Ashlyn, my child, come close, for what I have to say is of utmost importance.
When Ashlyn was alone in her tiny apartment sometimes, Brigid would come to her as a tall, motherly woman in her thirties, her eyes like golden honey and her hair softly tousled fire that quietly crackled, filling in the silence with a warm, reassuring sound. She sat patiently on the couch in a gown the color of the morning sky, dainty white hands seated in her lap as she looked up expectantly to her godling. Ashlyn was not used to the expression on her god's face: it was not one of confidence, of gentle reassurance, but of weariness and grief. The girl crossed to the foot of the couch and knelt obediently beside the mother goddess, laying down her backpack and looking up in meek silence. In the presence of a goddess was no time to make use of a loud mouth.
"A tragedy has occurred today," Brigid began, leaning forward and pushing Ashlyn's bangs back behind one ear, "A tragedy most brutal and unsportmanlike in the arts of war." Even though Brigid was a goddess of war and the martial arts, it still seemed to pain her at the sight of bloodshed, even with Ashlyn eager to try her sword on something more substantial than straw dolls. "Southern was destroyed, using weapons that were beyond defensible, in an attempt to eradicate all of the other known Players."
For Ashlyn, the Game was something of a myth, even moreso than the one she was kneeling under. She had heard talk of Players and other gods in other Cities, but as far as she knew, the Game had never spread to Central, nor would it ever. She was a lone prophet in a sea of normal mortals, with no one to fight...and no one who understood what it meant to have a voice in the back of your head and yet not be crazy. Ashlyn wasn't sure which of the two predicaments was more frustrating, in all honesty.
"So, am I the only...?" Her voice trailed off, unwilling to speak the dreadful thought that just came to mind.
"I have just spoken to Persephone, the referee of the Game." Brigid smiled then, a more familiar face for Ashlyn. "It would seem that a few of our numbers have escaped the blast beforehand, and are making the journey to Central. Here, they will seek refuge and continue the Game." The goddess patted her charge's shoulder affectionately, tracing a finger on the boiled leather of her shoulder guard. "It seems that you have forged your sword and your armor at the perfect time. As much as I would have preferred to teach you more, your challengers will be here in no less than three hours time. We will be meeting them in Oldpeka, where they will dock their boats, and Lady Persephone has offered us two weeks of peace in exchange for our cooperation."
"The Game is coming here, Ashlyn," said the goddess, "and I can only hope that you're ready. There will be many other Players great and small, and they will test you in ways that are impossible for you to understand." Ashlyn's heart fluttered at the thought. There would be warriors, young men and women ready for battle, coming to Central, her turf, wanting to fight it out...And she as a newly-made prophet, she was more than prepared. Confidently grinning, Ashlyn looked up to Brigid and put a fist to her chest, nodding in fealty.
"I won't let you down," promised the girl, her eyes beaming with pride. She was the chosen of Brigid, and she would bring fire and steel on anyone who opposed her. Granted, she couldn't wield fire, but it's not like any of them would know that.
"Well, then," Brigid responded, the light fabric of her gown shuffling as she stood. "Gather your sword and your courage, child. Today, you meet your playmates."
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