My friends, YOU are the reason this journey is such a delight. Thank you all, so much. I read every single review and treasure them all.

For this chapter, I listened to the Thor 1 soundtrack "Hammer Found," then "Laufey," then "Letting Go." Then True Grit soundtrack "Ride to Death," then True Grit soundtrack "Talk About Suffering."

Then, Young Victoria soundtrack "Rainy Gazebo," and then "Letters from Albert."

Then Thor 2 soundtrack "Shadows of Loki."

Enjoy!

VVVV

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"I allowed myself a microscopic view into his ice-colored eyes.

It was like viewing one of those photographs of the Arctic region –

very foreign,

exotic,

clearly a place you've never dreamed of going."

-Viki Covington

Jane trotted down the flamelit corridors, scrambling to remember which way she'd turned before, her hair fluttering out behind her. She gripped the loose stone in her fist, and felt the necklace Loki had given her bump against her breastbone, under her collar.

"Please, please, don't let me get lost…" she whispered, her feet slapping the stones.

Movement, up ahead.

A flash of golden armor.

A guard came out through a doorway.

"Hey!" she called.

The man stopped, and spun toward her. His eyes widened.

"My lady?" he asked. She rushed up to him, panting.

"I need…I need you to take me to Thor's room. I can't find it—I don't know where it is, but I need to talk to him right now. It's an emergency."

"Of course," he nodded his helmed head, turned, and strode off. Jane lengthened her quick strides to keep up.

Down three sets of stairs, around a bending hall, and finally they arrived at a tall set of ornate, scarlet double-doors, flanked by hung torches and guards.

"Open it," Jane's guard instructed. The two guards grasped the heavy handles and heaved.

"Thor," Jane called before the doors were even open all the way. She pushed past the guard and into a lavishly-decorated red-and-gold chamber with thick carpets, tapestries, stacked trunks and a massive bed. Thor, cloaked in loose black, sat in a fur-covered chair in front of a low-burning fireplace. He'd been sitting with his chin in his hand—now he turned toward her, frowning dully.

"Jane?" he said hoarsely—as if he'd forgotten all about her until that moment. "What…What is wrong?"

"I found something," Jane managed, coming to stand next to him. "Something strange. It's…It's with Loki's things. It's a broken mantel clock, and it was sitting on the floor, and when I got close to it, these little trays shot out—six of them—and they have names written on them."

Thor's frown sharpened, and his bright blue eyes searched her face.

"What names?"

"Sif, and Odin, and Frigga, and Balder, and Eir, and…yours. Your name."

Thor sat still for just another instant, staring at the fire.

Then, he shot out of his chair, passed her and charged out the door. Jane immediately followed.

"What does that mean?" she cried. "What is it?"

"I do not know," Thor answered, keeping his head down as he marched down the dark hall.

Jane clambered up the three sets of stairs after him, her legs and lungs aching as she fought to stay with him, until they both swung back into the room where Jane had just been. The candles flickered as Thor rushed inside, his gaze darting all around.

"There," Jane pointed, gasping. "There, it's on the floor."

Thor knelt down and peered at the little clock, and the trays sticking out from its base.

"See those indentations under the names?" Jane said earnestly, standing beside him. "Look at those. This clearly isn't just a clock. It does something else—but what—"

Thor stood up. He spun around, and left.

"Where are you going?" Jane called, but he didn't answer. So she raced after him.

They went right back the way they had just come. The guards were just shutting the doors to his room when they had to haul them open again. Thor crossed the floor of his chambers, went right up to the mantel and snatched up a small wooden box. He opened the lid, glanced down inside, then snapped it shut. He spun around, his features dark and purposeful, and swept past Jane again, and out.

Baffled, Jane ran after him as he ascended several more flights of stairs, until he came to an even grander set of doors—golden ones. The guards scrambled for the handles, but couldn't get there in time—Thor grabbed one himself and heaved it open, and stormed in.

