Fated

Chapter One

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Drip…Drip…

Slow quiet drippings from the caves were steady and soft, the caverns suffocated with such darkness and loneliness that sent shivers to the body if entered to have a taste of the coldness. Droplets of liquid continued to drip, burning the rocks like poison once it splattered onto the ones beside a still sitting figure. Gradually, a pair of grief filled mauve eyes watched, not missing a single beat of the fallen rhythm…waiting…

Long wavy hair the color of rich brown flooded in a tangled mass, curling around her slender and fragile body, spreading over on the grounds like vines. Sitting on her lap which she gently held, as if the object was most precious to her, is a long thick iron clump of broken chains.

…Drip…Drip…

“Not yet, ne…Narfi?” the woman asked in a low weak tone, bringing one part of the chains close to her cheeks tenderly, clouded eyes lifting to the reason of the drops. A quiet hiss sounded from a large serpent, its jaws forcefully opened from where it’s tied high above the rocks, poison venom steadily leaking out from the end of its fatally sharp fangs.

“There is still time…do you think Odin had known of his escape, Narfi…?” Her eyes lowered, now stroking the chains and bringing it upon her trembling lips, “I had tried my best…we both did…”

She continued to count the poison drops through the sounds, her eyes fluttered closed from the unbearable feeling of pain and sadness. She tried to smile but couldn’t, much too difficult as if it was forbidden to form on her lips. Faintly, she cried out the name of the husband that made her frail heart burst into more intolerable pain, clutching onto the chains tightly in her grip, “Loki…”

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A finger caught on the sharp edge of a small pocket knife as the redhead boy yelped, dropping the knife that clashed loudly to the ground. Jade eyes glittering from the pain, he held his finger close to examine the cut from a single lit candle by the bedside, the only light provided in the room he’s sharing with another roommate sleeping on the large bed beside him.

The cut on his index finger on his left hand wasn’t deep but irritating enough to remind him of his carelessness; the blood crawling down his fingers smoothly in warm red liquid, slowing its pace once reaching onto the palm of his hand when he held his hand upright.

“If you want to bleed to death, Ikol, might as well cut your whole hand off, or better yet, your arm,” the grumbling voice of his sleeping friend greatly surprised him, nearly falling off the edge of the bed, “What are you doing at this time beside sleeping?”

“I’m just carving, Leifthrasir,” Ikol replied silently, grabbing at one end of the sheet of their blanket and used his mouth to tear a small part of it off, cleaning his wounds and frowned when the blood continue running, “I can’t sleep.”

“I noticed that already but carving at this time? Your eyes will be weakening before sunrise if you don’t have enough light!” Leifthrasir stated with a scowl, using his elbows to sit up from the bed and grabbed the dropped stone beside him while examining it, “What are you carving anyways?”

“I don’t know yet…I’m still thinking…”

“You’re going to carve a hole instead if you keep on cutting it without a single thought of a picture you want on this stone,” he chuckled, throwing it above his head where Ikol easily caught, “What got you so distracted to cut yourself like that? I know you’re a careless person through the mind, but when it comes to work, you’re always wary.”

“Thanks for telling me the truth,” Ikol muttered, craning his neck up towards the close window. The screaming rain rumbling continuously from the roof above, knocking onto the wooden window with water leaking through and dripping onto the floor, creating a layer of puddles that spread over the stone, “Truthfully…I don’t even know myself. I just have some kind of feeling that something bad has happened.”

“Something bad?”

“I guess…”

Leifthrasir stared at his thoughtful friend a little longer before rolling his eyes and laying back down onto their bed, “Now you’re going insane on me. Just sleep, Ikol, and you’ll hopefully be yourself by morning. We have lots of work to do tomorrow if this rain stills falls.”

Glaring hard at Leifthrasir, tightening the knots of the sheets that are wrapped around his fingers like a bandaged with his teeth so the blood wouldn’t flow. Ikol kneeled down to pick up his dropped knife carefully, “I will eventually…you sleep first.”

