Wind against Water

A rift of space and dimensions may be the demise that awaits man. Human as we are, yet fragile in skin and mind, never ceases to amaze us. Weak in the flesh, but overwhelmingly strong in resolve, they bridge the gap of impossibilities.

Man versus god, steel against wood. A clash which should never be, but we find ourselves in its midst. Burning inspiration for survival, yet feeble in bravery, the creation of a new era had stemmed within the dark.

Impossibilities were originally rational in their own way. It broadened the horizons of disparity and fate, clenching the very curtain of regularity.

It might seem awry for most and dense for some, but waging a war based on feeling was never rational. Hence impossibilities took the helms of rationality, slamming it onto the feeble minds and caressing over timid thoughts.

In each impossibility, there lay a possible chance. One which was rejected by its holder in all things, nevertheless sheer will overpowered it all again and again.

Humans should have understood the borders of impossibilities. Irregularities were nothing but sparks of rejected norms fed on by cowards. Cowards unwilling to trust the guidance of reality, and smoldered a faint possibility within their intricate minds.

Hence they run like willingly towards the pillar of impossibilities, their hopes burning high like the boiling magma of a volcano. Hate blossomed within the hearts of reality and impossibility for the cowardly actions of humans, and despair became their fill.

A pledge was made between two unknown forces of nature. One was born from within another, and they shared one thing. Drowning hate for the entity which stood against the laws of creation.

So, they vowed, to imprint fear in the hearts of all humans, whether child or adult, with no care for those across the bridge of freshness.

The two laws of creation scorned humans heavily, their hate was far greater than all desires. Reality birthed facts, and facts became a menacing echo that repeatedly haunts the feeble species.

Impossibility sided with reality, striking its firm grip on the order of the world to make it better. But its child born within, became its very poison. "Possibility", even the sound of it drenched it deeper into a maddening hole of regret.

Possibilities stood against the two laws and scorned its father. For it was born from all impossible things, and its temperament was far higher than any order.

It sided with humans, treasuring their mere bonds of emotion as if it were the end. A breath of anger flooded the order of law whenever possibility reared its proud head.

However, reality was far greater than everyone foresaw, and the same can be said about what was impossible. The impossibilities had a rare chance to become possible, but that could only happen on one occasion.

"A god"!! Menacing and cruel in its ways, yet powerful and proud. These entities were beyond the comprehension of laws, even death had a hard time dealing with them.

The order of law had all creation within its grasp, except gods. They were beyond rational comprehension and overcame great impossibilities. The law of possibilities loved them dearly, for they were the only ones who stood firm in it.

Mighty, they were. Strong, they bloated intensely. Incredibly powerful, ah, power!! Of all things, power was what they had control over dearly, and it was treacherous.

It is said that all laws obey and twist within the faces of gods, yet only one law stood high amidst every chaos. "Death".

An omnipotent law, which rode the very seat of possibilities like a pet. No god could escape it, and each god knew that dearly. Crazily moldered with an uncanny and shrewd timing, no one knew when it would strike.

Neither gods nor humans, for gods, were once human in their past ages. Lurking silently, it approached each being and ripped the living soul out of its dusty shell.

A warning to every soul was given in each theft, yet no answer was given. One could see the coming of death, but an escape was impossible.

It was a reality with an impossibility. A steadfast order that stood against all odds. Was there a possibility on the side of humans? No, never! Possibility knew this very well and shut itself whenever death struck.

Now that same order lurked around two gods, mighty they were, and menacing were their echoes. It was time to cleave the souls of humans once more, and a battle of rarity stood in pride.

A newborn god against an old god, is it not pure insanity? Wind against water, two forces which oppose each other dearly. The wind chooses to never co-exist with water, and water proudly nods in rejection too.

It is like a bottle filled with water and closed tightly with a lid. Water rejects it wholeheartedly, and wind presides to be at the top. No matter the effort to allow them a chance to co-exist, they reject it with utmost pride.

That was the sight before the feeble humans once more, a battle against two uncanny forces. A battle none would imagine, for the forces of imagination, could never cross paths with them.

They were too strong to overwhelm, too hasty to bridge. A natural hate for each other was what they felt, and no one could come against that.

So the newborn stood before his great grandfather, with baby arms he pointed a middle finger in pure hate and disgust. The father of seas saw this and knew from the start and end came so early for the newborn.

For as old as he was, he stood as the strongest among the Greeks. Not even the wielder of lightning stood higher than him in strength, for the world was already in Poseidon's palm.

And so it was, for water was greater than the strikes of lightning. Nobody could take away his strength, and in all truth, he was bored and tired.

The doors of Atlantis shut firm, they who once stood atop the benevolent waters of their king, had lost satisfaction from the world above. Lurking within the deep waters, they cowered in disgust, for their king found each person weak before his eyes.

Yet a newborn stood before his great waters, pushing his sheet of water with sheer force and will. It should have been anger for the god who locked his high doors, but amusement followed like a stray cat.

He was angry, for gods have immense pride. However, amusement and yearning for satisfaction drew closer and closer to his sea-skinned chest.

An abomination had once again been set on the mortal world. The two stubborn gods were to face each other in a quest for true purpose. One being satisfaction, and the other being preservation.

A sin committed by gods; they acted human once more. Searching for answers from their selfish desires, a curtain of lies fell off, revealing the grave sins the mighty gods endeavored.

The sea trembled with a mighty crackle as the water became man. A human form, drawing forth from the deep sea which stood high in perseverance. The water seeped out slowly from the unknown figure, revealing a blue-eyed man in his mid-thirties.

He descended slowly with a shrewd smile, a calm voice that crackled with thunder, and a serene gust of waves from his blue hair. In his hand was a trident, which shook with power in strong vibrations.

Loki stood firm and smirked at the old god before him. It looked young, but the mere pressure from his image was exploding intensely.

"So you are the newborn, dare call me a coward. Say it to my face then.".