The Death of a Goddess

Note: There is some war violence and death in this short story.

Morrigan had been on the battlefield for several days while her husband, The Dagda, had been mourning the loss of his lover; Boand, the goddess of the river Boyne. When the christians started preaching their new god, she was one of the first to fade away. They sought to rid Ireland of their pagan gods and they wouldn’t stop with the minor gods and goddesses. They wanted to rid the country of all of them. 

So Morrigan stood on the battlefield, using the last of her power to bring her people to a bittersweet victory. She could see far enough into the future to tell that it would be short lived and with the few survivors remaining she would not regain her full power in time. 

“Morrigan,” The Dagda’s voice rumbled softly over the battlefield. Around them soldiers walked among their fallen brethren in search of survivors. No one would sing of this victory.

“Yes, husband?” Morrigan called across the field. She turned to find her husband looking down at her with sad eyes. The golden aura that usually surrounded him had begun to fade and she was certain that hers was fading as well. 

“Come home with me to the Otherworld,” he begged. The Dagda stepped over the fallen bodies as he made his way to her. His hand rested on her shoulder. “Spend these last moments with me, my wife.” 

“And leave our people to die,” Morrigan snapped. She brushed off the Dagda’s hand and crossed over to the clan’s war tent. “They need me.”

“You can not win this war, Morrigan,” The Dagda thundered. He stepped in front of her to keep her from entering the tent. “I can see that your power is beginning to fade, as is my own. You cannot help these men.”

“I cannot stand by and watch,” she hissed. Her husband towered over her, but she refused to back down. She leaned against her spear and waited for him to move, but he didn’t. “I cannot give up on them yet.”

“You and I have both seen the outcome of this war.” He stepped towards her, his hand rested on her arm. “There is nothing we can do to stop it. Let those men decide for themselves if they want to surrender or not.” 

Morrigan didn’t want to give up, but she knew that no matter the outcome she would end up driving those men to their deaths. It was better if they had the choice to sacrifice themselves or not. 

“Fine,” she sighed. She pushed off of her spear and turned away from The Dagda. “I will return with you to the Otherworld to rest, but I will return for the next battle.” The men would make their choice, she knew that, and their choice would be to fight. 

Although The Dagda’s intention was to return to the Otherworld to rest, Morrigan later stood at the head of the throne room with him before a handful of the remaining gods and goddesses. The Dagda’s daughter, Brighid, stood at the foot of the dais. Her aura remained strong as the christian invaders had adopted her as one of their saints. 

“You could accept the new god’s proposal,” Brighid argued. The new god had granted her a place in his worship, but she was to renounce her title of goddess. 

“We are gods and goddesses,” Morrigan hissed. She glared at her husband’s daughter. The young goddess had eagerly accepted the proposal in a desperate attempt to survive. “You may survive what is to come of us, but you too will fade eventually.” 

“He promised that I shall survive till the end of time,” the young goddess fumed. She looked to her father as though he would jump to defend her, but he watched from where he sat. “Everything is changing. The world is changing. If we wish to survive this we must change as well.” 

“And become servants to a new god?” Morrigan scoffed. “He is a single god claiming full power over everything. It is unstable. It will not last and neither will you.”

“I will survive a lot longer than you,” Brighid sneered. 

“Enough,” The Dagda thundered. His voice echoed through the room. “My daughter, I am happy that you have found a new purpose with this new god. However, I do not see myself finding such a purpose. I do not wish for our final words to be full of hate so I leave you with this. Find comfort in my love for you when you find yourself missing my company in the years to come.”

The Dagda rose from his seat and motioned for Morrigan to follow him. Brighid watched them as they left, silent tears stained her cheeks. 

“You must return to the clan,” The Dagda turned to her, his once bright eyes faded. Her legs began to sway beneath her as she felt her power slipping away. “They need you.” 

The Dagda brushed his lips with hers as he began to fade. She reached for him, but was quickly summoned back to the clan. 

Morrigan stood among burning tents and burnt bodies. Screaming and horse hooves beating the ground filled her ears. She searched among the fire to find the people responsible. Her gaze landed on a cross. The christians decided no to wait for the next battle. 

Morrigan stepped over the burnt bodies of fallen men, women, and children. Their souls clung to her for warmth. She guided them all to the Otherworld for eternal rest. 

At the center of the clan one tent remained standing despite the fire. Morrigan stopped through the fire and into the tent. The furs inside had been thrown around as though someone had been searching for something.

The smoke hung thick in the air. Coughing drew her attention to a pile of furs. She lifted them to reveal a small girl gasping for air. Morrigan dropped to her knees and revealed herself to the girl. 

“Mommy,” she coughed. She struggled to keep her eyes open long enough to get a good look at the goddess. Morrigan scooped up the child in her arms and held her as the child’s breathing slowed. 

The girl’s soul trembled against her hand as she held it up. Morrigan’s vision began to fade as she guided the soul to the Otherworld. It was the last thing Morrigan saw before she faded away.