The Seventh Stone

Chapter Nine

Loki and I take the same elevator that brought us to the top of the tree, and make our way through the triage of halls and through the first exit that we see—another small entry point between two wrinkles of the trunk. With Loki to my right, we stride along a path, and out into the metropolis.

A festival—that's what's going on out here, judging by the music and decor. The paths are especially festive, and are lightly covered by wispy canopies of fine, silver strings and metal pendants. They're beautiful to look at on their own, as they gleam brightly—despite the warm, yet cloudy weather—and flicker reflectively in the shadows of the spaceships flying by.

"Wow," I murmur, slowing down along the path. Loki slows as soon as he notices me falling behind, and I trudge on beside him, looking up at the sights and sounds surrounding us.

In the daytime ambiance, I can also see that the stands and shops extend outward into taller, residential structures, stretching higher and higher into the air as they near the neighboring trees. Some of them even twist and rise over the bases, and along the trunks themselves. It's strange, because I would've expected the 'main' one—the one with the throne room—to be at the center of this massive forest. Instead, it's almost like they placed it intentionally at the edge of the forest, to be some kind of guarding entity.

And really, if I thought this place was impressive before, it's simply breathtaking now. The air in my immediate space is filled with the sweet aroma of fresh pastries, and all the stands are laden with a variety of gadgets, jewels, and elegant textiles. But the large, winding paths—those are the true jewels of the festival. The people themselves are garnishing them with a multitude of beautiful wardrobes, smiles, and pleasant-sounding conversation.

"It's like walking through a foreign country," I remark.

"Hm," Loki bobs his head, glancing at me briefly. "Midgard must be more interesting than I give it credit for."

I shake my head—glancing briefly in the direction of three bright voices breaking out into melodic song.

"No, it's not like this," I pause, gandering at the sudden group of soldiers walking by us, hands resting on their blade hilts. I gesture to them, "Although, that's pretty familiar..."

Loki turns and peers at them, waiting for them to pass before responding. "See much of your militia?"

I nod, looking back. "Yeah, that kind of security..." I glance up at him. "It's not usually a good sign."

Loki tilts his head agreeably. "They did mention something about unrest."

"Yeah—the war," I say. "But they didn't tell us anything about it."

"Right," he says. "They must know the power of information."

I slow to a stop at an empty corner and turn to face him with crossed arms, while the bustle continues on around us. "What do you mean?" I ask quietly.

His brow flickers secretively as he looks about us, and steps closer, narrowing his eyes. "Well think about it," he says in a low, smooth tone, tilting his head to the side as he turns, and peers down at me intently. I don't think he's ever stood this close to me, and I can practically feel the energy and heat radiating off of him.

He continues softly, "Some fragile creature appears in your world, at the cusp of some discord, and you believe that it can help—are you prepared to divulge the death and horror it'd be involving itself with?"

Death and horror...

Tension flickers in my chest, but I'm not entirely sure whether it's from that notion—or him.