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Five years have passed since the day I first opened my eyes in this new world.
Time in Asgard feels different. The days are long, the nights short, and life moves with a mixture of glory and routine. I grew up surrounded by luxury, training, and epic tales, but above all, under the shadow of the gods… of my family.
Frigga… my mother, has been the heart of my childhood. Warm, attentive, wise. Every night, she told me ancient stories about the nine realms, about heroes and monsters, about magic and fate. Her embrace, her smile, and her sweet words were never missing when I had doubts or fears. If anyone has held my human soul together all these years, it's her.
Odin, on the other hand… is different. I respect him, as does all of Asgard. His presence is imposing, his voice resounds like a silent thunder. But as a father, he's been distant. Always busy, always watching from afar. Never cruel, but never close. His eyes study me more than they see me—as if I were part of a plan only he understands.
My brothers have grown as well. Thor—impulsive, brave, with an easy smile and a booming laugh. Loki—quieter, calculating, always thinking two steps ahead. They've both already experienced their divine ceremonies. I remember those days clearly.
For Thor, of course, it was revealed that he was the bearer of thunder. We all knew it before it was even said aloud. His very presence rumbled like a storm waiting to break. When Mjolnir rested before him, there was no doubt.
Loki's was different. His ceremony was quiet, even uncomfortable. Some whispered under their breath, but the oracle didn't hesitate: "Bearer of lies and deception, weaver of illusions." Loki merely smirked. In his eyes, I saw something else… not sadness, but determination. As if saying, "Then I'll play with the cards I was dealt."
And today… it's my turn.
I stand before the great Hall of Visions. The banners of Asgard wave above my head, and golden warriors line the sides, watching in silence. Thor clapped me on the shoulder with a grin before I entered. Loki gave me a half-smile I couldn't quite decipher—encouragement or warning.
I'm nervous. My mind keeps spinning in circles.
What divinity will be assigned to me? What does destiny expect of me?
I don't have Thor's strength, nor Loki's natural cunning. Something different pulses in me. Something I still don't fully understand.
Maybe… an echo of my past life?
I stand before the oracle, an old man with eyes white as eternal snow. Frigga watches from the throne with a gentle smile. Odin stands in the back, impassive.
The oracle raises his hand, and the entire hall falls silent.
The moment has come.
The oracle lifted his hand, and in that very instant, the hall fell into absolute silence.
No one dared speak. Not even Thor, who usually joked at every opportunity. The air was heavy with tension, as if the universe itself were holding its breath.
"Step forward, young Vidar," said the oracle, his voice deep, as if speaking from within an ancient storm.
I obeyed, walking slowly until I stood before him. I felt the weight of all eyes on me—Frigga with warmth, Loki with curiosity, Thor with excitement… and Odin, stern as ever, unmoving like a mountain untouched by a thousand storms.
The oracle extended his other hand to my forehead. His fingers trembled slightly as they touched me, and his once-blind eyes snapped open, revealing a white glow that lit the entire hall.
An invisible wind swept through the temple. Torches flickered. Golden columns quivered softly. The floor rumbled with a deep echo, as if the balance of the world had shifted for a moment.
The oracle took a step back. For a second, I doubted he would say anything.
But then, his voice rose like calm thunder, reverberating across all of Asgard.
"Balance…"
The echo of the word rippled through the hall—not as a mere statement, but as a proclamation. A universal truth.
"His divinity is Balance. Through him, the harmony of extremes shall be restored. Chaos and order, life and death, light and darkness… will bow to his will. He is the middle point, the keeper of the scale… the one who will decide whether a world falls… or is saved."
A reverent silence followed those words. No one moved. No one spoke.
The ground beneath my feet began to glow with a golden circle, covered in ancient runes I didn't recognize—but felt deep within me. Two opposing forces swirled around me: a black energy like eternal night, and a white energy as pure as cosmic light. They intertwined, surrounding me, accepting me.
My chest burned with a power I didn't fully understand but felt natural. As if it had always been there.
Frigga covered her mouth, moved. Thor furrowed his brow, confused. Loki looked intrigued… and Odin, for the first time in ages, lowered his gaze. As if this revelation stirred something within him.
"Vidar, youngest son of Odin, guardian of Universal Balance," the oracle concluded. "Fate will not guide you… you will shape it."
And then, the glow began to fade.
The murmurs began. Lesser gods bowed. Some backed away in fear. Such a divinity had never been heard of before.
I remained still, feeling the power settle within me… as if at last, the universe recognized me as something more than a child.
And within me, a voice that was not my own—but Balance itself—whispered:
"Observe. Measure. Act when needed. For even the gods… must yield to Balance."