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Rest, child, and I will tell you a story. A long time ago, an old man who wore a cloak and a wide-brimmed hat came before a great tree. He had two eyes, and he walked on foot. He carried a spear and a coil of rope. With the rope he hung himself on this tree for nine days and nine nights, and he died. This, you know. You know, likewise, that he returned from death enlightened, with knowledge and wisdom granted to him by the power of his own sacrifice. What you do not know is the content of the knowledge he gained. Some say he learned magic. No. He learned something far more valuable. He learned the great secret of the universe.
It is a secret that most have an inkling of, but few will admit to themselves. It is known well by the Three Maidens, and by the Thinker, and by the Bringer of Sorrow. I think it was also known by the Screamer, near the end. So I am not unique in my knowledge (For of course the man is I). But I am unique in my insight, which I gained after I further sacrificed my eye to the Thinker’s well. I have gained true understanding of the mechanics of the world beyond what any other may claim. And now, I shall share the secret with you.
The truth of the world is that everything which exists is governed by its own unique set of rules and limitations. Everything has a set of actions it may take and actions that it may not. A bird may fly through the air, but it may not survive an arrow piercing its heart. A king may order a man to be executed, but may not live without food or drink. A god may eat of the Rejuvenator’s apples to extend their life, but may not escape their fate come Ragnarök. The list goes on. This is a truth so simple that if a man were to simply consider the subject for a moment without bias he would immediately be able to grasp it. However, the particular knowledge of the tree is the method by which these rules can be manipulated. This is the true power of the runes, which I could use before my sacrifice but could only take full advantage of afterward. It is the power to change almost all of the rules of reality, with nothing but words.
When I first achieved this understanding, I felt that the world was mine. I truly believed that with my new power, I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. It was the only time that I have ever truly felt like a god. And it did not last, because I came to realize, little by little, that I was still limited. That I still was not free. This revelation came when I spoke to the Bringer of Sorrow, rose her from her cold grave and angered her with my queries. She spoke the most profound truth I had heard since my sacrifice. She spoke of the death of the world. She made me realize that even with the runes, I could not fight fate.
This may strike you as odd. After all, I have since spent years beyond counting in attempts to delay or prevent this doom, to prevent my fate. Why would I do such a thing if I believed that it was truly and completely impossible? The answer to this is the heart of my story, and the reason why I choose to tell it to you. For within the foretold twilight of the gods, I saw my salvation.
The most interesting things in the universe, I think, are those which are unintentional. The rules which are not rules, but instead accidental byproducts of that which is written. The words between the lines, so small that you cannot see them unless you look very, very closely and from exactly the right angle. I have found such a rule, the misbegotten spawn of logic and magic, and I will use it to its fullest. You see, there is the rule I told you of before, that everything which exists has limitations, and the rule I realized later, that the string of fate is a limitation most unbreakable. The logical progression indicates that everything which exists is bound by fate. I took this statement and I bound it in chains in my mind, tore it apart and rebuilt it over and over again in ways that would make the greatest torturers alive stare in horror, until it revealed to me its secret. Because, after all, everything has limitations. You need only find them. And I eventually came across the weakness in this rule, the operative word: existence. Do you understand? I realized that all I must do if I wish to escape my fate is cease to exist.
This, mind you, is quite a tall order. After all, I am a king, a father, and a god. In fact, I am the greatest of kings, and of fathers, and of gods, to ever live. There is a great deal of existence to remove. But I have all the time in the world. And I am nothing if not diligent.
I devised a scheme that would span millennia, a scheme which would take my kingdom, my family, and my power, and allow it to fade into the abyss. The sands of time will consume us, and the forces of the world will topple us from our position in reality. All that I need do is to tempt the hearts of man away from us, to make our stories cruel and unwelcoming enough that they turn elsewhere for truth. I act out of “desperation” in a foolhardy attempt to prevent Ragnarök, and in doing so I make myself and my pantheon seem cruel and monstrous. I will force my kingdom to commit as many atrocities as it takes, until the people turn their backs on us. But something stands in my way. And it is you, my child who shines like the midday sun. For you are the only being purely good enough to deserve the worship we are offered. You bring light. And so, for my plan to succeed, you must die.
I love my brother, but he is a fool. He is, in fact, the worst kind of fool, for he believes himself to be intelligent. And so he was all too easy to manipulate. Murder, after all, is the easiest thing in the world. I wish for your sake and for his that this wasn’t necessary. But I learned very long ago that nothing can be achieved without sacrifice. In the days to come I will capture my brother the netmaker with his own creation and bind him beneath the world with the entrails of his sons. His screams will shake the earth. I can never tell him truthfully why this must happen, for if he knew he would resist me and perhaps that would cause trouble. But I can at least tell you. You deserve this explanation, and you cannot hurt my plan. After all, you are dead, my son. And if I succeed, there will be no Ragnarök. So there will be no resurrection for you. I would say that I am sorry to have done this to you, but I have told quite enough lies in my life. All I will say to you is that I wish you a peaceful rest, and I hope you have the sense to hate me. Goodnight.
I am an old man with a long beard and a single, piercing eye. I wear a cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, and I own a spear and a horse. I am well-liked by ravens. Who am I? I am nobody. And I am free.