Chapter 1
The night was young, the sun having just dipped below the horizon, yet still lending just enough light for Helena to see her path. Granted, it wasn't so much a path as it was a less-thorny way to her destination. She planned to camp by her usual spot, a clearing about four miles from any property lines or the farmlands nearby. Sure, Helena did have to trespass a tiny bit to reach it, but at least she was only on that land for about twenty yards or so.
Helena had set out just around sunset, and at the pace she'd set she'd likely reach her lovely campsite just as the full moon was rising. Ideally, she'd have just enough time to set up her supplies before it reached its peak, considering she'd need it for her ritual this evening. You see, Helena had begun to teach herself the old magicks. Ever since the gods had reappeared and all those people got dusted, the world had changed. People didn’t know what to believe anymore, or where to redraw the line between reality and imagination. It scared them.
Fear however, was not the reason Helena was out in the woods that evening. After four years of practice, a simple ritual like the one she’d prepared for the evening was almost as routine as going grocery shopping. It was nothing major, just a little harvest blessing for her home garden. Her tomatoes were looking fantastic, but the cucumbers could definitely use some help. Plus, Helena always did love camping anyway. Which is why the rustling of the leaves around her little clearing escape didn’t faze her. She hummed to herself as she set up her small tent, tossing blankets and pillows inside. It wasn’t until she began unpacking her more uncommon supplies that she became suspicious. She heard what sounded like whispers, and last she checked, raccoons didn’t talk.
It happened slowly at first: The farmer she recognized- he was the one who owned the twenty yards she’d crossed earlier, came out into the tiny clearing. “Look Jim, I’m sorry for crossing your property. I didn’t think you’d mind as long as I didn’t mess with your crop. I can skirt around it next time if you like,” Helena spoke. She played cool, holding out hope that trespassing was why he had followed her, and nothing to do with the supplies she was calmly hiding away.
“Now, Helena, you know that’s not why we’re here. Don’t play dumb with me.” Jim spoke back. “We?” Helena questioned, as people stepped into the campsite from all sides, effectively surrounding her. Some of them she knew, had seen their faces, but many others, she’d never seen before. She stilled, because Jim was right. She may not even know her distant neighbor’s last name, but she did know why he was here. “How long have you known?” Helena asked him. Jim didn’t answer, but looked down his nose at her.
She wondered to herself, how he’d figured out she was practicing magick- at what point had he decided to watch her, to gather his ‘troops’. She thought as they pounced on her, that she should have been more careful. Her appearance definitely didn’t help, many pieces of her hair braided along the sides of her head, a few small dreads in the back, and her arms covered in tattoos. But, to be fair, she looked this way long before the dusting. She also knew how most people saw magick nowadays. They blamed it for the loss of their families and friends, and accused those who practiced as witches.
The crowd seemed to be larger than before, as they pulled and tugged her away from her campsite, and back towards the old farmer’s property line. As they crossed his excuse for a fence, more of the people from the surrounding area gathered in an open field around a large wooden post, many holding various guns. Seeing that lone post, Helena realized they were going to make an example of her. She was by no means the only witch in the area, and for the others’ sake, she hoped these townsfolk were unaware of that. As the moon rose higher above them, the relative quiet was broken by shouts of witch, heathen, and other accusations and profane insults. One stood out to her though. It was spoken by Jim as he tied her to the post.
“Everyone, everyone! Settle down!” He shouted, pushing Helena to her knees, and reached out to one of the men near him for a length of rope. He continued to address his horde as he yanked Helena’s arms around the post. “I know you’re all eager to rid our community of this heathen, this witch, this damn Child of Loki, but we must be sure to take precautions. We don’t know how much of that horrible alien’s power this bitch can wield.” The old man’s speech seemed to rile the crowd up again, but Helena was caught on the term ‘child of Loki’. She’d heard that some people blamed him and his brother for somehow unleashing magick upon the Earth, but she had no idea how common that school of thought had become.
“Alright folks, let’s give a bit of room, we only want the bullets going into one body tonight.” Jim chuckled as he addressed the group, and they all wordlessly grouped in front of her as the makeshift firing squad took aim. As Helena faced her final moments, anger filled her bones. She decided spitefully that if this lot was foolish enough to believe such ridiculous things, then she might as well let her last seconds on this planet be a bit fun. She began to recite an old Norse incantation, the only one she could remember at the moment. Honestly, Helena had no clue what spell it even was, but given she was surrounded by idiots, it wasn’t as if they’d know how useless her words were given she was bound to a post. She sprinkled in the name Loki, just to egg them on more, and the crowd became even louder, and angrier. Jim shouted at her to stop, But she simply began to yell as Jim shouted the final word she’d hear.
