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I felt a strong pair of hands lift me up, draping my good arm around their shoulders so that I could lean against them for support. I was in a state of semi-consciousness, and could hardly tell up from down, but I could make out the vague shape of a room that scintillated gold around me.

Was this the part where your life flashes before your eyes? But, I couldn't recognize anything around me, not the room, and not the tall, dark-skinned man, who wore a heavy helm and was helping me along. Perhaps this was heaven? But then, why was I still in so much pain? My vision faded in an out as we exited the room. Then, there was an iridescent bridge that stretched on for hundreds of meters, but where it led, I couldn't see. Everything was so bright. Too bright.

I felt a deadly chill seep through my body, and my legs went limp as I stumbled to my knees. I heard a distant voice which sounded urgent, but I couldn't understand what it was saying. All I saw was a pair of golden eyes, before I felt my eyelids grow heavy, and I let them fall closed. And finally, I fell unconscious.

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My eyes flickered open and I was met with a flash of blinding light that seared through my head. I really needed to move my bed away from the window, that burst of light every morning was pretty annoying. I breathed in deep, before opening my eyes against the bright room, feeling my brow furrow in confusion. Usually Mae had the coffee on by now, but all I could smell was... Fresh, outside air? My apartment had a lot of smells, but that certainly wasn't one of them.

And when my vision adjusted, I came to a sinking realization. Mae wasn't there. And neither was Gale. Because this wasn't my apartment. I could tell that much from the ceiling alone. My eyes fell next to the columns, which were carved and pale, and spun from the ceiling to the tiled floor.

I pushed myself up to a seated position, and bit my tongue, holding back a string of curses at the searing pain that shot like a bolt of lightning through my body, which I then noticed was clothed in a weird, Shakespearean looking article. A cream coloured corset and red sleeves that extended to just above my elbows, and similarly coloured, flowing skirts that stretched down to my feet.

I turned my head to survey the room, and nearly jumped from the marble slate I'd been lying on, when my gaze met that of the dark man sitting quietly in the corner of the room, hand propped under his chin, and eyes focused on me. His hair was shoulder length, slicked back at the top, and a little tousled at the tips. His skin was a pale white, and his eyes an even paler blue.

"Am I dead?" were the first words I could think to say.

He sat a little straighter, dropping his hand, "You tell me and we'll both know."

"I don't think so," I spluttered, "I don't feel dead."

"Well that is a surprise. When they brought you in I thought for certain the breaths you were taking were your last."

"I appreciate your optimism," I said blankly, reaching a tired hand to my aching rib cage. It was tender to the touch.

He bowed his head, smirking.

"Hold on," I said, my frown deepening evening further, "If I'm not dead, then where the hell am I?"

"You don't know?" his brow furrowed.

"If I knew where I was, do you think I'd be asking you?" I said.

"Well you must forgive me of my confusion. See, if you don't know of Asgard, I can't figure how you managed to use the Bifrost to get here," he responded, standing, and revealing that he was, in fact, quite tall. He wasn't brutish, though. He was lean and long limbed, with a slender neck and sharp face.

"Use the what?" I repeated, "No, don't answer me. I just had the worst night of my life and I'm not in the mood for whatever game you're playing. Tell me where I am, and if you don't start making sense, I'm going to call the police."

"If that's what you feel you must do, then by all means," he raised his hands, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in amusement.

"Where's my phone?" I asked, looking around before heaving a sigh, painfully pushing myself to my feet, "What the hell is going on here? Why am I here, where are my clothes, and what did you do with my phone? And while you're at it, who exactly are you?"

"You're in Asgard, you got here via the Bifrost when you summoned Heimdall. You were changed out of your old clothes because they were bloodied and burned, and your phone, whatever that is, is likely gone with the rest of your clothes," he responded all in one breath, before extending a hand to me, "My name is Loki, God of Mischief. And you are?"

I blinked, trying to wrap my pounding head around everything he'd just said. I released a shallow breath, "You're crazy."

He took a step closer, and I frantically looked around the room, eyes settling on a candlestick. I wrapped my fingers around it, pointing it at him. He raised his hands in mock surrender, freezing, as his lips curled into a wry grin.

