Chapter One

Chapter one

A light snow fell over the still streets by the abandoned biscuit factory. Two adolescent boys were walking across the large expanse that was being covered by an emerging layer of white glitter. One of the boys was taller than the other. He had dark hair that he seemed not to care about, but it matched his dark green eyes. The second of the boys was slightly shorter, with shorter hair styled casually. They were both wrapped in coats- the taller in black, the smaller in purple. The one in purple was smiling and talking quickly while the taller just stared ahead vacantly, willing this conversation to be over. The smaller boy stopped talking.

            “Matt!” he said. “Matt!”

He stopped walking, and the taller boy- Matt- kept walking, heading towards the large apartment block that loomed above.

            “Are you even listening?” When the smaller boy wasn’t answered, he bent down, grabbed what he could of the barely-there snow, packed it into a ball, stood up straight and threw it at Matt. Matt stopped, turned around.

            “What was that for, Ron?” he asked, tilting his head backwards a little.

            “You weren’t listening to me!” Ron whined. “I was telling you that Mrs Simpson said I’ll be doing my GCSEs this year instead of next year and you weren’t listening!”

            “Ron, you’re fifteen. I’m seventeen. Of course I’m not going to listen.” He turned back and started again for the apartment block, only to be disturbed by another poorly-filled snowball. He swivelled with fire in his eyes and yelled “WHAT?”

Ron shrank back, and then stood up straight, facing his brother eye for eye. His lower lip trembled and he took a deep breath; “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

            “Why should I?” Matt asked, his voice low.

            “Because it’s an accomplishment, and you know it’ll make Dad happy!”

Matt snorted.

            “Hey! Just because you can’t do anything academic doesn’t mean you should be so dismissive!”

            “I got into college, didn’t I?”

            “By the skin of your teeth!”

            “I still got in! That’s accomplishment enough!”

            “But I’m the youngest person in school doing his GCSEs!”

            “Ron, quit it! I don’t care, but Richard will!”

            “Call him Dad!”

            “Not until he acts like a dad!” Matt turned on his heel and ran to the apartment block, thundering up three flights of stairs and across the extensive balcony until he reached his family’s door. He yanked the door open, slamming it shut as he ran in. He pulled off his coat as he walked down the hallway to his room. He kicked the door open and threw his coat in. He leaned over a little and looked in the mirror- it showed his head and shoulders. A couple of maverick snowflakes clung to his hair and seemed defiant against melting. Matt brushed them away and pulled off his beige jumper. He took a few deep breaths as he held the coarse jumper in his hands. He looked at the tag and saw his name in Marissa’s handwriting: Matthew Percival Amsterdam. She had knitted the jumper for him when he was eight, and still it fit like a glove. Well, if it did then it was only because he had practically lived in it since the tragedy. The arms were worn and the colour was beginning to fade, but he hugged it to his body nonetheless.

            “I miss you.” He whispered, bringing the jumper to his lips and kissing it. He folded it carefully while walking to his bureau, opened a drawer and laid it in. He closed the drawer and leant against it, running a hand through his hair and frowning. He turned around and gazed at the room. Two matching single beds and two matching bureaus were divided by an invisible barrier. On one side of the room, the theme was purple- purple duvet cover, lilac sheets, fluffy lilac pillows. The only physical proof that two brothers shared this room was the purple paint that split the wall and ceiling into Ron’s half of the space, and the dark green wallpaper that declared the other side as Matt’s. On Ron’s side, the bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed and the cuddly dog sitting in the middle. On Matt’s side, the cover was tossed aside with his pyjamas and drying towel still strewn over it from the morning’s shower.

Matt leant against the bureau as the door opened and a red-faced young man in a purple parka crashed in. Ron glared at Matt, his face bright red from the cold. From the howling wind outside, Matt could tell that the British weather was picking up speed for an almighty blizzard.

            “What the heck was that all about?” Ron demanded.

            “What was what all about?” Matt asked coolly.

            “Calling Dad by his name! You know he hates that!”

            “So? He hates most things.”

            “And do you remember why?”

            “Of course I remember! I was there!”

Ron ripped open his parka and hung it savagely on the door hook. Underneath the parka, he wore a blue sweater decorated with snowflakes over blue jeans. He turned to Matt and tried to look stoic.

            “Sometimes you have to forget,” he said in an even voice. “It wasn’t Dad’s fault. He meant well- you know how much he wanted a daughter, and you know why Mom-”

            “DON’T FREAKING TALK ABOUT IT!” Matt screamed. His breathing quickened and felt his face heat up.

            “Why shouldn’t I?” Ron challenged, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not the one who witnessed it- it’s only natural for me to want to know your side.”

            “Well, I am the witness! And it’s only natural for me to not want to talk about it!”

