A smile came to Lady Freya's face as they reached Igor's gate. The structure was formidable, with rugged stone pillars and fierce wolf engravings that reflected the raw power and untamed spirit of the barbarian god. It was a symbol of her heritage, the primal force that had always been a part of her.

As Lady Freya approached the gate, she saw a vision materialize before her—an image of herself in her younger years, fierce and unrestrained, clad in barbarian armor, wielding her mighty sword. Her younger self exuded strength, determination, and the unyielding spirit that had carried her through countless battles.

Beside this vision stood another figure—her father, the chieftain of their tribe. His imposing presence, stern yet loving eyes, and the rugged features that spoke of a life lived in the harsh wilderness. Lady Freya's heart swelled with emotion at the sight of him.

Her younger self turned to her father, a look of admiration and love in her eyes. With a powerful embrace, they hugged. It was a reunion that transcended time, a testament to the enduring bond of family and heritage.

After the embrace, she and her father mounted their horses—magnificent steeds that embodied the wild and free spirit of the barbarians. With a powerful roar, they spurred their horses into a gallop, charging toward the horizon. Lady Freya watched them ride off, feeling a profound sense of connection to her roots and the strength that had always been a part of her.

Lady Freya’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She felt whole, her spirit resonating with the balance she had achieved between her past and present selves. With a deep breath, she turned to the next gate.

This gate, the gate of Artur, radiated a regal and majestic aura. As Lady Freya approached, she felt a sense of pride and fulfillment, knowing she had served Artur with unwavering dedication.

Just beyond the gate, Freya saw herself as an esteemed Lady of Artur. Clad in regal attire, her red hair adorned with a diamond tiara, she stood tall and dignified, embodying grace, wisdom, and nobility.

From behind her, Sir Alden appeared. Clad in his knightly armor, he looked just as Freya remembered—strong, noble, and with eyes that held the depth of their shared history. A warm smile spread across his face, mirroring the love and respect that had always defined their bond.

Freya watched as Sir Alden took Lady Frey’s hand in his. They began to move in unison, their forms intertwining as they embraced. In a seamless transition, they began to dance, their movements graceful and harmonious. The regal attire of Lady Freya and the knightly armor of Sir Alden shimmered in the ethereal light, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

As they danced, the gate of Artur radiated with even greater brilliance, its symbols of justice, honor, and leadership glowing with a divine light. The scene before Freya was a testament to the enduring love and partnership that had defined their lives together.

With each step of their dance, they waltzed deeper into Artur's celestial realm until they vanished from Freya’s sight.

After they vanished, Freya felt a subtle shift within herself, an awareness that something had changed. She looked down and saw that her regal gown had transformed into rogue attire. The dark leather armor fit snugly, adorned with hidden pockets and sleek daggers. She felt lighter, more agile, and a sense of cunning and stealth washed over her.

It was then that she realized there was one more gate to pass through—Antioch's gate.

Angus, noticing her new appearance, chuckled. "I saved the best for last. Come."

Freya nodded, feeling a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. She followed Angus to the final gate.

As Freya and Angus approached Antioch's gate, a grand structure adorned with symbols of mystery and trickery, the air around them shimmered with an otherworldly light.

Angus led the way. As they stepped through the gate, a transformation overtook him. His simple rogue attire began to shift and change, morphing into the elaborate and regal outfit of Valerian Starcrest. His cloak billowed with a dramatic flourish, and his eyes twinkled with mischief and wisdom.

"Welcome to the realm of Antioch, Freya." Angus remarked, his voice taking on the smooth, charismatic tone of an influencer.

Freya glanced around, taking in the ethereal beauty of Antioch's domain. The surroundings were a blend of shadow and light, a place where illusion and reality intertwined seamlessly. It was a realm that reflected the trickster god's nature—a place of endless possibilities and hidden truths.

As they walked further into the realm, Freya noticed that the very air seemed to hum with magic and mystery. Whispers of forgotten secrets and ancient tales floated on the breeze, and the ground beneath their feet shimmered with the faint glow of enchanted runes.

Angus turned to Freya, his expression serious despite his playful demeanor. "Freya, this is where your journey culminates. Each gate you have passed through has revealed a part of your spirit, a facet of your existence. Here, in Antioch's realm, you will find the final piece of the puzzle."

Freya's eyes narrowed with a touch of skepticism. "Why would the final piece be here?" she asked. "I served Artur and Igor faithfully, but never Antioch. What connection do I have to this realm?"

Angus smiled enigmatically. "Ah, Freya, the paths we tread are often woven by threads we cannot see. Antioch has had a hand in your destiny for a long time, more than you might realize."

