Of course, the Oracle’s trick was based on the fact that everyone hears the prophecy that they most expect to hear; everyone assumes that the verse refers to them in particular. There was always the possibility that Mimir had put in that last bit just to torment Yours Truly; offering the hope of escape like the gold at the end of the rainbow, only to have it disappear every time I thought I was close.

Still, what other choice did I have? The final part of the prophecy was still up for interpretation. And if I could find a way of reading it in my favour, then that was what I meant to do. Forget the Authorized Version. The Gospel of Loki would not be complete until every scrap of hope was gone. And so I waited in darkness, and dreamed, and thought to myself:

Let there be light.

Let there be light.

Let there be . . .

The Prophecy of the Oracle

THE PROPHECY OF THE ORACLE

I know a tale, o sons of earth.
I speak it as I must.
Of how nine trees gave life to Worlds
That giants held in trust.

That was the first Age, Ymir’s time.
There was no land or sea.
Just void between two darknesses,
No stars by which to see.

Till Buri’s sons brought Order
From out of Chaos; light
From darkness; life from death
And shining day from night.

The Aesir came. On Ida’s plain
The new gods built their kingdom.
Here they raised their citadel, their courts,
Their seats of wisdom.

Gold they had in quantity
From the folk in World Below,
They shaped the fates of mortal men
And sealed their own, so long ago.

From the Alder and the Ash,
They fashioned the first Folk from wood.
One gave spirit; one gave speech;
One gave fire in the blood.

I know a mighty Ash that stands.
Its name is Yggdrasil.
It stands eternal, evergreen,
Growing over wisdom’s well.

I speak now of the Sorceress,
Gullveig-Heid, thrice-burned, thrice-born,
Seeress, mistress of the Fire
Vengeful, bloated with desire.

I speak of war, as now I must
Of war against the Aesir.
The Vanir, Gullveig’s kindred
Cry vengeance for their sister.

Odin flings his spear. Now war
Is fast unleashed upon us.
Asgard’s walls are broken down;
The Firefolk, victorious.

The Aesir meet in council.
But oaths are to be broken.
The Sorceress has done her work.
The Oracle has spoken.

But I see more. There Heimdall’s horn
Lies underneath the sacred tree.
In Mimir’s well, Allfather’s eye
Was forfeit. Will you hear me?

I see your fate, o sons of earth.
I hear the battle calling.
Odin’s folk prepare to ride
Against the shadows falling.

I see a branch of mistletoe
Wielded by a blind man.
This, the poison dart that slays
Asgard’s most beloved son.

I speak as I must. The funeral pyre
Sends smoke into the fading sky.
Frigg weeps bitter tears – too late,
Her son sits, silent, at Hel’s side.