Summary: In this world some people can do wonderfully things like manipulate elements our teleported and Shape-shift. Lincoln as e travels on this world he will learn may things and find who deserves trust. As the world has the protection of the Elders a great darkness closes to earth and only Lincoln and his allies can stop it. I chose the names Aesir and Vanir based on the names of Norse Mythology.

LINCOLN

Chapter #1

My feet pound against the ground as I dash through the forest, just a blur to everything around me. Branches whip back with exaggerated slowness, birds fly lazily overhead. The forest and earth merges together, streamlining past the edges of my vision. My heart beats rapidly, ready to burst out of my chest, and my breaths come in ragged, heaving gasps. I'm bone tired, but above all, it's exhilarating. I haven't run this fast in ages. I'm having the time of my life.

I'm also about to be torn to shreds.

Out of the corner of my eye I see another blur zipping through the forest, leaving a trail of wrecked trees in its wake. It keeps pace with me, slowly gaining ground. As I weave in and out of the trees it simply bursts through them, shattering the trunks into millions of splinters and dust.

The delayed sound of a wolf's howl reaches my ears and I'm inspired to put on another burst of extra speed. I'm now going so fast that the world slows down and literally seems to stand still. The blur beside me gradually falls back until it's well behind me again. Once again it's just me and the vast wilderness. A bead of sweat brews across my forehead and I waste precious time to wipe it off. Every second of distance between me and the pack matters. In that single second I slow down enough to hear the wolves' excited howls once more. The blur starts to catch up again, racing beside me. I sprint forward, ducking under branches and tearing through bushes. At one point I even jump over a fallen log. My feet protest loudly when they hit the ground, sore from my constant sprinting, but I keep moving forward. There's nothing to do now but keep running.

The trees clear in a split instant and the ground below me drops suddenly. I'm sliding down a sharply angled cliff, more falling than running. I freeze for a moment in surprise and panic, but I push myself to my feet before I tumble off into the dizzying abyss. The blur finally rushes past me, not even concerned with the sharp angle. I grit my teeth and struggle to find solid footing as I tumble down, but it's nearly impossible. I can hear the wolves' howls at my back when I finally manage to prop myself up. I push myself even harder than before, running so fast that gravity doesn't even affect me. The ground starts to even out, and I leap from the wall, finally back on level ground.

I turn back over my shoulder, hoping to see the pack tumbling to its death, or perhaps pausing uncertainly at the cliff's edge, but there's no such luck. There they are, streaming down behind me, rolling over each other in free fall, but coming after me nonetheless. I catch a glint of their crazed eyes and rolling tongues locked inside their snarling jaws before I spin and start running again. For the millionth time I try communicating with them telepathically, telling them I'm their friend, not enemy, but I keep on getting the same overpowering blanket over their thoughts.

I grit my teeth in frustration and sprint forward, trying to put some distance between myself and the rapidly advancing pack. I've once more entered the dense forest, and I have to place my feet carefully to avoid tripping over the multitude of tree roots and snagging branches. The blur comes into view and soon we're level again. I'm just jumping over the crest of a small hill when I feel my feet pulled out from under me by an invisible force on the last step. The blur roars ahead, and I stumble and hit the ground hard, and roll straight into a tree. My velocity from the run hurls me against its side, and I feel the wood crack against my body. The tree literally explodes as I'm hurled through it, and I watch as millions of tiny fragments billow out from me in slow motion. I feel a jagged edge of the blown away trunk graze against my bare, exposed back, and I cry out. I hit the ground and my back howls out in pain. When I put my hand to it, it comes away red with blood.

The worlds reverts back to real time as I scramble back to my feet, staggering under the pain. The hair on my back stands up and I reel myself around just in time, speeding myself up just as the pack leaps for me. They slow down in mid-air, reaching out with wild claws, their matted fur pressed against their bony ribcages. Even sped up, I only have enough time to hurl one off to the left with my telekinesis before they're on me. I jab my fist at the lead one, knocking it senseless and lift my right forearm to deflect another. I flinch in pain as it sinks its teeth deep into my skin. I stagger back, but fling my arm out, hurling the wolf deep into the forest. A small arc of red droplets follow my movement, splattering the nearby leaves. I have just enough time to hear the crack of the tree branches as it lands before I'm off again, scrambling away from the pack before I can sustain any more injuries.

