It was the evening when the world started to end. People didn't know it yet. They went about their lives, glued to their phones, talking with their friends, buying groceries, driving cars, working in offices.
There was something wrong in the sky, but they ignored it. It was as if they had become so numb to the changing seasons, the rising heat, the clouds parting to reveal strange phenomena that they simply couldn't be bothered to see.
They had become too comfortable with the idea that something bigger could change everything, but never did.
Loki smiled from above, watching them, with his trickster's grin—sharp, cruel, and full of malicious amusement. He could have been anyone in the world. The shape he chose to take was a twisted reflection of humanity's most selfish desires. It didn't matter. In the end, it wouldn't make a difference.
He wasn't a god for their benefit. He wasn't a god for anyone's benefit.
Loki had always found humanity amusing, so predictable. They built, they destroyed, they fought, they loved—constantly repeating themselves like a broken record. Every few thousand years, he'd watch as they stumbled into the same traps, over and over. They never learned.
But today, today would be different. Today, he'd have his fun.
He stood at the edge of a tall mountain, far away from human civilization, and watched the small movements of the cities below. They were busy, unaware of the unseen weight hanging above them. Clouds had turned dark, unnaturally dark. There was a sense of urgency in the way the wind pushed them forward. It was almost as though they were trying to flee something that had yet to arrive.
Loki chuckled, a sound that sent a cold shiver down the spine of any mortal who could've heard it.
As night settled in, the world grew quiet. So quiet.
Kiera sat alone on the porch of her home. She lived on the outskirts of a small town—quiet, peaceful. She'd never really thought about the world ending. She had enough problems in her own life, mostly personal.
There were things left unsaid between her and her family. The dead weight of regrets was too much to carry. She thought she had time. Time to fix things, time to make amends.
She glanced at the sky, squinting as the first streaks of purple smeared across the horizon. The stars looked strange, twisted and swirling like a sick version of themselves.
Maybe it was a storm, she thought. Just a storm. But there was no thunder. No rain. It wasn't right.
Kiera pushed herself up from the chair, the creaking wood under her feet reminding her of the ache in her bones. The unease that had been settling in her gut started to grow. A feeling like she was being watched, but not by anyone she knew. Not by anyone she wanted to know.
She shook her head. She was tired. Her thoughts were getting too heavy.
That was when the sound started.
It was a low thrum, as if the earth beneath her had begun to hum with a life of its own. She froze, heart slamming against her chest. It wasn't a noise she could place.
The ground seemed to pulse again.
Kiera's fingers dug into the railing as she tried to steady herself. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Everything seemed to be in motion. A soft tremor ran through the ground. A tremor that felt almost like a warning.
The sound came again. But this time, it wasn't a hum. It was laughter.
The sharp, rasping, almost-silent laugh that brushed against her ears. She couldn't tell if it was real, or just a part of her mind playing tricks.
She thought about calling someone—her mother, her friends—but her throat closed up. The air felt thick, like a fog had swallowed the world around her.
Kiera stared at the sky again. The clouds were no longer moving. They were hanging over her, unnatural in their stillness. Something was coming. Something was wrong.
Her stomach churned.
Her eyes watered from the intensity of the stars, and she could swear she saw them shift. They moved slowly at first, but it wasn't the motion of planets orbiting. No, it was something else. Something deliberate, something malevolent.
Then, she heard a voice. A soft, mocking voice.
"You're too late."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't even a shout. It was cold, detached, and hollow. It was the sound of a world that had already died. A joke played on the universe itself.
She stumbled back, hitting the doorframe as she turned and tried to escape inside. Her breath caught in her throat. It felt like the walls themselves were pulling inward, suffocating her. She fought the panic rising inside her, but her chest felt tight. Her lungs wouldn't fill.
She slammed her palm against the door, but it wouldn't open. She could feel the pulse under her feet growing stronger, faster, as though the very earth had begun to respond to some unseen force. She had to get inside.
Kiera forced herself to breathe through the panic. Something wasn't right. The stars had stopped moving. The noise—the laughter—it wasn't just a trick of her mind. It was real. Something was here.
She yanked at the door again, this time with more force. But it wouldn't budge.
The air around her grew colder. She could hear the echo of footsteps on the ground, too far to be real, but they came closer.
Closer.
Her hand trembled against the door, and for just a moment, she thought she saw a figure in the corner of her eye, standing in the distance, between the trees. But when she turned to look, there was nothing.
Everything was wrong. The air was wrong. The night was wrong. She could feel her pulse quicken as the laughter crept closer.
And then it stopped.
Silence.
Kiera collapsed to her knees, the door still shut tight. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, trembling, her eyes darting to the sky. The laughter had stopped, but something else was coming.
She could feel it.
A shadow. A deep, black shadow, moving across the sky like a storm too dark to be real.
But it wasn't a storm. It was Loki.
Kiera looked up at the sky again. She thought she saw his face, just for a second, peering down at her through the dark. His smile was cruel, and his eyes held the weight of centuries of mischief. He was watching her—no, not just her, everyone. He wasn't interested in saving anyone.
Her heart raced, but there was no escape.
There was no way out of this.
Kiera stood up, trying the door again. It finally gave, but not before she noticed something that made her blood run cold: the entire world had become still. No cars, no movement in the streets, no sound from the animals. It was as though time itself had come to a halt.
The air was thick with it. The world had stopped, but it was too late. Loki had already won.
Kiera turned to face him, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
The last thing she saw was Loki's face. His eyes.
He didn't need to speak. He didn't need to move.
In the final moments, before everything truly ended, Kiera understood.
It had never been a prank.