Mackenzi Lee

a strange thing, to want to die. Stranger still when you don’t feel you deserve to get away so easily.

though she also keeps sneaking up on my deaf side and scaring the shit out of me.

, this old thing? Merely a token from a rogue Sakaaran who was foolish enough to test his strength against mine.

The words rang inside him, the memory of what his father had seen years ago the last time he looked in the Godseye Mirror. Leading an army of the living dead.

Heimdall, this isn’t funny. Bring me back. Tell Father to bring me back. Heimdall, you son of a—” Behind him, he heard a soft crunch, and he whirled on Theo. “Are you eating?!”
Theo froze, one hand dipped into a greasy paper bag. “I missed dinner because I was tending you.”
“I’m trying to access an interdimensional portal and you’re snacking?”

“I just like the name. Perhaps I’ll use it for myself one day. Loki the Enchantress.”
Theo snorted. “You do know what it means, don’t you? It’s the feminine version of enchanter.”
“Does that matter?”

Humanity was truly disgusting.

Below that, in vertical letters along the sides of the frame, ALL HOPE ABANDON, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
Which was a tad dramatic.

Humans were both disgusting and easily amused.

“You look like a witch.”
Loki looked down at himself. He’d foregone the glamoured clothes he’d been wearing and purchased an actual suit on the way here to save energy—all black, complete with a tiny dark pin through the necktie and the highest-heeled boots that Paxton’s had for men—disappointingly quite low. “Thank you.”
“Witches are girls.”
“Does that make it less of a compliment?”