Chapter 52
It was quite early in the morning when Thor and Sif woke me. They said they would be inspecting the camp together and discussing plans once they returned. They had arranged a small breakfast for me, and though it was hard to eat with everything still churning inside me, I made myself try. I had to keep my strength up. By the time they returned, I had managed to finish most of it.
We deliberated for a long time about the best tactics. The location Angrboda had suggested wasn’t far—only a few hours on horseback. Thor would send a message, demanding she bring Loki in person before we would even consider listening to her. During their rounds, he had also sent a message to Niflheim, asking if Hela could spare a moment to meet with us.
Thor and Sif were just starting to argue—loudly—over whether she should accompany us. Thor insisted she needed to stay and lead the troops in his absence. Sif, unsurprisingly, disagreed. I honestly thought they were about to draw weapons when, without warning, Hela appeared in the tent.
She had her back to me and didn’t seem to notice I was there.
“My Queen,” Sif said, bowing stiffly.
“Queen Hela,” Thor greeted respectfully.
I studied Hela’s posture, and even without needing to feel anything magical, I could tell she was tense. Uncomfortable. Stressed.
“Prince Thor. Lady Sif,” she replied. “I received your message. I cannot stay long—there are too many souls in Niflheim still in disarray. Even now, I am resisting being pulled back. Do you have news of my father?”
I cleared my throat, and Hela turned at once. As soon as her eyes landed on me, her expression shifted into a warm smile.
“Aurora,” she said, and crossed the room to embrace me.
I hugged her back, ignoring the way Thor and Sif stared at us like we’d grown second heads.
“It’s good to see you, Hela,” I said when we pulled apart. “I’m sorry—we don’t have any news about Loki. Thor and I are going to try and rescue him. We leave shortly. I was hoping you might know something—anything—that could help us.”
Her smile faded. “I wish I did. Truly. If I could go with you, I would—but the chaos in Niflheim prevents it.”
I guided her gently to a chair. She looked exhausted.
She sat with a sigh, shaking her head. “If I had not been forced to leave, we could have taken her soul. Loki would be safe. And now you are risking your life to get him back.”
“Hela, this is not your fault,” I said, sitting beside her. “It’s hers. Angrboda knew exactly what she was doing when she released those souls—and when she took Loki. You did everything you could.”
She gave a small, weary smile. “Thank you, Aurora.”
Then she straightened a bit. “What is your plan? Did Odin release the bracers? Are you attempting a trade? I fear what she might do with them.”
“No, he did not.” I rolled up my sleeves. “But when I stole them—with Thor and Frigga’s help—things didn’t go as planned.”
Her gaze dropped to my arms, and when she saw the silver filigree, her lips curled into a smirk.
“Oh, Mother will be most displeased,” she said with a soft laugh.
I couldn’t help but grin.
Her smile faded as she looked back up. “But then you have nothing to trade.”
“Exactly,” I said. “We are hoping that if Loki is there, we can get him back before she realizes I am wearing them. If we have him with us, then I will reveal the bracers. Between my Seiðr, Thor, and Loki, I think we could overpower her—if it comes to that.”
Hela was quiet a moment. Then she removed a necklace from her neck—an obsidian pendant set in silver—and cupped it in her hands. I felt a soft pulse of magic as she whispered a spell over it.
“Here. Wear this.” She handed it to me. “Touch the stone, and I will know your location. But use it only when you are near her. I can teleport to you instantly—but if she is not there, the element of surprise is wasted.”
I fastened the necklace around my throat, hope rising for the first time in days.
“This is incredible, Hela. Thank you.”
She nodded. “I cannot trace her on my own, but you can. Her Seiðr is a dark red—deeper than the imposter you and Loki encountered. But close enough in signature that you will recognize it.”
“I remember. I will check before I do anything.”
“You must get close to her,” she warned. “Very close. And if she manages to place a soul inside you, that soul will know your plan. It will try to battle you for controle.” She paused, then added, “With your Seiðr, I believe you would win. But it would be… unpleasant. A body is not meant to house two souls. It would feel wrong—crowded, strained. Like something constantly pushing where it should not be. Mentally, it would wear on you.”
I met her gaze. “Can you do for me what you did for Loki? Can you lock my soul:”
She hesitated, but I smiled. “I know the risks. And I know what you promised him—if the worst happens. I know you would do the same for me.”