Leifthrasir snorted, crossing his arms and closed his eyes for a restful sleep. Ikol stared dully onto the stone held in his wounded hand, many ideas running in his mind for the stone. He had carved the stone until it was thin and smooth, enough to be used as a necklace, but the only question was what kind of an image will be displayed upon it? His thumb rubbing against the flat surface of the knife, he bit his bottom lip and turned his face, his eyes now holding onto the fire that’s burning the cheap wax from the candle.

The fire was small and gentle, washed in the color of glowing red and orange with a hint of the burning hue of yellow. The light failed to spread brightly and far as he wished, but it was enough for him to at least see the project that he’s working on.

Lightly, the flames tilted in a mere second and he has to stop with a confusing blink. How it could have done that without a touch of wind was beyond him but he let it slide with a small shift shrug. Then blowing fire, before he could forget it, a sudden moving shadow caught the corner of his eye, already frightening him to the core.

Grabbing the candle quickly, feeling his heart drumming loudly in his ears, he waved it around so the light can search for the reason of the shifting shadow. While searching, he slowly reached out and tugged onto his snoring friend, “Leifthrasir! Wake up!”

Leifthrasir’s eyes snapped open as he looked up groggily, angry at the fact that he was disturbed from his sleep, “What?”

“I think there’s someone in here!”

Leifthrasir blew until his cheeks puffed, checking around their small shared home. The shack wasn’t large nor is it enough for even two people living in the household. Their bed alone had already stolen two corners of the house with a small dining table at their bedside where the candle had rested. On the other corner would be their somehow small kitchen, an oven large enough to roast a pound of meat they sometimes shared, if food wasn’t given to them.

One last look around, Leifthrasir had about enough of his friend – who’s probably way too tired to be cutting himself in the beginning now hallucinating to accuse of seeing someone who can’t at all hide in a place as small as theirs – and grabbed the candle away from him, blowing the fire out. “SLEEP, Ikol!”

“But-”

And Leifthrasir was already lying on his back, his eyes shut tightly to go back into his dreams. Ikol gazed at his friend’s back, eyes roaming around the darkness until he gave up, curling in the sheets he’d ripped from and slowly closed his eyes.

Once a few moments had past, the darkness swirled until forming a transparent slender figure where a woman finally appeared, looking down at Ikol’s sleeping figure with silent crystal eyes. Runa’s violet hair danced onto her chest once she kneeled down to have a closer look from the darkness, a smile crawling onto her lips. Finally…I have found you…

Standing up straight, her face dropped to annoyance, flicking her bangs away from her face, But where my physical body lays is much too far…it would take me some time to reach here…Looking down at him once again, the darkness was her only trouble to seeing his face completely, but it was his human aura that surrounded him freely that gave her the identification she needed.

During her visit to the Norns in her spirit, they were kind enough to give off his aura and also a picture of his face for her to easily pinpoint his location, considering each human gave off different auras that served them as their identification.

Ikol…so this boy will be the hope for Ragnarok, the ending of the world, where his mission is to find the Trickster God, Loki…Her eyes lowered slightly, her spirit slowly disappearing back to her body, Such a painful task given to a mere boy who wreaks of life…

And she disappeared out of sight; any trace of her being there vanished with her appearance. The groaning of the rain raised, knocking onto the small shack loudly as the dripping of leaking water became heavier, the puddle enlarging enough to cover the whole floor, soaking through the wood of the table and bed that supported the two males.

Leifthrasir was still sleeping, his soft snores unheard from the loud rain but the other wasn’t even near to the dreamland that his friend had gone into. Ikol’s jade eyes snapped completely wide as it blinked naturally since he had opened them a peak of it throughout the whole time when that spirit of a woman had suddenly appeared before him.

He finally exhaled his breath heavily, having that long unsteady moment of holding them, afraid of giving away to the woman that he had caught her appearance. His mind began to run with many questions, wondering what she was doing, especially so close to his face; or if she’ll ever come back and haunt him again.

He recalled in his mind, remembering he did nothing that involved murder or even mess with the dead. So why did this spirit of a woman – maybe a pretty one? He wasn’t sure since it was so dark – come to him, especially on a night like this!

