Makutu ☆ Thor: Ragnarok [DISCONTINUED]

six

SIX
BLACK MAGICK
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Outside, the night was black.

It was a blanket; the black of the night covered the moons that were usually ever so bright. That night, not even the stars were shining.

In the shadow of the palace's north hallway, Rán emerged from her bedroom; a blood-red cloak covered her body, the hood hung over her face. Her feet were bare, so nobody could hear her footsteps. The stone was freezing beneath her feet, so her steps were nimble and dainty as she tried to make her trip as short as possible.

The castle was asleep. Not even the mice were lurking. It was eerie. The palace was silent, the flames from the torches flickered against the walls and created shapes from the shadows, and Rán was forced to remember the times where she thought there were monsters constantly out to get her; though it was just the light playing tricks.

She walked down hallways and up staircases, following the familiar path to the guest quarters; seemingly miles away from her own. She had no idea which room Hjalmar was residing in, but that was no worry. She reached a hand out and pressed it against the cold stone wall to the left of her; she shut her eyes and felt the call, the pull of the magick from underneath the castle, the magick in her veins and in her heart. The wall seemed to vibrate and hum, as if it sang a song that translated fluently into her mind. She opened her eyes and stepped forwards three steps, to where a single oak door stood, the first in a hallway of many.

She knocked thrice.

There was shuffling behind the door, then it opened ever so slightly. Half of Hjalmar's face peered from behind the door, illuminated illy from the dim hallway lighting. He narrowed his eyes at her, before he smiled as he recognised who she was. He went to say something, but her finger dashed out towards his face, placing it on his lips to stop him from speaking - to stop him from alerting anyone of her presence.

She flicked her head, a gesture for him to follow her, and he nodded. He stepped out and quietly shut the door behind him, wearing nothing but tight wool pants.

She lead him down stairs and more hallways, lower and lower until the palace got so dark that she had to use her instinct to guide her. She felt the ground hum beneath her feet, the hum lead the way as she grabbed Hjalmar's hand and she closed her eyes and let the raw power of the magick guide her.

She batted the tapestry out of the way, and lead Hjal into the place where she felt most powerful.

"Rán, what is this place?" He asked, intrigue yet fear laced in his voice.

"Home." Was all she said.

She all but leapt on him then, her hands reached to his face, cupping it. He stumbled backwards as she latched her lips onto his, ravishing him as she forced her magick onto him. He felt the pull, the desire, the lust she was projecting onto him. A plot.

He kissed her back, let her take control. She pulled him backwards, so he was walking forwards, until he was sat on a chair that had appeared from nowhere. He opened his eyes and she was stood in front of him. The room, which was once full of plants and tapestries, potions and natural objects that amplified magick, was now black, cold, and damp. He felt as though he was under the sea, as though he was in a tank submerged hundreds of feet under. But that was ridiculous, he was in the Asgardian Palace.

Rán looked down at him, her hands in her cloak pockets.

"Now what are you going to do with him?" Her gaze snapped up. Behind Hjalmar, a vision of Loki flickered, as though he was an out-of-tune radio station.

"What does it matter to you?" She hissed at the hologram. Hjalmar shrunk in his seat, his hands shackled to the chair. He regretted ever accepting the invitation to come to Asgard.

"You know what you want to do." He taunted. Rán glared at the vision. It pointed at her heart. "You feel it in there. You know what it wants you to do."

Her heart clenched. Her thumb ran over the blade. Her arms went numb first, then her chest and then her legs; her body slackened, as though it was less tense and more comfortable. Her own vision flickered, her head lolled forwards and backwards, and when she looked up, Hjalmar gasped as her eyes went completely black before her iris' flickered gold. She looked above his head, at the flickering hologram of Loki, who looked sinister. "Do it." He hissed. "Kill him."

It was like an out of body experience.

Rán watched as the hologram of Loki and a hologram of herself advanced on the terrified prince sat on the chair in the middle of their magick lair, like lions would to an unsuspecting prey. They circled him, Loki flipping his daggers casually and Rán twisting her own blade in her hands. She had no idea where she had got it from, but it had appeared in her cloak earlier that evening.

She didn't want to kill him. She just wanted to threaten him, scare him off.

She watched as the two mages honed in on the prince; it was over before it even started. A flurry of feathers encompassed him - though, it weren't feathers, but actually knives moving so fast it seemed to look like a bird attack from a spectator's point of view. She was drenched in blood and he was split open, adorned in a thousand slash wounds. Loki flickered behind him again.

"Accept the offering."

Rán scrunched her eyebrows. A conch shell appeared to her right, under the limp wrist of Hjalmar, blood wept from an open wound. Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The blood dripped into the shell, each drop caused an echo throughout its hollow structure.

She crouched onto the floor and picked up the conch, her thumb tracing over the small engraving of a wave on the bottom of it. She lifted the tubed end to her lips, and drained the shell of the blood it contained.

Loki smiled as his sister's hair darkened from the roots, the darkness poured like waves over her hair, slowly staining and turning her hair blacker than the night outside. She pulled her lips away from the shell; chapped and pale, the red was as deep as the wine she got drunk from earlier that night, it spilled over her lips and down her chin as she breathed heavily, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she felt the power consume her, the darkness flood through her and radiate from her. Her heart pounded against her chest as she grinned madly to her brother, who smiled in return as he flickered from her view.

In her mind, her mother spoke; "You shall be as powerful as those beside you; you will be unstoppable."

i had a really peng dream about taika waititi and im so sad that its not real. that is all.