(LOKI)
Thor and I defended the Bifrost from any of Surtur's remaining minions while Heimdall sent the stream of citizens to the only habitable place left in the universe. I didn't much care where that was, so long as it had breathable air and wasn't about to implode.
The mountains behind the palace sank, like the base of the realm gave out. It hadn't completely disappeared yet, but I worried the people weren't leaving fast enough. We could do little to speed up the process and had to trust in those watching our children to leave when we first gave the call.
Families were harried and tired by the time they reached the Bifrost, so I was particularly surprised when a small animal scratched at my leg for attention. I squinted at the creature for a moment—it was canid, almost dog-like, but too young to know for certain. His slick black fur shined like a mirror. Not a pet. This one knew me, without a doubt. He looked at me squarely with cobalt blue eyes that could only belong to one person.
Shock and pride didn't fit with the rest of my surroundings. "Vali? Is that you?"
In an instant, he shined in a blinding cast of white-blue and fell against me in full form as the young boy he was. "Father. You're already here."
Not wanting to spoil his quick affection, I still pushed him away to see his face for certainty. I couldn't stop grinning. "I can't believe it. My Vali?"
He smiled and let out a joyful tear. "I did something. Just me."
"Yes, you did." His sugary presence tempered all the bitter losses. I scruffed his hair and looked above him to the crowd behind. "Where is everyone?"
"I beat them all here. They're coming though. I'm sure they are."
I hugged him again, just as Thor waved for me to help him once more with some one-eyed creature attempting to swim. The work was never done.
"You stay here for me, alright? Watch for the others. I'll be back soon enough." I kissed his cheek and let my overfilled heart show on my face. "I'm so proud of you, little wolf."
"Thank you, Father." He tightened his pack and put his feet together. "I'll keep us together. You can count on me."
There weren't many people on the rainbow bridge when I returned to gauge the progress of the evacuation. The flow from the palace was now a slow trickle, like stragglers and wounded were the only folks remaining.
"We just might survive this," Thor said, tossing Mjolnir in the air with a swift catch.
"You may be right, brother." I peered behind him to find Vali near the Bifrost's entrance.
Like when I left him, he stood alone. Only now, his form had crumpled forward. His head switched back and forth, searching the faces of anyone passing.
I narrowed my eyes. Something's not right.
"What?" Thor asked, glancing at Vali himself. "Is he sick?"
"He's alone." A surge of adrenaline made my mouth water. "He shouldn't be alone after this long. Excuse me." I ran to my son's side and hoped to find Freyr, maybe Grid, even if they were injured. The vial in my boot was low, but not empty. If my family needed me, I could help.
Vali trembled. "Father, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."
"Shh, it's alright. Talk to me, Vali. What's going on?"
He pointed at the Bifrost. "There was a boy...a Vanir boy with brown hair. I didn't know him. He had my same sandals. I thought he was Narvi when I passed him inside." A tear dripped off his cheek that he didn't bother wiping. "I can't find them. I shouldn't have run."
"No, don't say that. You're safe here. I can find them, don't worry." I couldn't very well keep him calm when his words made my every fiber fray. Hiding it was my only option. "Your mother is still with him. She wouldn't—"
"But she wasn't with us," he cried, cracking his small voice. "Uncle Freyr told us to take our things and leave. She's still in there, too!"
"What?" I stood and reflexively put my hands on my head, going numb all over, desperate for someone to declare it all a trick. The world didn't feel real anymore, masked by my body and brain's instinct that this moment would never leave me.
Thor called my name and waved me toward him down the bridge.
I looked at Vali one more time and touched his shoulder. "Stay here. Just stay here, understand?"
He nodded, still crying, though he didn't make a sound. His silent worry frightened me by its simplicity.
I raced to Thor's side and passed him once Grid and Freyr were in view. Both of them were covered in white and beige dust, winded with exhaustion and fighting with the live sack on Grid's shoulder. While charming when they first arrived, I was now resentful that the cat had earned a private escort over my children.
It didn't take more than a cursory glance. Two of them. Two more still missing.
Freyr touched my shoulder. His tone was calm. Too calm. "Loki—"
"Where is she?" I screamed in his face. "What happened to her?"
Grid came to his side. "She wanted to clear the shelter. Once she sees they children are out—"
"But they aren't out. I only have Vali." I pointed harshly to the end of the bridge, where my lone son stood terrified.
Freyr and Grid both went white. It said enough. They didn't know, either.
"Thor?" I yelled, practically bouncing on one foot in my panic. "I need a skiff. Now."
He swallowed hard and waved in one of the other few guards still keeping watch for Heimdall. "Where are you looking?"
"Anywhere. Everywhere. Move." I didn't wait for the young man to disembark fully before flying away, leaving him to dangle for a few moments before he dropped onto the bridge. Whether he was injured or not, I didn't care.
As I flew above the city, the ocean sprawling toward the Bifrost went completely still. It made me feel my glider went backward. Asgard's lifespan was waning.
"Please, Mother, help them. Help me. Help us all. Please." I leaned on the acceleration, nearly crashing into a tower that fell sideways with another quake below. The palace was my aim, and even if I had to crawl to reach it, I would.
