The Hel Experience

-4 Years Left Until Ragnarok- Svartalfaheim

I pulled the silk gloves further down over my fingers. The candlelight reflected on the threads and curved around the lump that formed around the Endalok ring, the one my father had given me so long ago, the one that had made all of this possible.

When I passed by the mirror on my way through the makeshift hallway, I noticed something back in the corner of my eye. A shimmering, except that it was reversed, which left behind a trail on the glass, like a black scratch.

"Great..." I spun around on the heels of my bright red, lace-up boots, just to notice exactly what I dreaded in my reflection. The girl staring back at me was watching me with pitch-black eyes. There was no white left, just a hole, an emptiness, which it had left behind.

"What is it?" Balder's voice asked. There was no second reflection in the mirror.

"Nothing," I answered, without looking away from the glass. My fingertips traced my cheeks from my lashes to my jawbone. Sighing deeply, I bit down on my lip to keep in a whimper at the sight of myself. "I'll take care of it. Get everyone ready."

And so, the presence, which wasn't really there, left the room. An immediate change in the girl's eye color followed; it softened, from pure darkness, to dark gray.

It was no more than an irritation and a solvable problem. As long as I could hide my appearance in the shadows of the tent, nobody would be able to notice my possession of the Endalok in my eyes. If they did, I'd simply use that powerful stone they'd desire to use my dead to eliminate the threat.

Another thing I noticed was how thin the reflection had become. From under the rim of the large, beaten up top hat she looked up at her own appearance. Her cheeks were sinking, casting a shadow under her cheekbone, and even the many layers of make-up around her eye weren't enough to distract away from that fact.

I stepped away and turned to my side. Once I had decided there was no more than a starving girl to see, I immediately walked forward. I had a crowd waiting for me.

As I neared and found my way through the humungous crowd of barely translucent bodies, souls disguised as regular people, I could feel the stone heat up. It felt like it was going to burn my skin, or at least the glove, but I knew- out of experience- that nothing was going to happen.

In fact, I knew from experience that it was probably going to be a good night. We were one of Svartalfaheim's best acts. It was a realm which was always open to be surprised, stunned, and convinced of things they'd never believed. Honestly, there was no better place to preform than in a tent packed with its residents: the Dark Elves.

Balder stood in front of the crowd, his spirit's energy flashing slightly. He watched me as I neared; his hand wrapped around one side of the tent's entrance. Just when I was about to ask him a concerned question about his health, he averted his glassy gaze and raised the thick material.

"Welcome to the Hel Experience! Be prepared to be stunned!" As the fire arose from creaking machines at either side of me, I took off my top hat and pressed it against my black-and-white striped corset- leaning over it to plier my greetings. The cacophony of turning gears, electrical drums and buzzing, hinted with the melody of a music box, started to play in the background. "Here you shall experience the impossible! It's almost like these people are ghosts" -- and I couldn't resist grinning up at the packed crowd -- "for they can do incredible things! May I welcome a few of my favorites, the Warriors- swordsmen from the underworld!"

With that, I raised the top hat into the air and waved it around with a smile on my face as if I had painted it on. I retreated further into the shadows, from where I watched the first group flow into the room and stab themselves, and each other, to the rhythm of the music. From where I stood, I could see the entire crowd. Most of the faces were unfamiliar, pale white ones with black eyes, which almost disappeared in their sunken eye sockets, but I could swear seeing Thor on the third row from the front, wearing clothing as dark as he could probably find, with my father next to him.

I wasn't surprised. He'd told me that he was sick of always meeting at the Bifrost, the portal between Midgard and Asgard, so I had been secretly and silently expecting them to show up. The only thing that surprised me was Balder's expression when he entered the tent for the second trick. The guns in his hands shook and, from where I stood, I could hear the cheap munition shake and clink.

I didn't ask, nor say, anything to him. Instead, I just raised my arms, smiled, and talked.

Time passed quickly. Before I knew it, the last act had come, and the Endalok was almost boiling hot with anticipation. Spirits hurried out of the way, pressing themselves against the rough walls when I moved forwards. If there was anything I enjoyed about my circus, it must have been the final act.

Spirits trembled in fear. Only Balder knew he was safe, but even his gaze was as distracted as the others.

I tugged off my gloves.

My fingers immediately hit the thick, humid air. By then there was a sickening smell of vomit, popcorn, sweat, and sand. It was dark, except for the light provided by torches and candles, making my soft, slow movements even more mysterious.

Come spirit! my mind summoned. Black smoke moved through the air like breath in the winter, curling towards the ceiling, until the Endalok- which gave me the power of the deceased souls, which I could even make visible to other people- called it down. Without ever having had a choice, it obeyed and swirled down through the air towards my left hand, which was reaching up to it.

It touched my skin and a shock ran through my spine. Like electricity, the pulse ran through my shaking bones until it slammed into the ground, sending both sparks and sand flying. I could feel the rush, the power, surge through me like a pleasant sickness, or an all devouring virus.

And I loved it.

Pitch-black eyes watched the clapping audience. My perfectly white teeth shone from my pleased grin, as my fingers curled up towards my hand palms.

Then the voices started. I opened my mouth, so the crowd could hear what I had already experienced so very often; murmurs, pleadings, whispered words, screams, more screams, louder screams...! I could feel the spirit crashing up against my skin. It was trying to escape, but the Endalok only listened to its wearer, and was far stronger than the dead man.

"It was long! Long ago! Let me fre-" escaped my mouth, until I was done with it, extended my hand and formed it into a gun towards the ceiling. My whole body was shaking. The spirit was crying.

Black smoke moved up, quicker than a bullet. Then it smashed against the thick fabric of the circus tent and broke up into a soft flow of life energy, working its way down the walls slowly.

I collapsed. My fingers clawed the damp sand and my weak knees slammed into the ground, but that didn't matter; it had worked. People were cheering and clapping. It wasn't until after Balder had helped me outside, and I was rinsing the dirty sweat off my face and arms, that I heard the news.

His spirit whispered the words. "My killer was in the crowd."