I put a hand on my arm as I duck through the forest, hastily trying to stop the bleeding in my sped-up perception of time before I lose too much blood. I'm worried the bite might have pierced an artery, in which case I seriously need to get to the clearing where my Chest is hidden as soon as possible. I can hear the pack tearing through the forest behind me, and I occasionally use my telekinesis to hurl stray branches or rocks through the forest into their path. From the few yelps I hear behind me I can guess that my attempts are at least somewhat successful. The ground below my feet to starts to level out and clear up, the trees in front of me stating to slightly thin. I must be near the clearing: the last checkpoint of this stupid exercise. Encouraged by the idea of the finish line dangling in front of me, I put on one wild, final burst of speed, desperately trying to put some distance between myself and the pack. Once more the world seems to pause, and I rip through the forest at a breakneck pace. The blur takes shape ahead of me and then falters as I race past it.

A few seconds later I'm struck by dazzling rays of light from the sun. I'm standing in a small, low, grassy clearing, devoid of any trees, with a low rocky wall and cave on one side. I put my hands on my knees and hunch over. I know I only have twenty seconds before the pack is on me, tops, but I appreciate this short moment of rest after the exhausting sprint. Suddenly the blur materializes, and I hear a voice.

"Damn, Lincoln. I thought I had you back there."

I turn to see Stan Worth panting beside me, but smiling all the same, "Maybe you really are faster than me after all. I think that's the first time I've lost a race." He says, shaking his head.

"Jerk." I mutter.

Stan just laughs and pulls the Xianxi stone from the waistband of his pants and tosses it to me, his eyes glinting, "I've heard it all before, bro. I'm sorry I tripped you, I just wanted to make it a bit more interesting."

"Interesting like this?" I snap at him, turning to show him my back and forearm, but just then the twelve or fifteen so wolves burst through the thicket, snarling as they leap into the clearing. Stan and I immediately spin back to back as they surround us but he flinches, when he feels my bare back, slick with blood and sweat.

"Eugh, man. How'd you get that?"

I take my eyes off the wolves just long enough to glance back at him, "You tripped me."

"Dang, bro. Seriously, man, I didn't know the fall would cut you up like that. I'm sorry, man."

"It's okay," I reply tersely, eying the wolves circling us, "We've got bigger things to worry about."

I tighten my fists and feel Stan tense up against me as the wolves start to circle in closer. A large, ash-coated male snarls and the rest follow his lead, growling lowly.

"I think the big grey one's the pack leader." I murmur softly. Stan nods and flicks his long black hair out of his face.

"You picking up anything from them?" I whisper.

"Nothing," he replies, "It's like they're brain-dead or something."

"Or someone doesn't want us listening in."

"Lupa." Stan growls and I nod in agreement.

The wolves growl and tighten their net even further at the mention of her name. They're now close enough that if I took just two steps out I could hit them. It makes me wonder why they haven't attacked yet.

"Why haven't they attacked yet? They're just circling us."

Stan gets a dangerous smile on his face, "They're waiting for something."

"What?"

"Us." he growls as he throws himself forward, tackling the pack leader to the ground. The pack reacts instantly, surging forward toward them. I hurl some into the air with my telekinesis and dive toward the rest, trying to take their attention away from Stan and the alpha male wrestling in the dirt. Unfortunately, it works, and they turn towards me, hackles raised.

I try to keep moving as much as I can, dodging through the air past snapping jaws and swinging claws. I roll underneath one wolf as it leaps for me and land a wild punch on another as I come up. I see its eyes glaze over just before it goes flying to the edge of the clearing. I spin and deflect a wolf's lunge in mid-air with telekinesis, stopping it inches from my throat. It grunts as it hits the ground, but I'm already gone, dodging the wolves' flashing teeth with my enhanced speed. I briefly catch a glimpse of Stan wrestling the pack leader to the ground, his bare back plastered with sweat. The wolf writhes on the ground, tearing long gashes in Stan's forearms, and then my view is obscure by another wolf lunging at me. I grunt as my back hits the floor, flaring with agony, and struggle to hold off the wolf's muzzle with one hand. I drive my palm into its throat, stunning it, and shove it aside.

