Warnings: Violence, foul language, teenagers behaving like teenagers and mild sexual contents because that's what teenagers do.
Disclaimers: Thor and all its characters belong to Marvel Comics, Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, and all the other people who had to do with development of the rest of the Marvel styled Thor characters. Plus the Norse Mythology background for giving these guys the ideas for the story-lines. None of the characters belongs to me. I make no money off this. Don't sue, because all you'll get is a shallow Canadian bank account and a useless fish named after Stalin.
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Chapter 1 - Green
There's a flash of light—gold and quick—through the air. His chest tightens, his fingers stretch towards the staff. Nails claw at the dirt, hurting, but not enough to stop. It's nearly in his grasp, inches away. The light explodes again and the ground quakes. His breathing is short and choppy, lungs scorched from too much smoke. Every movement sends pain racketing down his body. His cheeks are wet from tears both desperate and scared.
This is the only way.
The staff's cool metal feels gentle against his overheated palm. He clutches it, using the ends to help drag him across the five foot gap separating him and the woman sprawled over the destroyed landscape. Her hair is soot filled and as blood stained as the thick, grey robes clinging to her lifeless body. A face once unmarked and beautiful is nothing more than scrapes and gashes now.
He reaches out and his fingers hover the curve of her neck. A slender silver chain peeks from beneath her collar and he threads his fingers into it. With a few tugs the pendant is freed from beneath the many folds of her royal clothing. The stone is simple in design; round, faintly tinted green, and framed by a silver ring. Along the ring are words written in an elegant scrawl.
The sky illuminates once again. He feels the land of his home tremble in response. Around him buildings burn, corpses litter what was once his beautiful city. Crimson stains everything.
There is no more time.
With his staff in hand and pendant in the other, he concentrates on summoning the last bit of his magic. A soothing warmth fills him, seeping out of his chest and through the rest of his broken body. Behind his closed lids he can see a gentle glow of green. The soft colour travels down his hand, dancing along his battered tunic, over the gaping hole in his belly and up into his staff. Where the light touches a tickle follows.
His staff pulses. The gems gleam. Green shines brightly off them, powered by the pure energy of the deceased woman's stone.
He slowly slides his lids apart and watches as the light bursts out from the top of the staff and straight up into the sky. Above, the clouds, dark and heavy with the deaths of the world, part only slightly to accept the burning green.
As the staff loses power, so does he. The sky brightens and flashes—only this time emerald rather than gold. Scriptures ignite within the clouds, easily seen by any who raise their heads. He smiles, because he knows it's been done, and his eyes close.
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Loki awakes, and all he sees is the white of a popcorn ceiling.
A/N: Next chapter will be much longer. Much, MUCH longer. This is more a warning than anything else.