The Hel Experience

-4 years left until Ragnarok- Svartalfaheim-

I must admit, there has always been something wrong me. Perhaps it's comparable to an error, or a misplaced gear in my brain that makes it spin quicker and quicker until it works too quickly to keep up with itself. Or maybe, it's better described as a mutation, or natural selection. Evolution has always proved itself to be the final victor, and perhaps it stood by my side for once. But this gene, oh dear, I'm clueless where it came from.

It was early in the morning. Our last day in Svartalfaheim for the season. Dew drops hung from the tents and had made the dead dirt damp and squishy under my thick, black boots. The sun was still rising in the east, casting a shadow of light over the horizon. A blinding darkness; pale yellow clouds looking wrong on the background of starlight.

"You look tired." I closed the bottom of the glove around my wrist, with the top hat under my bent arm. When I looked up through my lashes, I noticed he had averted his gaze and was staring into the distance. "Well, I'm going to see my father and my uncle before we have to set up for tonight's show. If you'd like, you can come along."

Before he answered, there was a moment of silence I knew not to break. Balder raised his almost-translucent hand to his forehead. "I have a headache."

"Because of yesterday?"

Spirits moved around. Slowly. They moved around slowly. I raised my left hand into the sky, and saw every single head jerk up towards the Endalok. It barked my command with a voice only the dead could hear, and they picked up their pace.

"Why didn't you direct it at me as well?" Balder almost sounded disappointed.

"Because you're coming with me, right?" I asked through my smile. Moving quickly under his gaze, I raised the hat and moved it down over my head until it stood tall, firm and proud. It's navy color blended in with the fading colors of night, so as we walked, we slowly disappeared into the sky.

He'd never been along with me before. Too shy. Since he'd died young, he would never grow any older, or learn any more. So, for him, I decided to eat Idunn's apples more regularly to keep myself the same age as him.

Soil made disgusting, soft sounds under the soles of my shoes. The autumn leaves just cracked under them, leaving behind traces of life in Svartalaheim's dark landscape. After 3200 heartbeats, we stood on the top of a low hill, looking out over the trail we'd just taken: footsteps in the deep mud, trash thrown beside us.

Strong arms wrapped around me from behind and pulled me up against a metal breastplate. The only thing stopping me from yelling, was my childlike, enthusiastic laughter. It echoed through the hillside, even long after I was silent. Then we stepped away from each other, father and daughter, with smiles on our face. Over his shoulder, I could see Thor's muscular silhouette.

"And good day to you," I said. "Did you two enjoy the show yesterday? Oh, and this-" I stepped aside and noticed Balder's flickering translucently. It distracted me too much to finish my sentence, for the look on his face was one of pure terror.

His killer was among us.

My mind flashed through memories long lost, but there was no answer to be found to my question: who was it? Just empty space and confusion.

I found myself shaking.

"Balder," Loki breathed, his lips trembling as he spoke. He wasn't finishing my sentence, he was realizing something. Letting something sink in. The blood boiled in my veins. It was him, my mind told me. He killed Balder, my mind yelled. But I didn't know how to react. There was nothing left in me that felt like fighting one of the only three people I still had left.

Thor was just confused. He remained silent as he watched us and stood ready to jump in the middle of any fight started. I knew that, but I was losing control.

He'd hurt Balder! He'd stolen his life from him! Loki- he was a monster!

My fists shook at my sides. Wait, my fists?

I looked at them like I'd never seem them before. My conscience was fighting against my instinct. Plus, I knew I could kill him. I knew I could kill him and take his soul with the Endalok and play with it like a puppet. I could make life for him come to an end and the afterlife be his sour punishment. I could do anything I wanted to him. I could take Balder's revenge.

But I couldn't. He'd given me the Endalok. And he probably only killed him to take revenge for the terrible things Odin had done to me; the king had stolen his daughter, so he'd stolen the king's son.

Crap, I wanted to forgive him. Why didn't he just explain? Why didn't anybody do anything before I exploded?

So, knowing I couldn't control my anger much longer, I decided to ask the question. And, dear gods, I really wanted to hear 'no'. "Balder?"

It took a while for him to answer. "Yes."

Black smoke pulled out from under the ground. Unknown spirits hung in the sky like puppets, dancing in the scenery. I tilted my head, and my pitch black eyes stared at Loki. They took in his fear.

The black smoke was pulled into my opened palms- the energy shuddering through my arms too quickly for me to stand it. My knees shook and gave out, causing my hands to slam into the ground. Immediately, I could feel the spirits trying to push themselves out of my hands, knees, and feet, back to where I'd just pulled them from, but I wasn't done with them yet. They were my weapons. My bullets.

I couldn't resist screaming. Leaning back onto my feet, I threw my left arm up in a tilted line at Loki, and the lifeless energy of a soul moved through the entire length, shaking it tremendously, until it became visible; black energy, compressed into the size and form of a bullet. It burst through the air, but the milliseconds felt like forever.

He could die. Oh, it was suddenly so easy to kill him, but...

Stop.

The Endalok obeyed, and so did the bullet. It let go of the pressure and swirled back towards the soft grass of the mountain top. As I pressed my palms into the ground and my fingers clawed the dirt, the other spirits drained out through my skin.

I sucked in air and coughed up a single drop of blood. Even though the world around me spun, I felt good. It could have been far worse. Balder would have had to carry me back.

"I... I'm sorry," Loki managed to say.

I felt Thor's hands on my upper arms, but I shook them off and shook my head. "Get out."

"Hel, we're so... So sorry."

"Get out. Now."

Their footsteps grew quieter as they faded in the distance, and I felt my stomach protest. I breathed in deep, but my arms collapsed and I vomited.