The flames leaped to life when he entered. Jane gaped at the massive, glittering, sumptuous gold-and-silver chamber—it clearly belonged to the king and queen. Thor went to their mantle as well, grabbed two similar boxes—a mahogany one and a redwood one—looked inside, snapped them shut, and carried them out, too.

"What are you doing?" Jane pressed. "What's in the boxes?"

Thor didn't answer. Pressing a hand to her labored heart, Jane persisted in following him. They bustled down several more corridors, Thor's footsteps and bearing rolling like a storm cloud as he passed the alabaster pillars.

"Sif!" he bellowed—his voice rang through the palace. "Sif, I need you."

They stopped in front of a pair of blue doors, one of which immediately swung open. Sif, wearing a simple red dress, her hair undone, leaned out, her eyes bright and her brow furrowed.

"What is it?" she called.

"Do you still have the stone Loki gave you after we came of age?" Thor asked, stopping in front of her and securing his hold on his three boxes.

Sif blinked.

"Yes, I—"

"Get it," he ordered, nodding. "Get it and come with me."

"I—all right," Sif nodded back, turned, and went back into her room.

"Thor, what is this about?" Jane tried. Still, he didn't say anything. Within moments, Sif re-emerged, holding a beautifully-polished black box in both hands, but seeking answers in Thor's face.

"Come," Thor said, and hurried off. Sif came right after, ignoring Jane. Jane bit her lip, curiosity humming through her bones, and together they trailed quickly down a few more flights of stairs until they came to a part of the palace Jane recognized: the healing rooms.

"Eir," Thor shouted. "Eir, where are you?"

"What, what?" the matron healer, dressed again in white, burst out of a side door. "What is it?"

Thor loomed over her.

"Do you still have the stone Loki gave you? It was a long time ago, you may not remember, but—"

"Of course I do," Eir indignantly cut him off, taking hold of a chain around her neck and lifting a silver locket out from under her collar.

"Good, bring it," Thor commanded.

"Bring it where?" Eir cried.

"You'll see," he told her as he took off again. The three women glanced at each other, but they followed nevertheless. Once more, they traipsed through the palace, until they came to a dark corridor where their footsteps left prints in the dust. The torches very reluctantly sprang to life as they passed, and finally they stopped in front of a pair of plain black-and-green doors.

"Hold these," Thor instructed, handing his boxes to Sif.

"Thor—what are you doing?" Sif asked urgently, apparently putting something together that Jane didn't understand. Thor looked at her a moment, then turned and faced the doors.

He sucked in a deep breath, set his jaw…

Leaned back and kicked the doors as hard as he could.

BANG.

The wood splintered. The lock split. The doors fell apart. The dark chamber opened.

Thor stormed over the flinders, his boots crunching on the broken wood. The lamps inside drowsily bloomed, as if they were waking up from an ages-long sleep, and Jane caught a glimpse of a room all draped in spring-like greens and golds—yet hung with sheets of cobweb. Thor went straight to a chest at the foot of the narrow bed, flung open the dusty lid, and dug through it. Finally, he pulled out a small, white wooden box. He swiped at his face, sniffed, came back to the women, stomped over the broken door and hurried between them.

Completely bewildered, Jane walked as fast as she could after all of the others, back up all the flights of stairs until they came to Loki's room again. Thor led them in, bent and picked up the clock, and set it on the black dresser with a clack.

He paused, gazing down at the little trays at the base of the clock. He took another breath, then opened the white box in his hand.

A stone lay on the white satin inside. A stone exactly the size of the loose one Jane still hid in her hand. But this one was the purest white she'd ever seen. And it shimmered on a thousand levels, quietly, as if holding a thousand secrets it would never tell.

Thor gingerly picked it up, held it out…

And set it in the tray marked with the name BALDER.

It clicked quietly into place. Nothing else happened.

Thor then reached out to Sif, and she, frowning, handed him his maple-colored box. He opened its lid, and retrieved a stone that burned, like the purest ruby, with fires boiling silently inside. Swallowing, Thor set it down in the tray marked THOR.