            “Dad witnessed it. He talks about it.”

            “Because he’s an arrogant dick!”

            “Good pun! But still- you’ve got to see it from his point of view.”

Matt sighed and kicked the bureau. He marched forward and pushed Ron aside, left the room and took long strides toward the living room. He looked in to see Richard wearing a sky-blue suit and reclining in his beige arm chair. Richard looked at the door and saw Matt. He tried to smile.

            “Hey, son.” Richard said. “Had a good day?”

            “Meh.” Matt shrugged and looked away. “Can I come in?”

            “Sure- just watching the news.” Richard turned back to the television and relaxed as Matt took a seat on the settee.

            “What’s the story?” Matt asked.

            “Terrorist bombing.”

            “Where?”

            “The Old Bailey.”

            “Why?”

Richard shrugged. Matt leant back and put his legs up on the settee as he pretended to watch the television- the news wasn’t particularly interesting except for the terrorist attack, and they said surprisingly little about it. Instead, Matt admired one of the newsreaders- brown hair, grey eyes and a blue-and-white pinstripe shirt. Matt wondered if that shirt would look good on him...

            “Dad!” Kevin and Ron burst into the living room. Kevin launched himself into Richard’s arms and Ron skidded to a stop on his knees in front of the television.

            “What have they said about the Old Bailey?” Ron asked breathlessly.

            “Nothing much- it happened an hour ago,” Richard told him. “They haven’t got enough to report yet.”

            “Ha!” Ron snorted. “Police covering it up- don’t want to show their weaknesses!”

            “No, Ronald,” Richard sighed, hugging Kevin to him. “It happened an hour ago. How did you know anything about this, anyway?”

            “Lincoln texted me! Seriously- what did they say?”

Richard didn’t say anything and kept hugging Kevin.

            “This just in,” said the newsreader Matt had been admiring. “The current death toll, estimated at five, has just received its first official figure: seven people dead, and set to rise.” The newsreader went pale as he repeated what he was being told, “One of the deceased has been identified in the last ten minutes. We will bring you... I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” The newsreader stood up, took off his microphone and walked offset.

The other newsreader, who Matt hadn’t noticed until she spoke, looked confused and worried.

            “Jeremy?” she asked warily before turning back to the camera. “We’re sorry for Jeremy. In other news, the coalition government has-” Richard had muted the television as Kevin began to whimper.

            “Poor Jeremy...” he said quietly.

            “You know him?” Matt asked, looking at Richard with interest. He swung his legs off the settee and sat upright.

            “We go back a few years,” Richard said nostalgically. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t want you kids near the Old Bailey.”

            “When were we going there?” Matt asked.

            “Don’t crack wise, mister!”

            “Dad,” Ron said, “how do you know him? Why did he walk off?”

            “I used to work with him. He was a sensitive guy then and he still is.” Richard kissed Kevin’s forehead. “Don’t worry, big guy,” he smiled looking into his youngest son’s eyes.”It’ll all be alright.” Richard turned back to the TV and hit the ‘mute’ button on the remote, unmuting the news.

            “...with a total debt of nearly £30 000 after university for non-medical degree. We now go to Shania Memphis outside-” Ron turned the television off and kicked his heels against the yellow carpet. He had taken a position sitting upright on the floor.

            “Tell us what you know, Dad!” Ron seemed impatient. Inside his head, Matt laughed. Ron, as a child, had wanted to know everything. Matt liked how his younger brother still maintained his quest for knowledge.

Richard sighed. “The Old Bailey was bombed and people are coming up dead. That’s it!”

Matt shrank back into his seat and crossed his arms over his stomach. He looked at the blank screen of the TV and saw his gangly reflection with too-long legs and a crescent moon face. He crossed his legs and tried to blank out what would surely be a window-shattering argument. Kevin jumped into Matt’s lap and cuddled close to him. Matt mechanically put his arms about his brother and hugged him. He stared into the air while Richard and Ron’s voices escalated. Matt could feel Kevin crying into his chest, and autonomously started rubbing his youngest brother’s back in a futile attempt to calm him down.

            “You’re making Kevin cry!” Ron shrieked.

            “So are you!” Richard growled. “You think it’s easy? Raising three kids alone after your wife-” Richard stopped in his tracks and began to breathe heavily. His face softened, but his eyes remained set like two emeralds in a marble statue. His face paled and his hand when to his chest, feeling for something. He patted his shirt a few times and hunched over with his hands on his knees as he struggled to calm down his breathing.

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists and maintained a look of irritation. He marched forward, pushed past Richard and was out of the living room in a matter of moments. Matt sighed and set Kevin down. Getting up from his seat, he told his youngest brother:

            “Look after Daddy.”

Kevin mumbled an “Okay” as Matt shot out the door after his brother.

