The Invisible String Theory

Chapter 2 - When Souls Collide

(Alarms - Mellina Tey)

Two decades can wear down anything - even purpose.

The city lies quiet beneath soft moss and sunbeams filtered through stained glass. Homes are collapsed gardens now, walls overtaken by ivy and silence. And I am the last. I spend most of my days in a pattern: tending to the wards I created around the perimeter, recasting protection spells on the council chambers, and mostly... resting. Complacency had sunk its claws deep. The relic was safe and I was alone. There was no reason to expect anything would change.

Until it did.

That morning, the relic stirred. A slow, glowing thrum that reverberated up through the old stones and into my bones. I opened one eye from my lounge of tangled cushions and old books and considered reacting.

I didn't.

Not until the warning wards blinked out - all of them simultaneously.

By the time I reached the chambers, half-floating with adrenaline, he was already inside. A stranger, tall and cloaked in green and black , stood with his back to me. The relic floating in its protective sphere, his fingers tracing the runes around it – utterly casual.

"You've got ten seconds to get away from that" I said, my voice sharp and too loud.

He turned slowly. Slim, Angular. Dark hair falling in perfect waves. A smile like secrets.

"Oh", he said, drawing out the word with clear amusement. "You must be the caretaker. I imagined someone a little more... awake."

My eyes narrowed. "And you must be a thief. I imagined someone a little more competent.

He laughed, "Touche"

"I don't know who you are, but–" he cut me off.

"Then allow me," placing one hand over his chest and taking a bow with dramatic flair. "Loki of Asgard. God of Mischief, master illusionist, occasional hero, frequent annoyance– depends on who you ask really."

I looked him up and down, head tilted and hands placed on my waist. "Never heard of you." I muttered.

That clearly bruised him.

He blinked. "Well. That's just offensive."

I stepped forward, magic humming beneath my skin. "You're trespassing in a sacred space. That relic is not for you."

He arched his brow. "And yet here I am. No offense, but your sacred space could use a little upkeep."

A breath. "Leave."

"You know, I thought I'd have to get past difficult wards, traps, perhaps even a cranky construct. I didn't expect one lonely enchantress in sleepwear."

"Last chance." I said irritatedly.

Loki sighed dramatically, flipping a dagger into one hand. "Why is it never easy?"

I surged forward–fast, swift, silent. The hem on my coat whispered against the stone. My outfit, once ceremonial, had adapted into something more practical over the years: black leather woven with arcane threads, dark purple lining stitched into elegant ridges that shimmered faintly with protective seals. Gold fastenings secured the high collar and fingerless gloves, and my hair was twisted and pinned back.

The room erupted into chaos– magic spiraling, energy dancing. He moved like mischief itself, quick and impossible to predict. I was holding back and he knew it, I focused more on my defense than offence. His magic surged to meet my shields, our fight was intense, clever, and ridiculous. And he grinned through it all.