Next, he took out a bright, strident purple stone—not multi-faceted at all, but bearing three tones of violet like a tiger's eye, and a gleaming surface. Thor put this into the tray marked ODIN.

He reached for another box. His fingers shook. He hesitated before opening this lid—but when he did, he revealed a stone of the most vibrant, living green Jane had ever laid eyes on. And it twinkled, like a playful wink. Thor picked this up as if it were a robin's eggshell, and set it in the tray marked FRIGGA.

"Sif," Thor said hoarsely. Sif watched him, uncertain, then opened her own box and lifted out the stone. Hers was shining orange, like a drop of the sunrise. She set it in the tray that bore her name. Then, the two of them stepped aside so that Eir could move forward. She gazed at the clock, just as earnestly as the rest of them. Slowly, she opened her locket, and pulled out a stone that blazed like pure gold. And she set it down in the final tray.

Nothing happened.

Jane held her breath.

Thor shifted his weight—painfully, as if a thorn was pricking his side.

They waited.

Gggggnnnnnnd…

Jane jumped. The gears in the clock began to grind, and all of the trays pulled themselves back in, carrying the stones with them. The internal workings continued to fuss and click as Jane's heart picked up speed. She bit her lip, trying to stand still, fixated on the little cracked face…

The little ball at the top of the clock split, and opened up.

A bright light flickered from it. And then—

A semi-transparent figure, only a foot-and-a-half tall, sprang into existence atop that clock.

He wore deep purple velvet, embroidered with silver, that wrapped elegantly around him, and hung down to his ankles. Leather dress bracers adorned his forearms, and from his neck, for all to see—glimmering against the background of violet—was a silvery Mjollnir pendant hung by a brilliant chain. He had short black hair, two strands of which hung across his forehead. He had pale, angular, handsome features, enlivened by healthy color in his cheeks. His eloquent black eyebrows were drawn together, his soft mouth waited, and his emerald eyes—bright as the morning sky—lit up the room.

It was Loki.

But he was young.

Jane's heart staggered. The edges and angles of his face hadn't changed—he was a grown man—but no darkness marked his bearing, no sorrow haunted his eyes, no scarring lined his aspect, no bitterness stiffened his shoulders.

His expression was clear and open, his gaze bright and sincere, his mouth ready to smile, his stance easy, uncertain and eager.

Utterly unburdened. Utterly whole. And utterly innocent.

Everyone in the room gasped. Jane covered her mouth with her hand.

The image of Loki cleared his throat. He brought his graceful hands forward, pressing the thumb of his left into the palm of his right.

"Father," he said—and the sudden sound of his voice—so familiar and yet so different—pierced Jane straight through.

"You may find this strange," he went on, uncomfortably lifting one shoulder. "But, after Thor and my little adventure with the dwarves, I thought it might be…prudent. That's why I've put this in a broken clock, you see. I thought it was rather, in a literary sense—well, it seemed to…" he smiled weakly—then it fell away and he cleared his throat. "Anyway, to the point." He drew himself up. "If you are seeing this, right now…it means that I've died too soon. I know this must upset you. All parents wish to depart before their children. I cannot imagine it, really," He glanced around and grinned impulsively again. "The day is so bright and I feel perfectly well." His merriment faded again, and he gazed out ahead, eyebrows drawn together. "But somehow, it's happened. And since it has…I can only hope that I died in a manner that makes you proud—and not because I was doing something stupid." He paused. His mouth tightened—as did his fingers. "I do try to make you proud, Father," he said firmly. "With all my might, I try. I know that I am not as confident or dashing or as brave as Thor, but I hope that one day I will prove myself worthy of my title and my name." He took a bracing breath. "In fact, I hope that as you see my shadow now, that I have finally done so." He hesitated, then swallowed. His gaze brightened. "Take care of mother? And…please…please tell her that I never meant to put her through this." He nodded once. "I love you both."

The image blinked. Vanished.

Thor twitched toward it—so did Jane.

The gears wound again. The little ball opened.

The exact same image leaped out of it. But this time, he stood with his hands behind his back, his jaw tight.