The rest of the pack jumps at me as soon as I'm exposed, and I go down under a writhing mass of teeth and fur. I just barely manage to get a telekinetic field around myself before my senses are dominated by hands and thrashing, frenzied fur. The weight forcibly drives me into the ground and my field flickers for just an instant, allowing one of them to inflict a shallow cut across my exposed chest. I suck my teeth in pain and close my eyes, struggling to maintain the field. I grit my teeth and narrow my brow in concentration, then push my field out wards in a sudden burst. A miniature, invisible explosion, with me at the center; wolves go flying in all directions, and I suck in a deep breath as I'm suddenly freed from assailing teeth and limbs. I've just jumped to my feet and swatted another wolf to the ground when I an earsplitting crack rings out.

I turn to see Stan sitting in the center of the clearing, breathing heavily, with blood and sweat pouring down his forehead. He has a long, thin cut down his side, but his hands are gripping the split jaw of the dead pack leader. He takes a deep breath and sits back, letting the body fall lifelessly to the ground, its jaw positioned at an unnatural angle. The reaction is immediate: every single wolf in the clearing whimpers and start to slink away, their tails between their legs. Within seconds they're all gone, disappeared into the far-reaching forests.

I shakily stand up, my limbs creaking in protest. My back hurts like hell, and my arm has gone numb, but I can't help but smile at the sheer exhilaration of triumphing over the odds. I slowly walk over to Stan, picking my way through dead carcasses, and extend my hand. He looks up and gratefully accepts it, and I haul him to his feet. We both just stand there, surveying the carnage around us. Blood trickles from the wound in his forehead, drying in his pitch black hair, and his arms are hanging in strips, but he's wearing the same crazy, exhilarated smile I am.

"Well…" I say, drawing the word out.

"…that was fun." He finishes for me.

INSIDE A CAVE - NIGHT

Stan and I wearily search through a shallow cave embedded in the low, rocky wall I had spotted earlier. Lupa had told us that our Chests would be here, at the last checkpoint. I briefly wonder how mad she'd be if she found out that we took the Xianxi with us. This exercise was supposed to test us without our Inheritance, but she had told us in her letter that we'd only be allowed to take one item from one of our Chests. Stan had wanted to bring his sustenance cube, but I'd argued that the Xianxi would be more practical. Neither of us had refused to give up our argument, so Stan had suggested we bend the rules a little.

Stan breaks up my thoughts by waving and calling me over. He's discovered a deep niche in one of the walls of the cave where our Chests are hidden. We slide them out with our telekinesis and let them hover in mid-air. I pull out the crystal Lupa gave me before we left and place it against one side of the lock. I then put my hand on the other and concentrate. The crystal shatters apart, sprinkling the cave floor with tiny fragments, and the lock clicks open.

Usually Chests can only be open by it's owner, but the crystal I had just used had been imbued with Lupa's blessing, which let me open it on my own, but just once. Lupa is a Aesir and a Elder, the group of the most powerful Aesir that manages the government and structure our leaders. They make sure that the planet runs smoothly in its day-to-day life. Stan and I are members of the Aesir, a race blessed with powers. Our job is to protect the planet and maintain order.

I lean down and put my Chest on the ground and pop open the lid. I put the Xianxi stone inside, all of its energy spent. I take out my dagger and water cube, then push my Chest over to the side, still open in case I need something later tonight. I wouldn't want to close it and not be able to get it open again.

I look over at Sta, who's rummaging through his Chest for his healing stone, and hold up my dagger, "You think I could skin a wolf with this?"

He looks over, "What, you want wolf biscuits for dinner? Sure, bro, go for it. I'll do the cooking myself."

I shrug. We've been living off berries and Stan's sustenance cube for the past week. I think it'd do some good if we got some actual food in our bellies, even if wolf isn't the most commonly prepared meal. Stan's finally found his healing stone, and I watch him as he holds it up to the cut on his forehead, clenching his teeth in pain. The cut slowly flows together and he moves the black rock down to his forearms. I watch silently. Healing stones come in handy, but they cause double the pain of the wound originally inflicted and can only be used shortly after the wound has been inflicted; you couldn't wait an hour. They also only work on wounds inflicted with the intent to cause pain, so if I accidently cut myself I'd be stuck with it. It has its drawbacks, but I'd rather take it than normal medicine. Once Stan's done he tosses the stone to me. It's too late for my back and forearm, but I use it to clear the cut on my chest and the other multiple scrapes and bruises from the fight.

I stand and hand it back to Stan, along with my dagger, "How about you go outside and start dinner while I get a fire going."

He stands and smiles, taking both items, "What, no please? What am I, free labor?"

