The Meeting Hall of the Gods was a sight to behold, a grandiose space that echoed with the weight of its inhabitants’ power. But today, it was a different story. The gods, each one more powerful than the last, were bound and gagged, their wide eyes filled with fear as they stared at the figure standing in the center of the room.
Ophelia, a hybrid of a siren and a wendigo, smirked as she tied the final knot, securing the king of the gods, Zeus, to his chair. She spared no expense, making sure each one was securely bound. With a flourish, she placed a Santa hat on each god, excluding Aphrodite. The goddess of love watched with wide eyes, her chest heaving with fear.
Ophelia pulled back a cloth, revealing a Christmas tree, but it was no ordinary tree. The intestines of Aphrodite’s children, Eros and Harmonia, were used as decoration. Aphrodite screamed, her wails echoing through the hall. Ophelia ignored her, instead focusing on shoving a crown of thorns onto Aphrodite’s head.
She turned to Zeus, the king of the gods. She shoved a plastic tube down his throat and released rats into it. The rats made their way down Zeus's throat, and Ophelia slit his throat, releasing the rats. Zeus died, his body going limp.
Ophelia watched with a satisfied smile as the rats scurried away, leaving Zeus’s lifeless body behind. She turned to the remaining gods, a playful glint in her eye. “Merry Christmas,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
The gods stared at her in shock, unsure of what to do. Ophelia reveled in their fear, her power growing. She walked over to Aphrodite, who was still sobbing. “Quiet, dear,” she said, patting Aphrodite’s head like a child. “It’s just a little Christmas surprise.”
Aphrodite’s sobs turned into whimpers, and Ophelia chuckled. “That’s better,” she said, before turning to the remaining gods. “Now, let’s continue with our meeting.”
The gods stared at her in disbelief, but none dare to challenge her. Ophelia led the meeting, her voice strong and commanding. She made decisions with ease, her confidence unwavering.
“I move that we allocate more resources to the mortal realm,” Ophelia said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “After all, they are the ones who will remember us, long after we are gone.”
The gods murmured in agreement, their fear turning into respect. As the meeting came to a close, Ophelia rose from her seat. “Happy holidays, my dear gods,” she said, her voice dripping with irony.
She turned and walked away, leaving the gods to ponder their new reality. A siren now rules them, and they can only hope she will be kind.
As she walked down the halls of the gods’ palace, Ophelia couldn’t help but smile. This was the best Christmas she’s had in a long time. And she couldn’t wait to see what the new year would bring.
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