"Lady Sif?" he said.

Sif jumped. The image of Loki waited—or paused, as if suddenly cornered.

Sif moved. She stepped up to stand by Thor, right in front of the image, as if pulled by an invisible force. Loki's image took a quick breath.

"I know that you and I have rarely spoken," he began. "And I'm certain you never think of me. Why would you?" He gestured out, at her. "You're splendid and lovely and brave, and I'm…Well." He ducked his head, and clasped his hands behind him again. Then, he straightened up, and lifted his chin. "Anyhow…I simply wanted to say that…" He raised his eyebrows. "I think you are beyond beautiful, and as capable as any maiden I've met. I'm certain that, whatever you now wish to achieve in life, you will have achieved it by the time you see this message. I also must tell you that, at the moment, you terrify me out of my wits." He grinned again—truly, and laughed a little. "I cannot think straight when I'm near you. Doubtlessly, you find me a bumbling fool, or worse—you believe that I dislike you because I never speak." He became serious, and shook his head. "Nothing could be further from the truth. In my eyes, you are a queen. And any man—regardless of station—who wins your heart, will himself ascend to be a king."

The image blipped and vanished. Sif spun around, feverishly swiping at her eyes, even as tears dripped down her cheeks. Thor reached for her, took hold of her arm and pulled her to him. She fell against his side and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Jane hardly noticed.

The gears worked again. Again, the same image sprang up, but he clasped his hands in front of him this time, and no hint of reluctance or hesitation tightened his frame.

"Eir," he called—and she instantly stepped forward, enraptured. He spoke directly, honestly.

"You have been the most patient teacher," he said. "Instructing me by listening to me as well as speaking to me, giving me knowledge that I am certain I will use my entire life. I know it will save my life someday—yet, as you're seeing this, I know I am dead." He stopped a moment, sympathy crossing his eyes. "I hope at least that I have been able to heal someone else on my journey between now and then, someone who ought to be saved—and that your legacy will not have been in vain." Once more he smiled, gently. "I am happy you have outlived me, Eir, and it doesn't surprise me. Because I know you, for certain, will remember me truthfully."

He disappeared. Eir sank to the floor, silent, her hand pressed to her heart.

They all waited as the clock's insides turned once again.

Loki's form blipped up again—he was grinning again, his arms crossed over his chest. He glanced up and away, and shook his head.

"Balder," he said—and Thor made a choking sound in his throat. Jane glanced up at him to see tears running down his face.

"I must confess, little Bird," Loki looked at them sideways, one eyebrow lifted. "In the beginning, Thor and I were not fond of the idea of a third Odinson. At all. He and I considered ourselves to be two sides of the same coin, and we couldn't see where another would even fit in." He suddenly laughed. "We were especially terrified that you would turn out to be a girl!" He shook his head again, looking away for a moment—but then his mirth calmed. He faced them. "But I…well, whilst I am busy saying things that I would never ever say if there was a single real breath left in my body…" He shrugged once, considered a moment, and stared at the floor. "I ought to tell you that you've been a beam of bright light in my life, Bird. I'm so…So grateful for the way you seem to know when I am lonely, and you come down and sit with me next to the fire." He shrugged, and gestured futilely. "You've worked your way into the helpless affection of everyone in Asgard, and I am no exception." He pressed his hand to his chest, and gazed out at them with a look that struck them. "You are a…the gentlest, and most honest companion any prince could ever ask for, and I trust you with all my heart." He nodded, took his hand from his chest, and held it out. "You are my weakness, little brother. And I am glad I've gone before you. For if anything ever happened to you…I know I would wear black for the rest of my life."

The image died. Silence fell.

"Oh, Thor," Sif whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He pressed his face to hers for a moment, and held her tighter.

Three flashes—the image came back.

Loki stood as if slightly off balance, his left hand holding his right once more. No humor in his face at all. He gazed straight out—right out at Thor—as if somehow, he knew.

"Thor," he said quietly, urgently. "If you are seeing this…I am sorry. I'm so sorry."

