47 Ragnaroks- Ch 2, Coming Home

“We are really doing this then,” Sophie said, putting on a pair of sneakers. “We are going to Asgard.”

Thor nodded. “Yes, we are. You packed lightly, right?”

“Yeah. But we can go shopping later right, in case we need anything more?”

Thor grinned. There weren’t that many shops in Asgard the last time he had been there, but maybe that has changed in the last three thousand years.

As Thor stood in front of the apartment, he took a moment to survey the life he had built there with Sophie. It looked a lot more tidy than he expected it to, and that’s more to Sophie’s credit than his own cleanliness.

His eyes shifted to the stack of certificates and cheques arranged on the wall above his shoe drawer. He was okay at what he did, he reminded himself. He had worked hard against getting typecast, and these last few years had paid off. By the time his contract with Showtime was up, he could consider moving onto greener pastures. Maybe even do a movie with one of the masters, the Scorseses and Tarantinos of the world.

Of course, he would love to say that he was a very good actor, but that was still a work in progress. A few more years, and he would get there.

As Thor locked the front door, he checked his pockets, making sure he had taken the keys (and the raven feathers). He smiled toothily at Sophie, who dimpled.

“So just to be clear, we are driving all the way out of town and camp in the woods to meet your brother?”

“Yeah, that’s right. The Bifrost can’t open wide near modern cities. Things like cell phone signals and WiFi provides too much interference.”

“So is that how it was when you and Loki got here? Did you land in a swamp or something?”

“More like a little stream. That was a rough first day. Loki was all of two years old then, and she threw a tantrum for the next few hours. Speaking of which,” Thor brought out his smartphone, texting Loki that he was ready.

An oval portal opened a few seconds later, and Loki stepped through it, pushing a medium-sized luggage, backpack and guitar slung on her back.

“Sophie, hii! You look even better than I remember you,” Loki said, hugging Sophie with the warmth and sincerity of a brown bear. “And you look good too, bro.”

“You are unusually well prepared for this trip, Loki,” Thor said, scooping Loki up in his arms, lifting her off her feet. “Remember, this is a short trip. We don’t want to give father any more excuses to keep us there.”

“You know what they say, expect for the best but prepare for the worst. And besides, it’s summer on Earth. By the time it ends, it will be like a whole year back in Asgard.”

Thor chuckled, stashing the luggage at the back of his SUV. “Are you sure you want to stay a whole year on Asgard? Where there’s no social media or the Internet to keep you busy?”

“Uggh. I will read a book or something,” Loki said, settling into the back seat. “Just because I am a teenager doesn’t mean I am on the Internet the whole time.”

“I am glad you brought your guitar with you, though,” Sophie said, latching her seat belt on. “I have been following your SoundCloud for a while. Who knows, you might find new fans out there on Asgard.”

“I don’t know about that. A lot of my lyrics are about norse myths and prophecies. Especially the ones where I am the designated bad guy. It would be kinda like Hilter going to Jerusalem for a book tour.”

“Far be it for me to call you harmless, but you aren’t Hitler, Loki,” Thor said, starting up the car. “You are much cuter, for one.”

“Aww, thanks for that. You are cute too, brother. And so are you, Sophie. Let’s just hope our cuteness doesn’t overwhelm everyone in Asgard.”

“It’s good that you left Wednesday back with your friend, Loki,” Thor said, pulling the car out onto the road. “He would get bored on Asgard. Not many parks there.”

“Yeah. He will be fine with Aaron. He’s always wanted to have a dog. I left him, like, a month or so worth of dog food.

Do you think we can Skype from Asgard?”

Thor snorted. “Probably not, but let’s see if they have moved on to postcards.”

It took them two hours to get out of the city, and another three to get to the base of Mount San Antonio. By the evening, Thor had started a bonfire near the car, encouraging Loki and Sophie to start roasting marshmallows.

A stag, healthy and robust, came to the fire, curiously nudging Loki’s shoulders. Loki laughed, and offered it some of her marshmallows.

“This makes me wish Wednesday was here,” Loki said, massaging the stag’s snout. “He would have loved playing with you.”

“Pity that we can’t hunt on these grounds,” Thor said. “This would make a fine meal, and a good offering for Balder too.”

Loki frowned. “Nope, you aren’t eating this one. He will kick you in the face. Won’t you?”

It was a few hours later, long after the sun had set, that the nearest trees moved away, creating a space in the middle; something tore through spacetime, and the temperature dropped precariously. The tear grew, the air draining into it, until Balder stepped out, grinning broadly, arms spread wide open.

“Ho, Thor! Ho, Loki! And who is this fine maiden standing by your sides?”

Thor laughed, embracing Balder in a warm, tight hug. “She’s Sophie, brother. My fiance.”

Sophie smiled awkwardly. “Guilty as charged.”

“That’s great news,” Balder said. “I am sure mother and father will be thrilled to meet you.”

