“You are Rukhel- Rukhel of the Barren Valley. I know the reason for your sojourn, Rukhel.”

The woman, Rukhel, nodded, tears spilling from her eyes. As though a force seized her, she prostrated before the old god, forehead on the cold stone floor. Her tears continued, spilling on the floor. 

“O, god of eld- you must know I come before you, for I, among the few, remember you!” she cried. “You know me as Rukhel of the Barren Valley, but you knew us when we held a different name- The Tselich! And our land once was the Blue Valley, so fertile had our lands been, the grass was rich and blue.”

Impressed with Rukhel’s knowledge of the past, the old god softened his harshness, and placing his head on the floor, he tried to look the ground-facing worshiper in her eyes. 

“You remember well, Rukhel.” His voice softened like the trailing thunder rolling at the end of a storm.  

“I know your intent, but you must voice it, or else I cannot lend you and the people my power.” 

Encouraged by the god’s affirmation, Rukhel opened her eyes. Seeing the great light from his eyes that bathed the chamber in light like a bonfire, Rukhel lifted her head and sat up, kneeling still, though. 

In the glow, the old god noted with a sorrow of her tear-streaked face, stained with wet ash, earth and blood. 

But Rukhel held her head straight and found a stronger voice ring from her throat: 

“O god of eld! It is true, our people forgot you, and the oldest gods, too. We made, in our blindness, Misfortune our god. And long have we been ruled by invaders. Invaders who forged shackles unseen and have bound us all these years. We were few, but proud, my god. Now we are fewer, and even fewer still hold any pride left. We are like the withered grass, choked by the sand brought by our invaders and oppressors-” here a sob choked her. She paused, wincing in pain, for her womb endured too much strain. 

“Pray, I implore you, my god! We will not forget you and the other of eld. Lend us your strength, just this once!  Diminish our oppressors! Cast unto them equal fold of what they dealt unto us these years!  Return our power and prosperity, so we may do good on this earth! Let our valley be blue again!” She cried, her voice ringing in the chamber like a clear bell sounding for the first time. 

The child kicked harder now. She held her womb protectively, as though comforting her child within. “Please, my god. I-I...I-” she hesitated her last plea, for she feared its pettiness and selfishness in the greater plan for her people and the land. But the god’s severe brow eased and encouraged her with his gaze. 

“I want my child to be free! I want my child to run through a blue valley again. I want my child to hold their head high. I want my child to never eat the hard, hard bread of bitterness I have all my life. I want my child to smile and laugh, as never I did.”

“Rukhel- you must remember that with all things, comes a price.” A pensive look dimmed the brilliance of the god’s countenance. A vestige of regret, a regret beget of admiration and compassion formed on his features. 

“Nothing is given freely. It is the Law of All That Is. I cannot violate the Law, as neither can you. What do you offer in exchange for what you ask for?”

Rukhel nodded. She prepared for this cost. 

“My god, the greatest price I can pay, as you and I know, is with my life. By the end of the night, when dawn arrives, I know you shall deliver the people and enemies will be humbled. I know you shall return our power again. The valley will be blue again. And by dawn, I know I shall give birth to my child. After my child enters this world, you shall take me out of this world. I give my life as the price. I know I am not righteous, nor pure, not even noble in my soul. I am the weakest and most selfish of all. An unworthy sacrifice. But I give unto you freely and wholly. At dawn, when my child’s cries are heard in this world, when they take their first breath, I shall take my last at your will, my god.” She bowed her head and folded her hands in supplication, though her hands trembled in grief she would not savor the sweetness of motherhood. 

The god shook his mighty head. “No, Rukhel. I cannot take what is not valued the most. You value your life little. You hate yourself. I cannot take what you hate.”

“But I value my life! I want to see my child! I shall never see them now. I wanted to see the valley blue again. I wanted to hold my head high again, my god!”

“But Rukhel, you always have spited yourself. You let your shortcomings unravel your own happiness and goodness. You think yourself worse than you are, and it is rooted within you like a poisonous tree.”

Grief and panic seized Rukhel. Would the god cast her off and reject her pleas? Would she and her people- her child- live like this in eternity?

“What can you take from me, my god? I have nothing. Not even myself, as you say!” she cried. She bit her lip and a sob emerged again. 

The regret waxed on the old god’s face. A weight weighed heavy on his head and he lowered his head. “Rukhel- what do you value the most?”

Rukhel blinked, staring at the floor. She thought and thought. Cradling her womb, tender and pained nearing birth, she felt her child kick again. Her eyes widened in the horror of her epiphany. 

Her child. 

“No! Please, my god! No!” She wailed, her voice broke. 

“The Law is cruel, but I am not. But the Law we must obey. But because of your willingness, Rukhel, because of your courage, I shall help you divert this fate if you can.”

“Please tell me!”

“You shall have a son- he will not be tall, not boast any bodily strength. But his mind will surpass most of his people. And with this power, he will grow proud. He will seek power through magic, old magic. He will desire to become a god like myself. And when he becomes a man, when he is ten and eight summers old, he will become like a lesser god unto himself. And you Rukhel, who will ride a dragon this night, will slay the dragon who becomes your son at that time. It is the future I have foreseen. But the future can be altered- like changing the course of a river with mortal tools and will. But prepare for this cost, should, what is foreseen, comes to be, Rukhel.”

“But how will the price be paid if my son avoids his fate?” Her mind reeled, and disbelief wracked her. How could her child, her son, become like the old god before her? How could she slay her own son? 

“You will pay with the other thing you valued most- your motherhood. He will grow proud and cold-hearted. He will grow to spite you, and your heart will be empty and cold like a fireless hearth as he increases.” His voice hardened, as he arched his neck back in bitterness, making his point,  but he softened and lowered his head again.  

“But console yourself- he shall find happiness, but not in your time. This will be the other price you pay, Rukhel, if you pay not the first. You can alter these courses, but even I, old god that I am, cannot warrant you which one will come to be. Time will tell us all, for only Time knows, Rukhel.” concluded the old god. 

A conflict of grief, rage and gratitude wrestled within Rukhel, pulling and twisting like the pain and pounding anticipation her birth pangs now began. She looked up at her people’s old god, tears blurred his mighty form and face before her. 

“I cannot- I no longer d-des-sire th-this!” she cried. Sobs wracked her body like ague and muffled her throat like dry wool. 

A piercing pain throbbed in her head, as though her decision threatened to cleave her skull in two. 

Seeing her despair, the old god carefully stretched his neck on the ground and nudged his cheek beside her curled up figure. A motion seized Rukhel, for fear and reverence gave way, and she, encouraged by the god, threw her arms over his neck and pressed her cheek against his face. Freely, she wept, her tears falling against the scales of her god’s face. 

“Rukhel-” began the god, his voice sounded not from his mouth, but resonated in silence, within Rukhel herself, like a thought. Rukhel’s eyes opened. Her tears abated and her vision became clear. “What will you do?” He asked. 

“I know what must be done,” She answered. “But I am too weak, my god.”

“I shall lend you my strength, brave Rukhel- but will you wield it?” The god offered. 

A fierce nod Rukhel shook. “I shall, my god!”