Thor choked again, wiping at his eyes to clear them, fighting to keep watching. Loki kept going.

"I desperately hope I didn't fail you in my last moments—you have no idea how that I idea haunts me, even as far away as I am from danger here at home." He gestured aimlessly, then focused back, his thumb rubbing back and forth against his right palm, his gaze sharp and intense. "I know that you've sometimes been disappointed in me—I'm not strong enough or brave enough, and not nearly as personable as you would like. But I want to think that I tried, and that I've always tried. I hope you are proud, at the last, to call me your brother—because I am so proud to be yours." He gripped his hands together, and shook them emphatically. "You cannot even imagine how proud." He raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. "You are my prince, and my friend. I will admit, sometimes I am envious of the sunshine that seems to constantly surround you..." He lowered his hands to his sides. "But never doubt that I love you."

The image disappeared.

Thor pulled loose of Sif, gasping as if he'd been stabbed, whirled and took three steps away from the clock. Sif grabbed at him, following him—came in front of him and threw her arms around him. He broke before her, and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"Mother?"

Jane—she'd been watching Thor—spun back around. So did Thor and Sif. Loki's image stood there again, his arms at his sides. Quiet, and sad.

"Mother, you are my first memory. I have no doubt you will be my last thought," he said. "Your lullabies still make me breathe easier when I cannot sleep, and your stories inspire me to be myself—but the best possible version. You cannot fathom how much it has meant to me that you have always believed in me, and understood me. Everything good in me is truly yours, borrowed from your storehouses. And if I ever become anything of real worth, it will be because of you. And that…" he shrugged. "I can give you no higher praise than that. I love you so."

A tear trailed down Jane's face as she stared at him. It burned her skin.

Suddenly—Loki clapped his hands, and rubbed them together. He beamed.

Jane blinked.

"Now!" he declared. "As for all my things…" He pointed out at them. "Mother, I grant you authority to oversee this, as it'll be quite a raucous game, I'm sure. Each object of mine is naturally enchanted." He held up a finger. "If I did not want a particular person to have something, that person will not be able to touch it. If I did want someone to have it, that person will be attracted to it straightaway, and it shall only work for him or her." He winked at them. "Have fun!"

He disappeared. The little ball closed.

The clock fell silent.

The four of them waited, but nothing else happened. Thor's breathing became louder, more labored, and he cast a tearful, desperate look around the room.

"I cannot be here any longer," he rasped, tugging away from Sif, dodging Eir's grasp, and striding through the door. Sif, relentless, followed after him, calling his name. Eir slowly stood up from the floor, her attention lingering on the little clock. But it did nothing, and its trays did not re-open. She took a breath, as if to speak…

Then turned, and listlessly trailed out of the room.

Jane stood there alone in the dim light and the quiet.

Alone, and completely lost.

The hand that gripped the little stone trembled. She frowned, still bewildered, and took half a step toward the little clock.

She didn't understand. There had been a tray for each one of the other stones. But not this one. Why not? What was it?

She lifted it up and opened her hand, holding it close and frowning at it through her tears. It lay so darkly and coldly against her skin, hardly glittering at all anymore. If she could just—

The necklace chain writhed under her collar.

She jumped half a foot, yelping.

The pendant leaped out into the open and hit the end of the chain like a vicious dog on a tether.

SNAP.

The stone on the pendant broke out of the setting and slapped into Jane's hand.

FLASH!

Jane jerked her head away, shutting her eyes against the blinding light that clapped through the room.

Her hand heated.

She forced her eyes open, and stared down into her hand.

One stone.

One stone now, not two.

And it laid there, thousands of layers deep, sparkling as if she held the cosmos in her palm. Living, and warm.

"What—?" she tried.

The clock buzzed. Her attention twitched up.

The broken clock face loosened.

It opened. And tipped down.

And from it, one more tray held out its hand.

Jane stepped closer, her heart hammering, and stared at it, wide-eyed.

It didn't have a name.

