Author's notes:

This chapter deals with the "cliffhanger" left teasingly at the end of chapter 15 (The wisest god of all – the most powerless of them all).

Chapter twenty-six

Thine forefathers frown upon you

The chamber was dim, darkness lingered on the high ceilings held by monoliths of Kings long passed. It was the council room of the Bright Home – only seen by the most trusted of the trusted, where no word uttered inside ever left its walls. And on this day, only the Allfather's presence was to be found in this room.

It was oppressive, claustrophobic in a way Odin never felt his domain to be. Shadows played in Gladsheim; they slithered along walls and lingered on ceilings, crawling on the floors like a malady he could not rid. A sensation he had almost forgotten, felt so long ago it seemed beyond recalling. And the God of Wisdom had never felt it so acutely, so morbidly encompassing – that it could alter views so absolute. It appeared as though the world had fallen from beneath his feet, leaving something horrid and disturbing. He saw a world where Asgard's light was dimmed and on the verge of devourment. It was not a world he would allow to be, the Universe was not to exist in night eternal.

His splayed hand clenched on the oaken table, gaze unwavering as he stared down the seemingly inconspicuous, small parcel. Only he and Heimdall knew of its existence, of its sudden appearance.

Realm Eternal still remained in the dark about the events that had transpired during and after the failed coronation. And the Odinfather felt the bubbling, sinuous and heinous rumors that were beginning to ghost in the shaded corners of his ruling. In his viscera he could feel how close those oozing talks were to erupting, how close they were to bursting and spilling their gangrenous pus into his golden halls. And all the Asgardian King could do was wait with baited breath for the inevitable to come crashing down on his burdened shoulders. The box lying in front of him could change that, reveal answers that he so sought – or perhaps none at all. The lack of knowledge always weighed on him worse than any difficult decision.

This item's arrival was not to be shared with anyone, this information was his and his alone. The other eyes that had laid sight upon it, even those powerful orbs would not be privy to what lied inside – less he were to wish otherwise. Not a whisper of this would reach even the most trusted of ears, for this was an issue he trusted only himself to deal with. For that reason alone no councilman stood by his side, no word of advice was sought.

The God of Wisdom needed no one to determine the safety of this unwanted 'gift'. His wellbeing was in no peril, he himself could deduce thus better than any sorcerer of his court or his realm. Even their amalgamated power could not rival his own, therefore their presence would be without purpose. That would be at best, for at worst his trust would be broken – and the consequences of that – too dire to consider. Still, the knowledge that this item could cause no harm did nothing to abate his sense of unease.

However, it could not be claimed that magic was not present in this small Jotunn metal chest, it was practically drenched in it. But that was to be expected, considering its... method of arrival. There were no rifts, no tears in reality along the Bifrost, therefore no pathways between realms. And yet this parcel still lied there, tauntingly left for his finding. Although the fabric of space was indeed thinner there, thinned by the Rainbow Bridge itself, it must have been rendered split for mere seconds, then allowed to mend itself as swiftly as it was undone. Such passageway between worlds would have been more than unstable, and for any object to arrive undistorted and not be lost in the in-between – magical protection was a necessity.

The Monarch sensed the power dripping off the box and facing it once more shook his core. The power was faintly familiar, it did strike a chord somewhere deep in his subconscious; but it had been such a long time ago and he'd never expected to feel it again. This magic was an abomination and once he had thought it capable of benevolence. Now, its presence here, in his own fortress, had opened his eyes – it was wrong and had no right of existence in Yggdrasill.

It reminded him of his failure, failure to make certain that such power would cease to exist in the Cosmos. This seemingly innocent chest was a testament of his failings, this evil lying in front of him, in the very heart of Asgard. Odin could feel the stony gaze of each colossus in the chamber, the disapproval, the displeasure, the very condemnation bearing down on him from his forefathers.

He had been so certain that all that magic had died, that no wielders so strong were left – neither to reappear again nor to teach any with potential. But... the Jotunn King had found a way, had found someone the Odinfather had overlooked. And he loathed having to use that name, only ever did out of begrudging respect. But now, now in a twisted way it was true – Laufey always finds a way.

So he had found a shaman, someone strong enough to bring these schemes to fruition. And whilst it may have fallen to question why it had taken him so long to strike, this query would bring him nothing when he could only blindly ponder. Whether the search had taken centuries or the amassing of knowledge and power – it was most likely both. And in so long a time, a millennium and more, there could be so much more lying in wait in the dark to still befall Realm Eternal. These feats – though great, may only be the tip of the iceberg.

This parcel reminded him of another one, received seemingly eternities ago... This one could not possibly have the same contents, simply because it was not quite large enough. And yet... its size was not too small to house severed appendages... Odin knew that the Ruler of Jotunheim was more than capable of such an atrocity and it only gripped his father's heart tighter.

For what had seemed like hours he'd only starred at that accursed chest. Dreading and seething at its bold arrival, the obvious intentions beneath – to cause fear, to display power, to threaten, to mock.

Broken from his internal conflict the God of Wisdom reached for the insulting object, the urge to simply crush it – defeated. His fingers traced the relief on the chest before he unlatched it. The latch gave easily. The worlds ceased to turn, everything froze in this moment.

No bloody carnage awaited him inside. But for a moment the dread remained. Within was a scroll of parchment and an object covered with cloth, large enough to fit into his splayed palm. He ignored the former and focused on the latter. He laid his hand atop the item, meeting something smooth and solid. Relief did not appear, despite the fact that something pliable like flesh did not greet the touch – for thoughts of naked bone remained.

Uncovering the fabric with care he did not linger and replaced it soon thereafter. The Great God recognized the object immediately, the polished dark stone with its glimmering depths like distant starlight within cosmic fog – it was unmistakable. It was an ancient relic indeed, exceptionally rare and it was wise to keep it hidden. No more than a dozen were ever in existence and likely no more than few remained. The artefact – Verdandi's Eye – didn't hold his interest.

The scroll was more important and without any hesitation the royal seal was broken as his lone eye sought the contents. The unfamiliar penmanship taunted, as if its perfection was a show of confidence, pouring salt – nay, acid – on an open wound.

Within the missive laid demands and instructions, the last meticulous in their precision. As it was he had no care for the specifications of scheming Giants, his mind was beheld only by those accursed demands. They were direct and without any unnecessary words of sycophancy or denigration. The Allfather's gaze and determination steeled.

The King of Jotunheim called for a bargain. The Casket of Ancient Winters for the Golden Prince. If the barter were to fail – the next parcel he would receive would contain the pieces of his son.

A/N

Verdandi – is one of the Norns, her name means happening/present.

Verdandi's Eye – as far as I am aware, such a thing does not exist in Norse mythology. I've simply made the object to serve a certain, rather obvious purpose. And am I riffing the Palantir (LOTR), maaaaaaaybe. Is precious, I needs it.

On a side note, I miss writing so much... I miss having the time to write, and energy as well when the former is available... And I miss receiving reviews, reading them and then conversing with my readers... I miss all of that so, so much...