“Just convince them to alphabetise the seating. Then I’ll consider your favour fully repaid.”

- Lucifer to Themis

---

I stomped through to the Bifrost in a foul mood, having failed again to release Fenrir.

The realmsbridge was poorly guarded as usual, and this time had only taken a note from a mysterious admirer to lure away its keeper. Borrowing his form let me pass through uncontested, though the passage did leave a trace. Next time I’d have to vary my tactics, whether that meant posing as a legitimate guest or winging it in as a mosquito. But you knew security was bad when they still weren’t good at screening for shapeshifters.

I crossed the intricate magic embedded in the floor and heaved on the great wheel until it pointed towards Jötunheim, pausing only to check for hidden triggers. It didn’t move physically so much as I could feel it turn at the edges of my mind. Every so often, I felt tempted to aim the device somewhere outside the bounds of the nine realms to see what happened, but no one had come back from that and I didn’t have a death wish.

Ready to be activated, runes blurred into visible glow at the wheel’s edge. I made a quick check of the bridge room and invoked the usual magic. Rainbow light surrounded my body as expected and carried me away.

Something interfered.

Mid-transit, I had nothing physical to hold onto. I grasped at the bridge in my mind, fixing my destination at the centre, but continued to helplessly slide. The bridge's even blend of colours grew warmer, moving through yellow, orange and red, until the spectrum ran out and I tumbled off the end, landing squarely on my feet somewhere unexpected.

I could still see an abundance of red. I noted the possibility there might exist some kind of colour-based realm system tied to the Bifrost's strands, and I’d just fallen into one of them. Not that I’d ever find the others if I couldn’t get out of here.

But this was no accident. I’d felt the incursion; this was direct divine sabotage. My mind immediately leapt to Odin. Why the Allfather had it in for me and my family, I had no idea, but the fact remained he did. Rather than the negative impressions associated with murdering another god with Gungnir, this could be a less offensive means of placing me firmly out of the way.

The valkyrie hovering in front of me only made this seem more likely.

Although the hovering was unexpected. I didn’t know anyone who could do that, and surreptitiously checked for a hidden updraft. What was the point of having wings if they weren’t necessary? Come to think of it, they didn’t look quite right, either; sitting at the wrong angle and shaped differently.

The valkyrie was also a man – always an obvious oversight in Odin’s hiring repertoire – unusually dark by Aesir standards, and absurdly pretty.

The last part incentivised me to compose myself more than I might have otherwise. “So,” I began, stepping backwards into a small puff of dust, “this place is… red. Any particular reason Odin chose it in particular? Hopefully unrelated to anything to do with bloodstains?”

The valkyrie descended towards me. I looked more closely at the ground beneath his feet and realised what I’d taken for a minor dip was in fact a small canyon, easy to miss when observed from the wrong angle. I returned my gaze to his face as he landed, still not beating the wings, which disappeared entirely once his heels hit the ground.

“The Danish tongue,” he noted upon landing. “Good.”

“You must be from Midgard,” I remarked, although the red canyon didn’t look like any place in that realm – or any other – I recognised. “We don’t call it that.”

The valkyrie nodded. “Time is precious,” he said, which didn’t do much to clarify whether or not I was in immediate danger.

“Right,” I hazarded.

“I’ve been tasked with making you aware of a coming threat. The prophets of my land foretell of a great unifier beloved by all, ushering in an eternity of idyllic prosperity. Yet when questioned, the future deeds of their idol paint a very different story.”

“That is definitely a con,” I agreed. “I’m not sure what it has to do with me.” With some admitted reluctance, I turned my eyes away from him and towards the cavernous rock above our heads. Apparently we were underground, though something about it felt more claustrophobic than usual.

“Supposedly,” said the valkyrie, in a voice oozing attention-worthiness, “there’s a sliver of possibility you will one day become the great enemy of their people.”

The import of the words snapped me annoyingly back to my senses. “Oh, is that what Odin told you? And made it seem like you’d be doing all the realms a great favour, no doubt.” I started making backup vitals in case the conversation didn’t continue much further. “I will warn you, assassins don’t have a good track record against me.”

The man held up an unthreatening palm. “I, too, am considered my people’s foe,” he declared unexpectedly.

“Because you’re a man?” I asked, thinking of the wings.

He gave me an odd look. “Because I warred with their subjugator and lost. I’m not here to fight; nor have I dealt with this ‘Odin’. My purpose here is twofold: to deliver a warning and ask a favour in return. You must become the enemy foretold. If you don’t, the unifier will reign supreme.”

It was a good thing he was pretty. “You do realise this also sounds like a con,” I said charitably, applying the benefit of the doubt. “Not to mention a terrible deal for me. Frankly, if they take down Odin, they’ve already contributed some improvement to the world. Assuming I can trust anything you’re telling me, which isn’t looking likely.”

