AN: First off, the usual. I own none of this, it's all Marvel yadda yadda yadda. Second, thanks for reading. i wrote this a while ago, and just never put it up. It's supposed to be in its own universe, with other stories that I may or may not add in the future. I hope you enjoy. Please review

I:

His horse sloshed through the horrible cocktail of blood and water beneath its cloven hooves. His beard scratched at his face with the blood that had become caked on it and his muscles ached underneath his heavy armor and chainmail. His hand clutched at his heavy broadsword as it sliced through the dark elves, sending their blood spraying into the air. He smiled, pressing his steed to go faster.

"Ay," he yelled when he saw her. Sif's long black hair swerved through the air like water as she dodged blow after blow. Blood splattered across her face, but he still found her beautiful. "I thought I had lost you. And we wouldn't want that."

"And why not, Balder?" Sif ducked under two blades from different directions, letting them slam into the other's owner. "Do you think me weak or frightful."

An arrow whizzed through the air, colliding with the neck of Balder's horse. As he steed collapsed onto the ground with a frightened winnie, Balder lept off, using his momentum to bring his blade crashing down onto the skull of a nearby elf. "Why of course not," he smirked under his long, stringy black beard. "But if we were separated, then we may not be able to share a flagon of mead once this battle is over."

Sif smashed the side of her shield into the gut of a nearby elf, sending him faltering backwards until Sif eventually plunged her sword into his skull. "Of course," she said, yanking the sword out as blood glistened off it in the midday sun. "Because you wish for only mead."

"Well," Balder jabbed his sword into the hearts of two elves. "We shall have to see where the mead takes us. I have found that most a quite different at the bottom of the flagon than at the top."

"If you're lucky," Sif smiled slyly as she jolted her blade through the jaw of another dark elf. "But it seems like Malekith has a near endless supply of his horrid soldiers."

"Then we must cut this snake off at the head." Balder bared his teeth as he surveyed the clamoring battlefield for the king of the dark elf.

Malekith was tall and broad shouldered, with long, stringy silver hair and pointed ears. His face had been charred on one side, and the other appeared to have lost much needed sunlight, giving it pale and thin features. His eyes were beady and looked to have a rage-fueled fire burning deep within them. He sat atop a large, ebony colored steed and held his long blade aloft, yelling out in the heat of battle. Balder could see him just over the crest of the nearest hill, and he was ready for their swords to finally meet.

"I've got him," Balder yelled, charging through the dense crowd of clamoring soldiers and warriors. He slashed through any dark elf that was unfortunate enough to be in his way and ignored Sif's yelling at him. He plunged his sword through the chest of a soldier who stood in front of Malekith, seemingly trying to protect his leader, although it did nothing of any use. Balder threw the crumpled and bloodied to body to the side and stood in front of the lord of the Dark Elves.

"You dare confront me?" Malekith's voice was cold and deep, it was menacing enough to make any young warrior soil his armor. But Balder was not a young warrior. He stood with confidence and with power, ready for whatever could be thrown at him.

"Yes," Balder said, lowering his sword down in front of himself. "I dare."

Malekith let out a horrifying laugh. "You think one measly soldier can stop me and my army. We will not surrender until we have enshrouded Asgard with the Darkness once more. My quest for battle will end only once Odin lays at my feet, bleeding and broken, and begging for mercy. You will not stop that. You have seen nothing of what is to come. But I will grant you a sweet mercy and allow you a swift death now at the hands of my greatest warrior."

The giant, beastly hand seemed to come from out of nowhere. Balder was knocked onto the ground, the the wind struck out of his lungs and his ribs aching. He stumbled upwards, grabbing onto his sword, although as he looked upon what hit him, he realized that even his broadsword would do very little. And for just the briefest of moments, Balder the Brave became very scared.

The thing was at least twice the size of Balder, and its face was more like a growling beast than a man. It had a huge, hulking body with red, malicious energy that seemed to flow from each crack in its blackened skin. It didn't hold a weapon, but it looked to be strong enough that it would not need one. Its eyes were hollowed and angry, burning with the same energy that permeated its body, and the mouth huge open like a chasm on the face of a mountain.

"Very well then," Balder grimaced as he readied himself. "If this is the beast that I must slay, then consider it slain. He charged and sunk the sword deep into the monster's chest, although it did nothing. Instead, it just looked down at him in anger and slapped him away like an insect. Once Balder was knocked onto the ground once more, he coughed up some blood, but refused to give into his pain. He stood in confidence as the beast charged, the sword still lodged in its chest.