"Worse," I say with a mischievous glint in my eyes, "Slave labor."

He snorts and heads outside, throwing his hands up in disgust, but I can tell he knows I'm joking. There hasn't ben slaves in any parts of the world for thousands of years. I smile and follow him outside.

Stan's already in the center of the clearing, picking through the dead wolves, trying to find a body that's mostly intact. I walk to the edge of the field, shadowed by the forest's tall pines. I spend several minutes in silence collecting firewood, simply enjoying the time alone to think. I'm still a bit irked by Stan's earlier prank, but out here, in the wilderness, it's easy to put everything aside when I'm surrounded by so much beauty. It's so peaceful here it's hard to believe that I was fighting for my life mere minutes ago.

I carry my first load of firewood into the cave and then go back out for a second. I walk back outside one last time to gather twigs and other easily flammable material, then position it around the cave entrance.

When I walk back in Stan's looking at me, the question already forming on his lips, when I say, "In case the wolves come back." He nods in understanding.8

I move to the center of the cave, and find that Stan's already made a fire pit for me. It's a rare act of kindness from him, but I accept the unspoken apology silently, my earlier irritation melting away. I crouch down beside it, dumping my load of firewood, and set aside three stout branches that can be used as torches later in the night. I get to work building a structure for the fire, and when I'm ready, I lightly shine my Pyrox over it, ushering the fire into existence with a few crackles and pops. I quietly feed the fire, Stan and I falling into a companionable silence.

I methodically tend to the flames, letting my thoughts wander. I briefly wonder what Ronnie-ann is doing right now, then blush despite myself. I'm grateful Stan hasn't developed a Vanir that allows him to read minds. He'd tease me mercilessly if he knew how much I thought about her. I smile nervously at his imaginary antics and then turn my attention towards my parents, my mind reaching out towards a distant memory.

It was now two years since I had developed my Pyrox, my first Vanir. I can still remember it as clear as if it had only happened earlier today. I'd spent the entire day with my parents and sister's, a rare occasion. Aesir children are usually raised by their grandparents while our parents use the time to hone their Vanirs to perfection. Overall, we spend maybe about a month with them, spread out through the year. And of course we see them at the Festival of the Blue moon. While I can't help but acknowledge the practicality of the system, it still frustrates me that I barely get to see them. I can tell my father feels the same way; he'd used to come over almost all the time until he was personally reprimanded by the Elders.

We'd been sitting under an old oak tree that still grows in our back yard, me and my dad watching my mom. She was using her Vanir that granted her control over nature to "sing" a carving out of the tree. I'm still not sure how she did it, I only know that it's supposed to be extremely difficult. I had simply sat there, mesmerized by her voice and beauty, watching her ordering the tree to take shape. When she had stepped back I had gazed into an exact replica of me and my father, leaning against the tree, smiling peacefully.

I had stepped forward and lightly ran my hand across the smooth bark, "It's beautiful."

My mother had smiled as she stepped forward and put her arms around me from behind, "Just like you. You and your sister's will always be the most precious thing to me, above all, even all the treasures in the world."

I had simply smiled and leaned my head against her cheek, my eyes closed in contentment. It was the perfect moment. Until my skin started tingling and I started to get a sick, burning feeling in my stomach.

My mom started petting my hair and looked at me worriedly, "Lincoln? Honey, are you all right? You feel hot."

I leaned against her, trying not to ruin the otherwise perfect day, "I'm fine, Mom. I just feel a bit...weird."

My father walked over and put a hand to my forehead, then frowned, "Lincoln? Are you sure you're okay? You're really burning up."

"I just need a minute." I heaved.

I stumbled away from my mother's arms and leaned against the tree, my head against the trunk. My mom instantly rushed forward and put a hand on my back, making soothing noises, while my dad watched me worriedly. I felt myself start to sweat and I swallowed nervously. What the hell was happening to me? I lifted my hand to wipe my forehead and froze.

A beam of pure, blinding light was emitting from my palm, flickering lightly. All three of us gasped and I stared at my hand in disbelief. Not once did I ever even consider the possibility that I might be developing a Vanir. It's so stupidly obvious that I weakly laugh at myself in disbelief. My mom puts a hand on my shoulder and silently points at my other hand. I look up to see a soft burning ring of fire slowly spiraling out from my palm, and I instantly yank my hand away, revealing a smoldering handprint.