She took my hand and nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
There was a tingle of Seiðr, a strange sensation at the core of my being, and I knew she had anchored my soul the same way.
Then her eyes shifted to Thor.
I turned to him. “She will need to do the same for you. It prevents Angrboda from displacing your soul from your body with the Skull of Specters. It locks it in place.”
He looked uncertain for a moment, so I explained what it meant—and what Hela had promised to do if the worst happened.
“Will Mjolnir’s magic give enough Seiðr for protection?” he asked.
Hela tilted her head thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yes. I believe it will.”
Thor gave a slow, steady nod in return. “Then I am ready.”
I watched him walk over to her, resolve etched into every step.
“Then I beg you—please do the same to me, so I may help retrieve my brother,” he said.
Hela nodded without hesitation and reached for his hand. I felt the faint tingle of Seiðr in the air as she worked her spell.
When it was done, Thor turned to Sif. She was standing stiffly, arms crossed, clearly uneasy.
“Sif… I am sorry. But your lack of Seiðr prevents you from joining us,” he said gently. “I hope you understand.”
She nodded, though her jaw was tight. “Yes. I see that without magic, I would only be a liability. I will remain behind, as you asked.”
That earned a smile from Thor. He pulled her into a hug.
I turned to Hela and saw her shifting uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward nothing in particular. Her control was slipping—whatever strain was pulling at her from Niflheim was growing.
“Hela, if you need to go back, go,” I said quietly, taking her hand. “I don’t want to see you suffer.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I wish I could go with you. But I cannot. Promise me—when you find her, you will use the necklace.”
I nodded. “I will. As soon as Loki is safe and I have Angrboda in sight, I’ll call you.”
“Then good luck,” she said, and pulled me into one last hug. When she stepped back, she gave Thor a quick nod—then vanished in a pulse of cold light.
I turned and saw Thor finishing his goodbye to Sif. I gave her a short embrace myself, and then the two of us headed for the horses.
Shadow was waiting for me, ears flicking in anticipation. I ran through my usual routine with him, checking tack and gear, and whispering a few calming words as I worked. He was ready—more than ready.
Thor took a different horse this time, one I recognized as his own. The beast was strong, battle-tested, and clearly eager to run.
Without another word, we mounted and turned toward the edge of camp.
It was time.
Within half an hour, we were ready and galloping toward the meeting point Angrboda had given. Thor and I spoke very little as we rode. Tension sat between us like a second rider, heavy and silent. Every hoofbeat seemed to echo with nerves.
As the hours stretched on, a sudden pull gnawed at me. I needed to try the bond again. We were close now—surely the drain on my Seiðr would be manageable. I focused, gently reaching through the connection that bound us.
But the wall was still there.
The privacy lock hadn't budged.
My chest tightened. If Loki was merely a captive, why would he still be blocking me? Didn’t he know me? Didn’t he expect I would come for him? He could have given me something—some sign, some hint. Unless… unless he was trying to protect me. Maybe he feared I’d drain myself. Or maybe he didn’t dare risk reaching through the bond. Not if Angrboda could sense it.
Either way, it made my skin crawl. The silence wasn’t like him. Not with me.
I shook my head, trying to shove those thoughts aside. I was going to see him soon. I would know the truth then.
Thor looked over, concern etched into every line of his face. “Are you well?”
I gave a small nod. “Just worried. I tried the bond again. He’s still blocking me.”
Thor’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, but I could see it in his eyes—he was afraid too.
After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his hand and pointed ahead. “There.”
In the distance, at the base of a massive, snow-covered mountain, I saw them—figures. Two of them, both mounted. We'd seen that mountain on the horizon for hours, but now... now the shadow at its foot had shape.
My heart kicked in my chest. I looked at Thor, and he gave me the smallest smile.
As we drew closer, he gave me a quiet signal. I pulled up the hood of my cloak. We had talked about this—my identity was still mostly unknown, and we didn’t want to give anything away too early.
We slowed the horses. The snow muted everything, turning the world into a muffled dream.
Two riders waited.
The one on the left had black hair and a posture I’d know anywhere. I wanted to believe it. My heart leapt—but I focused, and immediately something felt wrong. The other man was a stranger, and I could feel his nervous energy even from here. But the one who looked like Loki… no. His presence was off. Too muted. Too wrong. The cadence of his stance, the tension in his shoulders—none of it fit.
But then a colder thought crept in. Was this just how it was now? With the bracers dulling my senses, was this how he’d always feel to me? Distant. Wrong. A shadow of what I used to know?