"Balder," Sif came in from the side and swung her thin blade through the beast's ribs, sending small stones flying out. "What were you thinking?"

"Well," Balder charged and tugged the sword out of the monster's chest and, using the same momentum, swung upwards, hitting it in the jaw, destroying its mouth. "I thought I would save the nine realms. Was that wrong?"

Sif sighed and struck the beast in the back of the neck and then plunged her blade through the back of its skull. As the sword protruded from the ruined mouth, Sif pulled out a small dagger and stabbed the monster's eye. "You could have waited. You nearly got yourself killed."

"We both know that will not happen," Balder swung his sword over his head and brought it crashing down into the monster's neck, forcing its skull to roll off and onto the bloodstained ground. "Now, let us finish this."

"You think that you can defeat the lord of the Dark Elves," Malekith snarled. "I have waited millennia for this day. Even if you have severed the head of my ultimate weapon, you will not make me bow to you or to your king."

"I don't need to make you bow," Balder's muscles tightened as he got ready to pounce. "I just need to make you bleed."

He lurch forward and as his blade met the black, angled blade of Malekith, the sound burst through the air, overcoming even the deafening sound of thousands of steel blades clanking together in anger. Balder swung below Malekith's arm, but the Dark Elf was too quick and managed to lurch out of the way. For just a moment, Balder faltered backward. Beads of sweat clung to his brow and his nostrils had been filled with the overwhelmingly unpleasant coppery scent of blood. But he would not give up. He felt energy rejuvenate his muscles and bones and once again, he charged forward, sword in front. Malekith managed to meet the blow head on, but he stumbled backwards just enough for Balder to plunge his blade into the Dark Elf's gut, sending rivulets of dark purple blood spraying outward. He slashed at Malekith's leg, making his knee buckled. Balder kicked his face and slashed his sword across the Dark Elf's chest, but he let him live. Odin had ordered it. So, after slamming his face into the soil, Balder claimed victory.

It was the smell more than anything else that bothered Loki about his prison. It wasn't the dark mist that clung to the air, or the heavy, rusted shackles that chained him to the rough, stony ground, although those didn't help either. No, it was the belligerent smell of death and decay that burned his nostrils and stung his eyes like acid. He could handle the lack of sunlight and even the fact that his only source of food were the rats that were unfortunate enough to scramble past him. But each day he sat there, the shackles eating away at the flesh on his wrists, he knew he would escape. He knew that he would have his revenge on his brother. All he needed to do was wait, to bid his time and then, with one final blow, strike.

"Loki," the voice was sweet and seemed like it shouldn't have belonged in such a place as the prison. "I have done as he asked. The plan is in motion."

"Good," Loki snarled, his voice hoarse. "Now come out of the mist Amora where I can see you. We have other matters to discus."

"Very well. But make it quick. I cannot muster enough power to stay here for long, and if I exert myself too much, then I will not be able to do as you wish in the corporeal world."

"I understand," Loki spat the words out in anger and frustration. "Do not forget that I am the one who taught you your magics. Do not forget that I am the one who turned from nothing more than a peasant into the Enchantress."

"I do not forget," Amora emerged from the dark smog. Her beauty did not belong in Loki's prison. It radiated from her like the sun, her hair flowing from her head like a river of pure gold. Her skin was smooth and perfect, her smile crisp and welcoming. She wore dark green armor, although it wouldn't protect much. Her shoulders were bare and even the gauntlets did not cover her fingers, but Loki knew that no weapon would get close enough to harm her. She would not let it. She would have been a peaceful, perfect being, if not for the look in her blue eyes. The look of anger and of disdain. They sparkled with hatred and there was just a small glimmer of insanity that seemed to be caged like a beast, waiting to get out. She was the perfect accomplice. "However, dear Loki, I fear that you may forget. It has been a long time since you have been free, since you were under the light of the stars. Surely, this must make a man mad.

"Perhaps a normal man," Loki smirked. "But I am no normal man. Now, we have much to discus."

"Your plan," as Amora came closer, the mist seemed to fall off her like a cloak she no longer wished to wear. "Do you wish to tell me any more of it?"

"Such impatience," Loki clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "You will learn to wait."

"I do not need to wait," Amora's voice became bitter. "If you need my help, then you need to give me information on whatever you are planning."

