You look to your right reflection and see a maiden of pale skin crowned with radiant locks that drape down her tattered dress like liquid gold. A belt of bronze discs emblazoned with the runic markings of Yggdrasil hang loosely around her waist.
You owe your beauty to your father, but not much else. He had a reputation among the Aesir for mischief, equally beloved and abhorred. His talents for shapeshifting ended with him.
You look to your left reflection and see a corpse with hollow set eyes and exposed bone. You lift a frail skeletal hand, black as coal, and tuck a veil of wispy blonde hair over your shoulder.
Though you don't share your mother's look, you know you owe this ghastly side to her — the witch of the Ironwoods. She had been consumed by the Old Ways until her obsession turned to your father.
You recall the last moment you shared with her.
1. She was teaching you how to hunt.
2. She was teaching you Old Magic.
3. She never taught you much of anything.
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House of Loki
Short StoryWhen fate comes knocking with a hammer and sword, will you be able to break the chains of destiny? This is a tale of family and prophecy inspired by the Edda's of Norse Mythology. This is not a retelling, but an exploration of what is unsaid, guided...
