September 19th

[runeskin]

September 19th

Training for as many hours as Meja had, all month, would have sent most other people to the care of a healer. She had breaks, such as when Frost came to visit or when she went out to spend time with the winter wolves, but for the most part her life consisted of being trained by Ingibjörg, a Valkyrie who apparently didn't remember what it had been like to be human. And when Ingibjörg wasn't training her, Fenrir was, crash-coursing her into how runic magic worked. For the first time in her life, Meja finally understood how the runes in her palms worked. Not that she could do much with the information. The rest of the time, she was avoiding swords and spears, trying to keep up with something that had much better reflexes.

That was the point, though — she was learning to think ahead in a fight, and to try and sway things in her favor. Formal training, except for sparring at the Observatory, had never been something she'd had access to. Now, she had to make up for lost time. And the Valkyrie worked her seemingly without mercy, well aware of her increased thresholds for exhaustion and hunger. Only when she was falling asleep on her feet, after an entire day or two spent awake and fighting, would Ingibjörg send her back to her room. (Where she slept like the dead, with no nightmares, for very nearly the first time in her life.)

For the most part, the Æsir and Vanir left her alone. She hadn't seen Odin since her first day on Asgard, when he'd assigned her to Ingibjörg. Occasionally she was aware that Lady Frigg would come to watch her training, on a balcony high above where they sparred, mostly from the whispers of guards. But she couldn't exactly tear her eyes from the Valkyrie; if she did, she'd find herself on the ground with a bruise somewhere painful. Of the residents of Valaskjálf, Odin's silver citadel, Meja saw very few. Her most frequent guest in her rooms was Skalla, the Norn giantess, whose usage of magic rivaled almost every person that Meja had met — save for Loki. (But she was trying very hard not to think about him, especially after their struggle only a week before.) But Skalla wasn't actually a resident. In fact, she wasn't supposed to be here at all; she lived with the rest of the Norn, in the roots of Yggdrasil. But Skalla never answered any of Meja's questions about why she was helping her, and so Meja had stopped asking and was just silently grateful for the giantess' help. It meant, though, that with those few exceptions, she wasn't used to being disturbed.

So when Meja awoke from one of her hard sleeps and found Eir, one of Frigg's handmaidens, sitting on the edge of her bed, she was surprised.

'Jolting and falling out of bed' was surprise.

Honir, at the foot of the bed and invisible to all of Asgard, save perhaps the Allfather, rolled his eyes at her. Or the place she'd been a second ago, anyway. "It's Eir," he drawled.

Normally she might have fired back something a bit withering, but with company she didn't want it to seem like she talked to thin air. Meja stood up and cleared her throat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Milady."

Eir had long, dark hair, and her green eyes were both warm and secretive. She was dressed as she normally was, in a pale grey gown and well-worn slippers. As a handmaiden, it wasn't becoming to dress more beautifully than the Queen. "Champion," she greeted Meja, and to Meja's relief she didn't comment on her... 'energetic awakening'. "Did you sleep well?"

Meja considered that. She felt extremely rested, as she had for most of the month. As she normally only slept as much as she needed — three hours, sometimes less — it was still a sensation that she was getting used to. "I did, thank you... Was there something you needed?" It was probably poor courtesy to directly ask one of the Queen's handmaidens what she was doing in your room. Certain men, and women, wouldn't have objected in the slightest.

"Mm." The goddess nodded. "I have come to offer my help with your problem."

"My... problem?" She furrowed a brow. There were several items in that category.

Tucking her hair behind an ear, Eir smiled. "The World Eater," she said softly. "I believe Lady Skalla has told you of what the Norns say? That you will not survive the fight?"

"Yes, she did."

And having a Fate tell you that you were slotted to die did a potential number on your confidence. But even if Meja died, she wasn't going to put her tail between her legs and run away from the fight. She would at least play her part, and fulfill her promise to Lady Frigg. That way, even if she didn't survive, she would go with honor — having done everything she could. With some regrets, certainly, but nothing that would mar her spirit.