"It will all come in due time," Loki whispered, but in the vast emptiness it still seemed to echo forever. "For now, all you need to know is that the universe is going to change soon. A war unlike any other will strike across the cosmos. Worlds will burn, civilizations will crumble. My tricks and my deceit will become mute in the burning chaos. So, I am planning now, preparing for what is to come. And once the heroes of this universe are weak and tired, then I will strike, and there will be nothing they can do to stop me. Once there is no one left to save it, I will not only take the throne from Odin, I will rule all of the nine realms. The means that I will use to get there may still elude you, but trust me Amora, you will gain great power for your servitude and your loyalty. Once I have control of every branch of Yggdrasil, our power will reign supreme."

"Forgive me for not trusting a god of tricksters," Amora sneered. "But if you do anything to double cross me-"

"Then you will what?" Loki smirked. "There is nothing that you can do. Nothing anyone can do to stop what you have already put into motion. Even Thor and all the heroes of Midgard will be unable to stop me. Now please, be patient, and allow me to tell you of what I need next."

The banquet hall was almost as loud as the battle had been, and easily as messy. Golden flagons clinked together as drops of mead sloshed out, spilling onto the long oak tables. Banners of silver and gold hung from the banisters high above the massive feast. They sparkled under the infinite light of the stars, and the glowing look of the Bifrost nearby. Smells of sweet baked goods and full cows filled the air as every surviving warrior ate like animals, tearing the meats to shreds. Balder stood in the hall, watching from a distance.

"What's wrong?" Sif put her hand on his shoulder. She had changed from her armor into a long flowing silver dress. Her hair had been corralled by silver couplings and the blood had been washed off her face. A fresh cut from the battle still glistened in red under one eye, but there was no other sign that she had even been in a battle not long before. "Have you even had a pint of mead yet."

"No," Balder said in a distant voice. He hadn't changed from his heavy silver armor. Blood was still caked to his beard and his muscles were still tired. No matter how much he acted like it, he never enjoyed the feasts after battles, no matter how much merriment was there.

"Then what happened?" Sif looked into Balder's eyes will piercing intensity, almost as if she were trying to read his mind. "Why are you not down there? You won, Balder. You captured Malekith. You save the nine realms from eternal darkness. So what bitterness could be in your heart?"

"I do not know," Balder voice almost quavered. "I suppose…"

"What is it? What plagues your mind, Balder?"

Balder looked away and into the stars for a moment. He watched as the waters of Asgard fell into the infinite abyss below, where they sent their dead on their funeral pyres. "I am invincible," he finally said, the words stumbling out of his mouth. "Odin made it so. I cannot be mortally harmed by wood or steel, water or fire. No matter how much I wish it, I cannot find an honorable death. I cannot escape this world and find myself in Valhalla. I am cursed to walk the cosmos forever, or the events of Ragnarok are set in motion. It has been this way for centuries now, and the endlessness to it, it is maddening."

"Balder," Sif almost looked concerned, which was something that very rarely happened. "I have been alive for just as long as you. I-"

"But one day you will no longer have to live," Balder finally looked back. "You will no longer be chained to this reality. There will be an end waiting for you. But I will live forever. And if I am to live forever, then what purpose does any of this have. I love you now, Sif. But one day you will be gone, carried off to Valhalla, and I will never see you again. Then, I may fall in love again, but she too will be taken away from me, whether it be the Valkyries or Hela. I have nothing to truly fight for. I live so that the universe does not die. But I face no real challenge, no real obstacles. I am called Balder the Brave, but can a man really be brave if he does not have to face death?"

"I do not know how to answer," Sif looked away with the same distance Balder had just moments before. "I do not know what to tell you. Yes, you will outlive even Odin. Even the greatest threats in the nine realms can do you no harm. But think about how many lives you will save, Balder. You do not just have to live to keep Ragnarok at bay. You can make sure death does not take anyone from the mortal planes before their time. You can be a champion of life, not a coward of death like so many others. And yes, one day we will no longer be together. But that is what makes our love precious. The fact that our time together is so finite, the fact that one day is will be gone, that is what makes it important. That is why we must treasure it. Now come, we shall drink mead, we shall be merry, and when the time is right, we shall retreat to our bed quarters for the night."

"Very well," Balder managed a smile, although he was not quite convinced. "We will go and revel in our victory. We shall enjoy this night while it lasts."