The grand entrance to the royal house was deserted and covered in loose debris. I docked the skiff against the stairs, leaving it askew, only caring enough to hope it wouldn't be crushed before I needed it again. My legs burned from running back and forth on Vigrid, and the rest of my body twitched from muscle fatigue, but I couldn't stop now.
I put my hands around my mouth and called inside, "Ginny?" Only the groan of destruction answered me. Crashes of marble. Sharp dishes from upstairs. The kitchens had been ransacked by refugees who had enough forethought to prepare for the worst—who knew if we'd have anything to eat where Heimdall sent us?
The floors around me were streaked with maroon. Fresh blood. Drag marks. I followed them backward to a closed set of doors, unmarked save for the remnants of bloody handprints forcing them closed. Whatever was on the other side was worthy of keeping there.
"Ginny?" I called again, praying for an answer, hollering her name up the stairs to the noble floor. It always came back, my own haunting echo, bouncing off the closed doors of unknown nightmares.
Another tremor cracked the tiles under my feet. A silent clock ticked down around me. There wasn't any more time to dawdle and let my fears restrain me. In this house, I had lost my mother. I had killed my father. I had nearly lost my wife and children. It wouldn't happen again.
The doors had sealed so tightly together, I pulled while digging my feet against the floor. Nothing. A great vacuum sucked them inward, fighting against me for every tug. I paused for another breath and closed my eyes.
Odin, help me.
I pulled again with unnatural strength. Bit by bit, the door budged, letting air through. A great pop, and the hinge on one side ricocheted off the wall. I found myself groaning aloud with each movement, finally helping me understand how Thor could be so annoying loud at the worst moments. It wasn't voluntary.
Neither was the utter ache of my insides when she caught my ears.
I couldn't find air. My lungs refused to open. I was thrown back to the Don City, learning the horror contained in that scream. It was pain. It was heartache. It was incurable. Even more alarming: it was still so far away.
"Ginny?" I tumbled over a pile of broken stones and warm bodies. Unfortunate people caught between the doors when the great vacuum from nowhere slammed them shut. Now I knew the bloody handprints on the other side hadn't closed it after all—they were slapping at their loved ones, desperate to get them out. They gave up.
She shrieked in a way that burned my ears and made me cringe. Yet I followed her blindly. I'd follow her anywhere. I held up my right hand and created a great orb of green light to guide me.
All around me, glowing eyes followed my every move. They were lost souls. Some already dead, some still waiting for their bodies to give out. They couldn't move. They couldn't speak. But they would haunt me for the rest of my days.
The ground shook once again and her constant voice staggered, making me feel another painful palpitation. I couldn't descend through the catacombs any faster, too wary of the delicate balance of falling architecture. The palace wasn't simply coated in gold; it had weight enough to fall through the whole realm. Without doubt, when the palace fell, the rest would be lost.
Finally, her voice was more than a mourning cry from afar. A pile of rubble blocked my path to the next room, where she surely was—I was too close to be wrong.
"I'm coming, Ginny," I said, nowhere near as loud as she was, so there wasn't a point in trying to calm her. "I'm coming." Bit by bit, I picked at the pile, tossing stones and decorations to the side until I was certain the opening was big enough for everyone.
The hole I opened framed her. She was splayed on the floor, belly down, her head hidden. Nothing she said made sense or real words. Just a constant, mind-numbing wail.
Gods, is she hurt? Is she trapped? What is happening? I was afraid of pushing something onto her, so I continued to unwedge blocks in my direction. Something gave, sliding the pile toward me, mercifully giving me enough space to get through.
My feet were on the floor, but I froze. The room wasn't much of a room at all. Gravity barely registered. Pillars were floating. Light came from nowhere. The air had a sickly sweet taste of overripened fruit—an odd, yet familiar flavor that I'd nearly forgotten.
But my Sigyn, precious Sigyn, lay on the floor at the end of the world. She howled into space, begging for her heart to stop, punctuating her lengthy pleas with pathetic verses of a song.
My mind refused to acknowledge reality and went numb. I didn't even feel my heartbeat anymore. Every movement was mechanical. I wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her up.
She shook her head and clutched the floor. "No! I can't leave him here. I can't leave him here! Don't take me!" Her kicking legs struck my side and nearly made me drop her.
"Ginny, let go."
"No, no, no. You don't understand. You don't understand! He's right down there! I saw him fall! He can't be far. He can't be!"
"There's nothing down there." Saying it aloud cracked the shell of my protection. I wept alongside her, wishing I could freeze my insides to keep from feeling anything. "He's gone."
"No. He's not. He's not gone. He can't be gone!" Sigyn let out one more wretched screech, finally straining something in her throat until she coughed.
The world moved again. Where we stood was thin already, and it snapped like a sheet of ice, threatening to drop.
"Out of time." I pulled her again and unpinned her hands one finger at a time. "Come on."
"I can't," She squeaked, shaking too hard to move on her own.
"Sigyn, don't do this. Don't leave me. Please, stand!" I met her eyes. "For Hela, for Vali, we have to get out!"
The mention of their names cleared her a bit. Brought my wife back to me. She shivered in short bursts and let me keep moving. Enough of a lull to rise to her feet. Enough of a push to squeeze her through the rubble. There wasn't any time to look back—the hole in the floor that swallowed our son soon devoured the rest of Asgard along with him.