            “Ron?” He called. “Ronny? Ron!”

He heard a door slam and instinctively turned and made his way to the bedroom he and Ron shared. The door was closed, and the fumbled ‘clank’ he heard on the other side told him that it was locked. He knocked on the door and called his brother a few times.

            “I know you’re in there!” he called. “Why do you do this?”

No reply.

            “Come on, Ronny!” he tried. “You’ve upset Richard!” Matt knocked on the door again, then he banged the wood with his fist. He felt something stir inside of him. Something hard and hot, so hot his eyes began to burn. His face began to flush and the feeling grew until the lock finally opened and Ron came out, yelling “All right, all right! I’m out now, happy?”

The feeling disappeared, and Matt’s face cooled. He looked at his younger brother with suspicion and challenged him: “Happy you’re out? Yeah, now maybe you can explain yourself?”

            “Explain what?” Ron tilted his head to the side and widened his eyes threateningly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stepped forward. “Why, Matthew, did you growl ‘Get the fuck out here before I do something you’ll regret’? You’re not particularly articulate, are you? Why would you do something I would regret? Would you drink Dad’s special Scotch and blame it on me?”

            “I don’t know.” Matt said quietly. “I don’t think I even said that.”

            “Yet you did!” Ron righted his head and glared at Matt. “Dad probably heard it, too! And I’m certain I heard Kevin scream.” He looked over the threshold and smiled triumphantly. “Well, looks like somebody else did hear you!” Matt followed Ron’s direction and saw Kevin peeking out from the turn in the corridor.

            “Hey, Kev-” Matt started, but Kevin screamed and ran away.

            “DADDY!” He cried as he ran.

Matt turned back to Ron. Ron was struggling to conceal laughter.

            “Why is it funny if I’m scary?” Matt asked.

            “No reason.” Ron said innocently, ceasing his laughter but still smiling.

The feeling started tingling in the pit of Matt’s stomach, but before it could grow, a hand landed on Matt’s shoulder and he turned his head to find himself staring into Richard’s green eyes.

            “Hello, Richard.” Matt said coolly. The feeling had calmed down, but Richard’s fiery green eyes stirred worry in Matt’s stomach.

            “Hello, Matthew.” He said, looking down at Matt. Richard turned his stare at Ron, who had taken a step back into the bedroom. “Ronald, take Kevin to the park across the road. He’s been cooped up here for three solid days with no stimulation.”

            “Sure, Dad.” Ron said. He left the bedroom and ran down the corridor. Matt watched as his younger brother went into the living room, pulled out Kevin and grabbed their coats and shoes before bustling out of the front door. Seconds later, someone knocked on the door. Richard answered and Ron- with Kevin by the hand- flew in with a hurried excuse about forgetting to dress Kevin. Within minutes, Ron had Kevin dressed and they were both in their shoes and coats. They left a second time, and Ron grabbed the keys on his way out. When they were gone, Richard turned to Matthew and advanced. Matthew kept stepping backwards until he hit something and fell backwards, landing on something soft. He looked and saw the green blankets, and he knew that he was in his and Ron’s bedroom. He sat up and looked at the door. Richard was blocking the threshold. Matthew looked around and saw no hope for escape- the windows wouldn’t offer him much help, and even if they could the family lived on a high enough floor that if he fell, he would probably be in more trouble, or less depending on how you looked at it.

            “Your behaviour is worrying me, Matthew.” Richard said earnestly. “These fits of blind rage have to stop.”

            “What do you mean ‘fits of blind rage’?” Matt asked, eyeing Richard suspiciously.

            “Son,” Richard began, “the way you treat Ronald and Kevin has got to stop. You get angry over the smallest things, and when you get angry, you are not the best person to have as a friend.”

            “What if I don’t want them as friends?” Matt challenged.

Richard considered this. “Hm. Then it’s just tough, I suppose- you don’t get to choose your family, but unfortunately for you- if these fits of rage continue- you are going to find yourself in one hell of an uncompromised position. I hear from your college that you’re getting along adequately with your classmates, but you’re very aggressive. You’ve got to get along...” Matt faded out. The feeling was stirring in him again. Only this time, it was harder, hotter and his blood began to boil. He managed to maintain a look of understanding as Richard prattled on about how Matt could improve his socialising skills. Join a club, go to the park or visit a museum. The feeling grew and grew, spreading through Matt like freezing ice.

            “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO TELL ME WHAT I’VE GOT TO DO?” Matt raged.

Richard was taken aback.

            “Who do you think you are, Richard?” Matt growled. “You may think you know me, but you don’t. You’re not me!”