As he spoke, the shimmering air around them seemed to intensify, the very fabric of reality shifting and bending. Angus's form began to transform once more. His outfit shifted, becoming the dark robe adorned with feathers and the raven mask she had seen many years ago in the tavern.

Freya stared in astonishment. "Angus... the trickster... it was you?"

"Aye, Freya. It was me. Antioch has many faces,” Angus said “and I wear them all."

Freya felt a rush of memories from that stormy night in the tavern. The trickster's enigmatic presence, the mysterious cards, and the sense that her life was on the brink of a dramatic change. She had been right to feel a connection then, even if she hadn't fully understood it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Freya asked, a tone of betrayal in her voice.

"Because you needed to find your own way," Angus replied. "Guides can only lead so far. The rest is up to you."

Freya's inner barbarian rage flared up, and in a swift, fluid motion, she pulled out her dagger. The blade glinted in the ethereal light as she pointed it at Angus. "Enough with the riddles!" she demanded, her voice echoing with fury. "Tell me the truth, you bloody fool!"

"A fool, you say?" Angus replied with a mischievous grin.

Angus's form began to shimmer and shift, his features transforming into the colorful and patchwork attire of a fool. Bells jangled softly from his cap, and his face took on a painted, mischievous expression that seemed to echo with the laughter of unseen jesters. Freya's eyes widened in recognition; the dream she had all those years ago flooded back with startling clarity.

"You..," she whispered, the realization dawning on her. "You are Antioch."

Antioch grinned widely. “Well, it took you long enough to figure it out.”

Freya's grip tightened on her dagger, the blade still pointed at the trickster god. "Why play these games?”

Antioch's playful demeanor remained, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because, my dear Freya, games are fun!

Freya's anger simmered just below the surface, her grip on the dagger unwavering. "So, I was just a pawn in your game, then? All these years?"

Antioch's expression softened, his jesting tone giving way to something more sincere. "Oh, Freya, far from it. You are far more important than a pawn, or a disciple even. You are my friend.”

Freya's eyes narrowed, her skepticism evident. "A friend? What kind of friend manipulates someone's life for their own amusement?"

Antioch sighed, the bells on his cap jingling softly. "A friend who sees the potential within, who nudges and guides not for amusement alone. I saw a spark in you, a fire that needed the right kindling to burn brightly."

Freya's grip on the dagger relaxed slightly as she considered his words. "So, everything I've done, everything I've become... it was all because of you?"

Antioch shook his head. "No, Freya. Everything you've done and everything you've become is because of you. I may have set things in motion, but you made the choices, fought the battles, and embraced the journey. I merely provided the stage. You were the one who performed the play."

Freya lowered the dagger, her expression thoughtful. "And what now? What more is there for me to understand?"

"Everything, Freya." Antioch replied.

"What do you mean?" She asked

Antioch gestured to the shimmering landscape around them. "The aspects of you that passed through those eight gates will serve and worship the gods of those realms. Each piece of your spirit, a tribute to the domains you touched and influenced. But here, in my realm, I release you from any servitude to me."

Freya's eyes widened in surprise. "You release me?"

Antioch nodded. "Yes, Freya. You have fulfilled your purpose, and more. The other gods will cherish the aspects of you that honor them, but here, you are free."

Freya felt a sense of liberation wash over her, a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying lifting from her shoulders. "Why? Why would you do this?"

Antioch smiled warmly, the trickster's mischief replaced with genuine affection. "Because, my friend, true freedom is the greatest gift I can give. This realm will always be your home, but there is so much more beyond it. It will be fun to watch you discover all that lies ahead."

Freya's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Antioch. For everything."

“Don’t go soft on me now, barbarian,” Antioch teased as his form shimmered, reverting to the familiar guise of Angus. “Now, go and explore—and make sure to stir up a little trouble along the way.”

Freya smiled and took a step closer to Antioch. "Before I go, there's something you need to understand," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "What I'm about to do is not a sign of worship."

Confusion flickered across Antioch's features. "What do you mean?"

With a determined gleam in her eyes, Freya leaned in and pressed her lips to Antioch's in a passionate kiss. It lasted but a moment, yet in that fleeting exchange, there was a depth of feeling and understanding that transcended words.

As they parted, Antioch's eyes widened in surprise, then softened into a smile. "To another time and another life," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.

Freya echoed his words with a nod and a smile of her own. "To another time and another life."

With a final glance back at Antioch, Freya turned and walked away, her heart lighter and her spirit free.  

As she stepped out into the realm and beyond, Freya felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. There was so much to explore, so much to discover. And with each step she took, she knew that she carried within her the strength, wisdom, and grace of a life well lived—a life that had been shaped by love, courage, and the unwavering spirit of a barbarian.