Cold mist gathered at Hel's feet as she lifted one pale hand.
The throne room darkened—not ominously, but like a curtain falling before a play.
"Watch carefully, little queen," she murmured. "My truth is not gentle."
The floor beneath us rippled like water, and suddenly the world shifted—my vision pulled through shadows thick as smoke. I blinked as a new landscape unfolded:
A vast realm of stars, nine worlds hanging like lanterns threaded across a cosmic tree.
"This," Hel said, appearing beside me though I hadn't seen her move, "is the beginning. The Nine Realms."
Her voice echoed through the void.
"Long before mortals shaped kingdoms or forged swords, the gods ruled these branches. And at the center of it all…"
A figure appeared.
Blinding light. A spear. One eye glowing brighter than the sun.
"Odin," Hel said.
Her voice didn't waver.
But there was something underneath it—something cold and wounded.
"The All-Father. God of knowledge, magic, life… and part of death."
A fractured smile curved across her lips.
"You bear his mark, little queen. Whether you wanted it or not."
I felt my stomach tighten. "Odin gave me a blessing?"
"Yes." Her eyes flicked to mine. "Though 'gave' is generous. He placed it in your path and waited to see if you would survive it."
My hand instinctively lifted toward my shoulder where the mark had burned beneath my skin.
"But why—?"
Hel silenced me with a raised hand.
The vision shifted again.
I saw Odin standing atop a burning battlefield, corpses of giants strewn behind him. Hel stood at his side—much younger, her eyes harder, her posture sharp like a blade.
"He raised me," she said quietly. "Shaped me. Trained me. I was the heir he molded for war."
A younger Hel drove her spear into an enemy so large the ground trembled. Odin watched her with something like pride.
"He taught me conquest. Strategy. Mercy only when it strengthened control."
Her gaze dimmed.
"When he conquered the Nine Realms, I was the hand that severed the last threads of resistance. His executioner."
The scene shifted—realm after realm bowing beneath Odin's banner.
"And then," Hel said, voice brittle, "when peace came, he embraced it."
The battlefield dissolved. Odin now sat in a grand hall lit by golden fire—Valhalla—drinking from a horn, laughing with the honored dead.
Meanwhile—
Hel stood outside the hall.
Alone.
Uninvited.
Her youth had not softened her expression.
She looked… lost.
"I did not understand peace," she murmured. "I did not want it. I knew only war—because that is what he made me."
The image sharpened into a throne room I'd never seen before—one carved of stone and frost.
Hel stood before Odin.
"You taught me to fight," she whispered. "To kill."
"And now you must learn restraint," Odin answered.
"I do not want peace."
"I know."
The coldness in his voice made my skin crawl.
Hel turned to me, expression flat.
"This was our betrayal—not mine. His."
The vision spiraled.
Chains of light coiled around her wrists.
Around her throat.
Around her ankles.
"He bound me," she said. "With his own life force—so I could not escape."
The image showed her being dragged through a rift in the realms, pulled into a place of darkness. Snow. Bones. Souls whispering through the fog.
"He banished me to Helheim," she said. "Where only the dead dwell."
I felt my throat tighten.
"You were imprisoned there?"
"For thousands of years."
Not angry.
Not dramatic.
Just fact.
A hollow laugh escaped her.
"I ruled the rotting half of the dead, while Odin feasted with his warriors in golden halls."
Her expression tightened—bitterness sliding across her face.
"That was the 'inheritance' he left me."
"But why give you a chance of freedom?" I asked softly.
The vision shifted again.
This time, Odin appeared older. Tired. One eye gone, the other dimmer. His spear rested against his throne.
"For the first time," Hel murmured, "he feared."
"Feared what?"
"Loki."
At the mention of the name, the air around us cracked with sparks of chaotic magic.
A tall, cunning figure appeared in the vision—dark hair, green eyes glinting with mischief, flame curling from his fingertips.
"Loki is unpredictable," Hel said. "Unkillable. Uncontainable. And he has begun to stretch his influence into realms Odin cannot enter."
My heart pounded.
"Like… mine?"
Her gaze slid sideways.
"You have already touched his power."
"What—?"
"Your summon, little queen."
My breath caught.
"Jerry is—"
"Jörmungandr," Hel corrected. "Loki's middle child. Your new companion."
I swallowed. Hard.
"And Odin… wants Loki gone?"
"Forever." She said the word with a vicious softness. "He wants Loki imprisoned in Helheim, bound by the same chains he used on me."
"That's why he offered you a chance at freedom."
"Yes."
"And you… accepted?"
A bitter laugh left her lips.
"I told him I would consider it."
Her pale eyes sharpened.
"And that is where you come in."
A cold shiver crawled up my spine.
"Me? What do you mean me?"
Hel stepped closer—close enough that her breath frosted the air between us.
"I cannot leave the land of the dead until Loki is captured. Someone else must go in my place. Someone unbound."
"…me."
"Yes." She smiled faintly. "You."
"But I— I can't just— I don't— I don't know how to fight a god!"
"You will not fight him," she said. "You will reach him."
"That is not comforting."
"It is not meant to be."
I swallowed.
The vision dimmed into swirling mist.
"Why me?" I whispered.
Hel didn't look away.
"Because you are tied to both halves of me," she said softly. "My knowledge. And my death. And because your kingdom's curse is linked to the same power."
Her eyes softened just slightly.
"And because"—she paused—"he will listen to you when he listens to no one else."
My heart stuttered.
"Why would he listen to me?"
"You will understand," she said. "In time."
A cold dread spread through me.
"Tell me about the blessings," I tried, desperate to drag the conversation back to something I could control.
Hel inhaled.
"Odin's blessing—the blessing of knowledge—gives you his lost eye."
I blinked. "His… lost what?"
"His eye. A gift of perception. A truth-seeing artifact. You will see lies as shadows. Secrets as stains. Nothing hidden will remain hidden from you."
I stared.
"That's— That's insane!"
"Correct."
"And horrifying!"
"Also correct."
"And—and how does seeing 'truths' even work—?"
Hel lifted a finger sharply.
"Do not interrupt me."
I shut my mouth.
"The blessing of death," she continued, "is mine."
"And what does that do?" I asked slowly.
"It is not literal death," she said. "It is a symbol. A bond. A union between my dominion and Odin's."
Her expression strained—something raw, tired, desperate slipping through the cracks.
"When I was cast into Helheim," she whispered, "I was given half the dead. Odin kept the other half. Valhalla."
She closed her eyes.
"He feasted with his warriors while mine rotted."
Something inside her voice cracked—small, sharp, heartbreaking.
"With this blessing, you can call upon both. The dead of Valhalla… and the dead of Helheim—for guidance, power, or help. What you do is up to you. If you can control it that is.."
I stared.
Mouth open.
Jaw slack.
Stunned.
"You," I breathed, "are telling me I can summon… dead kings. And warriors. And… and… legends?"
"Yes."
"Like an actual army of dead people?!"
"Yes."
"WHAT—?!"
Hel's lips twitched.
"I thought that might surprise you."
"Surprise? SURPRISE? That—That's not surprise, that's—THAT'S—"
I flailed helplessly.
She watched, amused.
"So," Hel said lightly, "any questions?"
I opened my mouth.
No sound came out.
And somewhere, faintly, I could swear I heard her laugh.