"Do you believe that our chains say everything about our futures?" Eir continued.

Meja swallowed, thinking of the legend. Supposedly, when anyone was born, the Norns put a chain around your neck — silver and imperceptible except to the giantess'. Your life's deeds were already carved into the chain's ringlets, and its length determined how long you would live. She'd always thought of the legend as pure commentary, a method of questioning how a person thought about fate and free will.

Mostly because she believed in free will, had made her choices to get to this point, had already defied fate by sparing humanity in Fimbulvetr; she shook her head. "No."

"That's what I thought." Eir's smile became a grin. She held out her hand. "Give me your arm. I am giving you my protection."

Despite the swirl of confusion she felt, Meja extended her arm forward. "Why are you helping me? Not that I'm ungrateful, you understand, but..."

Eir placed her hand over the bottom of Meja's left forearm, concentrating a moment before she glanced up at the Champion's face. There was a great, sudden sadness to her eyes that surprised Meja — a feeling as ancient and strong as the goddess was herself. "When Baldr died, Lady Frigg was beside herself in grief," she said slowly. "Her first Great Sadness. Her second was to be when the Allfather dies in Ragnarok, but instead, it was when Thor was killed on Midgard by the trickster Loki. She wouldn't speak, as though his death had taken something out of her. This went on for so long that we were half convinced she would never speak again. If the Allfather dies as well..."

"You want me to protect Odin?" she guessed, feeling weary just from the idea.

"No," Eir said quickly, shaking her head. "You misunderstand. The day Lady Frigg spoke again was the day she went to visit you, when you were a little girl. And I know that seeing you and your father reunited has helped to rekindle some of her. If the end comes and the Allfather must die, I do not want to see her mourn for three. I do not think my Lady could take it."

Meja shifted, a little uncomfortably, at the mention of her father. Like all 'brave heroes', he'd been made an Einherjar — an immortal warrior of Odin, feasting and fighting in Valhalla until Ragnarok came. He'd been allowed to come see her a few times, and... while they hadn't really made up for lost time, some of the terrible pressure she'd felt since his death had lifted. It had seemed silly to hold onto a grudge like that when so many were without their parents completely.

Still. Three. That was something she was trying very hard not to think about. Because when Ragnarok finally arrived —

"Meja?"

She stirred, aware that she'd slipped away briefly. "Sorry." She offered Eir a smile. "...you must care about your Queen quite a bit."

Eir chuckled. She was still holding Meja's arm. "Lady Frigg is like a second mother to me," she said simply. She began to trace a pattern on the underside of Meja's forearm, murmuring under her breath in Old Norse. Meja understood it only because of her runes, as it was the main language of the Æsir, though her mother had been as fluent as any scholar in the subject. Laguz, mark of my cleansing—

Pain shot through her arm, so strong it broke her concentration on what Eir was saying, followed by a cool feeling, like her arm was being dipped into a stream. She took a deep breath, opening her eyes again, and looked to her arm. Fixed to it was a forked rune, just like her other two, that looked as though it had been burned there. She blinked.

"Now you're marked by two Æsir," Honir said, moving forward to peer more closely. He, too, had cringed at the (at first) unwelcome sensation.

Eir, who of course could not hear her dæmon, smiled, but the expression was brief. It quickly sobered to something serious and focused. "This mark will help you heal, when Jormungandr's venom enters your blood. But it will not protect you from the full brunt of his venom's destructive power. For that, you will need to travel, and you will need to trust me."

"Travel where?"

"Only the World Eater's family can protect you." She was quiet a moment. "You are an unusual person to have made it this far, choosing kindness rather than brute force. It is because of this that you already have the loyalty of one of Jormungandr's family members." Meja knew that she was speaking of Fenrir. "Perhaps that will be enough to grant you the mercy of his most powerful sibling."

Hel. Goddess of the realm of the same name, who received the souls of those who died from sickness and old age. Half flesh, half darkness, if the legends were anything to go by.