“True. But currently, you are protected by your distance, physical and causal. I had to call in many favours to locate you, only to find you outside the boundaries of our world. Simply arranging this conversation took enormous risk, resources, and the backing of my sworn enemy. As for evidence, ignore this warning and you’ll see it soon enough. It may even have begun already. Unprovoked actions against you. Changes in sentiment filtered down from the prophets to the people.”

I frowned. I never had been able to pin down why, other than a general mindset of abhorrence, Odin would target my offspring. It wasn’t like him to act without gain, so I’d assumed there was something, but by Ymir’s blood I couldn’t work it out. If he had only played it differently, I might still have been working for him today.

“Let me get this straight,” I declared with a disbelieving smile. “You want me to paint a giant target on my back, be universally hated, and take the fall like an idiot. Your persuasion skills are somewhat lacking. Find someone else to do it.”

“There is no one else,” said the Midgardian god. I was fairly sure at this point he wasn’t a valkyrie. “Whatever it is you can do against what’s coming, no one else can. If they can, they won’t. It has to be you.”

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“Based on the whole five minutes I’ve known you, from my end you seem much better equipped,” I said. “I can’t even deal with Odin effectively, let alone some mystery person I know nothing about.”

“It isn’t that simple,” the god said. “Indications are that all living souls are about to lose their minds. Everyone in my world, and almost certainly your own. I have no reason to believe I’m an exception. That I can’t do anything to prevent this…” he hesitated briefly, “…terrifies me. Except this. You are the one sliver of hope for my world, and maybe all.”

“So no pressure.” I scuffed at the dust and shifted it away when it got on my feet. “Have you considered that if it makes everyone happy, it might not be worth preventing? Is it really so bad to believe the lie?”

“Yes. I have experience with these matters. Furthermore, do not mistake love of the unifier for real joy. The future described is a world of horrors; in this the prophets are unanimous. Yet this is the circumstance they seek. The disconnect in their minds is plain for all to see, and they can’t perceive it when pointed out.”

I stared at him for a minute, and found no trace of deceit. Part of me still suspected an elaborate hire by Odin to discredit me, but beyond making me look and feel like a fool, I couldn’t see the point. “If I were to believe you,” I said, “I don’t know how to deal with something like that. Thus we’re back to where we started.” I paused and rubbed a hand along my chin. “Do you at least know who it is?”

“A fair and beautiful child, not yet born.”

“That probably rules out a jötunn,” I said with a shrug. “Do you even know what realm they’re from? Any other insights?”

The Midgardian shook his head.

“Then this isn’t looking promising.”

“Try. There’s a way, or you wouldn’t be a serious threat.”

I walked back the conversation a few notches in my head. “Surpassing others, you say? I’ve stolen a bunch of things for people, and sometimes because I was bored and the owners deserved it, but that’s really not hard for a shapeshifter.”

“A shapeshifter?”

“You have them in Midgard,” I replied helpfully. “Though most of yours seem to do only two forms. You’re at least a partial one yourself; I just watched you with the wings.”

My abductor seemed to put aside his concerns for a second in favour of mild bemusement. I seized the opportunity and became his mirror image, startling myself at how smooth and easy my movements became. His body even felt dazzling.

“Impressive and unsettling,” he said without blinking. “I wonder if you’d struggle with my other form.”

Called it. “Doubtful. What is it?”

The man smiled, and an image entered my head.

“Oh,” I said, genuinely surprised. “Well, there’s a first for everything. I can’t copy magic, and it seems like that’s a prerequisite here.”

“A pity. That could have been our answer.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Altering yourself in just the right way to maintain control of your senses. You could act where others were unable.” The bleed still spilling over into my head felt hopeful, which I was about to ruin.

“If there was some biological basis, then maybe,” I said, to let him down gently.

“Try.”

I glanced about at the vast, dry cavern and couldn’t sense so much as a glimmer of the Bifrost anywhere. “You’re not letting me leave until I figure this out, are you?”

“Not literally,” the strange god spoke. “But refusal isn’t an option.”

“I have a life, you know,” I said, feeling the anger rising. “Personal ambitions. People who need me.”

“And if you want to help them, this is where you need to be.”

“For how long?”

“Perhaps you’ll be done in minutes. At worst, we have a few dozen years.”

“Why, then, certainly. Why don’t you wait for me in that large crack and I’ll follow you down?”

“You won’t find a way out of here without me,” he said.

“And I’m beginning to see why people don’t like you.”

“Oh, I’m being nice. Believe me. I’d much rather you helped willingly.”

