It was the Year 8219, the year of the sword. The war of the Great Houses had come to an end and left the relative western arm of the Uman galaxy a wasteland. Whole planets had been purged from existence. Entire races made extinct. And for what purpose? To what end were the asterminds of this great sacrifice marching towards?
The Citadel. In all the vast emptiness that remains of the once proud empires of man, this is the one remaining jewel in the crown of his scientific wonders. A place where, it was believed, anything was possible. A place of marvels that bordered on the mystical. Could this be the prize for which untold billions lost their lives? Could this small outpost of miracles be the seed of desire that drove those in search of power to wipe the galaxy clean in order to possess it?
The Fimbul Winter had come. Three years of unyielding cold and bitter snow. All had come to pass as prophesied. The hordes of Muspelheim pounding like waves across the Rainbow Bridge. The ship of nails, Naglfar, breaching the shores of the Eternal Realm, belching forth its army of giants from Jotunheim. All this and more led the mighty hosts of Asgard to gather their forces and meet their foe on the Visgard plain to perish in what was believed to be the Twilight of
“Believed to be” because not all came to pass as it should. For even in the web of fate that governs all life, even the lives of gods, there is
room for chaos, uncertainty, things hidden from view. Things that even the Fates themselves cannot see. And it is in those tiny holes that the balance of the
universe can rest. Holes that when opened can change the pattern forever. And so it was, when all teetered on the head of a pin, in the midst of the confusion of the Gods desperate struggle, one dared rip wide a hole in fate and forever change the course of the universe. Though shunned and looked down upon, on that day, he was the center of all that was. And forever more the name Loki would ring in the ears of those who knew him as…savior.
My name’s Akemi. Number 29 to my keepers her at the Citadel. Should I be grateful to be alive at all? Grateful that I’m not expelled and left to die
outside on the surface? Yeah, right. The Citadel may be everybody’s dream, but not mine. More like my nightmare. That is until He showed up. Who, or more
importantly, what he is I don’t know, but taking crap from anyone isn’t one of his problems. So I say why not tag along for the ride? Maybe he can do what
nobody’s ever done before – defeat the Citadel and give me the chance to get the hell off of this barren rock to freedom. Maybe. First thing’s first though. Top
on his agenda, find somebody named Loki, and second, try and figure out why he didn’t die in something called…Ragnarok?