The idea hollowed me out.
I focused harder, reaching for our bond, reaching for the Seiðr—and what I felt chilled me.
I instantly used the spell to identify a Seiðr trace. The magic cloaking the man who looked like Loki wasn’t green. It wasn’t his. It was dark red—Angrboda’s color. Different from the corrupted, twisted trace Loki had seen in the possessed, but still unmistakably hers.
It was all over the imposter. Not as thick as it would be if she were present herself, but enough to be unmistakable. And the tingle of magic radiating from him… gods. The closer we got, the clearer it became. It was an illusion. Not someone shapeshifted into Loki—thank heavens—but cloaked, manipulated.
At least that meant—assuming for the sake of my sanity—that Loki was alive. Not here. But alive.
“Thor,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. “That’s not Loki. It’s someone cloaked in an illusion. I can sense Angrboda’s Seiðr—it’s hers, but too faint to be coming from her directly. She must’ve cast the illusion on someone else.”
Thor let out a low growl and nodded once.
We approached slowly.
The false Loki had his hands bound behind his back, a strange muzzle fitted over his mouth. The stranger beside him met us with a hard glare.
“Do you have the bracers?” he barked at Thor.
Thor did not even glance at him. His eyes were locked on the illusion. “Do you have my brother?”
The false Loki mumbled behind the muzzle, as if trying to play the part.
“What do you mean?” the stranger snapped, gesturing sharply. “He’s right there—can’t you see?”
Thor’s fury ignited in an instant. The air snapped with tension, electricity crackling faintly across his shoulders like a gathering storm.
“Do you think me a fool?” he roared, power rumbling in his voice. “Do you truly believe I would not recognize my own brother—or that I would walk blindly into a trap?”
The stranger flinched. Even his horse jerked sideways in alarm. Shadow tensed too, picking up on the rising threat. I laid a calming hand on his mane, whispering steady breaths through my teeth.
Then, as if on cue, the false Loki twisted free. The bindings fell as if they had never truly held him. The muzzle dissolved in a flash of red light.
“My brother,” he said with a grin, voice now unrestrained. “It seems you are unusually perceptive tonight.”
Before Thor could react, the imposter moved. In one fluid motion, he pulled a knife from beneath his robes and slashed it clean across the throat of the man beside him.
There was a horrible, wet sound as the knife slid across the man’s throat. His eyes went wide—shock, confusion, fear—before he crumpled, falling off his horse and into the snow. Blood spread like ink across the white around him. He gurgled for a few moments, twitching helplessly while the illusion of Loki watched, smiling faintly, almost serenely, until the last gasping breath rattled out of him.
The fake Loki turned his gaze to us. “Well,” he said coolly, “now that you’ve seen through the illusion, he was no longer necessary.”
My stomach turned. I knew it wasn’t Loki, but the image—the face I loved—doing something so cold, so calculated, made bile rise in my throat. I clenched my fists to ground myself, to hold back the rage I could feel churning in my gut. I was grateful—selfishly, maybe—that I could no longer feel others’ pain like I used to. Because I didn’t think I could have survived the agony of that man’s final moments.
Thor said nothing. He sat rigid in his saddle, arms tense. But the air around him crackled faintly, and I knew. I knew how deeply the act had shaken him.
The fake Loki moved his horse forward, but Thor raised a hand, halting him.
“You stay right there,” he said, voice low but full of authority. “The deal was my brother for the bracers. We came in good faith—and I do not see my brother.”
The illusion shimmered, then vanished. In its place sat a broad-shouldered man with pale scars marring his face and arms. His hair was sandy blond, his eyes a lifeless blue. There might have been something once-handsome in his features, but the way he held himself—the smirk, the hardness in his expression—turned my blood cold.
“You cannot expect my mistress not to try,” he said with a grin. “Just make sure you keep your end of the deal.” His voice dropped, all mirth gone. “Or you may wish you had never set foot on this mountain.”
He turned without waiting for a response and urged his horse forward, ascending the snowy slope. “Follow me, and I will take you further,” he called over his shoulder.
I guided Shadow closer to Thor. He was shaking his head.
“Aurora, I do not like this,” he muttered. “Let me go ahead. You should stay behind. I am sure there are more traps ahead.”
I shook my head. “No. We go together, Thor. Whatever she’s planned, we face it side by side. You know why I have to be there.”