            “But I am your father!” Richard replied. He stepped into the room and closed the door. Matt suddenly felt trapped and his heart began to beat quickly. “You may think I don’t know you, Matthew Percival Amsterdam, but you’re the first-born son in this family, like I was the first born in mine, and I know what happens to all the first-borns in the Amsterdam family! I watched it happen to my uncle, my cousin, my mother! You’re due the same fate!”

            “What the fuck are you talking about?” Matt spat. “What ‘fate’? Does that even exist?”

            “Quit your philosophy and get real!” Richard’s eyes flared with an almost animal-like rage. Matt pushed himself farther back onto the bed and tried to calm his beating heart and dry his palms of the cold sweat that had begun to accumulate as Richard advanced, standing six feet and four inches tall and looking down at his oldest son. Matt could only guess what could happen next as Richard began to growl.

Richard caught himself just in time. He pulled himself away from the heat of the anger before he blacked out. He only had to remember the last time it had happened, before he had learned to control it. Loki had told him it was to be expected- people in his, Morgan’s and Thomas’s positions had to be very careful to keep their cool. Odin, who had been so trusting when they had first met, was the one to coach Richard in controlling this strange gift. Or curse. This had been Richard’s debate since he was twenty, when he had married and uncovered this ability, and had always struggle to determine whether it was a gift or a curse. He especially had to be careful around Matthew, who was showing signs of the ability as well. The same signs Richard had shown at seventeen.

            “Don’t be so scared, Matthew,” Richard sighed. “You know it hasn’t been easy for me since the tragedy.” Richard felt a pang of guilt and looked at Matthew with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, son. Let’s just forget that this whole thing ever happened, but promise me you’ll try to control your anger?”

Matthew’s eyes were wide with fear as Richard tried an apologetic smile. His dilated pupils told Richard that his son was suspicious, but Matthew gave a brief nod from his frozen-in-fear position on the bed. Richard said “I’m glad we agree” and left the bedroom, heading for the living room. Once there, he closed the door and leant a wooden chair up against the curved door handle. Taking a seat in the armchair, Richard reached into his pants pocket and looked up a number. He pressed ‘dial’ after finding it and waited for him to answer.

            “Hello! You have reached Thomas Llewellyn!” said that voicemail. “I’m sorry I can’t talk to you a-the moment, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back! And please, no one-liner crap like ‘Call me back’- this will not get you my respect!”

Richard smiled at the last part as the tone beeped.

            “Hey, Thom,” he started. “It’s Richard. I need to talk to you about anger management. Not for me, but for Matthew. I’m calling Loki and Odin soon. Get back as soon as you can- this could be dangerous.”

Richard hung up and crossed his legs on the armchair. He leant forward and held his phone in both hands as he searched for Loki’s number. He dialled and Loki picked up on the second ring.

            “Hello, Agent 9,” Loki said.

            “Hello, Loki,” Richard said. “I have a problem. Matthew’s anger is getting out of control. I’ll file a report on his behaviour as the patterns progress.” He leaned forward and turned his head back so that he could see the living room door. “I’m not completely sure, but he is a first-born. You know what I was like when I was his age.”

There was a pause as Loki considered this. “Indeed,” he finally replied. “One moment- I must add my brother to this conversation.”

Richard manoeuvred himself into a position so that he was on his knees and facing the door, but just in case anybody came in, he would find it easy to slip into a more comfortable position facing away.

            “Ciao, Riccardo!” Odin chirped. “How have you been?”

            “Not too well, Odin.” He hated to think of how Odin must be feeling right now- the recent bombing was sure to have a severe effect on him. “As I was just telling Loki, Matthew’s been acting like I was at his age.”

Odin gasped. “No!”

            “Yes, brother.” Loki deadpanned. “Richard is going to file a report on Matthew’s behaviour, and I would much appreciate if the two of you could arrange a time and place where you can meet and observe Matthew in action. It would be a terrible shame if we didn’t know what we were dealing with.”

            “Sure, Loki.” Richard sighed.

            “Sí, fratello.” Richard could hear the smile in Odin’s voice. “But, before we do, I just wanted you to know that there are, oh how can I put this? Riccardo, perhaps it’s best you’re to hear this, too, because the stars are less.”

            “The stars are less?” Loki repeated.

            “Sí, sí!”

            “How are there less stars?” Richard felt confused. “I’m no astronomer, but you can’t see stars for squat in the city.”

            “I’m no astronomer, either,” Odin pointed out, “but even I know when the stars are disappearing. Maybe the snakes are eating them!”

            “The stars are not disappearing!” Loki stressed.”End of conversation. I will leave now, while you two make arrangements. If Matthew is home now, I would strongly advise you begin the work immediately. Good day to you, gentlemen!” Loki’s end of the line clicked, leaving Richard and Odin on the line.

            “Come over now,” Richard told him.

Odin said he would be there in ten minutes. He was there in five.

