Life's Requiem {Book 1}

Chapter 4: Revelation

Loki's palms burned from the excessive use of various spells, but his will would not give. This was new magic to him, old spells that had not been tampered with in centuries. He was condemning Asgard with every second he spent pushing his limits. What a benevolent king he was turning out to be.

Taking one more look at the old book lying on the table in his room, he tried again. His breaths were heavy, his shoulders slumping as the energy drained from his body more and more with each passing minute. The books promised that with the magic, it would trace him to his fractal of choice. It only worked once, but this would be the first step.

He tried again and again, but to no avail, and the burning in his veins grew worse. He was surely doing damage to himself. Various maids had attempted to check on him or coax him out to see the people who were begging for an entrance. Having to constantly pull up illusions of Odin drained the magic quicker, until he finally remembered what weakness tasted like. It was so bitter, so heavy.

Loki was not used to failure, and he certainly wouldn't accept this as one. However, nothing was working and he was disheartened, as well as angry. The sooner he found the Fractals, the sooner he could assure that no one would get them. No one but himself.

Taking one sharp breath, he stiffened his arms out in front of him and bitterly commanded his magic to come back to life, pulling at the seams of energy surrounding his aura. Jaw tightening, his muscles tensed, his magic coarsed and with a sharp cry, it burst from him in the form of another failure, breaking the table in half.

Loki huffed and threw his book, marching away from the crumbling room. The walls had various cracks from his overuse of magic, but he hated having Odin's bedroom, anyway. It could cave in, for all he cared.

His magic sizzled under the weakness as he walked the halls. The fury of his anger and frustration were the only elements keeping it burning, living in a newfound darkness; his anger grew hot still while he rummaged through the library. No book would supply the answers he sought. He was delusional from lack of sleep, irritated by his weakened magic and hurt by his inability to achieve the greatness he sought. Frigga would have had the answers. His mother was always so wise. She would never have grown weak so quickly.

Your temper and fears are getting the best of you...

She always told him that. Always. He would keep them silent and locked away, but she could always feel them stirring in his heart. Her intuition baffled him, but it taught him from a very young age how to recognize such emotions.

Hours were spent, wasted and trying like the days before. By the Norns, these Fractals would stay hidden. If not for his wounded pride, he would be thankful to never know that one Fractal might rip him apart. It may be the one grace he was granted. But he was too headstrong to be tricked into falling for simple gratitude. He could not lay satisfied whilst knowing of untarnished power lying raw in the universe. His magic was exhausted. His body was worn. Illusions were a torture he would never let go of.

In all its glory, the empty throne room welcomed Loki as he entered its residence. Evening light poured in and shone off of the gold, illuminating the fading illusion he held up. Looking down at his hands, he tried to recall the last time he felt this way. Possibly during reformation with Thanos and his children, but those memories were so dark and frightening. It was best to pretend as if they had not happened at all.

How could he fail? After one too many, he had sworn not to endure another. Every opportunity in his grasp had either been stolen or destroyed. Would no one pity him? Understand him? No, of course not. There were no men, no creatures like him. And yet, even before his corruption, he fought for love and attention, for he would not be worthy of it otherwise. Even when he brought those Frost Giants into the vault...