Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

The Orm (SIGYN)

Loki couldn't talk to me—well, he wouldn't anyway. I spent hours trying to bring him comfort, apologizing, even singing. He didn't so much as turn his face toward me.

I wanted so badly to look at his pretty eyes one more time, if it was to be the last.

No one told me how they'd do it, so when I grew tired of trying to get his attention, I was left to my own horrific imagination. Was the damage already done? Had they poisoned him with the intent to let him suffer, retch, and rot in front of me? True terrors were invented in my fear—they could tear him limb from limb with horses, burn him, even starve him to death. If my gentle self could conceive of such things, surely their plans were even worse.

Without natural light, there was no sense of time in the dungeon. Eventually the white room dimmed, and I caught just enough sleep to be surprised by the four guards who came to collect us. Mercifully, the man who brought Loki and struck me yesterday wasn't one of them.

I'd still learned my lesson and greeted them with silence and stoicism. The man and woman assigned to me did the same, cuffing my hands in front so I could lift my own skirt. Another stroke of luck—none of them had discovered the secret of the cape. Perhaps it was the last secret I'd ever get to keep.

Loki was reduced to being pulled from his cell like a child's toy. He was submissive and wilted, adding to my suspicions that more happened to him beyond beatings and humiliation. No point in asking; therefore, no way to know for certain. His eyes did flutter open once or twice when we reached sunshine, so he was not yet deceased.

Thor and Odin stood together at the helm of a skiff glider—one larger than those used for battle. The four guards who brought Loki and I came aboard as well; eight passengers in a golden vessel, bound for an unknown destination, with no indication of how many might actually return. Beyond whisperings to one another regarding navigation, the only sounds above the wind were whirring mechanics of the ship.

Far beyond the edge of the city, we flew. Past the camps at the base of the mountains where Theo and I shared the unfortunate kiss. Over the first peak and into a valley. Waterfalls sparkled with prisms on either side of us, singing with mysterious divinity. The deep green foliage almost matched Loki's preferred shade, and it might've been comforting if I thought he chose it from such a place; instead, the slightly bluish tone gave a somber aura to our surroundings.

The deeper we went, the more I shivered, wishing I could separate my hands and clutch my arms. Loki wasn't watching—his two guards held him up by his arms while he hung his head forward. I wondered if he was unconscious or knew where we were going and couldn't bear to see the journey. Somehow knowing this would end in such a picturesque location felt like the grimace after hearing two incongruent notes—grating, uncomfortable. It didn't fit.

The valley terminated in a dead end. A huge waterfall crashed straight ahead, and a sheer cliff jutted out on the west side. A closer look revealed a few room-sized pockets in the rock, which were decorated in hanging spires from each ceiling. Stalactites. If any animals lived in such places, they had to fly in and out. We hovered over the largest clearing in the wall, which looked like a man-made platform compared to the cleavage surrounding it. The floor was too flat and perfect to be natural.

Odin nodded to one of the guards holding Loki and yelled over the rushing water, "Skadi, I want him awake."

She gave an acknowledging glance and said something inaudible to her companion. Together they pulled him off the ship to the landing below, laying him flat on the stone. He didn't fight in the slightest.

I squinted to try and see anything around where they jumped, but it wasn't deep enough to be a cave. When the sunlight hit just right, the whole place shimmered with crystals. What danger could lurk in this beautiful place?