I looked at him as I touched my neck, waiting for recognition in his eyes. I could not mention Hela’s necklace—not here, not now—but I saw the flicker of understanding in his gaze.
Still uneasy, Thor stared at the man disappearing into the snow. I did not wait. I nudged Shadow forward. He responded instantly, his hooves nearly silent against the snowy ground.
Thor fell in beside me moments later, silent, grim.
We left the corpse behind us in the snow—alone, discarded. The red pool around him had grown, staining the white like spilled ink across parchment. It spread in silence, soaking into the ground beneath, marking the place with a quiet, horrifying permanence.
My skin prickled as we rode. I kept my spell for detecting Seiðr active, but the mountains felt… empty. Too empty. I tried to sense anything—movement, magic, intent—but either the landscape was clean or my changed sensitivity made everything feel muted and distant.
I kept my hand on Shadow’s neck, his steady presence a small comfort as we rode into the unknown.
As we rode, I could see Thor was just as tense—but we were doing it. We were going to get Loki back. It was funny how often I had to tell myself that. But it helped. It kept me calm, so I just went with it.
After a while, a dark shape loomed up ahead. I squinted—snow was falling harder now—but when I glanced at Thor, I saw he had already noticed it.
“It seems like there is some sort of cave formation,” he said in a surprisingly low voice. Normally, he bellowed over everything.
As we neared the opening, I saw firelight flickering inside. The entrance was narrow and tall, just large enough for a few horses, but the darkness beyond was thick and deep. The man dismounted and turned to face us.
“If you want to see your brother again, then follow me,” he said, and started walking.
I looked at Thor. He looked at me.
“What do we do?” I asked. “I do not see any magic, but I also cannot see far into the cave.”
Thor let out a heavy sigh. “Then we follow.”
I nodded and dismounted. I turned to Shadow.
“My prince… I am going inside, but I do not know what will happen. Wait for us as long as you can. If it takes too long, go back to the main camp where the other soldiers are. If I need you… I hope you can sense it. But do not put yourself in harm’s way. Do you hear me?”
I looked into his deep brown eyes. He nodded—just once—with a sad look, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug.
I made sure both horses were settled and safe. I built a small fire to keep them warm and retrieved some hay and water from my void storage so they could eat and drink.
Then I turned to Thor, and together we followed the man into the cave.
The passage curved into an S-shape, completely hiding the light from outside. As we rounded the bend, small flames lit on either side of the stone, casting flickering shadows ahead of us.
The tunnel widened, and it became obvious this place was not entirely natural. The shapes were too symmetrical. Too perfect. This was carved out, shaped by someone—or something.
We entered a long corridor, with several branching paths ahead. The man waited for us.
“I will take you to your brother. You can verify that it is him. After that, you will return here, where you will hand over the bracers to my queen. Once she verifies them, you will be allowed to leave with him.”
Thor nodded, and I followed in silence, my hood still up.
As we stepped forward, a loud metallic crash rang out behind us. I jumped, spinning around. A massive gate had slammed into place, sealing the way we came.
I turned to Thor, but he only nodded grimly.
We moved through corridor after corridor, and I did my best to memorize the turns and paths. Eventually, we reached a fork, and the man gestured down the right-hand path.
“Your brother is that way. I will wait in the main hallway. If you get lost, follow the path that remains lit.”
As he said it, the flames in the other halls dimmed to near-darkness. Only the way we came remained bright.
We walked down the corridor in silence. I saw Thor shiver slightly. Maybe it was the cold. My breath came out in thick plumes, fogging the air. The cave was not magically warmed. Another reminder of the changes inside me—where I once would have shivered, now I felt nothing at all. Just comfortably neutral.
At the end of the hallway was a wide chamber, dark and utterly silent. I summoned a light sphere and let it drift forward to illuminate the space.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw a figure chained to the wall.
He was upright, bound at the waist and arms. His head hung forward like he was asleep. Dirty plates lay scattered near his feet. I heard something small and quick scurry out of the light—rats, maybe. Or something worse.
I stepped forward, heart pounding. From the side, I caught the profile of his face.
It was Loki.
I almost ran to him—but Thor’s hand caught my arm gently.
“Did you check?” he asked in a low voice.
I took a slow breath. I’d let my Seiðr-trace spell lapse—too much had happened, and my focus had slipped. Drawing on the magic again, I reactivated it, letting it wash over my vision.
