The Ledger of Sin.
The Spring Grand Council had finally groaned to a halt. Aside from the brief, savage interlude of high-deity boxing between Tyr and Frey, the proceedings had been a masterclass in bureaucratic tedium. Loki had played his part to perfection—the silent, observant "God of Wisdom" who sipped his tea and offered a polite nod whenever Odin glanced his way. He didn't need to waste a single brain cell; with a room full of ancient, ego-driven foxes, the All-Father simply had to stir the pot and watch the desired consensus rise to the top.
Once the council adjourned, Loki wasted no time. He bypassed the post-meeting mead-halls and headed straight for the industrial district's tobacco workshop. Seeing the operation in person was a cold reminder that Lulu was a true creature of capital. The facility was a marvel of grim efficiency: a 24-hour cycle of slave labor, with only a single day of rest per month.
The inventory was massive. Loki authorized the immediate delivery of the backlogged orders to the various military wings. Within hours, a mountain of gold and trade credits flowed into his accounts. It was enough to move to the next phase of his logistical empire: the procurement of a Numbered-Class Mothership.
Asgardian warfare was archaic. Their "ships" were essentially armored ferries meant to drop a screaming horde of warriors into a melee. Loki wanted a Shi'ar-designed command vessel—the kind of perfection-seeking technology that made the Kree and Skrull warships look like rusted buckets.
"Trade with the fringe, buy from the core," Loki murmured, reviewing the ledgers. "In a thousand years, they'll realize I didn't just build a caravan. I built a fleet that can outrun the Bifrost."
The Divination of the Deep.
A month and a half later, Midsummer Night arrived—a time when the cosmic ley lines of the Nine Realms aligned with the precision of a master-crafted clock. Under the cover of a private banquet hosted by the ancient Witch Mave, Loki and Frigga slipped away to the forbidden heights of the Astrological Tower.
The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs and the humming vibration of the Five-Pointed Star Array. Frigga stood at the center, joined by four master witches. Loki presided over the ceremony, his Psychic Mastery acting as the bridge between their collective consciousness and the sea of stars above.
He couldn't tell them the "plot" of the universe, but he could plant the seeds. He whispered of the Space Stone and the Soul Stone, weaving the concepts into the ritual.
"The Tesseract... a treasure drowning in dust," Mave's ancient voice echoed.
"Midgard... the Land of Ten Thousand Islands," Adele murmured.
"The Soul's resting place... Vormir," Ingrid's magnetic tone vibrated through the floor.
"North of the Milky Way... the Golden Eagle Nebula," young Jasmine whispered, her eyes glowing white.
The map was clear. The stones were no longer myths; they were coordinates.
"Loki..." Frigga gasped, her voice fractured. "The Power of Ymir... seven years old... a pure body..."
She saw it—the vision she had craved. She saw Hela's chains shattering. She saw a future where the "Goddess of Death" wasn't a monster of the abyss, but a protector of the realm.
The light extinguished. Frigga collapsed, her body unnaturally cold despite the muggy summer air. Loki caught her, his heart heavy with the weight of her desperation.
"Mama, I'm here. We have the path."
Mave stepped forward, pressing a restorative potion into Frigga's hand. "You overexerted yourself, child. But the vision was true. Loki... he is the one who delays the clash between father and daughter."
The Revelation of the Primordial.
Once Frigga was settled into a deep, healing sleep in Mave's residence, the old witch led Loki into her private study. Two cups of steaming tea sat between them—the "God of Wisdom" and the "Matriarch of the Coven."
"It is time you knew the source of the throne, Loki," Mave said, her voice a dry rasp. "In the dawn of time, before Asgard was a city, Odin's grandfather Buri discovered a corpse in the void. A headless giant so vast it surpassed the stars. He named it Ymir."
Loki felt a chill. Knowhere—the celestial head—came to his mind instantly.
"Buri married a Witch to unlock the giant's secrets," Mave continued. "Together, they extracted the essence of the giant's marrow and blood. By bathing in a pool of this primordial ichor, Buri underwent a near-death ordeal and gained unrivaled power. That is the origin of the Aesir. We built our home upon the giant's heart. The Frost Giants and Fire Demons? They are the maggots that grew from the rest of the rot."
Loki leaned forward. "And the inheritance ceremony?"
"It is the blood-rite of the All-Father's line," Mave explained. "Hela underwent a 'Gentle' version. It stimulated her potential, making her strong, but it kept her subservient to the land itself. Odin, however... Odin chose the Primordial Ordeal. He nearly died, but he became one with the authority of the world. That is why he could imprison Hela. Within the borders of Asgard, Odin is the world. No one can defeat him here."
Loki's eyes narrowed. "And you want me to undergo this ordeal?"
"Frigga wants you to be safe," Mave said, her cloudy eyes fixing on him. "But I see the shadow in you. You have a chance to undergo the Primordial Ordeal. You could rule for a hundred thousand years, as Buri did."
Loki didn't hesitate. "I'll take the 'Gentle' version, Mave. I'm afraid of pain, and I'm much too fond of being alive to gamble with a 'near-death' ordeal. Arrange the ceremony for next month."
Mave chuckled, a sound like dry leaves. "Not being tempted by absolute power is a rare quality, child. Or perhaps... you simply have other ways of gaining strength that we cannot see."
Loki offered a polite, shallow smile. "I'm just a simple Prince of Wisdom, Mave. I'll leave the star-crushing power to Thor."
"We shall see," Mave said, standing. "In one month, we begin the inheritance. And then, we go for Hela. But remember: Odin must be nowhere near the Palace when we break those seals."
"Don't worry," Loki said, his fingers brushing the Interface in his mind. "I have a plan to keep the All-Father very, very busy."
Regret? Loki thought as he walked out into the night. The only thing I regret, Mave, is that you think Ymir's blood is the peak of my potential.
If you like it, please give power stones.