The gods are real. Greek, Roman, Norse, Egyptian, or whatever religion you follow.
If you'd prefer to stay in the quiet hole of denial that the rest of the world has burrowed into, then believe whatever your school teachers and parents tell you about it all being fake or just stories people used to tell.
How do I know that they're real? Let me tell you.
My name is Astrid Madden. I am a demigod.
My story is unlike any you will have ever known. Don't believe me? It all started eight years ago, when I was nine years old, my mother Kirsty, and I were on the run. We didn't know what was chasing us. All we could see was its glowing eyes that followed us through the tightly packed trees. Its heavy footfalls crunched the frost-bitten leaves behind us.
My mind raced. It felt as if the branches were trying to stop us. The branches were like blades, grabbing my clothes, face, and arms.
Cut and bleeding, we ran for our lives, I glanced back and couldn't see the glowing eyes anymore, I began to slow, my head reeling, trying to find the eyes again, I could hear my mother's cries as she yanked me forward, her grip tight on my wrist.
The thing didn't dare let us slow for long as the eyes appeared again to our right.
'Don't stop running, Astrid!' she had cried as we raced through the Slovakian woods toward our little cabin, I could see the light from my small bedroom, and smell the smoke from the chimney that had been on to heat the place while we had went into the market, we barely made it into the cottage before it crashed through the door behind us, she showed me away in my little room.
'I love you, Astrid. Never forget that.' She said as she kissed my head and closed the door behind her. I pounded at the door, it opened eventually and I froze in fear.
I saw my mother, her eyes wide with terror. She grabbed the nearest weapon she could find—her hands shaking so badly it almost fell from her grasp. She lunged. The monster fought back.
And then—she was gone.
Blood. Silence.
Before I could even process what had happened, I fell to my knees and screamed in pain and grief, my mother, the one who had cared for me my whole life—was gone. The world grew cold, I thought it was my imagination but the entire room frosted over, the monster took on a different form, a human-like one, he turned and fled as I yelled and ran to my mother's side, taking her hand in mine and sobbing as she took heavy labored breaths, she looked into my eyes and she whispered as I sobbed 'never become like them Astrid, be kind…be strong…be my hero.' She was coughing blood up onto her face as she breathed her last and closed her eyes.
I stayed by her body for what felt like days. The monster returned in his human form. I had attacked him with all of my strength but I was weak. He spoke to me and explained that I was in danger. He told me he was only trying to help me as he knew the peril I would have to face. He began to earn my trust slightly as he explained the things in my life that I could never understand by myself, but still, I never left my mother's side.
He finally earned enough of my trust and convinced me to let him bury her. He placed her body in our small yard and I made her a little headstone out of a wooden post. He explained that I was a demigod, a cursed one at that. He told me what he knew of my prophecy and what it meant for me. That was the night I learned the truth. I was a cursed demigod — a child of chaos.
That my story would be treacherous, mysterious, and full of danger.
But what fun would any story be if it wasn't dangerous?