Ragnor practically skipped, his onyx eyes gleaming like polished gemstones, capturing the swirling colors of the carnival lights. His raven hair danced to the melody of terrified screams and cries of excitement. The air carried the sweet aroma of cotton candy, blending with the faint scent of popcorn, while distant laughter and music added to the vibrant atmosphere. Though he had long separated from his mothers and brother, being a boy all alone in a carnival did little to scare him. Instead, he embraced it as the perfect environment to fulfill his ‘live for the moment’ lifestyle.

He spun and smiled, making his way through the park towards a tent. The entrance was adorned with a weathered clown, its peeling paint hinting at the countless visitors who had ventured in before him. Above the wide, grinning mouth, a swinging sign caught his attention, reading:

Come one come all to Loki’s Hall of mirrors.

For the lucky there is nothing but treasure

Albeit for the hapless, all that awaits is horror.

Before you enter, pray to your God for good measure!

As Ragnor approached, he felt the clown looming above him, its eerie presence seeping into the air like a sinister mist. He couldn't help but sense the otherworldly power in the clown's gaze, its emerald eyes piercing into his very core. Nearby, a brown-haired girl stood near the entrance, tears streaming down her cheeks, clearly distressed by her experience in the tent. A man next to her attempted to console her.

Ragnor walked over to her and said, “Here, I was going to give this to my brother, but maybe it will cheer you up.” Confused at first, she hesitated to take it. Ragnor smiled, and her father offered reassurance. Finally, she accepted the stuffed toys from him, her face lighting up as if she had momentarily forgotten about her previous experience. Her father reminded her, “And what are you supposed to say?” She nodded her eyes beaming as she admired the stuffed dog and snake plushie, “Thank you!” Ragnor patted her head, a warm gesture of comfort.

Now that his hands were empty, Ragnor's sight was once again fixed on his newfound plunder. His onyx eyes glimmered with a renewed passion. Tonight, like many others, had been kind to him, and he refused to let his winning streak come to an end when the night was just beginning.

Ragnor entered the hall and immediately he was met by the gaze of a little boy, rather it was his own gaze. Intrigued, he ventured closer to the mirror, a sense of curiosity and anticipation enveloping him. "Welcome!" a man's voice suddenly exclaimed from the side. Startled, Ragnor jumped backwards, only to realize the source of the voice was a silhouette partially illuminated by the dim red lights.

“Welcome to my Hall of Mirrors,” the man continued, his voice holding a mysterious charm. “Make your way to the center, and you shall receive any toy from my stall!” His dazzling smile pierced through the darkness, captivating Ragnor. He gave chase but the man was already gone, the only things left were him and his multiple reflections.

Intrigued and captivated by the reflection, Ragnor couldn't resist the urge to approach one and place his hand against its surface. This was not his first encounter with his own reflection, but this time, something felt different. It was as if he wasn't truly looking at himself. For a brief moment, he found himself lost in his own eyes, contemplating the subtle differences that shouldn’t be there.

Shaking off the strange sensation, Ragnor continued his march deeper into the Hall of Mirrors, a mischievous grin etched across his face. “Let the games begin.” he whispered to himself. After a few twists and turns, he encountered his first dead end. Undeterred, he approached the mirror, once again peering at his own reflection, ignoring its right to personal space. Despite sharing the same light brown complexion and unkempt hair as the boy before him, Ragnor couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was observing someone else entirely.

Ragnor leaned closer, his hand pressed against the mirror's surface. With mischievous delight, he began making faces, playfully teasing and ogling at his own reflection. Amidst his antics, he could hear a chuckle emanating from the depths of the hall, before a voice began to recite:

Time waits for no man,

And no god waits for you.

I've left my clan,

Yet your efforts remain askew.

Impress me, if you dare,

With talents bold and new.

Break the bonds of despair,

And show me what you can pursue.

Scream and cry,

As humans often do,

But fail to catch my eye,

Your payment still overdue.

As the eerie chorus subsided, Ragnor returned his attention to the mirror. He had been here for at least ten minutes, and despite the haunting atmosphere, he couldn't understand why the girl had been crying. Leaning in closer to inspect the image, he noticed it was smiling, a contrast to his own puzzled expression. Ragnor instinctively touched his lips to ensure he wasn't smiling himself. “What?” he muttered. As the word left his mouth the reflection grabbed him.

