Ethereal Chronicles

Loki is a figure in Norse mythology.

Now Loki had played many tricks on the Gods, but his greatest – and perhaps most cruel – was the one involving Odin’s son, Baldur.

Baldur had been plagued by restless nights, waking in sweat soaked sheets with the bitter taste of death upon his lips; his own, which haunted his dreams and twisted them into nightmares. His mother, Frigg, was equally tormented, sharing in his anxiety as she too had been visited by the same ominous visions.

In desperation, Odin summoned a Soothsayer from the realm of the dead, who confirmed through withered lips that Baldur was indeed fated to die. However, she could not reveal how or when his death would come.

Determined to prevent such a fate, Frigg sought out every force in the universe – binding the wind and the trees, the iron that forged swords for ruthless warriors, the sea, the sky, and every creature that roamed the earth. She found every little thing, all except for mistletoe, a favourite of hers, something that surely could not harm her strong willed son.

But Loki, ever cunning, overheard Frigg’s efforts and devised a plan of his own, crafting a legendary spear made from a sprig of mistletoe. When his work was complete, he approached Baldur’s blind brother, Hodr, offering the shining spear.

Hodr was proud despite his deformity, and never one to shy from a challenge. So when Loki urged him to throw the spear at his brother, Hodr readily complied, thinking nothing of it. After all, he trusted in Frigg’s vow that nothing in the world could ever hurt Baldur.

But as Hodr brought his strong arm out, taking swift aim towards Baldur, the weapon struck cleanly, and Baldur staggered back, gripping the spear. He let out a howl as he tore it from his heart, blood gushing furiously from the wound. Desperately, he pressed his hands to his chest, trying in vain to halt the flow, but the redness continued to pour from his body, and within minutes, he had collapsed to the ground, dead.

Odin was consumed by grief and rage at the horror that both Loki and Hodr had brought. To punish them, he fathered another son, Vali, who grew to full strength before that same night could yield to day. As the first rays of dawn spilled across the Earth, Vali enacted Odin’s vengeance, and it was Hodr’s blood that soaked into the ground beneath him.

But Odin did not wish death for Loki. No, that would be too kind. He had a far crueler fate in mind; a life of torment, one that would not end until the eventual arrival of Ragnarok.

Loki attempted to flee, taking the form of a salmon and seeking refuge in the depths of the Franangrsfors waterfall. His disguise, however, proved futile, as he was captured shortly after, and brought before a great boulder. There, he was bound with the cold, wet entrails of his dead son Nari. Narfi, his other son, had transformed into a wolf.

Above Loki, Odin suspended a venomous snake, its fangs dripping with scalding poison. Loyal to her husband, Loki’s wife, Sigyn, sat by his side, holding above him a bronze bowl to catch the bubbling venom. But by the end of each day, when the bowl was filled to the brim and Sign had to leave to replace it, the poison continued to drip unimpeded. In the minutes that passed during her absence, Loki’s face and body were subjected to excruciating burns that ate into his skin, causing him to writhe in agony. As he trembled, the earth did so with him.