After hearing Metatron, the angel closest to the Divine Throne, everyone on Sicily looked toward the empty space. No one was there, but no one asked whether the angel had made a mistake. It would be all too easy for a Supernatural wielding Mystic Power to become invisible right in front of everyone.
As everyone stared, the outline of a man appeared in the empty space. He wore dark knee-high boots, a brown knitted tunic, and a pointed hood.
His face had none of the coloring of a human face, whether fair and rosy, tan, or dark. It was ice-blue, with countless stitch marks around his lips and eyes.
"Loki!"
People watching from around the world cried out in shock. They recognized Loki, the fire god who had appeared at the North Sea Fishing Grounds.
"I have no intention of provoking your God, nor did I release Typhon to destroy the Land of Canaan your Lord bestowed upon his Believers." Loki, the disfigured Evil God, smiled. His smile might once have been charming, but the gods had long since corroded his face with venom. Now it was deeply unsettling.
"It was an accident. Please believe me."
"I can tell you aren't lying," Metatron said evenly. "But as an angel before the Lord's throne, I will pass judgment on you."
As he spoke, a point of light appeared from nothing.
There was no dazzling Radiance, no resounding Hymn. Only that point of light rested on his fingertip.
He flicked his finger.
In an instant, the light pierced Loki's chest. Loki rippled like a mirage disturbed by the wind, then slowly vanished.
"An illusion?"
Countless visions appeared around Metatron. In one, Loki clasped hands with a young man and swore, "We are brothers bound by blood and flesh. Unless there is mead