“I have a little trouble taking things on faith,” I retorted, but sighed. Nobody handed out guidelines for what to do when strange gods injected bad premonitions into your travel plans, and it felt legitimate even while sounding completely insane. If nothing else, I’d never heard of anyone intercepting the Bifrost mid-journey, which meant considerable planning had probably been involved. Emotionally, I couldn’t wrap my head around it yet. Such was the scale of the picture being painted in front of me. “I want to meet these prophets.”

“That can be arranged, provided you attend in disguise.”

“And I’d be helping you on my own terms,” I stipulated further.

“As long as it doesn’t involve running away.” His shoulders relaxed somewhat as he let out a small breath.

“Surely whatever I do doesn’t have to be done here,” I said, gesturing at our surroundings. “Assuming there’s a way out, you could even come with me. Your realm doesn’t have a history of getting out much; you probably need it.”

“This place is a sanctuary,” the god cautioned me. “Prolonged time outside would be risky. Remember, you’re the people’s enemy. It isn’t an easy path to walk, and the closer that possibility comes to reality, the sooner the news will break.”

“All the more reason to make the most of it before it does,” I replied. “Even if it’s only for five minutes.”

But it wasn’t. By Midgardian measurements, it took eleven years. One for each of the realms and counting.

During that time, I met a number of seers deranged with concerning lucidity. Whispers of a golden future grew and abounded, though the exact messages and identities became warped along the way. I learnt Lucifer’s story and told him mine, while I attempted to shapeshift a solution to a problem I’d never seen. All we had to guide us was the strength of seer-sourced rumours and Lucifer’s attempts at possessing my body, which always succeeded and provided no guarantees of transferable effectiveness.

I travelled in secrecy and brought the devil with me. We consulted the svartálfar master smiths in the exquisite halls of Niðavellir, giving false excuses for the inquiry. On matters of the soul, we spoke with Hel in Niflheim. We studied the runes, and Lucifer his native scripts, but my skill remained stubbornly limited. All the while, I tried to shapeshift into the one impossible angle that would let me keep my mind.

Interspersed with the dead ends, good times tempered the countless frustrations. There was joy to be found even among worlds ruled by tyrants, especially when immediate consequences seemed so far away.

When success did arrive, it did so completely without fanfare in the middle of a field in Jötunheim. The brief loss of awareness I’d learnt to expect from Lucifer’s continual tests simply didn’t come. When we next visited a seer, they verified dire warnings of a great and cunning enemy.

I felt less than great on my end. None of this had been to guarantee victory; it only secured us a piece on the game board. Thoughts of the coming trial seeped in unbidden by the day, and I found myself dreading it with each waking moment. This wasn’t what I wanted to be. Not like this.

‘Enemy’ was just a word. But it was the kind that had power without any magic necessary.

It took longer to make the change permanent, using Lucifer’s ability to bestow powers. There had to be no chance it could fail.

Until the years fell away and the time was almost upon us.

“I have to take it all away,” Lucifer said as we posed as guards high on a city tower, watching a meteor swarm glimmer through the Midgard sky. “All of this only works because no one knows the specifics. The details must stay hidden. The moment either of us encounter a mind reader, we lose everything.”

Knowledge was too powerful a weapon to relinquish, however. “I’ll be quick,” I stated. It worked in reverse, too. We knew who the unifier was, now, with all the protection afforded a prince. Of course it was Odin’s child; whichever fate had pulled that string was no doubt having a laugh at me. “There are worse things to have on my hands than the blood of one dead baby.”

We’d tried to prevent it ever reaching that stage, but prophecy had worked against us. Every lead we’d followed had turned up empty or resulted in ambush, the mother warded and relocated.

“And if you fail?” Lucifer asked. “He’ll be guarded well at the beginning, and once the birth hits, a significant portion of the realms will be out to find you. I’ll be out to find you, and I know you too well. If nothing else, I can’t let my knowledge persist.”

“So I’ll lose you either way,” I grumbled, hands on the tower rail. I shook my head. “Remind me again why I’m doing this.”

“Because if you don’t, no one else will.”

“We know Baldr won’t get your father,” I pointed out, though we’d had this conversation many times.

“And yet he won’t become the enemy. He can’t abide being hated. Everything else is secondary.”

“No, he just points you in my direction,” I complained bitterly.

“Let me take it away,” Lucifer said gently. “In some ways, it’ll be easier. You’ll go back to your life and slip through the watchers’ fingers. You’ll figure out again what needs to be done, and how, and Baldr’s protectors will drop into a false sense of security.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me, “ I said. “As gambles go, they don’t get much bigger.”

“True. Maybe I won’t take everything.”

“Just most of it.”

“Yes. Are you ready?”

“No.” I glanced up the meteor shower and tried to burn it into my memory. My eyes were wet and I didn’t shift it away. “Make it quick.”

And then I found myself alone on the tower watching the stars come down, wondering why I was crying, and unable to remember why I was on Midgard at all.