I stare at my glowing hands in shock, my mom grabbing me and holding me tightly, laughing, while the fire slowly spreads. My father puts it out by summoning a light rain, then turns to me and clasps my hands in his, partially smothering the glare. I look up into his warm, crinkled eyes and see him give me a wide smile, which I weakly return.

"We're damn proud of you, son. Fatw has recognized your heart. You're one of us now."

I smile at the memory. I can remember running over to Ronnie's house almost right after, so excited to show her. It been totally unfair-she'd developed her first Vanir way before me, and I'd had to wait nearly half a year for mine. The endless-

"What?" Stan asks, cutting into my thoughts.

"Huh?" I say, not comprehending he pokes me with the handle of my dagger, "I said, what? You're smiling like a stupid goof. I want to knowwhy."

"Nothing." I say, shrugging.

Stan raises one eyebrow, a trick I've unsuccessfully tried to master, "You're thinking about that girl Ronnie, aren't you?"

"What? No!" I sputter, my face red.

Stan laughs, assuming from my reaction that he's right, "Yep," he says, drawing the word out, "Called it."

"Oh, come on," I snap, "Like you're not drooling over One at any chance you get."

Stan chokes and looks up at me with hurt eyes, "Hey," he says in an indignant voice, "I thought I asked you not to talk about that."

"Please," I snort, "Like you ever listen when I say that."

"Yeah," Stan replies, his cockiness back in full force, "But that's you. Your love life is a free firing range, with no penalties."

I shake my head, and then pause a moment before asking my next question, "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

"Nah, man. I only know cause you told me. I bet she has no idea."

"Oh, gee, thanks, buddy. Way to build me up."

"I meant it as a compliment, bro. You're cautious. Scoping out the field before you make your move. Stealthy."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that." I say slowly.

Stan smirks as he uses his telekinesis to hover a flat stone over the fire, slowly turning it cherry red, "Then don't. Now get over here and lay out some of this meat on this rock. I don't want to burn myself."

"What, you can't use your telekinesis?"

"I'll 'accidently' drop yours in the fire."

"Maybe I like my meat well done."

"Maybe you do, but you don't want to argue about it all night, so you're gonna get your butt over here."

I sigh and lean over and place the strips on the rock without even flinching when my fingers drag over its burning surface. It's an advantage of my Pyrox: I'm now invulnerable to practically every form of heat. I also have limited control over fire, though I'm still trying to control that one. The meat sizzles, and my stomach growls hungrily. After a few minutes, when Stan deems them ready, he gestures for me to take them off. He divides them up between us, hands me a flat rock, then tears into the food hungrily. I proceed more slowly, not wanting to stuff myself. The meat tastes a bit bland, but after running well over 100 miles today and eating berries for a week, it tastes like a gourmet meal. Within a minute Stan and I have finished off the entire animal, and I'm left staring at my empty plate. Stan leans back and belches, his eyes closed in a half-smile.

I look over at him and give a lazy smile, "That was actually pretty good."

Stan comes up to his knees and gives a mock bow with a flourish, "Trust the chef."

I lean back against the cave wall, "Iron chef quality."

Stan opens one eye and looks at me quizzically, not understanding the reference.

"It's a TV show," I explain.

Stan gives a short peal of laughter, and wipes his eyes, "Oh man, you actually watch those things? A bunch of little videos to detract our minds so we can learn about our old culture's, and you actually watch them? Everyone just changes the channel! We're on Earth, man. There's way better things to do here than waste time watching some stupid shows."

"It's interesting," I defend myself, "Not just that one, but most of them. They're like our teachers, but not as disciplined. They're more relaxed, loose. Some of them are actually pretty funny. They're different from us, Stan. That's why they're so interesting."

"Yet you're still probably the only person I've ever met who actually watches that crap."

"Ronnie does too," I say stiffly, "Same with my friends Clyde and Rusty. Clyde even has some actual books about it."

"Ooooh," Stan says, "Ronnie does it. That's why."

My face goes red, "Seriously, Stan. Back off."

He stands up and stretches, "All right, all right. I just don't want you going soft on me, that's all. You take a little nap while I take first watch. Maybe you can count Chimæra in your sleep."

I glare at him, but he simply gives me a mocking wave and walks outside. I sag back once he's gone. Truth is, I'm so tired I don't really feel like arguing with him. I'm more than happy to just lay down here on the rocky floor and fall asleep near the dying embers of the fire. But sleep doesn't come easily to me, and even then, it's plagued with troubled dreams.