Richard answered the door and smiled with relief. The two men hugged liked a father and son reunited after a long war. Odin Mafuro was tall and well-toned man for a man in his late fifties. His hair was black and greying and, unlike his younger brother, Odin had retained that south Italian accent even after years of living in England.

            “Hey stranger!” Richard said. “Come in!” Odin stepped through the door and smiled.

            “Come stai, Riccardo?” he asked.

            “Molto male,” Richard said. “Mattia é testardo!”

Odin smiled ironically. “Your Italian is rusty,” he remarked. “Go to Italy for the summer- you will enjoy. Come, take me to the patient!”

Richard led him to Matthew’s room. He saw that Matthew had closed the door. He tried the door and found that it was locked. He sighed and looked at Odin, who knocked on the door.

            “Matthew?” Richard called. “Please unlock the door.”

            “Why?” his son cried. “So you can try to kill me again?”

Odin gasped and turned his head to Richard. Richard looked back and shook his head.

            Not the time, he thought.

            Tell me later, Odin thought back.

            “Matthew,” Richard said with authority, “unlock this door. My boss is here and he wants to see you.”

No reply.

Reluctantly, Richard nodded to Odin. Odin nodded back and stepped away from the door three paces. Fixing his gaze on the door, Odin channelled the energy around him in a straight line directed at the door. Richard could feel the energy building up in the atmosphere. It was organised, heavy and purposeful.

In the bedroom, Matt felt a strange sense of vulnerability as he watched the padlock and the chair, books and bicycle he had piled in front of the door slowly, one by one, disappear. It was down to the dead bolt. It was jiggling dangerously, as though it were a firecracker getting ready to explode. Instead, it gently slid out of place and the door eased open to reveal his father, standing behind the threshold with...

            “Professor Mafuro?”

Prologue

Prologue

In the beginning...

As Odin placed the final dwarf- South- ’neath Ymir’s skull, he knew that his work was not completed. He and his brothers, Villi and Ve, congratulated each other on their so-far success. The terrible frost-giant’s body had been used well- his bones were now mountains, his teeth rocks and pebbles. It had been Odin’s idea to throw Ymir's brains into the sky to create the clouds, and then he took sparks and embers from Muspelheim for the sun, moon and stars. The great cow Audumla- once Ymir’s prime source of life- stood licking at the giant salt-blocks which had created the brothers’ grandfather. Four great rivers of milk ran from her udder. Odin smiled and saw that this Garden was good. He had a thought, and smiled more.

            “Villi! Ve!” he cried to his brothers. “Come hither! I have thoughts to share with you both!”

            “What, brother?” called Ve, edging his way down the mountain he stood upon. Once he reached the base, Ve jogged to Odin and was soon joined by Villi, who was holding a large, slimy-looking, scaled animal. Odin eyed the thing curiously.

            “Villi,” he began, “what is this you hold?”

            “It is a fish,” Villi smiled. “I named it so for there is no other word that exists to us.”

            “A ‘fish’?” Odin was cautious. It was a new object, a new word. He didn’t like this ‘fish’ he saw. This was, however, a new world. There had to be new things for it to be unique.

            “A fish.” Villi looked proud, but displeased. “It is a first-stage name- I will name it something better when we return to Asgard.”

            “No need,” Odin said. “There are no fishes in Asgard, and there never shall be! Let the fishes remain here- this is their world, where they belong. Now come, my brothers. Let us walk along the river heading to North, and let us plant some seeds to harbour life.”

And so they walked along the river that headed towards North, the dwarf at the northernmost corner of this new Garden. For every half-a-day they walked, they lay some of their seeds to grow. The atmosphere of this new Garden was humid, and perhaps something would be made of the seeds to cool and dry the air. All the while, the three brothers walked and walked until they came to a vast, green expanse that so bewildered them, they could do nothing but gaze with open mouths and wide eyes. They had grown up in Niflheim, the home of mist and ice. After, they had happened upon Asgard, and had taken this with their parents to be their new home. This expanse reminded them much of Asgard, and it was Ve who pointed out that it was directly beneath Yggdrasil.

            “So it be,” Odin mused, running a hand over his chin before moving to his empty eye socket. He touched the closed lids and pushed back into his skull gently before resting the arm at his side. The expanse was lined with bushes bearing rich fruits and patches containing vegetables. What disappointed Odin was that there were no animals for meat- this was the one thing this expanse lacked if it had hoped to be an exact replica of Asgard.

            “Brother, is this why we have walked so far?” asked Ve. “Brother, what drew us here? Surely you must know, as for many days Villi and I have followed your lead to this valley.”