Meja shook her head. "Hel sends her dead against Asgard, on the side of her father," she noted. "Why would she help me defeat Jormungandr? There's nothing in it for her."

"I did mention that you'd need to trust me," Eir said, the corners of her lips quirking upward. "You can provide something that would comfort Lady Hel greatly. But you'd need to go to her, to ask for her mark. Fenrir would need to go with you."

"Surtr's champions have been trying to get at me, to make sure I can't fulfill my part of the prophecy. Marching down to the land of the dead sounds like a good way to give them access." Meja tried to keep the dryness out of her tone, but it was difficult.

She didn't know how to react to that, that the king of the fire giants was apparently less attached to the prophecy than Asgard — and evidently more keen to change it. It made logical sense, as Surtr was slated to die, but when had these things ever been logical?

Eir chuckled. "I have not lived in Valaskjálf without picking up a few tricks of my own," she noted. "So, I ask again: do you trust me?"

---

Finding Fenrir was easy, when he was on Asgard. He, like Meja, preferred the company of the winter wolves, who were his distant descendants. Though he was too large for their cave, he would lay outside of it and take comfort in their presence. The great wolf, who stood sixteen feet tall at the shoulder, received his nutrition from the energy of Yggdrasil itself, which he used to travel between realms. Meja was grateful, on this particular day, that he wasn't running on the World Tree's branches and was evidently taking a nap near the cave. She'd need his presence if this crazy scheme of Eir's was to come to fruition.

Erling sprang to his feet at her approach, ears swiveling forward. The young winter wolf had seemingly boundless energy, despite knowing full well the dangers associated with Meja's present situation (he'd been present at the opening of the second cage, after all, where they had been beseiged by draugr and a very ornery kraken). His pack's cave wasn't too far from where the Window had resettled, a coincidence which had, in a way, saved her life. She remembered being mistaken for a dark elf in the night, by Ingibjörg; Erling had raced to her side, convincing the Valkyrie of who she really was.

"Hei hei, Erling," she chuckled. "How are you this morning?"

He made a squeaking and whining noise, snorting alongside, a combination that was ridiculous coming out of a wolf who stood six feet tall at the shoulder. Meja laughed quietly and stroked his head. It was a noise she associated with 'bored, but fine'. (Just when had she started to understand wolf?)

"I'm glad to hear it."

Meja walked the several feet to where Fenrir lay. His side raised up and down in measured, slow movements, which Meja took to mean that he was deep asleep. She felt a little bad, disturbing him, as she placed a hand on one of his massive ears. But this was important. To her, at least. And if she couldn't start asking for help now...

"Fen? I'm sorry to wake you, but I need your help..."

One of his massive blue eyes slid open, focusing on her groggily before he yawned, exposing his extremely large fangs for a brief moment. Meja had first felt uneasiness upon seeing them — but now, they were allies. The second cage had been tricky, but he'd never backed down from guarding her while she'd opened it. He could have easily retreated, and no one would have blamed him for it. But instead, he'd stuck with her. And she, in turn, had made sure that none of the Draugr had injured him.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice had a certain booming quality, coming out of his muzzle even if there was no way he could have spoken like that. As Meja was learning, chalk it up to magic and move on. "Are you injured? You smell differently."

As he sniffed at her, creating a small breeze, Meja smiled a little. "No, I'm fine. Eir gave me her mark." She showed him her forearm. "It didn't hurt as much as the others." But as she was the goddess of healing, that made sense. "But, uh... she has an idea for how I can survive Jormungandr's venom. And it's... going to require a visit to your sister."

Fenrir was silent for a long moment. She wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd seen Hel. Perhaps not since Odin had split them up. Despite herself, Meja started to regret her request. Maybe it was too painful of a subject for their still-tenuous friendship. Having someone's back was one thing, but talking about family when your family was like Fenrir's...

"I look forward to it," he said finally, surprising her. "I trust Eir has an indirect method of contacting her. Many in Hel would love to get their hands on you, and none of them would be pleasant."