Sif smiled for just a second before the raven came. It swooped in from the open air, it's black and purple feather glistening in the light of the night sky. Its beady eyes looked right at Balder as it dropped off the scroll. Then, it flew into the air, gracefully swishing through the air until it was gone like it had never even been there.

"What is it?" Sif peered over at the scroll. "If a raven brought it, then it must mean it is from the All-Father himself."

"Yes," Balder unrolled it and poured over the writing on it. "I am to go to the throne room now," he said after a moment of tense silence. "Odin has an important mission for me."

"I will go too," Sif stopped Balder from turning away. "Just allow me a few moments to change back into my armor. I can-"

"No," Balder said. "The scroll says that I am to go alone. I am not even supposed to let anyone else know about it unless it is absolutely needed. So please, stay. Go with the Warriors Three, but do not mention this. I hope to see you in the morn."

"Very well," there was sadness in Sif's voice, but the look in her eyes showed she understood. "Go. You wouldn't want to keep Odin waiting."

"That is just pure foolishness," Amora spat out the words in anger as she began to step back into the mist. "To force a war between Surtur and Laufey is to invite death."

"Trust me Amora," Loki pleaded. "It may seem like a plan of folly now, but it will soon reveal itself to be of utmost importance. A war between Jotunheim and Muspelheim will weaken Asgard's forces even more. And with the coming war-"

"I have had enough of your war," Amora sneered. "I will not risk my very being on the likelihood of what the norns have told you."

"You will do everything that I have asked, Amora," Loki said with certainty. "If you wish for my brother, then you will do everything that my plan entails. Soon, your service will no longer be required. But while I am still shackled here, you must do what I say. I promise, I will deliver you my brother once I have Odin's head on a golden platter and I sit on his throne."

Amora looked as if she were going to say something, but bit her lip to keep herself quiet. "Very well," she said after a moment. "I will continue. I will put the whispers of war into the ears of Surtur and Laufey, but I cannot promise you much more. Now, I must go. I can feel my body getting weaker, and I will require all of my strength if I am to go to Muspelheim soon."

"Then go. I will wait. After all, I have nowhere else to go."

The throne room looked like it could have been a city on its own. There were hundreds of golden pillars holding up a massive vaulted ceiling. Great tapestries hung between the pillars, each showing scenes of battle and history. Armed guards lined the walls, each holding their spears. They had faces of stone and their eyes showed no emotion. They had one job and one job only. They needed to protect Odin.

Odin sat at the far end in his massive golden throne, his wife Frigga at his side. He had a thick snow-white beard and a golden eyepatch covered one eye. His crown was massive and horned. It glistened in gold under the bright light, but his face was much more stern than that. His one remaining eye told a story of bravery and of sacrifice, of tragedy and triumph.

"Lord Odin," Balder bent his knee once he had approached the All-Father. "You have requested my service."

"Yes," his voice boomed through the cavernous room with power but also a hint of something more gentle and even human. "I have good reason to believe that a great struggle is to befall not only Asgard, but all of the nine realms. I fear that my mind and thoughts have been… tampered with. And the norns have seen a prophecy of a world on fire, and my son Loki on the throne as All-Father. I do not know if what has happened to my mind is all a part of Loki's machinations or not, but I know that these are struggles we must handle with extreme prejudice."

"Then what shall I do, All-Father?" Balder rose to his feet and looked Odin directly in the eye. "Shall I go to Loki's prison at the roots of Yggdrasil and end this once and for all? Shall I-"

"There is no need for that," Odin spoke softly, like there was just a minor hesitation coating his thoughts. "Loki will not be able to escape his prison by any physical means for some time. But I believe he may have others working for him. We need to find these people and root them out before they have a chance to do anything else that may threaten to usurp my throne. And we will need all of Asgard's finest warriors here to prepare for battle. I need you to go to Midgard, Balder the Brave."

"But sir," Balder was almost speechless. "Your son, he declared that he would never return. He has chosen Midgard over Asgard, and-"

"But if this war comes, then Midgard will be in just as much danger. And all of those mortals that Thor claims to love will perish in a burning fire, and he will just be the protector of a smoking cinder."

Balder nodded. "Of course. But, if Thor does not come willingly-"

"Then it will be Ragnarok."

