Loki stood staring down at the dead Vanir at his feet. His throat was slashed clean across, the crimson of his blood bright against his pale skin. The coagulation process was taking over, but there would be no respite for this man. He was dead and it had been at Loki's hand. Emerald eyes blinked slowly as he gaped at the Vanir before he tore his gaze away to examine his dagger. Blood stained the steel and oddly enough, Loki felt no remorse. Instead, he felt a power surging through his veins, the seidr the Vanir had possessed stolen and now rightfully his.