Meja nodded. "She does." Gently, she reached to her shoulder, where a small moth was sitting. The white-grey creature, as big as one of her palms, made a soft clicking noise. "We're going to send her a message with this little guy, to meet us in Niflheim." As Eir had explained it, moths like this one could travel Yggdrasil, and had a special connection to Hel. They could repeat simple messages in whispered tones, providing the secrecy that was required for this meeting. There was a certain danger with the plan, as there were things that lived on Yggdrasil that liked moths as a special treat, but Eir evidently trusted this particular one's speed.

A rumble — a rolling chuckle — worked its way out of the giant wolf. "How strange, that your fate should depend on one so little!" he said. "But it is fitting, is it not, considering your part to play in this tangle?"

She wasn't completely sure that she liked what that implied, that she was the moth who could at any time be accidentally swatted or eaten, but shrugged a little, letting it slide. "Maybe so." Meja let the moth climb onto her hand and then whispered the message to him.

He clicked again, as though affirming her message, before lifting silently into the air and making his way through the trees. It wasn't long before he'd vanished completely. He, like Fenrir, had a more primal connection to the World Tree that he could utilize.

"So, where is it that we meet my sister?" Fenrir inquired, standing up and stretching his long limbs.

"I thought we'd go to Virmirth's Peak," Meja said, pulling a leaf idly from his fur. "Now that we have a treaty with the Frost Giants." Virmirth's Peak was a small mountain just inside Frost Giant territory, always quiet and completely lacking wildlife of its own. Legend said that the mountain was lonely, but no one was quite sure why nothing other than a few hardy trees grew or lived there. It seemed a fitting place to meet the goddess of the dead, as it was in Niflheimr — the realm in which, supposedly, all three of Loki's most infamous children had been born.

Fenrir nodded. "Your wintery friend proves himself quite useful."

At the mention of Frost, who had negotiated most of the treaty with the giants — who were his kin, though kin from another world — Meja smiled. "He's a good soul." Which she meant as an abstract, as the lack of a dæmon called his actual soul into question. But clearly having a soul wasn't the only parameter for kindness or intelligence.

"Are we bringing little Erling with us?"

The winter wolf wuffed, ears alert, and Meja chuckled. "I suppose if we're going to the home of his people, it would only be prudent to have him come along... As long as he's willing?" A bark. She grinned. "All right, then. Let's give our moth friend an hour or two, and be on our way."

---

Traveling across Yggdrasil was an unnerving experience. Fenrir, as an ancient creature of cunning and magic, had access to the World Tree's limbs and roots. 'Access points' were hard to pinpoint for most creatures, and Meja still wasn't sure how the giant wolf managed to find them at all. It was something instinctual, as far as she could tell; something that eluded definition. Somehow, he managed to find the entrances, which reminded Meja strongly of Windows. It was like looking into a space filled with fog, a cave mouth that could appear anywhere when it was uncovered. A gaping maw that became a tunnel.

What she'd been most surprised by, however, was how literal the 'World Tree' moniker was. As she ran next to Fenrir full-out, keeping up because of her runes, she was struck by it again. Beneath her feet was a root so large it was like a road, and on all sides were smoke and fog and an encompassing blackness. Occasionally the root would branch in several directions. Fenrir would breathe in deeply and then divert his course, or stay on the same root, and Meja could only assume that he knew the smell of each realm. She decided that she was going to ask him about it, when they weren't trying to prevent Ragnarök from imploding on itself.

It would be a while, in all likelihood.

Erling ran behind them, with his ears flat to his skull. Yggdrasil scared the daylights out of the poor wolf. He much preferred when Skalla used her magic to get them between realms. For the entirety of their trip, he kept his eyes trained on the two creatures in front of him. There were unpleasant creatures who lived on the roots, such as dragons with scales so dark they were almost invisible in the dim light, but nothing dared mess with them as long as Fenrir was along for the trip.

