Chapter 14. Broken Soul Blues

They downed their glasses of Tenth Realm liquor at the same time.

[Oh my God! This is genius! Fruits and berries blended into a symphony of flavor. Ambrosia melting smoothly down the throat. The perfect balance of taste and alcohol. Divine.]

"Divine," she smiled. "I can feel a light buzz. Our bodies destroy any alcohol like poison. This liquor affects the soul."

"That’s why all sorcerers and witches drink it," John sat down in the offered chair. "Your name... it’s so human."

"Hah. You thought, like everyone else, that I was Thor’s sister, a princess of Asgard," she poured them another round. "Want the truth? I’m not a goddess, not a princess, not even a warrior. I’m a nurse. A plumber’s daughter."

They emptied their glasses.

"If I were a real goddess, would I have let my father die of cancer? Every day after school, I sat there and watched him waste away..."

There were no tears in her voice. Just exhaustion.

"You know what’s the worst part?" Jane ran a finger along the rim of her glass. "When a person stops looking like themselves. When they’re just a shell, but you still have to sit beside them and smile like nothing’s happening."

"The Graveyard."

"What?"

"The floor for the dying," he said, looking at the waves outside the window. "That’s what they called it at the hospital where my father was."

"So you..."

"Yeah. My father died in a cancer ward too."

After another round, John told her about his childhood in the circus, his motorcycle lessons, and how the person he loved most had suffered.

"And I thought I had a rough life," she smiled without joy. "You said you barely graduated because you kept getting expelled..."

"For constant fights," John added. "They even called me Demon."

"Fitting," Jane looked at him with amusement. "The moment I saw you, I knew you were a troublemaker in school."

"And you were obviously a straight-A student," he scoffed. "The kind who always lectures others and tattles to teachers."

"Hey! I got into fights too!" She blew a stray lock of hair from her face. "When bullies picked on younger kids, I stepped in... Okay, fine, it only happened twice, and only when the teachers were too far away."

"Don’t worry. I don’t judge," John poured them another drink. "Even calling the teachers is a lot. Most people just turn away."

They drank.

"A girl who defended the weak and became a nurse after losing her father," John summed up. "How did you end up as Thor’s little sister?"

"Don't call me that!" She slammed her hand on the table.

"Okay, how did you become Thunderheart?"

"Ohhh..." she ran a hand through her hair. "It was in Zimbabwe. I was working with Doctors Without Borders, providing free medical aid to those in need. Then I started having visions... I stole my supervisor’s car and drove deep into the jungle, where I found a hammer that had fallen from the sky. I was sure Mjolnir was calling to me..."

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"And in reality?"

"Loki."

"Oh, fuck..."

"You know that bastard?" She looked at him, her eyes slightly unfocused.

"He’s got a reputation," John drummed his fingers on the table. "Even in hell, he’s famous as a master of wicked schemes."

"That’s very accurate," she lifted her hammer and stared at it thoughtfully. "Your Zarathos embodies vengeance. But my Mjolnir… It’s more complicated. Justice, hope, a dream. Thor was deemed unworthy."

John listened in silence, not interrupting.

"Daddy Odin really wanted his little boy to have the best rattle in the universe. So he put on quite a show," Jane placed the hammer on the table. "He sealed a thousand years of memories inside Thor and created a human body for his soul—crippled, with a doctor’s profession. Thor believed he was just a regular man, Donald Blake, living on Earth for over thirty years. All that time was meant to shape the right experience and character for him to lift Mjolnir."

"Took you way less time," John smirked, eyeing her figure—clearly under thirty. "What happened next?"

"Odin wrote the script, pulled the strings, planned every step of Donald’s life. In the end, he arranged his trip to Zimbabwe. There, paid-off enemies, fake hardships, and actress in distress were all waiting for him. And then, just thirty minutes before the grand finale of a thirty-year performance—I lifted Mjolnir. Odin and Thor threw a fit. Somewhere in the distance, Loki laughed."

[Hell, even I’m laughing! What a way to screw over your father and brother. Loki’s got real talent!]

"Loki told you all this?" John caught on quickly.

"Yeah. He also gave me a manual on how to handle Mjolnir and a bunch of other Asgardian stuff," she poured another glass and downed it instantly. "When Thor got his memories back, he was pissed. Now he tells everyone I stole his hammer."

"Strange’s reaction makes sense now," John nodded. "And so does the fact that you don’t hang around other superheroes."

Jane silently drank another shot of liquor.

"Hey, why don’t we get some fresh air?" John stood up abruptly, dizziness hitting him, but he managed to stay steady. "We’ll finish drinking outside."

Supporting each other, they climbed onto the lighthouse roof and sat by the railing, legs dangling over the edge. The cool air cleared their heads a bit. The sunset sky, the vast ocean—perfect scenery for a serious talk.

"Jane, you have more experience than me… I need advice… Screw it!" He downed his drink. "Zarathos is killing my soul. I have thirteen months left to live."

Jane studied his face for a long moment, then… burst into laughter. Her laughter echoed across the lighthouse.

"What’s so funny, you idiot?!" He grabbed her by the shoulders. "I’m dying!"

"You came to my home looking for salvation," she wiped away a tear. "The joke is—I invited you for the same reason."

John froze.

"You…" He pulled back.

"I have five months left."

[She’s just like me… Just as cursed…]

John and Jane embraced the way only those who would never see another sunrise could. They laughed and cried. They cursed Odin and Mephisto, shouting their rage into the wind. They didn’t give a damn about gods or devils.

"That bastard Thor is just drinking and waiting for you to die?" John jabbed a finger at her chest plate. "Then he’ll walk up to your corpse and lift the hammer. Is that it?!"

"Asgardians live for millennia," Jane curled five fingers. "For Thor, waiting a few years is nothing."

"Piece of shit!" John downed the last drops of liquor.

Jane stared quietly at the sea.

"Maybe we should just accept it."

John flinched. He hadn’t expected her to say that.

"Accept it?!"

"I mean…," her voice was quiet, "we lived short but bright lives. A lot of people don’t even get that."

"That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard! I don’t accept it!"

"Calm down, John," she gently stroked his shoulder. "Nothing can be changed."

"No! I’m missing something," he stared at the cliffs below. A thought formed in his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. "Thor wants to take back Mjolnir, right?"

"He won’t have to wait much longer."

"But what happens after? Do you know what happens next?"

"Go on," a flicker of interest cut through the melancholy in her voice.

"Thor plays with his little hammer for five years, and then what? Just climbs into a coffin? I doubt it." John shook his head, dismissing the idea as impossible. "Soul decay is the final death. He wouldn’t even make it to Valhalla."

"Neither would we," Jane hugged her knees.

"Soul decay is better than going to hell, trust me," the demonologist scoffed. His alcohol-fogged brain kept churning out ideas. "But that’s not the point. Odin wouldn’t allow that kind of ending. He spent thirty years setting up this game just to lose everything in five? Bullshit. And completely destroying his son’s soul? That’s not the kind of thing a ‘caring father’ does. You get what that means?"

She shook her head.

"Thor knows how to stop soul decay!" John grabbed her shoulders, staring into her eyes. "We beat the shit out of him, get the secret, and live happily ever after!"

Her pupils dilated, and then… she smiled.

"Let’s do it!"

It wasn’t a plan. Just the drunken fantasies of two doomed souls.

But even those at death’s door need hope.