The shimmer returned—emerald green, faint and flickering, barely clinging to Loki like a second skin. Too weak. Dull with exhaustion.
Then I saw it.
Around his neck, pulsing with dark red Seiðr, was the collar.
Angrboda’s signature.
“It’s him, but I cannot feel him,” I said quietly. “I think he’s unconscious. His Seiðr is there… but it’s dim. And the collar—it’s hers.”
Thor nodded. “Let me approach him.”
He stepped forward slowly and gently lifted Loki’s chin.
I gasped.
His skin was pale—too pale, almost grey. Deep shadows pooled under his eyes. His face was bruised, scraped, raw. I did not want to imagine the rest.
“Wake up,” Thor said, voice low and even. He gave Loki a small shake.
Nothing.
He tried again, firmer this time—and I felt it. Just barely.
A flicker. Pain. Exhaustion. Flickering so faint I almost missed it.
But I didn’t feel it through the haze of empathy like I had with others since the bracers chose me.
I felt it through the bond.
Sharp. Immediate. Real.
He was still there.
My Loki.
“Thor,” I whispered, my voice catching. “It’s him. I can feel it. It’s really him.”
Thor stepped aside, and I rushed forward. I cupped his face, brushing tangled strands of greasy hair from his forehead.
“Loki…” I breathed. “Loki, please open your eyes.”
He stirred.
A weak tremor ran through him. Pain flared again—bright and raw through the bond. His arms twitched slightly in the chains.
I reached instinctively for my Seiðr, channeled a healing spell into my hands, and pressed them gently to his chest.
The magic didn’t take.
It didn’t settle into him. Didn’t soothe. Didn’t heal.
Instead, it veered—torn from my hands and redirected.
Siphoned.
I felt the jolt of it—unnatural, hungry.
My eyes dropped to the collar fastened around his throat.
There. That was it. That was where my Seiðr was going.
Not just suppressing Loki—it was leeching from me, draining everything I tried to give him. Feeding on it.
I yanked the spell back immediately, cutting the flow before it pulled more.
Breath shaking, I stepped back and stared at the dark metal clamped around his neck.
It wasn’t just a collar.
It was a weapon. And not just against him.
It punished anyone who tried to help.
Just then, Loki stirred—waking not gently, but in panic.
The moment he registered that someone was there, his eyes flew open—wild, glassy, confused. He jerked back hard, straining upright in his chains.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, his voice cracked and furious. His gaze snapped to Thor, who was now standing closer to him than I was. Rage flared in his expression, hot and immediate.
“Get your hands off me!” he shouted. Then, in one sudden, brutal motion, he kicked out—his boot slamming into Thor’s side with surprising force. He twisted toward me, but Thor was already pulling me back, catching my arm before Loki could lash out again.
“Brother, we are here to get you out,” Thor said, steady and calm.
Loki laughed—a harsh, broken sound.
“Again?” he spat. “Do you think I am stupid? That I would fall for this again, you crow?”
His voice was pure venom. “You fooled me once—but you will have to do far better than this to fool me again.”
I froze, heart shattering, as I looked at him.
His eyes cut to me.
“And who might you be?” he asked, voice low and cruel. “You are too short to be my mother. So who did she summon this time to torment me?”
I blinked, confused—then remembered my hood. Slowly, I pushed it back.
The moment he saw my face, something flickered in his expression. Recognition. Disbelief. Fury. It all churned together into something I couldn’t name.
He laughed again—cold and bitter. “I must say… she is improving. This one even looks exactly like her.”
“Loki,” I said gently, “who are you talking to?”
He shook his head, hard and desperate. “You are not going to break me,” he shouted.
I took a cautious step toward him. He went pale, shrinking back against the wall like I’d struck him.
“Get back,” he growled.
His emotions flared—rage, fear, something darker—but through the bond, I felt it again: the hesitation. The unwillingness. He wouldn’t hurt me. Even if he didn’t believe it was me, he couldn’t bring himself to follow through.
“Loki, it’s me. And it’s really Thor. We’re here to get you out.”
He stared at me, untrusting. “Come closer and I will hurt you,” he warned, voice flat and cold.
But the bond whispered otherwise.
I ignored the threat. I stepped forward and placed my arms gently on either side of his face, boxing him in. His eyes were fevered, haunted. I leaned in, close enough for only him to hear.
“Loki… can’t you sense it’s me?” I whispered. “I’m trying to show you—it’s me. But you still have the bond locked.”