“FIRE!”
There was a chorus of gunfire, and in an instant, it all went black.
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Since his death, Loki's days had been long, repetitive, and entirely dull. He didn't require much food or rest, so each day in his afterlife was spent nose deep in whatever spell books he could find. He was determined to find a way to revive himself, but even his power had its limits. The tome currently in his hands seemed promising enough at first, but as the hours drifted by, Loki realized that this book would not hold the answers he was looking for.
Deciding he needed a bit of a break, Loki headed out to wander the gardens. It wasn't until he reached the halls that he saw that night had already fallen. At least he'd be likely to have the grounds to himself then. As he strode through the corridors of hedges and rose-covered trellises, a pang of something once familiar hit him. Loki had felt this kind of magick before, but it had been centuries since he last encountered it this strongly. A sacrifice had been made. A human sacrifice.
Moments later, the ‘sacrifice’ appeared before him in a shimmer of seidr. She was on her knees for a mere second before she crumpled at his feet, bloodied and full of holes. “They shot you?” He asked her, even though he knew she couldn’t respond. “Not very ritualistic, is it?” He sneered. He wrestled with the idea of leaving the mortal’s corpse in the gardens, until he felt that long forgotten tug. He scooped her up with a groan akin to a dramatic teenager, and carried her inside.
Loki didn’t know exactly where to take her, given this is the first time he’d received a human sacrifice in Folkvang, let alone the first one he’d had to deal with in almost a millenia. He settled on just taking the mortal to his quarters, and placed her on the sofa near his fireplace. Once he had her settled, he tried to look inside himself -as he used to- to figure out what the conditions of the sacrifice were. The sooner he could fulfill this, the sooner this mortal could go to Asgard as others had before her, and serve the palace- but he found nothing. Odd, he thought, why the Hel would anyone sacrifice someone without a reason?
Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Very few ever felt the want or even the need to visit the trickster god, so Loki was surprised to say the least. He got up and when he swung open the door, Freya pushed past him frantically. “Ah yes, how may I help you Freya?” Loki asked sarcastically. “Hush Loki, this is not a time for games. This mortal, I assume you’re aware she was sacrificed to you?” She asked as she made her way towards the mortal, looking her over as if she wasn’t already protected.
“Well of course. I remember the feeling. It’s not a sensation one would forget with ease” Loki snipped back at her.
“And so you are also aware of the… unusual circumstances leading to said sacrifice?” Freya was looking at Loki with an odd look across her features.
“Do not toy with me, Freya. If you know something I don’t please do not hesitate to inform me.” Loki’s tone was firm, but curious. Freya sighed, and reached out for him. He knew what she was intending, and as much as he disliked the sensation of sharing visions, he felt he needed to know what had the goddess so worked up.
The night air was cool, the moon full. Loki saw the mortal on her knees as when she’d first appeared, but she was tied to a post, and surrounded by angered townsfolk. One man spoke to the others, insulting the girl and egging the others on. As Loki saw the gunman surrounding the girl, and heard the calling of ‘witch’ he realized that his was no sacrifice- it was an execution. The guns were raised, and they called the girl a term he hadn’t heard in millennia: Child of Loki. Before any triggers were pulled however, the young witch began reciting an ancient spell, one he recognized. It was a sacrificial incantation, but given a few near-botched pronunciations and seemingly random placements of his name, Loki started to doubt if the mortal even knew what she was saying.
Too quickly, the cold dark forest was replaced by the warm light of the fire, and Loki yanked his hands out of Freya’s grasp. This was indeed a rather unique scenario. Not very often did they have an unwilling self-sacrifice. Not ever really. It definitely didn’t help that there was no real reason, or thing asked for in return for Helena’s ‘sacrifice’.
“Well. I can see why you would be concerned,” Loki spoke after a minute.
“Yes. I can’t do my duty until you fulfill the terms of the sacrifice. This is no ewe, no goat. This is a person, and my divine purpose is to ensure the sacrificed portion of her soul reaches Folkvang and settles in nicely.”
“I understand, Freya. However, I’m afraid I do not know where to start. I have no task, and as far as I can tell, I shall not be receiving one. What would you have me do?” As he studied the goddess’ face, he felt he could almost read her intent in her features like words on a page. “No. No, I refuse. I shall not waste so much seidr on such a task. There is no certainty it would even work!”
“Loki, please. Have I not been kind to you thus far?” He considered her words. He had to admit, death had softened him quite a bit. Freya had gone out of her way to make him comfortable, even among people who blamed him directly for their being here. Without another word, he simply motioned vaguely to the bloodied girl on his couch. With a small thank you from Freya, the two of them got to work.