The Last Days of Magic and Glory Epilogue
In the Vault, the Casket of Ancient Winters waits.
Epilogue
The Casket of Ancient Winters glowed a cool, steady hum, radiating patience in its vault of age-old relics. Formed of stars, knowledgeable of many Realms, beautiful, cold, deadly. It waited.
Missing from these lifeless chambers was the gentle hammer, so weak of will. It’s heart was black, dense with the gravity of a dying star. It could suck in whole planets with its weight, but it restrained itself - only making itself so heavy as to remain inert or to do the bidding of its master. So much potential, squandered in its mercy. Pathetic.
And hidden behind a wall, the great subservient beast that kept leashed the fire of a supernova beneath its visor. Dead, but for its slavery to its master. It fancied itself a protector, but the Casket needed protection from no one.
Perhaps only the gauntlet could be called kin. Perhaps only it also swam in the river of potential that was the universe. With the hand of a servant in its grasp, it dipped down into that river, plucked out a pebble, made a small eddy, brought intention collapsing into destruction. Its designs were grand in scope and it picked its servants with impunity. Only the most ruthless, the most grand, the ones with similar terrible visions would sate its needs. The gauntlet loved Chaos. Its passion burned through eternity, but why bother muddling in chaos in a world of universal entropy? The gauntlet knew much, but how petty, its impatience.
The Casket breathed in chaos and spit out beauty. It brought life and took it away as easily. It did not feel pleasure, as such, but it followed the blazing path of fate, of universal intention. It watched alternate worlds spiral away, worse in some indefinable way. The Casket hungered for rightness and despised that which would lead the universe astray. It was an architect, a consciousness that dealt in possibility, anchoring the foundations that tethered this reality to its purpose.
The Casket felt the footsteps in the waves of the air, in the materials and elements that surrounded it. It had known the sound of those footsteps since before their maker had been born. The Casket’s bearer had arrived. It was not pleasure, but rightness that sung in its frozen heart.
A solitary figure descended the steps, easily casting the guards into deep sleep. The creature’s heart beat with the pulse of the universe. It lived in the same universal flow as the Casket and the gauntlet, but how low the flesh, how limited to keep the creature hidden from its divine nature.
The bearer approached its birthright with caution, hands trembling as it reached out. The Casket could have sighed with rightness - to feel those hands embrace it for the first time. Love, hurt, ambition, they curled in the creature’s black little heart. The Casket basked in those quaint emotions, rightness overwhelming its disdain for such silly matters of the flesh.
The creature gasped as the Casket ate away at the insignificant spells that bound its appearance. Blue skin, red eyes, the true face of the bearer. It released the Casket for a moment. But their union was too intoxicating for its greedy heart. It reached out again, with steady hands this time, taking the Casket in hand with an unspoken vow - to be at once its master and servant. The Casket did not long to be ruled like the protector or spread sick tendrils of control like the gauntlet. It rejoiced in finding its equal, its bearer. They were meant for each other, as though one were created for the other. In fact, one had been.
***
A/N: The next story in this series is call “The Season of War and Winter,” and takes place on Jotunheim as Thor, Loki, and their friends fight a war against the Jotun. It will be from Loki’s point of view and will focus on how he feels about fighting an on-the-ground war against his kin and how that affects his relationship with Thor. What exactly are Loki's intentions and will fighting side by side bring the brothers closer together? Or will Loki’s evolving opinions on the Jotun drive them apart? Will Loki and Sif repair the rift between them? What will happen when Odin awakes? And what about Sleipnir?
I know I have been spoiling you all with very frequent updates, but I still have my SGA big bang fic to finish and also some other series to update, on top of real life commitments. I won’t be able to start the sequel for a month at the earliest, probably several months. For notices, you can subscribe to the Epochs series on AO3 (author: tzzzz), friend me on LJ (tzzzz), or follow me on tumblr (tzzzztz).
Epilogue
The Casket of Ancient Winters glowed a cool, steady hum, radiating patience in its vault of age-old relics. Formed of stars, knowledgeable of many Realms, beautiful, cold, deadly. It waited.
Missing from these lifeless chambers was the gentle hammer, so weak of will. It’s heart was black, dense with the gravity of a dying star. It could suck in whole planets with its weight, but it restrained itself - only making itself so heavy as to remain inert or to do the bidding of its master. So much potential, squandered in its mercy. Pathetic.
And hidden behind a wall, the great subservient beast that kept leashed the fire of a supernova beneath its visor. Dead, but for its slavery to its master. It fancied itself a protector, but the Casket needed protection from no one.
Perhaps only the gauntlet could be called kin. Perhaps only it also swam in the river of potential that was the universe. With the hand of a servant in its grasp, it dipped down into that river, plucked out a pebble, made a small eddy, brought intention collapsing into destruction. Its designs were grand in scope and it picked its servants with impunity. Only the most ruthless, the most grand, the ones with similar terrible visions would sate its needs. The gauntlet loved Chaos. Its passion burned through eternity, but why bother muddling in chaos in a world of universal entropy? The gauntlet knew much, but how petty, its impatience.
The Casket breathed in chaos and spit out beauty. It brought life and took it away as easily. It did not feel pleasure, as such, but it followed the blazing path of fate, of universal intention. It watched alternate worlds spiral away, worse in some indefinable way. The Casket hungered for rightness and despised that which would lead the universe astray. It was an architect, a consciousness that dealt in possibility, anchoring the foundations that tethered this reality to its purpose.
The Casket felt the footsteps in the waves of the air, in the materials and elements that surrounded it. It had known the sound of those footsteps since before their maker had been born. The Casket’s bearer had arrived. It was not pleasure, but rightness that sung in its frozen heart.
A solitary figure descended the steps, easily casting the guards into deep sleep. The creature’s heart beat with the pulse of the universe. It lived in the same universal flow as the Casket and the gauntlet, but how low the flesh, how limited to keep the creature hidden from its divine nature.
The bearer approached its birthright with caution, hands trembling as it reached out. The Casket could have sighed with rightness - to feel those hands embrace it for the first time. Love, hurt, ambition, they curled in the creature’s black little heart. The Casket basked in those quaint emotions, rightness overwhelming its disdain for such silly matters of the flesh.
The creature gasped as the Casket ate away at the insignificant spells that bound its appearance. Blue skin, red eyes, the true face of the bearer. It released the Casket for a moment. But their union was too intoxicating for its greedy heart. It reached out again, with steady hands this time, taking the Casket in hand with an unspoken vow - to be at once its master and servant. The Casket did not long to be ruled like the protector or spread sick tendrils of control like the gauntlet. It rejoiced in finding its equal, its bearer. They were meant for each other, as though one were created for the other. In fact, one had been.
***
A/N: The next story in this series is call “The Season of War and Winter,” and takes place on Jotunheim as Thor, Loki, and their friends fight a war against the Jotun. It will be from Loki’s point of view and will focus on how he feels about fighting an on-the-ground war against his kin and how that affects his relationship with Thor. What exactly are Loki's intentions and will fighting side by side bring the brothers closer together? Or will Loki’s evolving opinions on the Jotun drive them apart? Will Loki and Sif repair the rift between them? What will happen when Odin awakes? And what about Sleipnir?
I know I have been spoiling you all with very frequent updates, but I still have my SGA big bang fic to finish and also some other series to update, on top of real life commitments. I won’t be able to start the sequel for a month at the earliest, probably several months. For notices, you can subscribe to the Epochs series on AO3 (author: tzzzz), friend me on LJ (tzzzz), or follow me on tumblr (tzzzztz).