"Listen, believe me or don't, but I'm able to do things that ordinary people can't. Things I can use to my advantage. Against you," I said, hinting at my fire-wielding abilities.

"My, what a coincidence," Loki smiled devilishly.

"So can I," came a voice, Loki's voice, from right beside my ear. But he was standing right in front of me?

I whirled to my side, where, sure enough, a second Loki stood, his face looming a few inches away from mine. My heart stuttered, and I swung the candlestick at his smug face. It went right through him, and suddenly, the Loki that was standing at my side vanished. What the hell was that? Was I hallucinating?

I turned back to face what I thought was the real Loki, to find him slowly waltzing closer. I pointed the candlestick at him.

"Oh, for pity's sake, put that thing away, dear," he said with a roll of his eyes, swatting it out of my shaky hands, and grabbing hold of my wrist with his other hand, "Come."

When he grabbed me, his hand was warm on my ice-cold skin. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for my body temperature to plunge drastically after my powers had gotten out of hand.

I tried to pull my wrist out of his grasp, but gave up when he started to pull me towards the window, a motion which caused a violent pain to assault my fractured ribs. He jerked me towards the window, urging me to look outside. Reluctantly, I did. And what I saw made my stomach drop.

It was the city. The one I'd seen time and time again in my dreams. But it wasn't the familiar and beautiful kingdom that made my legs buckle and my breath fall short. It was the fact that the edge of the kingdom, seemed to literally be the edge of the kingdom. Beyond that was space. Actual space, a view I'd only ever seen in photographs. Galaxies bursting with colour and light, and massive planets hung suspended beside the golden sun, which spilled its rays all over the kingdom, bathing it.

"You're sure I'm not dead, right?" I asked, feeling a cold chill crawl down my back. I couldn't help but lean against Loki's arm for support as I struggled to keep upright in spite of my buckled legs.

"Quite positive, yes," he responded, "Though you're as cold as a corpse."

"Yeah, it happens," I said vaguelly, dismissing him.

I let go of his hand, stumbling toward the window and falling to my knees before the opulent sight. I'd always thought people who cry at seeing beautiful things were stupid and dramatic, but in that moment I felt my eyes water up.

Maybe it was the kingdom of Asgard. Maybe it was the fact that magic was, apparently, real. Maybe it was the fact that it appeared as though I was currently in space. Maybe it was the fact that I'd just had a near death experience. Or, maybe, that my powers had gotten out of hand for the first time in years.

But for some reason, I let a tear escape. Then another.

"Jesus H. Christ," I breathed, swiping at my face, before turning to Loki and extending my hand to him, still on the ground, "Pleasure to meet you God of Mischief, my name is Alivia Byrd."

He took my hand, giving it a gentle shake. He seemed a little taken aback by the temperature of my skin.

"You're freezing," he remarked, slipping off his jacket and placing it on my head, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Thank you," I said, taking it off my head and wrapping it around my shoulders.

It was large and reached halfway down my legs.

I jolted at the sound of the doors to the room we were occupying being thrust open, to reveal a towering, well-built man with long blonde hair, and a red cape trailing behind him. He frowned at the scene laid out before him, and I realized how it probably looked. A crying girl curled up in a ball at the edge of the room, while someone else—the God of Mischief, no less—loomed over her.

"What have you done, brother?" The man asked accusingly, his voice powerful and commanding.

"Merely introduced her to her new accommodations," Loki said, raising his hands defensively, before looking down at me with a concealed smile, "Not my fault she took it poorly."

"You were told to take her straight to father when she awoke," the man argued, "Not torment her."

Before Loki could speak further, his brother strode across the room, coming to stand before me.

"I apologize for my brother's conduct, miss," he said, "Allow me to take you to speak with my father. We'll have everything cleared up."

"And who are you, exactly?" I asked him, a small smile teasing at my lips, "Ooh, or can I guess? Are you Zeus, God of Lightning?"

"Zeus? Where did you pull that from?" he frowned, shaking his head, "The lightning was nearer the mark, though. My name is Thor, God of Thunder. My father is Odin, King of Asgard."

"Right, I can pretend that makes sense," I nodded slowly, "Just have to stay open minded. Take me to meet this God-King."

"Right away," Loki smirked, "Just remember to keep that mind open."

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