In an instant, the reflection's eyes turned pitch-black as it lunged forward, laughter echoing in the dim hall. Ragnor's heart raced, and he swiftly knocked away the reflection's hand, stumbling backward to the floor in shock. As he looked up, the reflection had returned to normal, showing his own frightened self trembling before the mirror. “What was that?” he shouted to the man, but there was no answer.

Ragnor hurriedly got back to his feet, cautiously approaching the mirror once more. He hesitated, questioning if it was real or a figment of his active imagination. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his hand against the mirror and stared into his own eyes, inching closer with caution. “Big brother?” a familiar voice called out, startling him. Ragnor spun around to see the girl from earlier, still crying and clearly scared. He looked back at the mirror to ensure the reflection stayed in place. "Why are you back here? Where's your father?" he asked as he gently patted the girl on her head.

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Tears streaming from her eyes, she replied, “I got lost. I wanted to come find you.” Ragnor pulled her close, comforting her. “So, your father's in here?” he asked. She nodded, fear evident in her expression. Ragnor lifted her head gently, looking into her tear-filled eyes. “Want me to help look for him?” he offered with a reassuring smile. She nodded once more, "Please," she replied softly causing Ragnor to smile.  

He took her hand and led her forward, glancing back to the mirror as they turned the corner. Ragnor noticed that she only held the stuffed snake, “Where’s the doggie I gave you?” She frowned, “I lost him.” “Did you drop him running?” She nodded sadly. “It’s okay. After we’re out of here want me to get you another?” Her eyes lit up, “Will you really.” “Mhmm.” She hugged him again. “Do you remember where your father was?” She shook her head.

Lost in his thoughts, Ragnor suddenly jerked back as the girl stopped abruptly. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. She pointed at her own reflection in the mirror and cried, "She has my snake!" Ragnor's eyes widened as he noticed clear differences between the girl and her reflection. The real girl looked angry, clutching her toy snake close to her chest, while the reflection showed both toys at her side and wore a sinister smile. The reflection then turned towards Ragnor, its eyes turning pitch black, and he instinctively grabbed the girl, lifting her up and holding her close as he ran away.

“I need my toy.” She protested but Ragnor ignored her pleading. As they fled, he heard haunting laughter echoing behind them. The girl continued to struggle, begging for her toy. "You'll get another!" he tried to reassure her. She asked, "Really? Would you get me another?" An unintended tone of frustration slipped into his voice as he replied, "Didn't I say that already?" The girl stopped fighting, holding onto him, and then she leaned into his ear, whispering, "Will you be my toy?"

 Ragnor felt his blood run cold as the girl’s grip tightened around him, a low ‘hiss’ coming from below him. He dug his feet down, coming to a stop. He looked at the girl, her eyes now black like the reflection. She let out the same sickening chuckle as he felt something crawling around his leg. Out of panic he pushed the girl away. She landed on the floor, her body contorting as she continued to laugh. He looked down, the stuffed snake now growing. It was no longer soft and cuddly; it’s scales rigid and digging into his leg as it slides upwards. Its weight became too much, knocking him to the floor as it coiled around his chest. He tried to fight back but the snake had bonded his arms. The snake unhinged its jaw and reached for his face. “Ahh!” He screamed and closed his eyes. 

Ragnor's heart raced, and he opened his eyes to the sound of the man's laughter. The weight on his chest had vanished, but he felt a lingering fear. His gaze darted back and forth nervously as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Big brother," the girl's voice returned to normal, but unease still clung to him. "Why did you throw me? That really hurt." Ragnor kept her in his sight as he slowly rose to his feet. She burst into tears, covering her eyes with her hands. "That really hurt," she sobbed, her voice tinged with anger. Her black eyes bore into him, and her voice took on an unnatural depth, sending shivers down his spine. "He doesn't like when someone hurts me."

Behind her, footsteps approached, and an outline twice Ragnor's height took form. It sniffed the air, leaning down beside the girl. It was the stuffed wolf, now larger and more menacing. Its once friendly smile transformed into a drooling snarl. Ragnor's heart pounded in his chest, and he instinctively darted away, the heavy and rapid footsteps of the wolf echoing behind him. Ragnor's heart pounded in his chest, terror surging through his veins as he refused to look back. He cursed himself for reaching a dead end, cornered by the menacing wolf and its eerie companion. The wolf's feet thudded against the floor, drawing nearer with each passing second.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he finally turned to face the monster. The wolf's head remained low, baring its gnarled teeth as it closed in on him. Ragnor took a cautious step backward, matching the creature's pace. In the mirrors that surrounded him, his reflections stopped moving, turning to stare at him. The mirrors distorted and rippled as the reflections reached out with disfigured fingers. Their eyes, black and unnatural, fixed upon him with malicious intent. The walls seemed to close in around him, and the twisted figures drew nearer, their laughter growing more and more suffocating.

