Illusions

Followed

Asgard, to most people it is known as the realm of wealth, city of gold. Whether they are from a completely different realm or they inhabit Asgard itself, they think of it as a sanctuary. Safe from the dangers of the darker realms. Sadly, I know this to be untrue. Every place, every realm has its secrets. Most have no idea of the area of Asgard that I call home. The Depths. Yes, it's hard to believe, but underneath the golden luster of the rest of our world lies this rotting corpse of a neighborhood.

Most would be appalled with the decrepit state of the buildings and the people who live within them. But, I've lived here since I was just a girl. I feel no sense of shock as I walk the crumbling cobblestone streets. As I watch the bright, well-kept houses give way to the neglected dwellings that I call home. I used to hope for a better world. When I was young and naíve. I would spend hours staring up at the sky, dreaming of a day when the rich would come in and fix up our shoddy neighborhood. But, that day never came and I realized that we were in our world and they lived in their own diamond-encrusted existence. Wholly separate. Nothing has changed over the years, it seems they are happy to live in their ignorance. Those of us who call the Depths home don't have such a luxury.

My head pounds with every step I take, deeper into the neighborhood. I turn my head as much as the wound will allow, without shooting pain down my temple, just to make sure that Fallon is still following me. The boy is there, content to follow in my steps with a smile on his face. He must realize that my head is bothering me. Usually, he talks the whole way home, oblivious to his dull surroundings. I've always envied that part of Fallon. His ability to block out the bad of the world and focus solely on the good parts of his life. A mindset held only by the young.

We near Fallon's house and the pain in my head is getting worse. Changing from an ache to a harsh throb. When I had faced Shrink, adrenaline ran through my veins, dulling the pain. But, now the rush is beginning to wear off and the inside of my head feels like it's being poked and prodded with sharp knives. But, even so, I have to make sure that Fallon makes it home safely. All types of unsavory characters lurk in these streets. Many of them skilled in the art of making children disappear. As if on cue with my thoughts, I spot a dark figure lurking in an alleyway to our right, watching us from underneath his cowl.

"Fallon," I say without turning around. I don't want the man to know that I'm onto him, but the boy still recognizes the warning in my tone.

"Yeah, El?" he speeds up his pace, now walking beside me.

We carry on with the useless banter if just to look inconspicuous. Every word feels leaden in my mouth. The taste of blood still coppery on my tongue. When we finally reach the run-down bakery that Fallon calls home, I can barely decipher my surroundings. But, one thing strikes the forefront of my mind. I no longer see sign of anyone following us. The tightness in my chest begins to ease, no matter the pain, I've done my job for the day. Keeping the boy safe. It's been my job ever since his father died fighting in Odin's war. I took it upon myself to guide him, at first I had only done it out of a sense of duty. But, as the years have passed I've come to favor the boy. He's smart and by the looks of how our training is going, he'll be a great warrior one day. I can only hope that I am paving a way out of this slum for him. A courtesy that was never granted to me when I was a child.

We find Fallon's mother standing on the front step of the bakery, shaking out her flour-covered apron. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a powdery streak on her chestnut skin. She's tired from a long day's work. Luckily, the lowering sun brings an end to it.

"Hello mother," Fallon shouts from my side and suddenly the woman is all smiles. She would never let her son see the toil that she has to endure for him.