A Year of Light

Warm, rough hands reached out to Freyja’s, slipping a brass candle holder into her palm. Atop it sat a cream colored candle adorned with etchings of suns, moons and stars on its fresh surface. 

“Prove us wrong.”

The voice mulled away into the depth of darkness before Freyja could find the words within herself to respond, or the courage in her limbs to reject the offering. She found her body frozen as still as the trees; the soft candle’s fire could not even thaw her. The dusk that had hugged her body moments before snapped into a deep, black darkness. The gods had willed the sudden-solstice. 

With a hard swallow Freyja dragged her gaze from the ground, her eyes as heavy as two anchors. She was without the privilege of sight beyond her hazy circle, yet the boring eyes of villagers stung into her back. All she had to do was remain still and maintain the candle’s luminate offspring until morning. 

Her legs steadied as she lowered to the Earth’s surface, her back against an elder pine. Freyja only wished for a simpler way for this night to pass. Sleep was too risky, consciousness was too nerve-wracking. All that was left was to pray.

“I do not wish to return yet. I pray thee will encourage this flame. Nurse it to health. Hold this light for longer than its worth.”

Freyja’s whispers were nothing short of fervent pleas. With each breath, the flame wavered and flung its heat higher. The night intertwined with rays of light, bending it around the hot drops of melted wax. A plump bead found its way to Freyja’s thumb, burning the soft of her skin. Her body shifted with a jolt of pain, though her hand held the candle upright. Freyja knew that her life depended on this miniature flame. 

Once a year, the gods above would toy with their so-called faithful in an attempt to weed out the insincere. The sudden-solstice deemed itself a pleasurable and entertaining means of both revenge and justice. Only those who had succumbed to overzealous desires were placed with the pot and candle. The gods were in agreement that human life is far too joyous without their intermeddling. No one could have everything, after all.

Freyja held determination close to her heart, it nearly beating in one. She prayed nearly every day, gave the village children chunks of chocolate and even broke the bars into equal parts. She saw no reasoning in this decision, but there was no room to fight it. Freyja knew she could maintain the candlelight’s strength, and for it she would earn her keep in a simple life she craved to keep mundane.

The snow beneath Freyja’s body had melted away, soaking her clothes into an uncomfortable mush of fabric sticking to her skin. She savored the chance to feel it. Her hands had found their way into her lap, the metal of the pot warming her legs with drips of fresh wax coating its sides. The sting of heat was welcoming.

 It was nearing dawn– animals had begun to stir and the pine above her began to shake with a blow of wind.

“Curse you gods.” 

With her own grumble the wind ceased, the flame diminished, and the scurrying of animals came to a halt all in one breath. 

“No! Nourish the flame, gods! I’ve done nothing but good. I am the best citizen of my town! The best daughter and the best wife if you so choose me to live. I have friends who will bear children in the coming months! Allow me the same!” 

Freyja cursed herself under her breath. Her voice had grown weak with despair.

“I only wish to feel the sun’s warm kiss a day longer. I want to feel the joy of conversation and the aggravation of argument! You mustn’t even grant me a day longer than that. Please, gods, let me feel.”

Nothing but silence and stillness followed. Not even the gods could care enough to snuff her ego out themselves. 

Pit. Freyja recoiled her legs to her chest, the candle resting close to her body. Pat. The noise was annoyingly close. Pit. A drop of warm water landed on top of Freyja’s head, soaking into her skin. It felt like defeat. She tilted her head to investigate, though the gods had retained the darkness surrounding her. She had only felt the privilege of this life for just a morning bird’s song past a year. 

Pat. 

The depth of black swallowed Freyja whole. The candlelight drew its last breath with a drop of water holding its hand in harmony, both elements swirling to their end. Freyja’s breath hitched for a beat, realizing her fate had been sealed by fire and water itself. 

“Freyja, Freyja. Tch. You have yet to wane from the immortal sense of greed. And we thought humanity could change you.”

Freyja’s hand fell into the soft cradle of her own hands as the goddess’ words dripped down her neck. Tendrils of thick, dark hair wrapped themselves around Freyja’s shoulders as the presence leaned over her. 

“It’s time to be a goddess again, my dear. A year of light cannot last forever.”

Immortal hands wrapped their slender digits around Freyja’s human body, grasping her chest and her head the tightest. Her soul began to flee as embers of a once-roaring fire, settling themselves amongst clouds of dust and smoke. An agony of emotion rolled through Freyja’s core. She saw the malnourished children grin with joy, chocolate smeared across their cheeks. She saw the judgment of older villagers, their gazes cutting through her. She felt the love, joy, and hatred all at once and then none at all.

 The elder pine stood then, accompanied by an eighth of a candlestick, a rumble of ash, and disturbed dirt impressed with a handprint. The sun had breached over the icy horizon, sparkling the beauty of snow for miles to see. Village people broke from their cottages and began their days. Their days of farming, parenting, and arguing; their days of living.