Balder beamed at Loki, and when he spoke, his eyes glowed with genuine mirth. “I am not sure if you remember, young lady, but we used to play together when you were little. In fact, you were quite fond of commandeering me as your horse.”

“I don’t quite remember, but I will take your word for it.”

Balder patted the car, inspecting it slowly. “This is one of those iron carriages, isn’t it? Looks quite sturdy. Does it fly?”

“No, Balder, no flying carriages yet,” Thor said. “We can drive through the portal, right?”

“Sure. It will be a welcome sight on our roads, I reckon.”

The four of them got into the car, with Balder taking the front seat. “I suppose you don’t have GPS in Asgard?” Thor asked, wry lips slanted to the right.

“I don’t know what that is, but I can show you the way. At any rate, it’s always been a straight path from the Bifrost to the palace.”

Thor drove the car through the portal. Thor felt funny in his arms, as though the water content in his body had increased a thousand fold. He imagined himself bloated like a huge, humanoid puffer fish. Then, it was as though someone had flicked his brain off, and a moment later, it came back to life once again, neurons roaring across their paths like race horses.

And just like that, they were in Asgard, the topmost realm of the World Tree.

Asgard looked older than Thor remembered. The gold and silver-tipped spheres were noticeably rusty, and the districts looked more packed, and more lived in. The roads were wider though: wide enough to fit in several carriages. There were a few vehicles on the road; it was nighttime, and the streets were mostly empty. Thor drove at a steady speed, careful not to bump into any bystander or horse.

“What do you think, brother?” Balder asked.

“Everything looks old now,” Thor said. “I rode through these streets not long ago, with Toothgrinder and Toothgnasher, and the town was barely a town then. But now it has grown into a city, survived to a respectable age, and is probably looking forward to retirement. I guess three thousand years will do that to you.”

“It looks sad, in a way, doesn’t it?” Loki said. “Like some old European cities do. But look, they have subway stations here!” Loki pointed at opal-tinted stairs by the roadside, leading down to the underground. “How old are these, Balder?”

“Around nine hundred years. The airtrains are a little younger. We established those routes two hundred years ago. Lot of Asgardian go to Alfheim and Vanaheim these days. Svartalhelm too, for trade and commerce.”

Thor drove through the streets, searching for remnants of the old shops and taverns he remembered from his own time. But this was a world that had moved on: there were shops, yes, but only in the Shopping district south of the Bifrost, and what were once homes were now manors and estates, sprawling across the expanse, with towers rising up high, skybridges linking them to the airtrain stations.

Only the palace remained somewhat true to Thor’s memories. It rose further up in the sky than he remembered, and there were statues of his parents set across the main entrance.

Thor parked his car near the stables, and then the three of them hauled their luggage, carrying it through the main hall. At the end of the hall, which stretched a good five hundred feet from end to end, stood Odin and Freyja.

“Heavens, boy, you look barely older than the last time you stood in these halls,” Odin said, scowling. “Midgard is a poor place for us gods. Do you remember, Balder, when you spent time among them in the last cycle?”

“Barely, father,” Balder said. “That’s a tale for another time. Mother, look how Loki has grown! And don’t forget the beautiful Sophie, who Thor has chosen as a most worthy consort.”

Freyja’s eyes widened, and she came forward, cupping Sophie’s face in her hands. “He has chosen well. Welcome to Asgard, daughter. We have much to discuss.”

“All in due time,” Odin said, waving the others to follow him. “Balder will guide you to your rooms, where you can stow your things and retire for the night. We are holding a feast in your honor tomorrow. We can discuss all matters, pertinent and otherwise, then.”

Balder took them to the North Wing, to two guest rooms that were still more spacious than the studio apartments Thor was used to. Once there, Balder bade them good night, and retired to his own chambers.

“Guest rooms, huh?” Loki said, standing by the door of her room. “Guess we aren’t still welcome. Or at least, one of us isn’t.”

“Nothing escapes your eye, does it?” Thor asked, smirking. “Be patient. They don’t know you, Loki. You are good with the charm offensive. Just be careful that your…Loki-ness doesn’t spook father or Tyr. They are probably still running Asgard. You wouldn’t want to get on their bad sides.”

Loki shrugged and curtseyed. “Sure. Nothing to fear from little old me.”

Thor kicked off his boots, joining Sophie on the bed. She shot him a scrutinizing glare: the kind of glare that saw right through his facade, and into his core. “You really don’t like him, do you? Your father?”

Thor grunted in agreement. “What’s there to like? He’s a genocidal tyrant at worst and a benevolent despot at best. And for the longest time, I stood beside him. He has done things that would make Pol Pot blush.”

“He’s still your father, though. Obviously, you aren’t like him, and if you are afraid that might change in the future, then don’t be. We are all our own people.”

