Mists Of Midgard: The Serpent's Shadow

Chapter 7: Truth

Einar's heart throbbed in his chest as he sat up straight. He realized that the seeress had vanished, leaving him alone to face the unknown assailant at the door. The incessant knocking grew louder and more impatient, each thump reverberating through the room like a drum beat of doom, until it suddenly stopped.

Einar's senses were on high alert now, his surroundings eerily silent. He strained his ears, listening for any sound, any hint of the outside world. But there was nothing. No sound of wind, no pitter-patter of footsteps, not even the gentle babbling of the nearby creek he knew so well. The silence was deafening. He sprung up, feeling for a weapon at his side that was still not there.

The door creaked as it slowly slip open, revealing a moonlit forest that Einar had never seen before. He had spent time in the forests surrounding Arvigrad before, and something about this one was different, yet he couldnt put his finger on it. He knew something was wrong, he knew the Seeress probably practiced some kind of magic, but this wasn't her doing. He knew he needed to tread carefully and lightly.

Suddenly, Einar felt an irresistible force pulling at him, as if the forest itself was beckoning him forward. He stumbled for a moment before finding his footing and began to walk. Everything around him became a blur, the trees and rocks flew past him in a dizzying rush. He found himself walking, but his surroundings were flying past him as if he was in a full sprint. In the blink of an eye, he found himself at the bank of a rushing river, its waters churning and frothing. The sound of its passage was like the roar of a thousand voices.

Einar felt both a sense of wonder, and alarm. He had never seen such a large body of water, let alone one running at speeds like this one. "This cant be Jormundia" he thought. He was right, as Jormumdia's water mostly consisted of lakes and ponds. The rain would fall and pool into holes, forming ponds and lakes. Any lakes that would form, would eventually lead to the mists, making them dangerous.

Einar was mesmerized by the sight of the huge body of water before him, its rapid currents filling him with both awe and unease. He had never seen such a vast expanse of liquid, certainly not one that moved with such force. As he stood there, contemplating where he could possibly be, he realized that this couldn't be Jormundia; its waters were mostly composed of tranquil lakes and ponds. He knew that the rain would pool into holes, forming those lakes and ponds, but any significant river or stream would eventually lead to the dreaded mists, making them treacherous to traverse.

Dumbfounded, Einar almost didnt take notice of the small island before him. A large black wolf eyed Einar down from the other side. As it walked towards the rushing river, it turned into a snake and slithered through it's currents, unfazed by the power of the moving water.

Einar's eyes widened with astonishment as a tall, lithe man emerged from the water, his body glistening in the dim moonlight. He couldn't believe what he was seeing; it was as if the river had given birth to this mysterious figure, the snake and the wolf were gone.

The man towered over Einar. Even looking up at the man, Einar couldnt get a great look at his face, as the man wore a helmet that looked like it should of belonged to a giant. The helmet sat on his head, more like a hat, covering his eyes. The hat only left a smile and a pointed goatee in view. Chains hung from wrists, neck, and ankles.

"I want a favor" the tall man said. He laughed as he continued. With a knowing grin, the man leaned down. With his face now closer to Einar's, the man whispered to him. "I am the one who saved you from the mists" he declared with a hint of pride. "There's one task I need you to undertake, then you won't be in debt to me anymore."

The man before him put off an otherworldy aura, something he knew he had not felt before. Einar took a deep breath, attempting to steady his racing mind. He began to pace, his steps measured as he tried to regain control of his thoughts. "Before I ask the nature of the task, I must know," he started, his voice regaining its composure, "Are you Loki? The God of Trickery? Im no stranger to stories of Gods, and I think you are him."