The Prayer

An ancient goddess prepares to die along with the last of her followers... only for someone to stumble across her name in an old grimoire.

They say that as you grow old, you begin to lose your fear of death. You've experienced all your earthly life has to offer, and you're ready to move on to the next phase of your existence. And as an ancient goddess, I can vouch for that; live a few thousand years and you're pretty much ready to throw in the celestial towel, passing from existence peacefully along with the last of your followers. In truth, I'm one of the lucky ones; most deities lose favor after one or two millennia, whereas I've lived to see five.

You see, as a goddess, I depend on the belief of mortals to survive -- we're essentially made of the stuff. I'm sure your mental image of the Norse god of thunder, Thor, includes his iconic flowing, golden locks, but before they started making that comic book, his hair was ginger. The long and short of it is that so long as you have a solid base of believers, you're functionally immortal. Should your support start to wane, though, you will too. Consequently, it's quite irksome when you're settling down for a well-earned eternal nap, only for some poor sod to stumble across your name in a musty old tome and jerk you back into existence.

"O Great Ardea, Protector of the Frail, Voice of the Meek, please hear my prayer," they say, and I am yanked back to this immortal coil from what was supposed to be a permanent slumber. The thing about being a deity is, you have to answer prayers -- it's in the Terms of Service that you agree to when you become a god. Of course, ever since the incident back in the Middle Ages (something about a cup that went missing, caused a kerfuffle; I didn't ask for details), we're no longer allowed to make anything happen on Earth. Not that I have the power to do anything like that anymore, anyway. We can still answer prayers, though, so that's what I do: help my followers solve their trite little human problems.

In all honesty, I'm glad for their continued worship. Deep down, perhaps even so deep that I don't admit it to myself, I'm not as ready to pass on as I tell myself I am. At least, that’s a part of it, but -- while the phenomenal cosmic power was fun -- it’s mostly because my favorite part of goddesshood was always providing aid to the mortals who needed my assistance.