~ Chapter 28 ~
~Jotunheim: Ancient Age ~
Dragons soared high and wide. The majestic creatures guarded the icy lands with a strong force that protected all weaker beings. Among them were the newly born two legged Jotuns who had been born from the deep ice.
Born from the warm and mothering will of the ice that lay dormant to the naked eye. The essence of the realm. Just as Yggdrasil had a network of roots that supported the nine realms, even Jotunheim had a network that watched over them.
All creatures there were born from the ice and returned to it when the time were right. An endless circle where no life were ever lost in vain.
~ Jotunheim: First Age ~
A Jotun stood tall and looming in a magical circle, carved into ice and pure as translucent crystal. The humming of the lands was echoing up through his body as he took in his world and every living being.
He felt his people.
And he felt the evil.
An evil that were still young but still powerful.
Without something to combat the creatures, they would easily bring Jotunheim to ruins.
Behind him growled the gigantic creature of melted ice and power. A power so absolute that it might overthrow any realm or universe. The gigantic snout of the creature were like large icicles even its brow were covered in what was millenniums of life that were soon to end and begin another existent.
A voice called for him, all too close and all too dear, still the Jotun held no hesitation as he lifted his arms toward the gigantic creature and uttered the final spell. The circle glowed and embraced both the Jotun and the Ice Dragon in its light until nothing remained.
Nothing...
But a single blue light.
~ Jotunheim: Second Age ~
The world as they knew it were crumbling under the rampaging limbs of monsters that refused to die. What was a small army of gigantic, black monsters leveled a frozen city to the ground.
People who were running, screaming were crushed by the cruel and uncaring creatures.
At the front line stood the King of Jotunheim. In his hands he held what might be their only hope, their most important treasure.
The Casket of Eternal Winters.
He felt the immense power of the Casket and lifted it and let its rage roam over the monsters that dared to invade his realm.
Limbs were frozen and broke free. Magic of eternal winters rained over the monsters but nothing seemed to be able to stop their march.
The King's last thought before he was eaten alive by the monster was only one name.
"Laufey."
Meanwhile, under the many layers of ice, in a room meant for the dead guardians, were a lonely man. He silently conversed with the departing souls of his people, but couldn't give them the comfort they so desperately needed.
A population of billions were reduced to a mere million of survivors.
The souls, unable to find peace or rest, were put to sleep inside the ice as it was the only thing the Royal Magician could do for his people before his life ended.
~ Jotunheim: Third Age ~
The Frost Giants let out a mighty roar of battle as they rushed toward the army waiting for them at the edge of their frozen realm. In the lead was a young King who were only looking out for his peoples survival. Food were scarce, and many had perished in the harsh conditions since their fall from grace.
Against him was a God on an eight legged horse who had the power of the universe. The colors of a fluxing rainbow painted the heavens. But even with the Allfather's greatness shining through like the sun, it faded in the desperate Jotuns eyes as they still carried the memories of the black horrors that had destroyed their world.
There were no turning back for them, no matter how many died from now on.
They would live on as long as they could.
And then they would return to the ice in glory.
~ Jotunheim: Third Age ~
The horrible sound reached everyone's ears and they couldn't help the fear from running through their minds. The Asgardians began to question what kind of monster could have made that sound while the Jotuns relived what memory had been passed down from their parents. Tales of horror.
Even Thor and Loki couldn't suppress the tremble that went through their bodies. Their recent memories of the monsters still fresh in their minds, and it became even fresher now with the sound.
Still they walked on.
There were nothing left for them but to go forward.
To the Jotuns who had lived through so much, it didn't feel like they were walking toward their death. They were walking toward another battlefield in their long history. They might not be there later to regret their actions, for not trying to escape, but they would fight for their homeland.
And what life they had left in this world.
Meanwhile in Asgard.
Deep under the golden city's glorious walls. A place where the Gods lived on in peace and harmony. In a room that were created to store the most important of relics, at the far end of a path surrounded by calm, unfazed, water was the dormant Casket of Eternal Winters.
For almost an age it had been kept to collect dust and the brilliant blue color of the magic inside were growing dull. No one worthy to control its mighty powers.
It was dull, and it longed for its master.
For its home.
TBC
