Before Malrick could act, Odin gripped his arm.
"Please wait, Malrick. Loki may be mischievous, but he knows his limits."
Loki knows his limits? That's hardly a joke.
Malrick studied Odin's face. The All-Father's age was plain to see—deep wrinkles, a constant weariness that weighed down his expression. Yet beneath the fatigue, his single eye still gleamed sharp as a blade.
Malrick knew that although Odin spoke often of Ragnarok as destiny, he would never stop trying to preserve hope for his children and the people of Asgard.
The detour made by the warriors carrying the gift boxes had Odin's mark all over it. There was no reason the transport of artifacts should pass by that secluded path unless Odin had arranged it. In Asgard, where strength ruled above all, there was no need for ceremonial parades.
And now, the moment Loki brought the Frost Giants close, Odin had the Casket of Ancient Winters sent past them.
What exactly is he planning?
Malrick turned his gaze toward Loki again, watching as the scene unfolded.
The transport team marched past, crates balanced on their shoulders. Loki halted the Frost Giants, urging them to stay quiet. He clearly intended to guide them straight into the palace.
But the unexpected happened.
One of the crates split open at the bottom, unable to hold its burden. With a heavy thud, the casket rolled onto the ground, gleaming with a ghostly blue light. A bone-deep chill spread outward, coating the air with an eerie glow.
To an unknowing eye, it might look like nothing more than a block of glowing ice. But hidden in the nearby woods, more than a dozen Frost Giants watched with hungry stares.
"The Casket of Ancient Winters!" one of them gasped, recognizing their lost treasure instantly.
Their eyes burned with greed, reason abandoned in the face of desire.
Daida, the first to lose control, stepped out from the trees. The others soon followed, unable to resist.
"What are you doing? Get back, you fools! You'll expose us all!" Loki's voice trembled with fury.
He had lured them to Asgard under the pretense of reclaiming their relic, but his real plan was different—use their chaos to provoke Thor, driving him to strike Jotunheim and ignite conflict.
But this, this was far from his intention.
The casket just happened to fall before their eyes? Just happened to roll into reach? Loki's mind spun in disbelief.
The artifact was dangerous in the hands of Frost Giants. Centuries ago, King Laufey had wielded it to freeze entire worlds. Now, if they reclaimed it, disaster would follow.
Cold sweat slid down Loki's spine.
Grinding his teeth, he rushed out from hiding.
"What are you doing!" he barked at the guards. "Why is the Casket here? And how could you let it fall to the ground like this?"
The guards blinked at him in surprise. "Prince Loki? His Majesty commanded us to deliver these treasures to the palace. They are gifts for the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj."
"Gifts? To mortals?" Loki sneered, his anger barely masked. "No, I will not allow it. Father has been deceived. This relic must never leave Asgard."
Crouching quickly, he reached for the casket. "These artifacts are under my protection now. I will return them to the treasury myself."
The guards hesitated. They, too, disliked the idea of handing such relics to Midgardians, and none moved to stop him.
But the Frost Giants had already surged forward, no longer content to watch.
"That's ours! Stop him!"
Ice-forged axes and arrows rained from the trees, cutting through the guards before they could raise proper defense. The clash was swift and merciless—men were frozen solid, others fell where they stood.
Loki's hand hovered inches from the casket. Then a surge of cold at his back stopped him dead.
"…Everyone," he said carefully, forcing a smile, "you acted too hastily. I was deceiving them for you. If I reclaim the casket, can I not lead you home with it?"
He turned his head slowly, trying to soothe their rage. "The longer we linger, the sooner more guards will come. Let me handle this, and we can escape together—"
Crack.
A massive blue arm snapped around his throat. Icy tendrils crawled across his skin, freezing him solid in seconds. Loki toppled stiffly to the ground, an unfeeling statue of ice.
The Frost Giants ignored him, their eyes fixed on the casket. Their leader hefted it high, and the relic answered with a flood of violent, bone-chilling power.
The blast spread like a storm, freezing earth, stone, and air alike. Trees glittered with frost, insects turned brittle and silent, the very air itself became glassy with ice.
The Giants roared in triumph.
"It's real! The true Casket of Ancient Winters!"
"Quick, back to Jotunheim! To the ship!"
Clutching their prize, they vanished into the passage from which they had come.
Only after their departure did cracks spread across the frozen shell encasing Loki. It shattered, revealing him unharmed—at least, not in the way one might expect.
From his neck downward, his skin glowed with ice-blue markings. His eyes burned crimson.
The unmistakable features of a Frost Giant.
"Damn it," he hissed, first realizing the casket was gone. Then, catching his own reflection in a sheet of frost, he froze.
His body trembled as a wave of vertigo overtook him, the world spinning wildly around his new form.
___
Happy New month