On a night of no moon, Edda Lokidottir takes a skiff to the deepest part of the ocean. (She is not actually Loki's daughter, of course. At least, she doesn't think so. She's fairly sure her mother would've mentioned it at some point.) Beside her in the skiff are six jars full of shadow.
Michelle appears next, in a kayak. Then Amaya with a sail boat not much bigger than Edda's skiff, and Sahkyo with a canoe, and Raissa with a coracle, and finally Devra, who must always be late if only to make an entrance. She arrives riding on the back of an orca, grinning that same grin she wore as a girl and they first managed to summon a kraken from the depths.
"Sisters," Edda calls serenely and sends them each their designated jar. "There was a man in the United Kingdom who wished to rule the world if he could." She cradles her own jar, smirking down at the shadow swirling inside the glass. "He was quite the naughty boy." She lifts her head to smile at her sisters. "Shall we show him what real magick looks like?"
The water churns as the great serpent rises, up and up and further still, longer than any wall, taller than any building, older than any language or land –
"Jörmungandr!" Edda shouts to the dark heavens, "I bring you an offering of magick!"
The serpent lowers his head, larger than her house, and she hears in her mind, Well?
She laughs, spinning the top off the jar and throwing the shadow out over the water. Jörmungandr snaps his jaws before wrapping around Edda's skiff, stretching out to Amaya, and to Devra, to Michelle and Raissa, and at last Sahkyo.
Jörmungandr dives back down, leaving barely a wake behind him, and Edda sighs in satisfaction. "Why is that you're the one who always finds the adventures?" Michelle asks after a moment. "I mean – I've been lookin' for a yara-ma-yha-who for decades – decades! – but you find us a horcrux quest while just sittin' quietly at home. Honestly, Edda."
Edda snickers into her hand as Amaya, Raissa, and Sahkyo chime in with their own gripes, but Devra simply grins at her, shaking her head and patting the orca. "Sisters," Devra finally calls. "We all have places to be, I'm sure. And Edda will definitely let us know if something else comes up. As I know it will."
In but a few moments, Edda is left alone on the water. She trails her fingers through it, committing everything to her strongest memory; the Boy Who Lived (such a silly title) will want to see this, and so will his father.
"Sleep well, Jörmungandr," she murmurs and returns home.
…
In the forests of Albania, a spirit screams. Birds take startled flight; prey runs further into the trees. Not even the spirit's beloved snakes go near it for days.
In the deepest part of the ocean, the greatest of all serpents laughs, hunger sated for a little while.