Dirty snow still covered the ground as the sun sunk into the night air, only to be replaced by the shining moon that hung above the bustling city like a beacon. Stars glistened along with buildings and towers, filling the city with light. Thor stood on top of a building, the cool air blowing briskly into his cap, making it billow like red smoke. He looked down upon the people of New York in wonder. Although he had originally been banished to Midgard by his father, he had grown fond of the people. They no longer seemed like barbarians and cowards. They may not have been advanced as Asgard, but Thor had seen that they had come a long way. And while they were not as strong or as battle ready as most Asgardians, it only built on their courage that they could still face tremendous odds.

He lifted his hammer above his head, ready to lift off into the air with one might throw. Mjolnir was heavy, but Thor could still throw it far with great ease. He felt the hammers power ebb through his body, like they were one being. And then, his muscles tensed and the hammer almost left his hand, but the flash of light stopped him. It was nearly blinding in the near darkness, and seemed to come out of nowhere. But the kaleidoscope of light gave him an idea of what had happened. He turned around to see a man, his face cloaked in a long, scraggly beard, and his body covered head to toe in heavy, pristine armor.

"Balder," Thor said in a voice more surprised than he thought it would. "What are you doing here in Midgard?"

Balder smiled, swinging his sword over his back as he rested his hand on Thor's shoulder. "Your father sent me. He has need of you in Asgard."

"But," Thor was silent for a moment. "I… I told him that I would never go back. That I was needed here, on Midgard."

"I understand, Thor," Balder nodded. "But if you truly wish to protect this place and all of its inhabitants, then you must come with me. Dark times are ahead for the nine realms, Thor. And the All-Father wants you by his side for them. You must be ready to lead an army, to fight a war that we hoped would never be waged."

"He thinks Ragnarok is coming, doesn't he," Thor's mouth felt dry in the realization. "But… the norns said that it would not begin until-"

"Until I was dead," Balder nodded again. "And that is why Odin granted me with this invincibility. It is why I cannot be killed by any traditional means. But that does not mean that I cannot still be killed. While I find it unlikely, Odin wants to take everything into account. He is sure that Loki is planning something. He may still be chained at the bottom of the World Tree, but that does not mean that he cannot escape. Some of our best magic users have felt a disturbance in the mist that protects him. It is small, but they worry that someone may be manifesting there. And if he is planning something, if he intends to start a war, then we will need all the help we can get. We will need the god of thunder by our sides."

"But Midgard will need protecting. Someone must stand guard here. Someone must-"

"There are heroes for that, Thor. You have seen them, worked with them even. The Avengers, the Fantastic Four, Heimdall has seen them all. They will be able to protect this realm. And if you come with us, then we may be able to stop the war from reaching this place. We can make sure that no one will get hurt. But I need you to trust me. I need you to come to Asgard."

Thor thought for a moment. "I have too much to leave here. I must warn the Avengers. I must-"

"No," Balder shook his head. "You cannot tell anyone of this. We must keep this to ourselves, or Loki may seek them out to know of our plans. Are you really ready to risk that? Are you willing to put your friends in harm's way like that?"

"But if I do not tell them then they will be at even more risk. If Loki brings the fight here, then they will be ill-equipped to find him off. It will be a slaughter."

"It will only be worse if you tell them. You can inform them that you must leave, that you have business on Asgard to tend to, but nothing more."

"Of course," Thor agreed begrudgingly. "But I will need time to give them everything."

"You have until the morn, Odinson. But not a second longer. We must hurry back to Asgard and prepare for whatever Loki is planning."

Balder hated Midgard. It bustled with smoke that billowed into the sky in black and musty clumped. The people thought that they were the best, that they could never be beaten, even though in truth they were all monumentally behind the rest of the nine realms. They let arrogance and ignorance cloud every last one of their decisions and refused to listen and learn. So the fact that he had to stay there for so long made his skin crawl.

Thor had promised Balder a stay at his living quarters, but he could not sleep. A musty smell filled the air and the walls were chipped and cracked. It was small, nearly suffocatingly so. Quite the opposite of Odin's grand throne room with its mammoth like pillars and huge arched ceiling that reached towards the sky with limitless majesty. He rested on the hard cot that was in the small, cramped bedroom. The blankets scratched against his skin and the pillow made his head hurt. He had slept in rough conditions before, but this seemed different. It was like the air was too rough on him. He hated every bit about Midgard.

