The mark on my palm begins to tingle, a sensation like static electricity dancing across my skin. Suddenly, everything shifts into sharp focus—but not just the physical world. I can see... more. The spaces between spaces, the gossamer-thin boundaries where one thing transforms into another.
The air itself seems alive with possibility, shimmering with potential energy. And the storms within the pillars—they're not just representations or symbols. They're pure elemental force, raw and untamed, each one singing its own song of power.
Where before I saw only churning clouds and lightning, now I can perceive the intricate dance of energies, the delicate balance of opposing forces that creates each storm. The fjörniskratti's gift lets me see beyond the surface, into the very heart of these elemental powers.
Something clicks—It's not about power or dominance. It's about...
Of course. Offuckingcourse.
"Balance," I spit out along with a mouthful of blood. "It's not about controlling the elements—it's about their harmony."
Nature shows us that water carves the earth, earth banks the fire, fire feeds on air, air drives the rain. An eternal dance, each element supporting the next.
"Finally caught up, have we?" Loki's smug voice makes me want to show him some harmony right up his immortal ass.
"Well, no shit," I mutter, resisting the urge to flip off the universe for making me fry my ass multiple times before figuring out the basics of elementary school science.
My hands tremble violently as I reach for the air pillar again. This time, I let my fingers trail through the breeze instead of trying to control its winds. Feel its nature–its purpose.
The crystalline surface responds, rotating under my touch. As it turns, the lightning arcs shift, searching.
The water pillar pulses brighter. Air and water dance together in every storm. But one wrong degree of rotation will fry what's left of my nervous system.
I align them with agonizingslowness, sweat and blood dripping down my face. The lightning snaps between them, and I brace for pain—but this connection holds, stable and true.
"Finally showing some potential," Loki's frost spreads closer.
My vision blurs as I work. Earth needs water to thrive—I rotate Mortalis's pillar to face Aquaria. The sandstorm inside resists at first, then calms, accepting the connection. Fire requires air to burn—Pyrothos fights me, its inferno raging against control, but eventually aligns with Zephyria.
The stone's internal tempest matches the rhythm of the connected pillars, each element flowing into the next like a perfectly conducted symphony. But the victory tastes like shit in my mouth.
I've done it. I've solved the puzzle.
And I might have just helped destroy everything I'm trying to save.
Loki's eyes gleam like arctic ice. "Perhaps you're more than just a pretty face after all."
The air ripples. The stone descends from its column of swirling wind, hovering between us. Swirls of wind and clouds churn within its opal depths, calling to something profound in my soul.
I want to be sick. What have I done?
"Don't," I warn as Loki steps forward.
"Or what?" His fingers stretch toward the stone. "Your mate suffers while you play hero?" Ice crystals form in his black hair as his lips curve. "Besides, I just watched you solve a puzzle meant for gods. I'm almost impressed enough to tell you where he is before I make you open that portal."
The stone pulses, its storm matching my racing heart.Rhyland.My fingers twitch toward the gem, but Loki's faster. His hand closes around it.
"Now," as he pockets the stone, "let's discuss that portal you're going to open for me." He grabs my arm, cold seeping through my jacket. "After you."
As we approach the archway, solid steps materialize, nothing like the previous vanishing platforms. Each one forms just before our feet touch down, a mockery of my earlier trial.
"Hurry now," Loki's grip tightens. "The sooner you get me out of this realm, the sooner you find your man."
My ankle throbs with each step down the spiraling staircase, Rhyland's face burning in my mind.
Hold on, I silently plead.Just hold on.
We reach the bottom of the spire and my heart leaps—Heimdall stands before the entrance, his golden armor gleaming—ancient eyes burning with fury.