But all Ikol could understand is that he will not rest at all throughout the whole night…and slowly, his eyes lifted up to the leaking roof silently…eyes never leaving…

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From where he sat by the rough roof of a small shack, the water pounded loudly beside him. One visible eye closed, face towards the sky and allowing the rain to splash upon his skin, hoping for the rain to clear all his thoughts until there was nothing but emptiness in his mind.

But the rain failed to accomplish the task, slowly opening his eyes where it showed a much harder and darker color of emerald, his long dark red bangs clinging onto his cheeks and over his covered right eye. He lowered his face and spread his fingers apart, watching the droplets of heavy rain caught by the palms of his open hands.

“So this is what the Norns will do if their written fate has changed…especially of my unpredictable freedom…” The man was now acknowledged as the missing Trickster God, Loki, a cruel smirk now forming on his lips. “So finally one has already been chosen, a human boy who lives in this shack from below, given a task to search for me…and already it has started…”

An image of his wife was formed in the puddle cupped on both of his palms and his left visible eye went wide, unconsciously clutching his fist tight to capture her. His eyes went wider if possible of ruining the chance until it glittered from emerald to ruby-red; tightening his fist harder where his knuckles turned white. Seeing a trail of blood running down closed fingers, washed away from the rain, Loki slightly relaxed and brought both hands to cover his face, running his fingers through his long bangs and lifting his head to the rain.

“Sigyn…”

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“One is chosen…”

“Together he’ll gather…”

“And follow the path of destiny…”

“Why must one be chosen to search for Loki…?” Odin asked, standing there before them, one eye glowing from the shadows of his long hat that hid his face, gazing at the Norns silently who continued to chant their prophecy, paying no mind to his question, “I want you to tell me who this ‘Chosen One’ is…”

“Foreseeing is part of the gift you had sacrificed yourself once to receive it in the past, Odin…” Urd reminded him in a low flat tone, not pausing from her work of weaving, “What troubles that caused you to not see the one who was chosen…?”

Odin grabbed the tip of his long hat and lowered it.

“Trouble finding him first before his search for Loki,” Verdandi smiled, answering knowingly from his silence, delicate fingers running through the strings finished by Urd, “Trouble to where the chosen one lives upon throughout all of the nine worlds.”

“Or is it that you can not see his face?” Skuld laughed bubbly, clapping her hands together with the strings caught around her fingers, “The face of the ‘Chosen One’ that was never written in fate?”

Odin’s one eye narrowed and waited for their answer. But an answer that will never come once the silence filled the air, the Norns waiting for him to solve his own question and answer it out directly to them. Inwardly frustrated and suddenly feeling a bit weak, Odin nodded with understanding and turned around to leave.

Passing the Well of Urd, he paused and took a small glance at the holy water. The light reflected magnificently in glistening waves, bouncing its light that’s cast upon the face of Odin. Shimmering in waters where the two swans continue to float, an image of a mere boy’s back was seen, his hair as bright as the burning fresh fire with flames surrounded his figure. Clutching onto the side of the well, Odin watched desperately when the boy slowly turned around to finally show his identity he’d seeks.

Odin stared hard at the image once the boy fully turned. He felt his fingers digging into the stone surface of the well when seeing, to his dismay, that the face of the boy is a complete blur…just like the visions he had seen.

His obsidian eye narrowed, diverting his gaze to the Norns. What they had shown him was the image he had already seen and he knew they would not sharpen the face of the boy unless he can see it as well in his visions. “Why is he chosen to find Loki…?” Odin repeated his questions, his mind filled with many possible answers but none seems to be satisfying, “Why chosen to search for the man who will start Ragnarok, a war that we can all avoid…?”

“One is chosen…”

“Together he’ll gather…”

“And follow the path of destiny…”

With a flick of his mantle over his shoulders, Odin disappeared into the brightness of the Hall of Fate until disappearing through the doors. The swans continued to swim, circling around the picture which slowly grew focused, the fire that had surrounded the boy then dissolving to nothingness as Ikol’s face could finally be seen.

Slowly, a smile crawled onto Skuld’s lips as she counteracted a question on her own, “Why must Loki not start Ragnarok when the fate of the war has already been written, Odin? A fate where no one…not even us…can ever change?”

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