Occasionally, Meja heard voices in the fog. Whispers. But this comforted her, rather than unnerving her; it told her that the World Tree was finally put to right, again. It was the World Tree's living essence that she, Fenrir, Erling and Frost had released from the second cage. A cage on board an ancient ship, forced to the surface from the bottom of the sea when the sea itself on Midgard had frozen. Meja had heard its voice before, when her town had collapsed into a chasm left by the breaking of the first cage. It had saved her from the full fall, with the last of its strength and one of its smallest roots, imploring her to save it. And now, she had.

Perhaps it would allow her access, too, when all of this was over, since the Bifrost was foretold to be destroyed.

Finally, fog and a crisp cold swirled in front of them, and Meja felt the sensation of falling as she ran through it — an uncomfortable clenching of her stomach, her muscles in free-fall. It was difficult to tell where she was, exactly. Between realms, maybe. The void that she'd heard so much about. And then her heavy, armored boots hit land again and she took a deep breath, the air clearing around her.

---

Niflheimr was a land of ice, rock and fog; it was the ancestral home of the frost giants and the winter wolves. This particular part of the realm was much more clear and easy to gaze across, snow a solid white blanket on the ground, peppered with hardy trees that resembled particularly spiky evergreens. It was difficult to actually see the trees because of how much snow was piled on top of them, but that didn't appear to bother them at all. They emerged next to a small mountain peak: Virmirth's Peak. Fenrir's ability to find, and arrive at, specific locations in his home realm never failed to impress Meja.

It was nighttime, but the land was bathed in plenty of starlight. Erling let out something that sounded like a relieved sigh, and Meja paused, catching her breath and rubbing behind one of his ears. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed, on Yggdrasil, but she knew her own limits. They hadn't been running for more than hour, at the most.

"I hope you gave my sister good incentive to come," Fenrir said. His blue eyes, surprisingly human, swept the landscape in front of them. For the moment, they were the only living creatures in sight.

Meja smiled nervously. "Me, too."

She'd promised that Hel could speak to her brother, as long as she liked, and that he would be coming along with her. She wasn't sure how sentimental the goddess was, but that had to count for something.

"Let's leave the open ground, for now. I can smell many predators on the air."

They headed up the slope of the mountain itself, which had fewer trees than everything else around it. It felt — disconcerting. Like a lost land, somehow. Something better left forgotten. Its snow was packed tightly, slippery, prompting Erling to whine as his claws scrambled for purchase. Finally, they stopped, and turned to look at the flat expanses of land on all side. If anything approached, they would be able to see it coming.

Or so they thought.

Not a moment later, a quiet voice echoed across the snow. From behind them. "Greetings, my brother."

Erling yiped as they quickly turned around. Standing behind them was a female figure in a long, dark cloak. Half of her face was fair and porcelain-hued, the other half shadow and smoke. Despite her unusual appearance, she had an air of dignity and ease about her, and wore a small smile. Her gaze was mostly directed at Fenrir, who she approached and who quickly moved forward to meet her. She locked her arms around one of his great legs in a hug, and closed both eyes.

This was Hel, the goddess of the dead, her hair flowing and the rest of her attire simple.

"Sister," said Fenrir, looking down at her. Meja, who was still learning to read the giant creature, thought that he seemed... overwhelmed. "It is good to see you." He lowered his giant head and nuzzled it against his much smaller sibling, closing his own eyes.

"And you, brother... I confess, I thought we would only meet again on the day the skies turn dark and the water swallows Midgard..."

They were quiet for a moment, lost in each other, before Hel released her wolf brother and turned to Meja. Her eyes, which had gleamed with unshed tears just moments before, narrowed a little. Meja might have been lost in some social graces, but she knew the emotions assembled there: mistrust, confusion, and anger. "Odinchampion. We meet, at last."

Meja bowed her head respectfully. "Milady."

"I am grateful you have come here with my brother," she went on, "but I must ask you, do you think that you will leave this meeting unscathed?"

She tensed, but Fenrir nudged Hel before she could say anything in reply. "Sister. The Champion is with me. I would appreciate no harm coming to her."