            “My brothers,” Odin said gently. “This is precisely why we came! O! What is the use of a new Garden when we spend our lives frolicking in Asgard? Surely we would tire of this new World given time enough? So heed me when I say that we must populate this currently uninhabited land. We will call it Midgard, for it rests in the between of Asgard and Helheim. It rests at the centre of Yggdrasil. This is the focal world. Ve, go upwards to our childhood home where you will find ice and mist- bring some back. We must have water on this Garden if anything is to survive! Villi go to Asgard and take a chalice of the mead. While you both are gone I shall set about a search of my own. Go now!”

And so Villi and Ve went. It was not hard for them to fulfil their quests, but it did take some time to find the perfect specimens. Ve looked over the mist and ice- in places the mist was too thin, in others it may as well have been ice. In an effort to satisfy both requirements, Ve fashioned a bottle from some white ice and captured some of the thickest mist with his hand. Through his clenched fist, he blew the mist directly into the bottle and plugged it with a clump of ice. His task was complete.

Meanwhile, Villi searched the racks in Asgard for the perfect selection of mead. He knew that when Odin had an idea, only the best was necessary. As he scoured the racks, he began to lose hope. All of the honey-coloured meads he sampled and held were imperfect! And then he remembered... Of course! He rushed quickly to the great hall, Valhalla, and entered. Within, many of the other Aesir feasted on meats and wines. He stole undetected through the crowds, stopping briefly to admire Frigga as she twirled and danced her way through countless gaping men. He continued his short journey to the back of the hall where he eased open a cabinet and took a bottle of mead. He only needed a chalice-worth, and so took Odin’s emerald-encrusted one to be safe.

Flitting together Odin’s two younger brothers came to him after weeks of fulfilling their duties. Odin was not displeased- he had used the time to craft his vision. Out of an ash tree, he had created Ask- the first man of Midgard. Ask’s body was straight and thick with knots for muscles. With an elm, Odin had fashioned Embla- the first woman of Midgard. Her hips were curved, like many a goddesses’, with a smooth neck for a seductive voice. Both were naked.

Odin looked upon his wooden creations and saw that they were good. Villi and Ve saw them and also saw that they were good, and they knew now why they had been sent on their quests. Ve stepped forward to the wooden statues and unplugged the ice bottle. He crushed it, releasing the vapours within. The vapours took lives of their own and embraced the wooden man and the wooden woman, soaking into every crack of the barks. Ve stepped back nine paces and Villi took his place, uncorking the mead and pouring it into the emerald-encrusted, diamond chalice. He gripped the bottle and chalice confidently as he strode to the ash and elm figures. He stopped between them and poured through the still-embracing vapours the honey-wine- half a chalice upon the top of each- and backed away nine paces, clutching still the bottle and the chalice.

Finally, Odin stood between his brothers and smiled as the wooden carvings took movement, shrinking as they began life. Their once hard, rough brownish bark began to smooth and lighten to an olive complexion. The vapours had given them souls. Both the man and woman fell to their knees and breathed their first breath. The man was undoubtedly handsome, and the woman was breathtakingly stunning. The man had sharp blue eyes and hair coloured like ash, while the woman’s eyes were a soft grey and her hair reminiscent of elm leaves in the third season. Odin smiled as his creations came to life. The mead had given them knowledge, for it was no ordinary mead! It had been the mead that Odin had stolen! They now knew poetry, music, philosophy and were wise in the ways of the Aesir.

            “My children!” Odin proudly declared. Both the man and woman looked up at Odin. He knelt down- they came up to his knees- and spoke gently. “You have been created from lifeless bark. You, man, were created from the ash tree over yonder by the pond of souls, and I have named you Ask. You, woman, have been fashioned from the elm by the compass, and I have named you Embla. In time I will make more of you to populate this Garden, and then you shall tell the tales of your creation. You will love, you will write and you will live. This is why I have made you. My brothers- Villi and Ve- have given you souls and minds. The remaining vapour that formed your souls will make rivers for the plants and food to nourish your bodies. The mead and stickiness you may feel will form your skins. You are free to think and learn, and you may do as you wish. This Garden is yours to protect. Protect it well.”

***

Present day...

With a knot in his stomach, Loki scrawled one last word and looked his speech over. He had dreaded this day from the start of his reign of the Organisation. With everything that had happened in his thirty year reign, the speech wasn’t descriptive enough. And now? With a possible emergence of the fabled Virtuous Ones? Loki would have a hard time on the floor. Sighing, he looked around his office once, as though he might never see it again. Perhaps he wouldn’t- the crowds he would be speaking to tonight were known for their brash ways, for want of a better phrase. The bookcases along the walls kept volumes of the myths, legends and histories of his ancestors. Also contained within the tomes was the Ancient Fable. A message so cryptic its existence was doubtful. As the Maestro, his life’s work had been deciphering the message, but even had he not risen to power, if his brother had taken the position, deciphering the message would still be his life’s work, even if he would be prohibited from the tomes.