The man’s eyes beamed with excitement at the center of the tent. For the first time that night, he sprung from his chair. With newfound vigor and life, he recited his poem once more, his words filling the air with a mesmerizing cadence. Twirling and spinning, his long black and green hair danced behind him. Standing tall at about six feet, he exuded an aura of mystery and charm. His slim yet fit figure was adorned with a fitted green and black suit that accentuated his charismatic presence. Closing his emerald eyes, he began the second verse, pouring his heart and soul into the words. As his passion intensified, he felt his fedora slip from his head.

He stopped and opened his eyes, clearly bewildered by the boy’s sudden appearance. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as he was confused on what he was seeing. The last he saw the boy he was backed into a corner and all of a sudden, he was next to him. He stood perplexed, witnessing the boy dancing and seamlessly continuing from where he left off:

Scream and cry,

As mortals often do,

Of boredom, I'd die,

And your fate, too,

You've yet to impress me,

With my payment long overdue.

But behold, now it's clear,

Your reckoning is due,

Oh, self-proclaimed god,

What now befalls you?

Paths have shifted out there,

Boredom has vanished, it's true,

Through your maze, I've strayed,

To this last phase, we've made,

Astonishment marks your face,

How have the ways changed?

For your payment is here,

And mine, now, is due.

The man laughed heartily as Ragnor curiously fiddled with the soft hat he had taken. The man crept closer to Ragnor. “Answer me, how did you get to the middle?” Ragnor looked up, “I’ll tell you if I can get this hat.” He smiled. “Of course, I am Loki and a man of my word.” Loki sat back down before nodding.

Ragnor fiddled with the material before trying it on, “Though I would like to know how you got the reflections to come to life.” The man leaned back, “It was all special effects and machines under the mirrors.” He answered. Ragnor raised an eyebrow, “You’re lying to me.” Loki clutched at his heart dramatically, feigning hurt, “Lie? Me? Never.” he replied with a playful grin, and Ragnor couldn't help but chuckle.

Ragnor took off the hat in disappointment seeing that it was slightly too big, “No, since I met you, you gave off a creepy vibe.” The man fell back in shock, “I am wounded by your words young sir.” He pouted. Ragnor, amused by the response, retorted, “Wound you? Me? Never.” Loki rolled his eyes good-naturedly, conceding, “Okay, I walked right into that one.” Ragnor’s lips curled upwards, “Walked into that one? You?” Loki waved him off, “Okay, I get it.”

Ragnor giggled, “Though not the pedophile kind, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” Loki stood back up wiping his eyes, “Calling someone creepy is really rude you know.” Ragnor continued, “There is more to it than that, as in; an unknown presence approaching. Something I don’t understand.” Loki, recognizing the shift in the conversation, stood tall and composed himself, “You are indeed correct, my existence is far beyond your comprehension human. I am Loki, the God of Mischief.”

“God? You keep saying that word, is it another language?” Ragnor asked. “It is simply the name of our race.” He then walked up to the boy, dropping a golden coin into the hat. The hat now fit Ragnor perfectly, and Loki smiled, “Let’s have more fun in the future shall we.” He said before walking around the corner. Ragnor followed, but like before, he just disappeared. “Wait, but I didn’t get to tell you how I got through your maze.”

Many things happened over the next four years, but by far the most interesting was a letter of acceptance into the most exclusive school in the entire world, Midgard. Ragnor had been accepted and would begin in September. On the bottom of the letter, was a brief note which was written rather than typed,

Without my explanation, I was played for a fool,

Accept this letter and come to my school.

That way you can pay for being so cruel.

For now, that you have impressed me,

And our next playdate is overdue.

A smirk spread across Ragnor's face as he played with the gold coin in one hand and clutched the note in the other. His heart filled with excitement as he read the note once more. Setting it down, he muttered to himself, “Let the games begin.”