His breath caught. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then his eyes widened just slightly.
“If you are who you say you are,” he whispered hoarsely, “then tell me this…”
He paused, clearly thinking.
“Where is our love connected? Where do I live in you… and you in me?”
I blinked. The question was so perfectly him—cryptic and clever. He had to be sure.
Most people would touch his heart. That was where love resided.
But only I would know what he meant.
I didn’t hesitate. I raised my hand and placed it gently on the back of his neck—right where the rune, etched by our shared Seiðr, marked the bond between us. Love. Trust. Oath.
I felt him sag in the chains.
Tears sprang to his eyes and spilled down his hollow cheeks. The walls in him cracked, and the weight of everything he had held in broke loose.
I pulled him into the closest thing I could manage to a real hug with him still shackled to the wall. He leaned into me, burying his face in my hair with a long, ragged breath that trembled all the way through me.
I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to feel his arms around me again, strong and steady and alive—but he couldn’t. He was still bound. Still trapped. And I hated every inch of the wall behind him for it.
When I finally pulled back, I saw him close his eyes, trying to hold himself together. I reached carefully for the chain around his wrists, readying a spell—one I thought might work.
But before I could even speak the words, Loki’s voice cut through the dark.
“Do not.”
I looked at him like he couldn’t possibly mean it, but when I raised my hand again, his voice snapped out—sharp, pleading.
“No. Do not.”
His eyes locked with mine.
“Do not use magic. The collar around my neck will drain your Seiðr. If you try to heal me, or use any magic connected to me, it will only weaken you. And do not say anything here that you do not want Angrboda to know. She placed a soul inside me.”
His breath trembled.
“I have been holding him back—easy at first. But she has been siphoning my Seiðr with this damned collar. It is very dark magic… something I did not foresee. My hold on him is getting weaker. He takes control sometimes—and the moment he is in control, he will tell her everything he has seen.”
His voice cracked on that last word, and I saw the frustration in his eyes—at the collar, at himself, at everything he could not stop.
He paused, then added more softly,
“That is why I locked it. That is why I blocked myself from feeling you. I could not risk them using our bond. They know the bond exists, but they cannot open it—and I would rather die than give them a way in. And believe me, they tried.”
My breath caught.
It all made sense now. The hollow ache every time I’d reached for him. That strange, suffocating silence where his presence used to be. It hadn’t been the bracers.
It was him.
He’d shut himself off completely—to protect us.
“I understand,” I whispered, stroking his cheek.
He leaned into the touch, a tiny shiver running through him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thor step forward to examine the chains. He raised Mjolnir and slammed it into the wall anchor with a thunderous crash. The sound echoed through the cavern, but the chains didn’t budge.
Loki sighed and slumped again. “If that was not enough, then only Angrboda can release me.”
“May I try lightning?” Thor asked. “Will it be absorbed as well?”
Loki hesitated.
“I do not know. Elemental Seiðr is harder to trap. But if the lightning heats the chains enough to warp them… it might work. It also might cook my arms off in the process.”
His tone was dry and weary—but it had that familiar Loki edge. The one he always used when explaining something Thor should’ve figured out already. Despite everything, it made me smile.
But his words stuck with me. Warping the chains...
“Thor,” I said, pulling him aside. “I have an idea. But I need to test it—and I cannot test it on Loki. Can I try something on you? It might sting, but if it does, I can heal it.”
He nodded without hesitation.
I leaned in a little closer and dropped my voice to a whisper.
“Also… will you shield me with your body? Just for a moment. I do not want Loki to see what I am doing.”
Thor gave a subtle nod, then stepped into place, positioning himself squarely between me and Loki—his broad form completely blocking the view.
I pulled one of the metal buttons from the bottom of my cloak. Not like I was cold anymore.
Holding it in my palm, I focused on heating it. No flames danced around my fingers—there was no visible Seiðr—but I could feel the button grow hotter, glowing red, then nearly orange as the metal softened beneath my touch.
Then I took Thor’s hand and held it a few inches above the button.
“I want you to reach for it. If you feel any pain, pull back.”
He frowned, but nodded. Slowly, cautiously, he lowered his hand.
I focused harder—keeping the button hot while forcing Thor’s skin to stay cool. I tracked the moisture in his fingers, the temperature in his palm, and pushed back against the natural heat of the metal with everything I had.
He grabbed the button. Held it.
His eyes widened. “It does not burn.”
