Heir to Asgard

Chapter 4

Thor's POV

Josie's eyes were closed as she slumped to the ground, her head banging against the solid shadow. I realized, suddenly, that Wanda was no longer next to me. Had she seen all I had?

"Josie." Loki was quickly kneeling at Josie's side, his hands easily untying the outfit she had on- again I had missed Josie changing into black and gold Asgardian robes. His hands moved with the swift ease of practice, and gentleness that I had never before seen in him.

"Loki, you should not be here." Josie snapped, coughing, and propped herself up on her elbows.

"This is your nightmare every night. Every night I come here and stab @#*#)/@ in the back. It is only our luck that he does not seem to remember my trick. If you yield, he will take your magic. And you know what would happen then." Loki used a name that I had never heard, and it slipped my mind like water through one's fingers. He had successfully removed part of Josie's attire, revealing an uncleaned wound on her right side.

"Yes. That does not mean that you need waste your power to visit me here." She growled.

"Yes, visiting. This is the ideal spot for a vacation." My brother grumbled.

I felt the sudden urge to cut off Loki's head. He's in her mind. I reminded myself. Perhaps this is just the version of him that she remembers. He is not necessarily here.

"Where are you?" Josie asked. Loki tilted his head slightly, and I saw, just for a moment, how similar they seemed. How similar they moved.

"I'm in front of you."

"Are you still-" Her voice cut off, suddenly. She tensed all over, pushing herself to sit up. Her eyes fluttered closed. I felt something then, almost like waves in the air. I had felt it before. Power. The sound of power hung loosely in the air, rippling out, freezing me to the spot. Cold rushed into my blood, running like trickles of ice in my veins.

Loki backed away quickly, stumbling a bit. He watched with cold fascination as Josie opened her eyes.

They were white. Just like in the vision, in the field. Her eyes were pure glimmering white that seemed to radiate cold, as though someone had pushed death into her eyes and forced her to see through it. It glowed with a cold light, a dark world backdrop against the light that was darker.

And then it was gone. All gone, the blank shadow world, the face of my brother, the cold. I was gripping the swing roughly, sweat on my face and arms. I brushed hair out of my face. The stars, dim but shining, seemed to look down at me. Was it real? The thought echoed in my head.

Heimdall, was it real? Is this true? Is my brother alive?

I waited a moment, then another. Heimdall did not respond. There were no flashes of multicolored light, no eyes at the back of my mind. No response at all.