Jane glanced at the door. Everyone else was gone. Breathing unsteadily, she held out the stone—the two stones that had suddenly become one—and dropped it down onto the tray.

The tray withdrew. The face of the clock clicked back into place.

And the next second—

Loki reappeared.

He stood with his hands to his sides again, gazing straight out at her. He swallowed, then swallowed again. Jane couldn't breathe.

"Hello," he said.

Jane's lips parted—she almost answered. She immediately bit her lower lip.

"I'm…Well, of course, you know who I am," he said. "So I am at a disadvantage, because at the moment, I don't know your name." He paused a moment—and something lit his eyes. "But I know exactly who you are. Because this particular stone—I've given it to you. Myself. On purpose, with my own hand. And there is not a power in all the realms or even in Valhalla that could force me to pass it to anyone I haven't chosen of my own will. And so, as I speak now, though I can't assume your name, I'd venture to say that you have…" He pointed out at her. "Brown eyes. And middle-dark hair."

Jane's mouth fell open. He kept going.

"In the past, I'll admit I've found gold hair to be particularly stunning…but recently, I've privately decided that a warmer, softer appearance, rather like late summer, attracts me most. I can also safely say that you are very beautiful. Very brave. And very clever." He raised his eyebrows. "You speak the truth to me, even when I lie. You see the truth, even when I hide it. As you've probably noted, I'm very fond of my family, but I am…different from them." He shrugged. "Not much, but a little different. And there are times when I feel isolated. As if, for some baffling reason, my make-up is incomprehensible to everyone at court. But I know that you understand me. Perhaps without any need to explain. You have no doubt been a friend to me—perhaps my only friend—when everything fell dark and I've gotten lost. You've reached out your hand and rescued me from myself. You've seen my oddities and strangeness, put up with my moods and sarcasm—and made me laugh when I least wanted it but most needed it. And you've loved me in spite of it."

Jane's heartbeat skipped—flipped—and sent a frightening chill through her whole body.

Loki hesitated.

"At least…I hope you have," he murmured. "Because, if I never had a chance to say it in life, I shall say it now: I know with certainty that I love you. Singularly, and with decision."

Jane's throat closed. She couldn't tear her eyes from him.

"I would never give this stone to someone I didn't," he insisted. "And, probably, the moment I gave this to you is the moment I realized it. To be honest…I must say that I hope I have had a chance to tell you. In fact, I hope I had a chance to tell you every day for millennia, and that you have a hundred great-great-great grandchildren crowding around you constantly, demanding sweets and presents and stories." He chuckled.

Jane's tears spilled over, and ran down her face. Loki grew solemn again.

"You are very precious to me," he said. "The most precious thing in my life. Which is why I've decided to tell you, of all the people in the realms, the truth about this stone. About all seven of these stones. Because I think that you, out of everyone, deserves to know." He drew up, and took a breath.

"When I was fairly young, before I came of age, Mother, Eir and the other Magik teachers began an advanced course of study in internal physical magic. Heart Magick. Now, Heart Magick cannot be taught or earned—it is given, as a gift from the Three in One, and it manifests around the heart itself at the odd and innocent age of forty-nine years." He pointed at his own chest. "Because of where it comes from, it is the most powerful magic of all. Young students like myself were forbidden to even listen to the masters' discussions—they took place after midnight in a different place each night—but I followed them, eavesdropped and memorized everything they said, and wrote it down for myself. Soon, I felt confident enough to conduct my own explorations—of my own body, of course. And, after several nights of anxiety and some close scrapes with death, I must confess—I discovered it! Reservoirs of magic around my heart, just as they'd said. Layers, in fact. They had multiplied as I had grown, much like the layers of wood in a tree. This was stunning and fascinating at first, but try as I might, I couldn't get them to do anything. They couldn't give me extra speed or stamina, they couldn't assist in flight, they didn't help me maintain invisibility or clarify my conjuring. They just sat there, sleeping. So, I decided to pull them out.

