, extinguished as quickly as fire in a vacuum. She felt the life pass from her with every breath exhausted from her lungs.
Her eyes closed blocking the pain and suffering while pacifying her eyes from the indescribable scene of pain assaulting her from every direction.
She clutched in her hand the only thing she had left, the only thing that mattered. Her pain, confusion and hurt began to dissipate, evolve and transform almost instantaneously. Her fingers gripped firmly compelling her to open her eyes. She might have had no friends or family left but she had the one thing that mattered, hope. She took a deep breath and bravely flung them open exposing herself again to the destitute landscape. She was unwavering and unflinching, her eyes remained resolute and intrepid defying everything she had ever been forced to believe.
Her anger was replaced with what would grow to define her. She was still here for a reason, her reason. Her grit, passion and perseverance had taken her this far, why couldn’t she succeed? As far as she could see she had two distinctly adversarial options: accept her fate and allow herself to be lost for eternity or refuse.
Freya, then, had only one choice. To remain and reject her fate. She never believed in destiny and had escaped it her entire life, It would not incapacitate her today, It would never debilitate her. She was strong and powerful, she decided her own fate. No one or nothing could ever shackle her and remove her freedom. For today it began, she was going to take back everything that had been stolen.
Defiantly she dared to open her fist. She knew what this would mean, the trouble it would begin and the set of events it would set in motion but she needed to know. The piece of paper gripped firmly was folded into a tight ball. Slowly, she unravelled it, fold after fold, revealing an impossibly large sheet of paper the size of a large bed sheet. What it revealed rocked her to the core; nothing. She had come all this way, overcome such adversity and recovered the only thing she thought could help her and all she was treated to was blankness.
Despondently her eyes scoured the emptiness of the sheet. Eventually it found the smallest, almost illegible scribbled note: ‘serendipity’. The hope the clung to desperately tried to escape her but she clung to the only thing she had left. If she was going to do this, if she was going to force unprecedented change, she would have to do it herself without any help. In that instant she knew what she had to do. She faced up to it and accepted it as her duty. She hardened herself to the world, took a deep breath and took the most difficult step, she dared to move forward.
Freya would have to go home.
Her slow walk evolved in a run then a sprint.
And with that it all started exactly as it had been foresaw.