There were two doors in the office. One was the entrance to the office for him and the others in the Organisation. The other... well, you had to be Loki to even know it was there. It was secreted in the gap at the far end of the office between two of the bookcases. The gap was slight, so it was excused that not another bookcase could fit there. Instead, Loki knew there was a door. A door that could take him anywhere, but tonight would decide his fate. Reluctantly, he stood and skirted around the desk, grabbing his speech and hurrying towards the gap. He concentrated on the gap, narrowing his eyes and concentrating. Soon, he was standing on a large circular stage much like a theatre. There were lights at the edge of the stage and he was staring out into a sea of faces. There were three levels of seats and the boxes at the top of the theatre. Folding his speech in half, Loki placed it next to his heart. There were several hundred, nearly a thousand, faces here tonight. All of whom were high in status and would decide Loki’s fate. Loki paid no due to the ones on the lower levels of seating- who were talking amongst themselves- and instead looked upwards to the boxes. The ones who truly mattered were sitting there. He saw four of them- an elderly woman, a slightly younger gentleman and two young women. The elderly woman turned, gave a nod, and silence fell. The knot in Loki’s stomach tightened and tightened until he could no longer feel it. That was one problem taken care of, but his throat wouldn’t open. He searched the crowds. Almost one thousand faces and only the four at the top were familiar. He coughed. How could he admit to these people what he had to? The seconds ticked by until he could bear it no longer- he would have to speak. Now or never.

            “It is with deepest regret that I announce my failure at the task at hand,” he began. “But it should not be forgotten,” he continued amid groans of annoyance, “that this is a difficult task for even the best of us. My father failed, and his mother failed. The Maestros before them, even, had failed, right up to the first Maestro when this community began. Back then we were few in number, weak and wary from war. In the centuries- the millennia, even- that we have existed as a community, our numbers have grown. In the beginning, it made sense that only one would study the tomes, the fables, the legends. Perhaps now, with hundreds of thousands of us in number, it is time to assemble a team? The principles would still be the same- the methods would still be the same, all clues would still be kept a secret until further information can be known- but they will be followed by more of us.

            “Moving forward, it may have come to your attention that there is something wrong with the stars. They appear to be disappearing, while those which remain are becoming brighter. I can assure you that I have my best Guardians on this case, although this does concern another matter: the Noble Virtues.”

The silence tensed and Loki could feel everyone leaning forward.

            “As you know, there are nine,” Loki reminded them. “The Odinic Rite surmises them as: Courage. Truth. Honour. Fidelity. Discipline. Hospitality. Self Reliance. Industriousness. Perseverance. The Virtuous Ones are fabled to represent each of the Virtues, but it is unclear how they will manifest. This is, however, just a fable. The story goes that, many moons after the creation of Midgard, nine humans populated the Garden. We know two of them: Ask and Embla. They led the other seven in the creation of what is now the human race.

            “Onwards, many of the texts I have studied indicate that we shall witness the emergence of the Virtuous Ones.” A gasp of shock echoed through the crowds. The air went chill and the hair prickled on the back of Loki’s neck. “Indeed, I share in your shock. More so, even, as my second charge was to begin the search for them. In truth, I did not begin my search. Before you object, the search came to me. If anybody remembers- as I am certain some of you do-” he stole a glance at the four he had seen earlier “- we ran a series of genetic experiments. I have recently come into contact with five of the results of these experiments.”

There was a murmur of approval among the onlookers, but also a murmur of suspicion. The genetic research had been an ongoing project and was nearly forgotten among those who had not been involved. It was frowned upon and often compared to the eugenicists. Loki disagreed- the eugenicists sought a master race. The genetic research was merely routine and was meant to provide answers for the Organisation, the Order and the Council. Twelve results had been produced, and Loki had contact with five of them.

            “I understand the controversy,” he admitted, “but understand me: my father called for the research two years before the end of his reign, and like it or not we have come to understand several things about ourselves. First and foremost is that we are of the Earth, the stars and the very air we breathe. The rest I shall count upon later. My brother, Odin, and I were on the first team to draw up the ethical case studies for the research. We met with the parents and matched the genetics, although no one on the team held a science degree of any kind. We were working by instinct. It was not long before we discovered that this was a controversial area, and had to draw up every consent form, follow every participant, evaluate every result at birth. Years later, perhaps it was chance, or fate for that matter, that Odin and I happened to be in California. We were speaking in our native language, and it just so happened that one of the results was eavesdropping on our conversation, and understood every word we said. We confronted him and, convinced that he was harmless, we took him in and trained him. Watched him mature, but it was soon clear that we had taken in more than we could handle. He showed strong anger, passion and excellent warring techniques. He grew to be a natural warrior. Alas, we did not expect this. His mood swings were erratic, far more so than any ordinary adolescent. We interviewed him regularly, and every meeting we had with him, he complained of a strange feeling he had whenever he thought of his mother. He wouldn’t go into detail to describe it. I knew his mother, personally, years ago. She was a courageous woman, but made weak decisions. Her weakest decision was to reveal to him the truth behind his birth.