When I open my eyes I'm in the middle of a dark forest, chained to a tree. The woods feel dark and unnatural, not at all like the beauty of nature, and I struggle furiously to get free. I try ripping apart the chains with my telekinesis or enhanced strength, and even try to burn through the tree with my Pyrox, but nothing works. My Vanirs have abandoned me. I swallow down a flood of panic, but simply it comes bubbling up again as soon as I start to hear long, hoarse screams, mixing into one hair-raising, horrendous wail. I recognize the voices of Ronnie-ann, Stan, and the other Ten calling out to me. I can even hear my parents. I close my eyes and jerk back against my prison, trying to distance myself from their screams. Tears race down my cheeks, and I know somehow, with complete certainty that we are all going to die alone, and there's nothing I can do to save us. The despair lurches through my entire being, turning me into a fragile shell holding my fragmented spirit together. I've drawn deep within myself, oblivious to anything but the pain and despair, until a rough hand grabs me.

I gasp as I'm jolted out of the black pit of despair, and my previous feelings are replaced with an overwhelming sense of fear so strong that it makes me want to curl up in a ball in the corner of the most isolated cell on Earth. I open my eyes and freeze: before me stands a figure. His long black trench coat sways in the slight breeze, obscuring my vision and containing all of my attention, dispersing any of my previous ailments, replacing them with only awe. He's easily seven feet tall, bigger than almost anyone else I've ever seen. I catch a glimpse of short, cropped black hair and a hard, chiseled jaw before my eyes are drawn to the long, jagged, glowing dagger he raises to the night sky. My eyes widen as he brings it down, trailing a faint glow of white light, but he merely cuts through my bonds. I stumble forward and he catches me, supporting my weight easily.

I look up into his dark eyes as his deep voice rumbles across the shallow clearing, sending tremors throughout the ground, "Lincoln Loud. I've gone through hell to talk to you, boy."

He leans down and grasps my shoulders urgently, unconsciously shaking me like a rag doll, "You have to go. You HAVE to be ready. You can't trust anyone. Do you hear me, boy? They are ALL your enemies. Even now they betray you!"

He steps closer, "And that's not all. We're coming, Lincoln Loud. You have to stop us, or we'll destroy your world and everything you hold dear."

"What?" I sputter, my knees weak, "I don't understand."

He's about to reply when a long guttural howl sounds from the shadows. I feel my skin go cold and my heart clenches with fear. I know I don't want to face what's coming, I simply want to speed off in the opposite direction, running for ever and ever, until I drop dead. It's only by focusing on the man before me that I can keep myself from running. He spins towards the noise, shoving me behind him, and then looks back at me with urgency in his eyes. He draws his dagger from the folds of his coat.

"They're here. They've found us. Both of us. I'll try to reach you in time, but they have a head start. Some of them are almost certainly at your home even as we speak. You have to make the journey. You have to prepare yourself."

My vision starts to go black, and I call out desperately, "Wait! Please! I don't understand!"

He turns towards me one last time, and I catch a glimpse of something terrible slowly proceeding towards us from the shadows, "Wake up!"

He shoves me again, and suddenly I'm falling through the earth into a pit of shadows, rapidly racing towards reality. I bolt upright, panting, in the middle of the cave. The feeling of panic and urgency that stayed with me throughout the dream remains here in reality, and I remember the man's warning. My heart racing, I stumble outside.

Stan turns to me, confusion written across his face, "Lincoln? What's-"

I shove him aside and thrust out my hand, shining my Pyrox into the dead silence of the night. Light splays from my hand, revealing the wolf pack silently streaming towards us.

END OF CHAPTER

Aesir - are certain citizens of earth in possession of Vanir's, abilities that are suppose to be use to defend Earth. They are the guardian of the planet.

Vanir - Are the the powers utilized by the Aesir for combat, they variet from Aesir to Aesir. Every normal Aesir develops about eight Vanirs. Unless your an elder who develop twelve Vanirs, and Telekinesis doesn't count as a Vanir because all Aesir have it.

Elders - Are the are the most powerful and the leaders of the Aesir. The chosen one's to become Elders are born with this position, to inherent at the age of 26. The Elders develop twelve Vanirs instead of the normal eight.

Anima - Are beings nearly identical to humans, they're often easily distinguishable from humans because they they possess the traits of animals.