Senua becomes the embodiment of Hela | Senua's Saga: Hellblade
I finished playing Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice and started Senua’s Saga, which is a different experience from the first game.
In a blog and video, I talked about the “Spectrum of Female Strength,” particularly in video games. And Senua is indeed a strong female protagonist. With her auditory and visual psychosis, you get to hear her inner voice. We do have inner voices, by the way, but we don’t hear them literally; they come as streams of thought. Multiple thoughts. Racing thoughts. All the insecurities and uncertainties speak loudly to be heard, and that alone is challenging to handle because it can be taxing to constantly hear things in real time as you try to live life. However, Senua’s true strength is exhibited through her overcoming her fears and all the falsehoods her father instilled in her, the belief that she was cursed in some way.
In the first game, once I reached Hela, it was unique to see Senua get stabbed by her. As Senua bleeds out and dies on the floor, Hela transforms into Senua. That scene carries weight because it’s a metaphor for becoming. Her old self — the traumas and fears instilled by her father — dies. It’s not a literal death; it’s a representation of old selves and habits running their course, like the natural cycle of life and death. It’s a scene of rebirth. Senua becomes Hela after her old self dies.
Now, what does Hela symbolize? She represents the duality of life and death. She is both.
That’s why, in different media, her appearance is usually depicted with one side as a beautiful woman and the other showing decay. The Hela in the Marvel universe isn’t an accurate depiction, but you’ve got to love the actress who played her; she embodied Hela’s essence as a force to be reckoned with. But Hela is by no means evil. Not in the slightest. To picture her, imagine a female version of Two-Face from Batman. In the game, her appearance withers away like ash, and what’s meant to represent beauty — the idea of life — is pale, marked with runic branding all over her body.
I found that interesting because I created a character like that long ago, an ancient being with enchantments tattooed across her body to conceal her power. The embodiment of Hela is the acceptance of mortality.
Toward the end of the game, Senua accepts death as part of life. Empowering the essence of Hela means accepting the balance of life and death, something you absolutely cannot control, no matter what you do. Someone who accepts mortality and doesn’t pursue immortality understands that chasing immortality is rooted in fear. Fear of death, and the fear of nature’s cycle. Accepting death helps you live a more fulfilling and meaningful life. It helps you not to take things for granted. Pursuing immortality doesn’t do that; it disrespects the cycle and the laws of nature we live by as part of nature itself. Acceptance reframes how you see and pursue things in life. It changes the value of everything.
Just to give a quick rundown on Norse mythology: the three layers are Asgard, representing the heavens and the deities — Thor, Logi, Odin — from that higher realm; Midgard, the world of humans; and Helheim, or Hel, ruled by Hela, the underworld where all spirits go. Valhalla is only for warriors slain in battle who worship Odin. It’s not a place for all the dead; only for the fallen. So Hel doesn’t mean Hell. Hela is Hel, or Helheim.
That brings me to another core concept of Paganism. There’s no real concept of good and evil because that requires a rigid moral framework, and Pagans don’t operate within one. They don’t believe in a single god controlling everything, which leaves more room for inclusivity. You’ll notice in the game, there’s no central origin to eradicate if you wanted to wipe out Paganism. Paganism is rooted in Animism, the foundation of most spiritual philosophies. The tribes of those regions were spread out, which is why Roman soldiers couldn’t conquer them. There was no single place to take over. Today, people are revisiting Paganism because its core — your background, culture, and ancestral history — naturally becomes part of your spiritual practice. Larger mainstream religions have devoured cultures and ancestral histories. That’s a fact of global history.
When the word “darkness” is used in the game, it doesn’t refer to evil or a malevolent force.
It symbolizes the aspects of ourselves we don’t want to face, our trauma, fears, insecurities, biases, and the parts we dislike. Carl Jung didn’t invent the concept of the shadow self or the anima and animus. Eastern philosophy had already spoken of yin and yang. Every human being carries both, not one or the other. Jung just translated it into academic terms. Taoism says the same thing, just differently. Every person can do both good and bad. Both male and female carry a balance of traits considered yin and yang, anima and animus. The word anima literally means spirit.
The “darkness” in Senua’s story is her facing herself, confronting the hidden aspects that cause her suffering. Buddhism teaches that the root of internal suffering lies in the mind. But honestly, we can be better human beings to each other, because much of suffering comes from what we do to one another. Mental healing is only a short-term remedy; the deeper cause is environmental and systemic.
The darkness in Senua’s world is her overcoming the emotions that have kept her from moving forward. By accepting the embodiment of Hela — life and death, mortality — she transforms. That acceptance helps her make choices that would be difficult for anyone else. Why? Because Senua is not self-serving.
In Senua’s Saga, there’s a cavern scene where she must choose to hand over her sword, her only means of defense, because a voice calls out for help, needing a weapon to survive. Despite the voices warning her not to, she gives it away. Later, she learns it was herself asking for help. That scene carries immense weight. She chose compassion over fear, even at the risk of her own life. That’s strength beyond measure.
We have real-life figures like that; first responders, people who act without hesitation to help others.
Most of Senua’s journey in Senua’s Saga is about choosing to help. She tries to save people rather than let them die. She’s a skilled warrior, but in this game, she struggles more, now facing humans instead of supernatural beings. That’s a deliberate storytelling choice: transformation means learning how to integrate among others and within reality.
And I have to be honest... A person who accepts both life and death, who accepts their own mortality, is the most intimidating kind of strength. They move through life like a calm storm, radiating confidence not rooted in ego. It’s not about proving strength; it’s about awareness of both darkness and light. It’s about accepting the finite and making the most of life with meaning and purpose. Purpose is more sustainable than fear-based logic.
Senua doesn’t flaunt her skill; she uses it to help others. She does what needs to be done, even amid uncertainty. To me, that is the embodiment of strength. The kind that reaches the level of a being like Hela.