            “The last item on this agenda is the progress of the Organisation in the Heritage Scheme. Jeremy Hollow had recently taken his father’s place, but is starting at the lower ranks. We are aware that he is not Track material, and we hope for him to become an International. Finally, Agent 9: Richard M. Amsterdam. Due to his recent personal tragedy, he will be taking eight weeks’ personal grief leave and shall be replaced by Agent 16b: Cory Endsly.

            “That is it, ladies and gentlemen of the Council. As I have said, we have our best Guardians on the case of the disappearing stars. As for the Virtuous Ones,” a shudder of contempt ran through the room, “we can only hope for the best. Thank you and good-night.”

His audience applauded, if only for the fact that it was over. As the crowds thinned, Loki waited nervously on stage for the assessment. It came in the form of the elderly woman, the slightly younger gentleman and the two young women. They had come from behind, where a staircase led to the upper levels. How had they descended that staircase so quickly? Loki had attempted this once before, back when he and Odin were young, foolish, and their father’s reign was mere hours from beginning. A race through the building had resulted in a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist, not to mention a waste of an hour which had been spent by the adults on a search party for the boys and which the boys had spent racing to the top of that staircase and beyond, which stretched on and on. After the climb, which had taken just over forty-five minutes, they spent the rest of the hour engaging in rough horseplay, which had led to their being discovered after Odin tripped up on a chair and grabbed a curtain for support and thus brought down the curtain rod, which landed atop Loki and caused his wrist to break. The foursome had almost come from nowhere, but when Loki saw them, he shuddered. The elderly woman was slender with a bewitching face. Her hair was clearly blonde, once, but had faded over time; the man was a year or so younger and it was obvious that he used hair dye to conceal the grey hair; the two young women were twins, but looked like opposites. One was vibrant, with dark brown hair that was complimented by sparkling grey eyes. Her twin, on the other hand, had paler brown hair and paler grey eyes. All four, however, held themselves gracefully.

It was the elderly woman who spoke first, with a voice so crisp and young Loki felt decrepit in her presence.

             “Loki Mafuro, I do not believe you have been introduced to my company,” she said, turning to the man and young women. “This is my younger brother,” she indicated the man, “Herbert. These are his daughters- Gevaux-” the girl with dark hair and sparkling eyes “-and Nicolette-” the girl with pale hair and eyes “- and I am Adenna. We are pleased with your performance, and approve your proposal to form a team, although we disagree that this will be of any benefit to the cause. The Ancient Fable is of utmost importance, and always shall be. Have you any progress?”

            “Miss Fenris,” Loki began, the knot in his stomach reforming. “It is with deepest regret that I have made little progress, which is why I have failed.” The theatre was silent. To be sure, Loki looked into the levels of seating and saw no one.

It was Gevaux who had assured him that their conversation would remain private.

            “We have silenced the building,” she assured him. “Father’s abilities include a sphere of silence to shroud those whom the exchange must remain between.”

Loki smiled his thanks. “In which case, I do believe that there may be some progress after all.” He smiled heartily. “As I mentioned, I have contact with five of the research results. I believe that the key to unlocking the Ancient Fable lies within all twelve!”

            “Astounding!” Adenna gasped. “Genetic research finally benefits our kind!”

            “Indeed it might,” Loki said with a smile. “There is one result in particular- the first result, actually, whose conception inspired the research in the first place- who is very hard to trace. He keeps moving around, but he does stop by the HQ from time to time. Perhaps if I extract something from him, I can begin to unlock the first part of the Fable!”

            “What would you need to ‘extract’?” Herbert asked. He had his arms crossed over his abdomen and a suspicious glint in his eye.

            “Nothing verbal, I assure you.” Loki said. “It would have to be something like blood or saliva. The code might lie in the genetic make-up of the results. In fact, it may lie in our genetic make-up!”

            “For a scientific ignoramus,” Adenna commented, “you seem to know a lot.”

            “I only know what I have deduced from lab reports.” Loki admitted.

            “You say you have contact with five of the results? I would assume it to be either a personal or professional level,” Herbert said, “I suggest you extract what you need from those five, first. It will be easier, and work can begin right away. Extract from some of our kind, too. If it is as you say, then our genetic make-up will help. One lab work is underway; you can begin your search for the other seven results. Find the other seven and decipher the Fable. The future of Midgard depends on this research, it seems.”