The Seventh Stone

Chapter Twenty-Two

The days transpire slowly after Lara's death, wherein the entirety of Loki's patience is tested—again and again. Consumed by grief, he remains perched on her bed for the majority of the time, turning away all offers for food and conversation—even from the King. He opts for solitude instead, absorbing the empty quietness as he turns the tesseract about in his hands, and peers out into the twinkling lights beyond the glass.

A quiet knock comes on the third evening—the one that he's been waiting for—summoning him to the ground below.

It's the first time he's ever heard such silence throughout the metropolis, save for hollow instruments playing a gentle hymn. White lamps illuminate the walls of the emptied shops, but do nothing for the chill breeze cooling their faces.

Even when someone speaks, Loki hardly hears it as he stalks forward, leading members of the royal family—along with others who might follow—toward the courtyard where Lara had danced.

The site of her funeral.

A faint impulse tugs on the side of Loki's awareness, and he peers darkly into the crowd—meeting a pair of familiar eyes. The King's eldest son lowers his sickly gaze to the ground as Loki passes, and the Odinson rolls his eyes back up to the path ahead—this night is in Lara's honor, and no one else's. No one else will have his attention.

The courtyard opens before them, and Loki swallows hard at the sight of a stone coffin standing in the middle—with Lara's slender form carved elegantly into the top. While the family stays behind, at the edge of the crowd, Loki strides toward it in the center of the circle. The instruments continue to play, but he hardly hears them as he peers down at the stone eyes—waiting on the Great Lament to ensue.

After a moment, it begins. And all throughout the stretches of the metropolis, people bow their heads in silence—while every light in sight begins to dim, until the entirety of the region is consumed by the quiet night. Loki blinks, looking around him—even the blue and red veins within the trees are dimmed to blackness.

A cool, steady wind lifts his cape up slightly—filling the cold and empty space surrounding him on all sides. In a silent heartbeat, pale, white lights suddenly emerge, rising slowly along the crevices of every tree—leaving the ground in a pale, ambient light.

His vision fills with the sight of the glinting lights, and grief tightens in his chest as he admires it, knowing how beautiful she would have found it all as well. His eyes trail back downward to meet her gaze one last time—as she across from him, on the other side of the coffin. An illusion—only for his eyes—staring back at him silently for a moment, before disappearing into the night.

[to be continued]