The Hel Experience

-near Ragnarok- Muspelheim-

Only time can tell. Time is a healer. Years, months, days... They all pass by. Like- a grin spreads over my face, revealing rotten teeth from under my dying flesh- realms do. They come and go, no matter how much they try forbidding their fall. In all reality, only heartbeats survive. It's the rhythm of life, our instinct to keep alive and experience.

I think the reason we live is to experience. To see worlds, feel love, earn knowledge. After all, everything we know is something we've noticed. So, our heartbeats power our bodies to keep searching. To keep seeing, keep feeling, keep hearing. It's in our nature to want to experience.

That's why your reading this. Your heartbeat, time passing by, ever so slowly, has led you here, so you can feel this story pump through your body. But I must say, sometimes I wish heartbeats would pass. If this form of time were to die out with the rest, and the will to experience dissolved, I wouldn't be died to a rock. I'd be exactly where I ache to be; with my spirits. My circus. My dead.

If fighting back wasn't human nature because the heartbeat desires more life to feel, Asgard would have been mine to take, and vengeance would be no less than the ending it was meant to be.

But they didn't let me close the book. No matter how dangerous it got. No matter how much destruction Surt's weapon brought upon their weak, dumb citizens.

I waited against the bark of a tall, oak tree. It's dried out leaves fell continuously, cracking when they hit the heated earth. Above me, the sky was bright blue and radiating light on my pale skin. Even in the shadow, the sun was everywhere in Muspelheim. Fire was it's element, it's everything, and everywhere you went.

In my hands were torn pieces of fallen leaves. As I waited and boredom grew upon me (which only took about 5 minutes), small, brainless tasks were all I could find to do.

"Sorry I'm late." Surt's figure appeared at the bottom of the small hill, dressed in a black, tight suit. His hair was messy and perhaps even a bit crazy, but it suited him well, so I didn't pay much attention to it.

"Excuses accepted." As I got up, I tossed the leaves behind me and wiped off my hand against my bustle skirt. My eyes were still pitch-black from being at the circus only fifteen minutes ago, and my skin pale white from draining all my energy in the final act. To my surprise, my hand was still trembling when I shook Surt's.

"Honestly, you look absolutely terrible." Honest. I didn't have time or interest in honesty.

"I know. Now, where are the weapons?" I asked, with a faked smile. Yes, I was happy that Surt was gullible enough to believe we wouldn't attack him during or after the fight and kill him, but collecting death arms and weapons of mass destruction weren't exactly fun plans. Luckily, I was starting to let go of the vision I'd created of myself; a monster with pitch-black eyes and a weapon hidden behind her back.

"Further in the woods. There, nobody should be able to find them."

"Perfect. What about Heimdall?"

"The magic surrounding the area is strong enough to block his vision. Besides trees, he can't see a thing here." His lips parted in a smile, just to reveal perfectly white teeth. "Now, I've made enough for 5000 soldiers. Hopefully that will do."

"What about the... larger weapon?" I added.

"One. Follow me."

He led me through the trees to a clearing. At first, it seemed empty, but when I stepped through the waving pattern of light, distinct forms became clear to me. Weapons on weapons lay on racks in lone lines, about 30 of those. All of the racks were moved around the middle of the clearing, from which a bright light radiated upwards towards the sky, and then curved away from the clouds and formed the protected barrier around the place.

As I followed Surt to the middle, I glanced at the swords. The handles were pitch-black, made with what seemed to be black spirit quartz, and the knife seemed razor sharp, but the material was hard to guess. The closer I got to the middle, the bigger they seemed to get, until the circle formed around the radiating light contained ones that seemed too heavy for me to carry.

On the ground, right under the beam of light, was a little, black box. It's wooden lid was engraved with the warrior's compass.

I have to admit, I was fairly disappointed. After all I'd gone through to collect an army, my big, important, destructive weapon was in a little, harmless box.

I bit down on my lip to keep in the words; is that all? Especially since Surt was looking down at it with a proud smile over his lips, his hands in his pockets and a look in his eyes, that was hard to read. Somehow, it reminded me of myself; a dangerous mix of anticipation, excitement and fear.

"Open it," he said. "But only the box."

A frown formed on my forehead, but I didn't object. When I grabbed the box, it felt ice-cold, like a consuming cold creeping through my veins and breaking me down, cell by cell...

I almost dropped it. My trembling fingers folded around it in a desperate attempt to hold it close, but it shook and fell between my index finger and thumb. Acting quickly, I pressed it against my collarbone to keep it from, I don't know, crashing against the ground and breaking- therefore opening- whatever was inside. Who knows what that would have done?

I managed to get my nail in the crack, pushing up the lid. Something clicked and I heard gears turn, spin and creak until the lid suddenly came loose and I could pick it up easily. With a finger pressed against it on either side, I moved it off carefully, slowly...

Screaming. I heard screaming, piercing the silence. Then there was the feeling of being knocked off my feet. My foot slipped, or so I thought, and I was laying on the ground crying. My heart was beating against my chest. Ribs broke. My head hurt and ached and I couldn't breath...

Surt was holding the box when I opened my eyes, gasping for air. Nothing had happened, just fear.

"Here. For you." He tilted the box slightly and a small, glass bottle filled with a thick, black liquid fell on his hand palm. It hung from a long thread, made with gold, of course.

Surt walked to a spot behind me and pulled all my hair to the side. The he raised the necklace over my head and left it, hanging against my collarbone, before tying it around my neck. The thread was uncomfortable against my thin, painfully dragging over my skin, and I was deadly afraid that the fear and the visions would reappear.

But nothing happened. Surt just walked to where he'd come from with a mischievous grin. His eyes were pointed at... the necklace?

"It looks great on you."

"What is it?" I asked, as I played with the cord. I was too afraid to touch the bottle.

"Open it, and it will spill over the entire nine realms; a sea of fire will devour everything. Only ruins will be left of Asgard, as you requested. Nobody and nothing will be spared of the flames and the all-devouring end." Now, pride gleamed in his eyes. "It's perfect."

I bit down on my tongue and struggled to hide the contemplations in my mind. By then, I was starting to wonder if I'd made the right choice; Surt sounded like an insane, serial killing, dangerous man. I was too afraid to tell him of my doubts, so I just let my fingers slip down the thread until they almost touched the kirk of the bottle, with a deep frown on my forehead.

Of course I knew it was all my fault. I should have done something way earlier, instead of waiting for the problems to escalate and it to be too late for me to do anything about it. Surt expected power, and so did Loki, so if my plan worked, I had to take care of two psychopathic maniacs on my way through Asgardian armies to reach the throne. What had I done!?

Obviously, that would end up being a job for my dead. By sending them to Surt and... Oh dear, I was planning to murder my father.

My breath caught in my throat. I'd really become a monster...