I hatched into a world of darkness, one with endless realms of bleak nothing. Within my young sight, I saw nothing within them. It was a vast empty blackness, and in reality: the world was far from that. I was just blind too all the things that were made up of light.
The world created by the Aesir was one of majestic beauty, I just never cared for things that were beautiful. Never.
All of my newly hatched siblings were kind creatures. They sought the companionship of each other, thriving off of each other's energy. While I despised it. It was more painful to be among them, then it was to be alone.
Our creator wanted to teach us. Of his kind and how the worlds had come into existence. It was interesting prattle at first, but I quickly grew tired of listening to the old man's words. It was the same stories, over and over again. He was born from ice. His children from giants. Man from twigs.
It was never anything important.
Yet my brethren diligently listened to him, and to the one they called Eskil. Granted a ridiculous title, 'Vessel of the Gods'. Hah…
My elder brother, the prince and first born of our kind. From him, I and the others were born. I owed him my life, and I never understood why. Because he brought me into existence?
Did a child owe its mother its life, simply for spreading her legs and accepting its father's seed? For carrying the child and delivering it? What nonsense…
It was with my lack of interest in our creator's stories that the Aesir first grew suspicious of me. Even more so as I distanced myself further from my brethren. They began to fear me when they learned of my… unique abilities.
Unlike my siblings, I was not born with a gift that made me faster or stronger. I was no more agile than my weakest kin. My fire was nowhere near hotter. I could not cast spells like my kin, magic of light was out of my reach.
Other types of magic however, were in my possession. The power I inherited just by my birth was one that was completely unique. It was one that was devastating, it was one that was out of the Aesir's control.
It was time.
This alone made me a threat. To the Aesir, to my kin, to the mortals. The more I practiced my abilities, the more weary those around me became. It wasn't long before there was an accident either, and with one unforeseen mistake… I was banished.
I was just out of my teenage years, barely even one hundred years old. How could my creator treat me so coldly? It was not like I had killed him intentionally. It was… a mistake.
Discovering I was able to manipulate things around me, I grew very curious on what exactly it was I could do. It was possible for me to open a type of portal that enabled me to enter a new era. However far in the future or past I wanted to go, it was possible.
Through mirrors I was able to look in both the past and future, even current time: of anyone I so wished. Yet I was also able to manipulate the time of those around me, even objects. If I desired it, I could age a bowl of fruit until the fruit rotted and the bowl disintegrated.
Though, when I learned I could do the exact same thing to a living creature… That was when my trouble began. Noctain was around the same age as myself at the time, and I did not mean to hurt him. I had just… lost control.
So I was banished to Niflheim. Where ice would freeze to my wings, and wind would chill my bones. I had no one to talk to. It was always silent. It was always dark.
It was perfect.
With no one to ever disturb me, I was able to practice my abilities in peace. I gained more control over them. I gained power. I obtained knowledge.
Able to lurch myself forward in time, I could learn of events that had yet to happen. Even the ability to just watch through a mirror was a gift of knowledge. Looking through the glimmering disc, I learned of a world that had yet to be born.
The world of man continued to evolve, through periods of war, famine, plague, and peace. However, it was always the same cycle. Over and over again.
One war would end, and man would spend hundreds of years rebuilding their homes and social structures. Their population would grow too large and famine or disease would strike. Leading to a rebellion against those who were considered leaders among them. The rebellion would lead to war, and war would lead to the death of thousands.
Thus from there, the cycle would repeat itself. From one era to the next.
One era was filled with naught but war and rebels, striving for freedom against tyranny. Then winning. Man spread to new land like locust. The stronger ones killing those who appeared… different.
The next era there were fancy horse drawn carriages, and white, cloud-like canines. Men and women dressed in frivolous clothing, attending balls each night, and feasting on colorful food. Something called, electricity was developed. Status was everything.