The car tore down the road as if it were fleeing the end of the world.
Elias lay half-curled in the passenger seat, muscles trembling, skin still humming with a phantom heat that refused to fade. Every nerve felt raw, scraped clean. The smell of burnt ozone clung to him, sharp and metallic, as though the storm had followed him inside the car and settled beneath his skin.
His mind lagged behind his body.
Images replayed themselves without order or mercy—the man's scream, the raven's wings blotting out the sky, the feeling of something tearing open inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the darkness only made it worse. Lightning flashed behind his eyelids, bright and invasive.
"Easy," the man said from the driver's seat, voice steady, controlled. "Breathe. If you panic, it'll echo."
That alone made Elias force his eyes open.
The man driving did not look like a rescuer. He was too composed for that, too calm for someone who had just witnessed a street torn apart by something out of myth. Dark hair, sharp features, eyes that seemed to catch too much light. He wore a simple coat, unremarkable, but the longer Elias looked, the more wrong it felt—like a disguise worn out of politeness rather than necessity.
"Who are you?" Elias managed. His throat felt scorched.
The man smiled faintly, eyes flicking from the road to Elias and back again.
"That," he said, "is an excellent question. Unfortunately, it's not the first one you should be asking."
Elias swallowed. "Then start talking."
The man chuckled softly, as if genuinely amused. "Straight to it. I like that. You get that from him."
Elias stiffened. "From who?"
The car slowed as they turned onto a quieter road, trees crowding closer, shadows thickening. The man sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.
"You were never meant to awaken like that," he said. "Messy. Violent. Very hard to explain to local authorities."
"Awaken?" Elias snapped. "I almost died. I did die. I—" His breath caught as the memory surged again. "What the hell was that thing?"
"An envoy," the man replied lightly. "A hunter, of sorts. Drawn to loose threads. And you, Elias, have always been a very loose thread."
Elias stared at him. "You knew."
"Of course I knew."
The man glanced at him again, eyes sharp now, stripped of humor.
"I've known since the day you were born."
Something cold settled in Elias's chest.
"My birth," he said slowly. "You said something about my birth."
"Yes," the man said. "I did."
They drove in silence for a few moments, the engine's hum filling the space between them. Outside, the town crept closer—streetlights, houses, the fragile illusion of normality.
"You're not human," the man said at last.
Elias laughed once, short and brittle. "Yeah. I figured that part out."
The man smiled again, wider this time. "Oh, you're human. Very much so. That's part of the problem."
"Then what am I?"
The man exhaled, as though resigning himself to something inevitable.
"You are the consequence of a god making a very human mistake."
Elias's heart hammered. "Stop talking like that."
"I'm afraid I can't." The man glanced at him, expression oddly gentle. "Your father sends his regards."
The words landed like a physical blow.
"My father," Elias repeated. "I don't have a father."
The man laughed outright now, rich and unbothered. "Oh, you do. He's just spectacularly bad at staying."
Elias's vision blurred again, not with power this time, but with something far more disorienting.
"Who," he said, each word scraped raw, "are you?"
The man pulled the car over briefly, just long enough to turn and face him fully.
Green eyes met Elias's.
There was no illusion in them now. No disguise.
"I am Loki," he said simply. "And if I weren't fond of you, you'd already be in chains or ashes. Possibly both."
The name did not mean much to Elias consciously.
But his body reacted.
A shiver ran through him, deep and instinctive, like a memory buried in bone. His pulse quickened. The air inside the car tightened, faint sparks dancing across the dashboard before dying away.
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Ah. There it is. Recognition without knowledge. Always my favorite."
"You're lying," Elias said weakly.
"About many things," Loki agreed. "About this? No."
He started the car again and pulled back onto the road.
"You were born during a year the old world remembers," Loki continued, tone shifting into something more serious. "A year when certain doors creaked open. Your father had been hiding on Midgard for decades by then. Protecting it. Loving it. Doing everything he was explicitly told not to do."
Elias stared straight ahead. "You're saying my dad is… what. A lunatic with delusions?"
Loki snorted. "If only. Life would be much simpler."
The trees thinned as they entered Elias's neighborhood. Familiar houses passed by, porches lit, windows glowing softly. Normal lives. Normal families.
"Your father is Thor," Loki said, not looking at him.
The word hit Elias like a delayed explosion.
"No," he said immediately. "No. That's not—this isn't funny."
"I'm rarely funny by accident," Loki replied. "And never about this."
Elias's hands curled into fists. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
"You expect me to believe I'm the son of a Norse god," he said. "That I just turned into some kind of lightning monster because—what—my dad forgot to pull out?"
Loki laughed, loud and genuine. "Oh, I like you."
"Stop it!"
The car slowed as they turned onto his street.
"I'm not asking you to believe," Loki said. "I'm asking you to survive."
Elias shook his head, trying to anchor himself. "Then why did that thing attack me?"
"Because your awakening sent out a signal," Loki replied. "A very loud one. Things that hunt power heard it. Things older than your country. Older than this world."
"And you just happened to be nearby?"
Loki's smile returned, thin and knowing. "I keep an eye on family."
The car stopped in front of Elias's house.
The porch light was on.
Elias's stomach twisted painfully.
"My mom," he said. "Does she know?"
Loki followed his gaze to the house. "Oh, yes."
The answer was too quick. Too certain.
"She's been waiting for this day longer than you've been alive."
Elias laughed weakly. "So she just forgot to mention my dad is a thunder god?"
"She promised him she'd tell you when it was safe," Loki said. "It was never safe."
Elias looked back at him. "Then why now?"
Loki's expression darkened, just a fraction.
"Because the giants are awake," he said quietly. "Because gods are moving again. And because you nearly tore a hole in reality on your way home from school."
Silence filled the car.
Loki opened the door and stepped out, then paused and leaned back in.
"You'll have questions," he said. "Too many. Most of them dangerous."
"What about you?" Elias asked. "You're just leaving?"
Loki smiled, already fading somehow, edges blurring as if he were less solid than before.
"I always do."
He straightened, then added casually, "Be careful, Elias. Try not to summon storms in public. It causes paperwork."
Then, more softly, "Your father sends his regards."
And with that, Loki was gone—no flash, no sound, just absence where a trickster god had been standing.
Elias sat in the car for a long moment, shaking.
Then he stepped out.
The house felt smaller than it ever had as he walked toward it. The door opened before he could knock.
His mother stood there, eyes red, hands trembling.
She took one look at his face—and knew.
"You felt it," Elias said hoarsely.
She nodded, pulling him into her arms before he could say anything else.
"I was hoping we had more time," she whispered.
Elias closed his eyes, the weight of everything crashing down at once.
"Mom," he said. "You need to tell me everything."
She held him tighter.
"I will," she said. "Tonight."
And somewhere far away, thunder answered.