I smiled and gently took it back, cooling it down before dropping it to the floor.
When I looked up, Thor stepped aside.
Loki was staring at us, clearly unsettled.
“What were you doing?” he asked, gaze flicking between the two of us.
I said nothing. Thor said nothing.
We both simply turned back toward the chains.
I reached for Loki’s cuff, placing my hands carefully around it. The metal was cold and heavy, biting against his bruised skin. I held it steady, then focused.
Slowly, I began to heat it—letting the metal glow bright red, then nearly yellow. At the same time, I cooled the skin beneath it, forcing the heat to wrap only around the manacle.
The strain was immense. The bracers were fueled by my Seiðr, but the control and stamina required—that came entirely from me. I could feel it in every breath that hitched, every bead of sweat forming along my brow.
But I would endure.
My control had to be perfect.
I would not hurt Loki any more than he already was.
When it finally softened enough, I gripped both ends and pulled gently, stretching the metal just enough for his hand to slip free.
The cuff and chains clattered against the stone wall.
Loki gasped, but his arm dropped safely. No new burns. Just bruises. Just the aftermath of too many days chained up like an animal.
I could feel him scanning my face. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes—he must have sensed that I hadn’t used a spell. And I could see his mind working, trying to comprehend.
I looked at him.
“Don’t,” I said—gentle, but firm.
Recognition washed over him as he stared at me, clearly trying not to solve the puzzle.
I let out a long breath, relief washing through me.
One down.
And Loki was still watching me like he didn’t know whether to cry or believe I was real.
So I reached for the other cuff on his other hand and did the same, within moments, that arm was free too.
I watched him sag and rub at his sore wrist and flex his shoulder muscles. His skin was angry and red.
Next came the band around his waist. It was a lot thicker—and much bigger—than the wrist cuffs.
After a few moments examining it, I realized heating the whole thing would drain too much of my stamina. I could already feel the toll it was taking on my half-Æsir body.
So I concentrated on a very small section instead. If I could just force a tiny opening, maybe Thor could do the rest with his strength.
This time, I pushed the heat even further, until the metal glowed near white—still shielding Loki from its effects. Working on only a small piece was far less intense than trying to heat the entire cuff, and I silently cursed myself for not thinking of it sooner.
I really needed to start learning smarter ways to use this new power.
I braced my hands on either side of the metal and pulled. It gave way a little, but not nearly enough.
“Thor, help me—can you pull?” I asked.
He stepped in and gripped the weakened section with both hands, bracing himself. His muscles strained with the effort, veins standing out in his arms, but the metal barely shifted.
I didn’t dare heat a larger area. I needed to save my strength.
Letting out a breath, I thought it over. Heating alone wouldn’t be enough.
But what if I froze it?
“Thor, come here a moment,” I said. “When I say so, I need you to hit this spot with Mjolnir—carefully.”
He nodded, and I focused again. This time, I froze the same section I’d already heated. Ice spread rapidly across the weakened area, crackling as it tightened. I did my best to shield Loki from the cold creeping up around him.
“Now.”
As I stepped back, Mjolnir struck with a deafening bang.
The frozen metal shattered on impact.
Before the pieces could fully settle, Thor dropped to one knee and gripped what remained of the band. With a grunt, he forced the fractured metal farther apart, just enough for Loki to slip free.
As soon as he was clear, Loki collapsed into a sitting position, his back slumping against the wall. His legs were shaking—cramped from being pinned in place for too long.
We both knelt beside him, and I gently pulled him into my arms, holding him close and stroking his hair. His breath was ragged, but I could feel both of us start to settle—his body pressed against mine, his presence grounding me again.
We sat there for a moment before Thor knelt beside us.
“We need to talk before we go back,” he said, settling on the cold stone floor.
“Brother, is there a way to remove the collar around your neck?”
Loki leaned back against the wall, shaking his head.
“I do not know. I have tried, but I was not able to break it.”
He looked at me. “Perhaps Aurora could—with her Seiðr—but it would surely drain her far beyond safe limits.” He shook his head again. “But it is only a guess. I would not recommend it.”
I looked at him. “Could I melt it like I did with the chains?”
“No,” he said immediately. “The magic prevents that. I attempted it myself.”
He pulled the collar down slightly, and I winced at the burns beneath it. I reached out and squeezed his hand.
Loki looked up suddenly. “But why are you here? There must be a reason she let you get this far.”