"It took years to master the technique. Really, it did. And no small amount of bruising around the breastbone. But, one by one, I was finally able to draw the layers of magic out from around my heart, working from the outside in, and solidify each of them into a stone. And each time I did, someone important in my life would rise vividly into my thoughts—against my will, sometimes—and so the stone took on the color in heraldry I associated with him or her." He stopped, then chuckled, as if struck by something. "Isn't that funny? Heraldry has been so drilled into my head…all of our heads, really. Enough that we had to push it off onto the Midgardians…Anyway," he shook his head and held up a hand. "The outer layer was Sif's. Then Father's. Then Eir's. Then Balder's. Then Thor's. Then Mother's. I gave the stones to their corresponding people as gifts, telling them only that they ought to keep them safe, since the stones were incredibly rare and fragile. I never hinted at what they really were. And finally…there was one last layer. The one that lay closest to my heart, right over top of it. The purest and strongest one. And as I drew it out, and formed it carefully…" His voice became low, and penetrating. His eyes locked with hers. "I thought of you. I hoped for you. The sparkling stars upon the surface are the light you'll bring into my life. The shimmers of violet deeper down are the color, adventure and joy I desire. And the dark depths, underneath it all…That is the gap in my heart. The gap, the hole, made in your shape. The shape that cannot be filled until I meet you. But…you have it now, don't you? I have met you. I have found you, after waiting for you for so long. And I love you. Be sure of it." He pointed at her. "And keep that stone near you for all the rest of your days, whatever you do. It is much more effective now, I assure you. More powerful. It is protection—a shield or a cloak or a light in the dark. It will sustain you, and warm you—a beacon or a weapon. Anything you wish. It's for you. And I couldn't bear it if it were ever parted from you. You hold my heart, alskling. And as long as you do…" He gave her a long look—as if he could actually see her. "I can never die."

The two of them stood frozen for a moment.

Then, his image flickered, and he disappeared.

"Gah," Jane gasped, as something in her chest wrenched. More tears dripped down her cheeks. She glanced helplessly down at her empty pendant, then out and around at all the boxes and books and papers stacked in the dark room, outlined by the ever-dimming lamps.

So full, and yet the room was hollow.

And so was she.

CLICK.

Her head came around.

All of the trays in the clock shot out again, and the face of the clock opened up. All of the stones lay there, exposed, glimmering wordlessly at her.

She stood exactly where she was for several minutes, hardly breathing, frowning hard.

Finally, she ventured forward, toward it. She reached out, and plucked the top stone—the deep, dark purple one, out of the face of the clock.

The other stones shivered.

She stopped.

Stared at them.

"Heart Magick," she whispered.

Slowly, she reached out with her other hand, and picked up the stone belonging to Frigga. The vivid green one. She held it up next to the dark purple one—

SNAP.

It slipped out of her hand—

FLASH.

Jane blinked away the dazzle…

And then gaped at what she saw.

Not two stones, but one.

And when she carefully turned it in her hand, its color shifted, moving from violet to emerald in a blink.

Her mind whirled.

"Which…Which one was next…" she breathed, searching. "Thor…" She picked up the flaming red stone, held it up—

SNAP.

FLASH.

Jane marveled, breathless and shaking her head.

One stone.

One stone that now shimmered with violet, green, and scarlet.

She picked up the white one.

SNAP.

FLASH.

Again, the two became one—and the stone began to heat up against her skin. Jane, her fingers shaking almost uncontrollably, picked up Eir's—the gold one.

SNAP.

FLASH.

She snatched up the purple one—the one belonging to Odin.

SNAP.

FLASH.

She grabbed at the final one, the one Sif had—

SNAP.

FLASH.

Silence.

The stone now hummed in her hand, swimming with throbbing color and warmth, a liquid rainbow spinning and swirling inside. Jane opened her mouth as she held it there, trying to form words that would articulate any of this…

But she couldn't.

It was just a feeling.

A raw, gut feeling.

She closed her mouth—and closed her fingers around the strong, buzzing stone.

And she turned, and left the room.

To be continued…

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