PROLOGUE
She was lost.
Lost in thought. Lost in direction. Lost in despair.
It was not often that she allowed it.
Frigga stood on the balcony, arms drawn close as she looked out over the city of Asgard. Her home. Her sanctuary. Her refuge from the horrors of the Nine Realms. This city, with its golden surfaces reflecting the kaleidoscopic lights of the sky above. With its history and power and splendor, a shining beacon of hope and strength. She looked up at the dark sky; stars and constellations glowed in the heavens, unchanged and unhurried in their eternal dance. They at least never changed, no matter what events were shaping the future of this world. The city below whispered with the weary sounds of night.
So quiet. So peaceful. It should have soothed her soul, comforted her, wrapped her spirit in its familiar embrace. But tonight, there was no comfort to be found.
Her Second Eye had shown her things this night. Things she was desperately trying to forget.
She became aware of a noise on the terrace behind her; a soft sound. A comforting sound. Familiar footsteps on the flagged stone pavement. A feeling of such power and weight that it left no doubt in her mind as to who it belonged to.
Odin stepped up to her side and gently put his arm around her. Together they looked out over the city, saying nothing for a long while. There was no need to say anything. Her gifts were such that questions were usually worthless. Over the long centuries they had been married, her husband had come to allow her to speak in her own time, in her own way, revealing only enough to relieve her mind but not abuse her gift. For now, he would simply be; it was all she needed in that moment.
But she could not stay silent forever. And, led by some impulse she could not understand, she heard herself whisper to the darkness.
"The twilight is deepening."
Odin looked down on her with a knowing gaze, nodding slowly.
"It has been so for hundreds of years, Frigga," he replied gently. She shook her head.
"This time is different. It is closer than ever before." She shuddered, clutching his hand. "It frightens me." Odin held her closer.
"The Eye has been mistaken before," he reminded her. "We both know that not all things that you see will come to pass. They are no more than scattered pieces, broken events. You cannot know how they all will come together."
"Odin, those scattered pieces are drawing closer together," Frigga murmured. "No longer vague and distant, they are becoming clearer with each night that passes."
The Alfather gazed at his wife. The question was unspoken, but she knew what he would ask. She sighed.
"I cannot reveal all," she began, "but I have seen . . . terrible things. Images of fear, of pain, of danger – for our children and all of Asgard."
"Is it connected to . . . the loss of our grandchild?" Odin asked gently.
"Perhaps," Frigga confessed, blinking back tears. "Or perhaps not. I don't know. I have seen both of them, Sigyn and Loki, but . . . nothing is clear. Not yet."
"Frigga," Odin said, turning her to face him, "tell me. What have you seen?"
She hesitated. How much could she say? What should she tell him – her secret fears, her terrifying nightmares? How much she feared for the safety of her sons and daughter, for all of Asgard? The feeling of disaster that was threatening to smother her every sunset? Never before had she so badly wanted to reveal all.
How much could she say?
"I have seen the end of time. I have seen the greatest threat that Asgard has ever faced. A great evil is coming . . . one that I fear will be the end of us all."