Chapter 65 Danica
Danica
The first step materializes before me, a solid stone hanging in empty air. I step forward, and the stone vanishes. My stomach lurches as I pitch forward into nothingness, a scream rips from my chest. The wind slams into me from the left, throwing me onto a step that appears just in time.
My knees shake as I gasp for breath. One misstep and it's over.
"Having trouble?" Loki's laugh echoes through the void.
The wind tugs urgently at my jacket. I let it pull me right as my current step dissolves beneath me. My boots scrape stone that appears split-seconds before I plummet to my death. Left. Right. Forward. Each leap feels like my last, the ground never there until the final instant.
Halfway up, my foot catches the edge of a disappearing step. I stumble, arms windmilling as I tip backward into empty space. The wind howls, shoving me forward. My fingers scrape stone as I scramble onto the next step, heart trying to punch through my ribs.
"Fuck," I gasp, hands shaking. The void below seems to pull at me, promising a long fall into darkness.
The pattern accelerates. Steps flash in and out faster, the gaps stretching wider. The wind drags me into a frenzied run. I leap—the next step vanishes before I reach it. My stomach drops as I fall, but the wind throws me sideways onto another step, my ankle twisting as I land hard.
Pain shoots up my leg. The step beneath me starts to fade.
"No time to rest, little savior," Loki calls, frost spreading across the steps as he follows. "Your mate awaits."
I force myself up, letting the wind guide me through the pain. Jump. Land. Jump again. My ankle screams with each impact. One wrong step, one moment of hesitation, and I'm dead.
The chanting pulses in my blood as I race for the vanishing stone. Twenty steps left. A stumble sends me sprawling, the wind barely saving me. Ten steps. My bad ankle buckles—I catch myself on my hands as the wind shoves me forward. Five steps.
Loki is following my every move.
I hit the final platform hard, rolling away from the edge. My whole body trembles as I gasp for air, the void still calling behind me.
The wind screams a warning. I see Loki approaching, each step calculating, frost spreading in his wake.
The archway towers before us, ancient runes pulsing with soft-white light.
Beyond it, a circular chamber stretches toward a ceiling lost in shadow.
In its center, floating in a column of swirling air—the Zephyrite Stone writhes with trapped storms. Lightning crackles within its opal depths, storm clouds churning, frozen in time.
I push myself up, gritting my teeth against my throbbing ankle. The wind whips around me, almost protective now, while frost creeps across the floor from Loki's feet.
"Move," he snarls, shoving me forward.
We step into the chamber and the winds suddenly die. Complete stillness, heavy and wrong, descends like the air before a devastating storm. The stone's internal tempest casts wild shadows across the walls.
A deep voice echoes through the chamber—"To claim the storm's heart, first master its chaos."
The air shimmers, and four pillars materialize around us in a perfect circle. My breath catches—they're identical to the elemental pillars from the Valley of Ancients, but these pulse with living storms inside their crystalline walls.
Aquaria's column churns with a waterspout—a hurricane.
Mortalis hosts dust devils and earthen windstorms that remind me of Oklahoma during tornado season.
Pyrothos writhes with fire tornados that make Hell look like a cozy campfire.
And Zephyria's contains what I'd generously call a breeze (seriously, I've had stronger wind from a desk fan).
Lightning arcs between them in a complex web of energy.
"The Trial of Storms," Loki paces around the room. "It's simple, really—connect the storms without crossing paths. Though..." his eyes narrow, "the voltage might sting a bit."
The stone pulses again, its internal storm matching the rhythms of the lightning web.
Watching.
Waiting.
Testing.
I reach for Zephyria's pillar first, figuring air should be the easiest to control.
Wrong. Lightning slams through me, dropping me to my knees.
Every nerve screams as electricity courses through my body.
The pain is blinding, but not as blinding as the knowledge that every second I waste is another second Rhyland suffers.
"Oops!" Loki's laugh echoes off the walls. "Maybe try using that scientific brain of yours? If you have one under all that pretty hair."
My hands shake as I push myself up. The room spins, and my muscles spasm from the shock. I need to focus.
I try matching water with fire, thinking opposites might work. The lightning strike feels like being hit by a truck, sending me flying back. I slam into the ground, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. Smoke curls from my fingertips, clothes singed.