Thor agreed with the spirit of the statement, but that’s not how things were with Odin. He was an old, seasoned conjurer, who had a way with both people and words. He had a way of bending people to his will, and Thor was just as pliable to it as the rest of Asgard.

“You will see soon enough, Sophie. He dances the old dance better than almost anybody. But that can wait until tomorrow. Come, let’s catch some good night’s sleep.”

And so Thor changed his clothes and climbed into bed, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep. He thought of things he hadn’t thought of for several lifetimes, and as he traversed the dreamscape, he became many things, dimly aware that his dreams were being guided.

He became a stag galloping across the woods, running after a squirrel, and as the squirrel ran up a tree, he too became a squirrel, scampering up the branches to the very top. When he reached there, the squirrel was gone, and a raven was there instead.

“Do you remember, boy, when we used to meet in dreams?” the raven asked, and Thor knew that this Odin. “No intruder can come here. Here, we are safe from prying eyes.”

“It’s an old gift from Morpheus, isn’t it?” he asked his father. He looked at the forest, which seemed to shift as he looked at it, the paths changing faster than the eye could see. “Say what you have to say.”

“There’s a cult that’s spread across the nine realms, that’s working to hasten the coming of the final Ragnarok. Godsbane, they call themselves. They have various goals, two of which include murdering Balder and converting Loki to their cause.”

“Both of which will take us one step closer to Ragnarok,” Thor said. His father took flight, and he followed, his hands morphing into wings, his mouth lengthening to form a beak. “And this is why you called us here, I suppose?”

Odin scoffed. “It had been long enough. You can’t run from fate, boy, and it’s fate that called you here, not me.”

“And what of Loki?”

“Her fate is tied to Asgard as well. And she is needed here. She might save us all when everything is said and done.”

Odin landed on the ground, talons clasping around the form of a small, green grass snake. Odin spoke to it in its own language, and the snake hissed, slithering towards a tree, disappearing into a hairline crack.

“And what if she fails?”

“Then she might as well doom us all to eternity.”

~*~

It was midnight when Loki woke from a dreamless sleep.

She felt a sudden urge to check her backpack. She went through every pocket twice, and then on the second comb over, she found something in the main pocket.

It was an old, leather bound diary, with yellowed, decaying pages. It was dark, but when she moved her fingers through the cover, she sensed small, rune-like indentations. They were old Norse, and in English they roughly translated to “the Book of Loki”.

“Well, well, aren’t you a curious little thing?” Loki said.

She pried the book open, taking a look at the table of contents. There were 47 chapters, bookended by a foreword and an afterword.

She tried to skip ahead to the end, but found that she couldn’t get past the first chapter. She went back to the foreword, which was strangely pithy.

“Tread carefully, for you walk where even Lokis fear to come. These are memories of times long by, when the world was younger and the World Ash was shorter. These are tales of treachery and love, of cunningness and stupidity, and while they may light the way for the times yet to come, they are equally likely to beguile and confuse you.

If you are a young Loki still trying to find yourself, then keep reading to know about yourself and your deeds. But know that you may end this tale more lost than you were at its start, and that your ignorance may bring folly to all the gods and mortals across the nine realms.

To be Loki is to be ever changing. Yet, at our core, there’s a certain cleverness, a biting wit that dwells deep within all Lokis. Know it. And guard it well. For it’s faster than fire and more contagious than the plague.

Does this book answer the question of the Final Ragnarok? Perhaps. That’s for you to discover, once it’s your turn to write in the book.

Welcome, Loki, and beware.”

Loki grabbed one of her guitar picks from the bag and placed it on the first chapter, as a makeshift bookmark for future reading. She stowed the book away in the desk drawer and returned to bed. She murmured sleep spells, and soon enough, sleep washed over her, like crashing waves at the seashore. They pulled at her senses, dragging her into the dreamscape, where memories, hopes and dreams mixed into strange artefacts, running adjacent to reality.

But the book was still there, among this slumbering madness, calling to her. And whenever she came near it, like a pendulum swinging to and fro, she saw shadows gathered around it: remnants of her own past selves, lingering on like the aftersmoke of a strong cigarette.

“Fly away, little moth,” one of the shadows said. “Or you will be burned by the flame.”

“So be it,” another voice replied. “Better to burn in the search of truth than to be stranded in a fog of lies.”

Dimly aware of her whereabouts, Loki drew a cape around her, weaved with spells that protect the mind for suggestible dreams. And then sleep crashed over once again, and this time she sank beneath the waves, settling deep within her subconscious mind.

“I will read you, book, when I am awake,” Loki said. “For now, let me sleep.”

And then Loki slept soundly, undisturbed by dreams, apparitions or annoyances of any other kind.

The book waited patiently, at the precipice of her mind. It had waited for the last three thousand years, and it was willing to wait a while longer.

Just a while longer until things could be put into motion.

~*~

This is an original multi-chapter story that will be updated periodically, taking place in the same universe as Dreamenders.

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