"Now listen," the man on the screen's voice was rough and loud, and his face was scrunched in red-hot anger. "I understand what kids are like. I know that when there's some new fad they flock right to it because they want to fit in. They want to be a part of something new. But this new fad, this 'Spider-Man' as people are calling him, is dangerous. And we here at the Daily Bugle won't take this. We will not tolerate this. He's a bad example of vigilantism. He's no better than devil guy in Hell's Kitchen, and we don't want our kids dressing up like them, do we? So-"

Balder clicked the button and the screen flashed to a different image. The new man on the screen seemed calmer, less angry. He was lean with a withered face and silver wispy hair on the top of his head. His voice was almost soothing, but his words were anything other than that.

"Mutants are a problem," he proclaimed. "They are beastly, ungodly things that walk this Earth despite our great Lord's intentions. They have always posed a threat to us, and yet, we do not keep them at bay as we should. No, we idolize them as heroes, as the 'X-Men'. But they are not heroes. They are here to deceive us. They are here at the word of the devil, and no one else. And I will not allow our world to tumble into this pit. I, William J. Stryker, promise to-"

The TV flashed off, leaving the room in darkness. "I really do not understand them," Balder shook his head. "So much hatred, so much anger."

He sat in silence for the rest of the night, waiting for Thor to contact him. But there was nothing for hours, until there was a flash of light that spilled through the entire apartment. Balder grabbed his sword that he had rested at the side of his bed and got ready for whatever was going to come out.

"The Bifrost," he said grimly. The light was unmistakable. He didn't know who had been sent through, but he knew he needed to be prepared. "Who goes there? I warn you, if you try to attack me…" He stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room, where he saw who had entered through the Bifrost. "Oh, it's you."

"I still don't like the idea of you leaving," Jane flipped the pancake through the air, letting it flop down on the pan with a sizzle. Her smile seemed to light up the room, and her brown eyes spread warmth. Her hair was cut to shoulder length and she wore a long, tattered sports jersey that went down to her knees.

"You've tried to convince me," Thor said, still in his mortal form of Donald Blake. He was skinnier and more gangly, but still himself, now that his memories had been fully restored and both of his personalities were merged into one. "But… it's something I have to do, Jane. I don't want to leave either, but…"

"I understand," Jane walked over to the table, carrying all of the food. She set it down on the table and wrapped her arms around Donald. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I still have the rest of the morning," Donald sighed. "I already told the Avengers last night before I came here."

"Yeah," Jane kissed the side of his cheek. "But I've gotta go to work. It's been busy there lately. After that Kronos building exploded last week we've been getting new people with new injuries. Not to mention the fact that it seems like there are more people now with superpowers beating each other up, leaving normal people hurt on the streets."

"You've always managed to amaze me, Jane," Donald shuffled in a bite of pancake. "You could be the best smartest doctor on the planet, but you stay in the local street hospitals. You do such good work."

"I need to ," Jane shrugged. "I've always wanted to help people, but just because I can doesn't mean I should charge a lot for it. I want to help everyone, not just rich people. Now I'm gonna go take my shower and go to work."

"I should probably go then," Donald stood up and dragged his walking stick along the carpeted floor. "Balder's still waiting. I didn't intend on being out so long."

"Well," Jane offered up a weak smile, "tell him that I'm sorry to keep him waiting. Good-Bye, Donald."

"Goodbye, Jane," Donald said with a voice of sorrow as he lifted his staff up and brought it down onto the floor. He felt a rush of energy ebb and flow through his body as his strength grew and once again, he became Thor.

Without another word, he walked over to the window, and jumped out, letting Mjolnir take him through the New York sky. The wind whipped through his hair and cape as he whizzed between buildings and skyscrapers. It wasn't long before he reached his own apartment. He landed on the fire escape and slid the window open, taking a few steps in. There was an eerily silence to the place.

"Balder," he called out. But the voice just echoed aimlessly. "Balder, I have returned. Let us go. If this matter is as urgent as you say, then we must make haste."

The smell of blood rushed through his nostrils as he walked into the living room. He stepped in a puddle of blood that clung to his boots like syrup. Then, he saw Balder's body, crumpled in the corner, his head several feet away. A look of horror was forever etched on his face as blood dripped from the stump that should have been his neck. His hands still clutched his sword's hilt, but the blade had seemingly been broken off and thrown to the side.

"Odin's beard," Thor said. He kneeled down next to the body of his fallen brother in arms. "What happened here, old friend? What could kill the unkillable man?"

As Loki sat in the silent mist, he smiled. He knew that somewhere, the gears had begun to shift. Things were already in motion. Balder the Brave had fallen, and soon, Ragnarok would be upon the nine realms, and there would be nothing his brother could do about it.