"Tick tock, little savior," Loki says with amusement. "Though I must say, watching you fail is rather entertaining."
"How about you get your fucking ass over here and try this shit yourself?" I snarl through bloody teeth.
"And miss watching you electrocute yourself?" Loki's laugh chills the air. "Darling, you're the most entertainment I've had in centuries."
Frustration burns in my throat. Or maybe that's just the electricity. Every failed attempt wastes precious time, but rushing will only kill me. And if I solve this, I will actually give Loki control of the element.
The stone pulses above, its storm matching my chaotic thoughts.
Think, damn it. Think.
I stagger to my feet again, muscles screaming in protest. Three more failed attempts leave me retching on my hands and knees, skin smoking. The room won't stop spinning. My heart stutters in my chest, its rhythm disrupted by too many shocks.
"Perhaps I overestimated you," Loki sighs theatrically. "Such a disappointment."
The mark on my palm begins to tingle, a sensation like static electricity dancing across my skin. Suddenly, everything shifts into sharp focus—but not just the physical world. I can see... more. The spaces between spaces, the gossamer-thin boundaries where one thing transforms into another.
The air itself seems alive with possibility, shimmering with potential energy. And the storms within the pillars—they're not just representations or symbols. They're pure elemental force, raw and untamed, each one singing its own song of power.
Where before I saw only churning clouds and lightning, now I can perceive the intricate dance of energies, the delicate balance of opposing forces that creates each storm. The fjorniskratti's gift lets me see beyond the surface, into the very heart of these elemental powers.
Something clicks—It's not about power or dominance. It's about...
Of course. Of fucking course.
"Balance," I spit out along with a mouthful of blood. "It's not about controlling the elements—it's about their harmony."
Nature shows us that water carves the earth, earth banks the fire, fire feeds on air, air drives the rain. An eternal dance, each element supporting the next.
"Finally caught up, have we?" Loki's smug voice makes me want to show him some harmony right up his immortal ass.
"Well, no shit," I mutter, resisting the urge to flip off the universe for making me fry my ass multiple times before figuring out the basics of elementary school science.
My hands tremble violently as I reach for the air pillar again. This time, I let my fingers trail through the breeze instead of trying to control its winds. Feel its nature–its purpose.
The crystalline surface responds, rotating under my touch. As it turns, the lightning arcs shift, searching.
The water pillar pulses brighter. Air and water dance together in every storm. But one wrong degree of rotation will fry what's left of my nervous system.
I align them with agonizing slowness, sweat and blood dripping down my face. The lightning snaps between them, and I brace for pain—but this connection holds, stable and true.
"Finally showing some potential," Loki's frost spreads closer.
My vision blurs as I work. Earth needs water to thrive—I rotate Mortalis's pillar to face Aquaria. The sandstorm inside resists at first, then calms, accepting the connection. Fire requires air to burn—Pyrothos fights me, its inferno raging against control, but eventually aligns with Zephyria.
The stone's internal tempest matches the rhythm of the connected pillars, each element flowing into the next like a perfectly conducted symphony. But the victory tastes like shit in my mouth.
I've done it. I've solved the puzzle.
And I might have just helped destroy everything I'm trying to save.
Loki's eyes gleam like arctic ice. "Perhaps you're more than just a pretty face after all."
The air ripples. The stone descends from its column of swirling wind, hovering between us. Swirls of wind and clouds churn within its opal depths, calling to something profound in my soul.
I want to be sick. What have I done?
"Don't," I warn as Loki steps forward.
"Or what?" His fingers stretch toward the stone. "Your mate suffers while you play hero?" Ice crystals form in his black hair as his lips curve. "Besides, I just watched you solve a puzzle meant for gods. I'm almost impressed enough to tell you where he is before I make you open that portal."
The stone pulses, its storm matching my racing heart. Rhyland. My fingers twitch toward the gem, but Loki's faster. His hand closes around it.
"Now," as he pockets the stone, "let's discuss that portal you're going to open for me." He grabs my arm, cold seeping through my jacket. "After you."
As we approach the archway, solid steps materialize, nothing like the previous vanishing platforms. Each one forms just before our feet touch down, a mockery of my earlier trial.
"Hurry now," Loki's grip tightens. "The sooner you get me out of this realm, the sooner you find your man."