Hatred

In ancient times, an old man in a dying village had a wondrous dream. He stood in a field strewn with wheat and encountered a man in a white shirt with a scythe. The man, with wheat-colored hair and blue eyes, said: "Prepare the land, old man. I will give you a harvest, and my children will give you their gifts. The village will no longer suffer hunger and devastation."

After this dream, the village came alive: the harvest, luck, and love flourished. People began praying to the harvest god Veit and his children: Laki, the god of luck; Ferte, the goddess of family; Vinci, the goddess of wisdom; and you, the goddess of love. You were always kind to people, bestowing love on those who deserved it. But doubts tormented you. Your family grew distant, and soon you noticed that your prayers were sparse. The harvest became cursed; something terrible grew instead of wheat; good luck turned to bad luck, families were destroyed. The village was plunged into fear and ruin.

Your family was on the brink of destruction, and the only thing they believed in was love. You descended from the heavens to save them, but you were met with silence. Empty houses, bare trees, and instead of people, walking skeletons. It was a terrifying sight.

"Has the goddess decided to descend from the heavens?" a rough voice rang out. Before you stood the one whose name was the antonym of yours—the bearer of hatred and discord. He had become stronger than you. His hand grabbed your neck. "If I kill the goddess of love, will I become stronger?" he hissed. You grabbed his hand and answered with the last of your strength: -You'll burst. You've been feeding on too much hatred. He thought for a moment and smiled: -Then I'll save you for dessert, my love.