Black Door — Wednesday
Wednesday opened his eyes to silence.
Not the empty kind—but the heavy, ceremonial silence of judgment.
He stood upon a vast plain of obsidian marble, stretching endlessly in every direction, smooth as glass and cold beneath his feet. Above him was no sky, only a vaulted darkness like the ceiling of a colossal hall. Pillars—too distant to count—rose into nothingness.
At the center stood five majestic chairs, carved not of wood or metal, but of something older. Each throne pulsed faintly, as if alive.
One called to him.
He walked forward and read the name etched into its back, glowing with runes that burned white-blue.
ODIN
Wednesday sat.
The throne accepted him instantly, molding to his form, a weight settling not on his body—but on his soul. Knowledge brushed the edge of his mind, distant and restrained, like a blade still sheathed.
Others appeared.
A young man dropped into the chair to his right with a careless smirk. His hair was messy, eyes sharp with curiosity rather than fear.
His throne read:
BRAGI
Next came a woman, graceful in movement, her presence commanding without effort. Her hair shimmered gold like spun sunlight, her eyes calm and ancient.
Her throne:
FRIGG
To her side sat a silent man, tall and rigid, his expression unreadable. He did not look at anyone. He simply sat, hands resting on his knees, posture flawless.
His throne:
FORSETI
The final chair creaked as a young woman dropped into it. She looked like she'd been dragged through hell—bruised nose, dried blood at the corner of her mouth, skin pale almost to translucence. Her eyes, however, were sharp… and empty in a way that unsettled the others.
Her throne bore a single name:
HEL
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then the hall shifted.
The floor beneath them became transparent.
A world appeared below—vast continents, glowing cities, armies, monsters, humans, magic, fire, fear. It rotated slowly like a living map.
A voice echoed, neither male nor female, neither loud nor soft—absolute.
> TASK ASSIGNED.
OBJECTIVE: TAKE OVER THE WORLD.
FAILURE: DEATH.
COOPERATION: OPTIONAL.
BETRAYAL: PERMITTED.
Symbols burned into the air.
Each throne flared.
Landing sites appeared—different regions, different continents, different starting conditions.
Bragi laughed softly.
"Well then… that's straightforward."
Hel cracked her neck, wiping blood from her lip.
"Death if we fail," she muttered. "Figures."
Frigg studied the world carefully, eyes narrowing with calculation.
"This isn't conquest alone," she said. "It's corruption. Influence. Control."
Forseti finally spoke, his voice calm and cold.
"Chaos will consume those who rush."
Before anyone else could respond—
Wednesday stood.
The hall seemed to tilt toward him.
His voice was not loud, but it carried weight—measured, deliberate, dangerous.
"An alliance," he said.
"Not out of trust. Out of necessity."
Bragi raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Planning already, Odin?"
Wednesday's gaze swept across them, one by one.
"This world will not fall to brute force alone," he continued.
"Heroes will rise. Systems will awaken. Resistance will evolve."
He turned his eyes downward, watching cities pulse with life.
"We do not conquer first," he said.
"We rot it."
Silence followed.
Hel smiled—slow, sharp, unsettling.
"I like him."
Frigg nodded once.
"Corruption through belief, fear, desire… we reshape habits, morals, faith."
Forseti spoke again.
"Law collapses when authority is undermined."
Bragi leaned back, grinning.
"So… lies, legends, revolutions, and monsters in human skin."
Wednesday sat back down, his throne responding like a living thing.
"Each of us takes a role," he said.
"Information. Faith. Justice. Death. Inspiration."
His eyes glinted.
"We don't just take the world."
"We make it beg for us."
Above them, the hall trembled.
Below them, the world continued to turn—
unaware that five thrones had chosen to play gods.
The Black Door — The All-Father Moves
The world below fractured into five pillars of light, each marking a landing site.
They burned in different colors—different destinies.
Wednesday rose once more.
The moment he stood, the hall responded.
The thrones dimmed—except his.
Information flooded his vision, not freely given, but earned by authority. Names, affinities, latent powers, growth paths—threads of fate woven into each individual seated beside him.
He did not ask permission.
He claimed awareness.
Bragi's aura flared first—
Words made real. Sound turned into force. Inspiration that could raise armies or shatter resolve. A walking mythmaker.
Frigg followed—
Fate-weaving, perception beyond time's shallow flow. Influence through family, loyalty, bonds. Where she stood, dynasties formed.
Forseti—
Law given shape. Authority absolute within structures he established. Contracts that could bind souls. Order enforced without mercy.
Hel—
Entropy incarnate. Domains of death, decay, and inevitability. Where she walked, endings followed.
Wednesday absorbed it all.
Then he turned his gaze inward—
and the system hesitated.
His power did not flare.
It pressed.
Knowledge, sacrifice, runes, foresight, war—authority rooted not in strength, but in inevitability.
He was not the strongest.
He was the one who remained.
A symbol ignited above them.
> BLACK DOOR SYSTEM — STATUS INTERFACE
Landing sites expanded, projecting terrain, factions, threat levels, latent resources.
Five very different beginnings.
Wednesday studied them carefully.
Then he spoke.
"System," he said, voice even.
"Can landing sites be altered?"
The hall paused.
For the first time, the system's reply carried resistance.
> REQUEST DENIED.
LANDING SITES ARE FIXED.
WORLD BALANCE PROTOCOL ACTIVE.
Bragi clicked his tongue.
"Figures."
But the system continued.
> EXCEPTION AVAILABLE.
INDIVIDUALS MAY EXCHANGE LANDING SITES BY MUTUAL CONSENT.
NO LIMITATIONS DETECTED.
Silence.
Then—
Wednesday smiled.
Not wide.
Not cruel.
The smile of a man who had just confirmed the rules of the game.
He turned slowly to the others.
"You see?" he said.
"The system believes us equals."
His gaze settled first on Bragi.
"But stories spread faster from warzones than from ruins."
Then to Frigg.
"Power grows best where families already kneel."
Forseti.
"Law requires civilization."
Hel.
"Death thrives where hope still exists."
He straightened.
"I do not command you," Wednesday said.
"I arrange inevitabilities."
The landing pillars pulsed, as if sensing the shift.
"We exchange," he continued.
"Not to suit ourselves—
but to break the world where it is weakest."
Hel's grin widened.
"Say it plainly, All-Father."
Wednesday's single visible eye gleamed.
"Who wants to rule hell," he asked calmly,
"and who wants to create it?"
Above them, the Black Door trembled—
not in defiance,
but in acknowledgment.
The first act of domination had already begun.