I could hear the tension in his voice—feel it pressing under his skin.
Thor nodded. “She wants the elemental bracers. She offered you as a trade.”
Loki’s eyes went wide. “And Father approved that?”
Thor shook his head, and the sadness in his face hit me hard.
“I am sorry, Loki. But no.”
Before Thor could go on, I felt Loki’s anger rise.
“Then why are you here?” he snapped. “Without the bracers, you cannot get me out of here.”
I squeezed his hand again. “Loki, we’re not without the bracers. Just because your father didn’t approve doesn’t mean I’d sit by and do nothing. And as it turns out, neither would Thor. Or your mother.”
His head turned toward me, disbelief written all over his face.
“You mean to say you robbed the vault?”
I smiled. “Well, yes. But not without help from Thor, and eventually your mother. I don’t think I’d have managed it without them.”
Loki looked at Thor, and I saw his disbelief soften into something else—something warmer.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
I saw him swallow hard.
Thor glanced at the collar, frowning. “What if we do not wait? What if we leave now, with the collar still in place?”
Loki’s expression turned grim. “I already tried that. The first time I attempted to escape, it triggered a series of pulses—each one worse than the last. It was not just pain. It was a flood of dark Seiðr that burned through my mind and body. I nearly did not survive.”
My breath caught. I tightened my arms around him instinctively, pulling him closer, as if I could protect him from something that had already happened.
Loki shifted weakly in my hold, then brought one bruised hand up to brush his fingers through my hair.
“I am here,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I am all right. You found me.”
I closed my eyes for just a second, leaning into the quiet strength of his touch.
“So now we give the bracers to Angrboda, and then what?” Loki asked, his voice harder again. “I do not think she will simply let us leave. That witch is the devil incarnate.”
He shook his head.
I looked at Thor. “We just need her to remove the collar. Once she does, Loki takes as much Seiðr as he needs from me and teleports the three of us outside the cave. The horses are there. If he can teleport us even farther, great. But if not, Shadow knows where to find me, and I’m sure he’ll get Thor’s horse to follow.”
Loki looked between us.
“But then we shall have given her everything she wants. She will be more powerful than ever.”
I reached for his arm.
“Loki, don’t worry. With you safe, we’ll figure things out when we get there. For now, our only concern is you—getting you back. The rest, we’ll manage later.”
His eyes narrowed. He was thinking—questioning. Normally, he would have asked why. But I saw the moment he stopped himself. Shut it down.
I knew he realized that anything he learned now could be handed straight to Angrboda the moment his hold on his mind slipped. And he was smart enough not to give her that satisfaction.
My gut twisted, just slightly. I hated omitting things to him. I knew it wasn’t lying, but then again... I had never done that before.
If the bond had been open, he might’ve noticed the flicker of unease tightening in my chest. But it wasn’t. And for once, I was glad.
He looked at me.
“But you do have the bracers here?”
“Yes,” I said. “We have them with us.”
He must have seen the truth in my face, because he nodded.
He tried to stand, but I could see the effort it took, plain on his face. Thor bolted upright and helped him, and I got to my feet as well, glancing toward the corridor.
“So we’re clear,” I said. “We go back. Before we give Angrboda anything, she removes the collar. After that, we leave the bracers, and Loki teleports us out.”
They both nodded.
We followed the corridor back to the main hallway. The man with the cold face was waiting. When he saw Thor supporting Loki, his brow lifted in surprise.
“It seems your friends are craftier than expected,” he said, grinning at Loki. “I was waiting for one of them to beg me to release you.”
Then he turned toward me, eyes dragging slowly over my face.
“And now that I see this one, I almost wish she’d tried.”
I felt Loki’s fury flare through the bond—sharp and sudden. Even with his side of it still locked, even with him unable to feel anything from me, I could still feel him.
It grounded me.
In a world where the feelings of others now came through muffled and faint—barely more than background noise—Loki’s emotions were still vivid, still unmistakable. It was a stark contrast. And it reassured me. Our connection was still there. Still true.
I reached out and touched his hand, calming him with the smallest gesture.
I ignored the man’s smirk.
“Bring us to Angrboda,” I said, voice sharp.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, still smiling. “I like your attitude. Makes it so much more fun to break someone first… and then make them beg.”
A shiver ran up my spine, but I did my best not to show it.
Luckily, he turned and walked into another corridor.
I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from that man as possible—but I knew I had to follow him.