Hel whirled on him, eyes bright again. "I do not... understand. Surtr is going against the prophecy. And you as well? If we have acted against it, how will we know what will happen when the last cage is broken? And with father in the shape that he is..."

"We're acting against it because not all has to be lost," Meja said quietly. "Your brother doesn't have to die. The Allfather doesn't have to die. We can choose our own paths."

She was quiet, absorbing this for a long moment, before she spoke again. "This was never supposed to happen."

Fenrir let out a loud snort. "Father chose this, sister. He killed Thor. He acted out against the prophecy first. He..." The wolf, like Meja, had had contact with his Norse trickster father recently, and his voice grew bitter. "He could have broken me from the cage, when his own was broken by the dökkálfar. He could have spoken to me, at the very least. But he didn't, and for that he loses my loyalty."

Hel turned to Meja, her expression much more soft, now. "They say a Norn accompanies you. They also say that the Norns have foretold your death on the battlefield, by the venom of our other brother..."

How many times were people going to remind her of that? Meja shifted uncomfortably. "That's sort of what we came to discuss. Other than you two generally... catching up," she said, feeling awkward just at the mention. "I'm told that you can place a mark on me that will stop Jormungandr's venom from being able to kill me."

"I can." Hel paused. "Is this what you have truly decided to do, then? Cheat death? Cheat the ranks of the Valkyrie out of their next general?"

Maybe she was just special. Maybe everyone thought it was fun to make her uncomfortable. Meja bit her lower lip, fighting a grumble. She wasn't talking to just anyone. Even with Fenrir here, Hel was still a goddess, and she could kill Meja without much fuss if she was offended by her attitude. That much was clear, from her earlier comments; clearly the whole situation had her rattled and on edge.

"Yes." Meja shrugged. "For a time."

No human in the nine realms could escape death permanently. As she said it, she heard a high whine, and realized that Erling was cowering in the snow several feet away, able to sense what Hel was. The sight stirred her out of her irritation, and she crossed to the winter wolf and carded her fingers through his fur to offer him reassurance.

"Easy," she murmured quietly. "You'll be all right."

"You are a very strange creature," Hel decided, her gaze sweeping over the two wolves. "I am told you keep the company of dragons, as well. And of course there is the Norn, my brother, his descendants... and, rumor has it, a spirit of winter... Heroes before you would simply slay them, or try to. But you don't. Why?"

Meja was genuinely startled by the question. "Slay them?" She glanced at Erling and rubbed behind one of his massive ears. "Why would I ever need to? Beyond their food, they're not harming anything. Just because they don't speak like us doesn't mean they don't have a right to live." He whined, again, and she stroked his muzzle gently. "Erling is my friend. That's all that matters."

The people of her world might have failed her, in several ways, but the wolves never had. They'd stuck by her. She'd stuck by them.

"Strange," Hel repeated. She looked to Fenrir, and her gaze shifted. To Meja, it looked mournful, and her tone became somber. "I will do as you ask, Champion. You will have my mark. But I have a condition, a task to ask of you. I do not think it arduous, given that, in return, you will live to see past Ragnarök — as long as Asgard prevails."

"Name it."

"Save my brother."

Meja blinked. "Save...?"

"Save Fenrir from his fate," she implored, her voice stronger, now. "Make sure that he survives the battle. If you do that, the mark will stay with you, and I will remain your patron. If you fail, the mark will fade, and the venom of the World Eater will destroy you."

Fenrir let out a whine of his own. "Sister—"

"This is my condition!" Hel interrupted him. She threw up a hand to stop any further comments from her wolf brother. "I want family when this is over. I'm tired of us being separated. If we are going to defy fate, my brother, then this is how I am going to do it."

Without anything in the way of hesitation, Meja responded. "I'll do it, milady. I promise you, I'll make sure that he comes out safely." Even if she had to beat away confused Æsir (though most of them, by now, had heard of his allegiance change).

Fenrir glanced down at her, and their eyes — two different shades of blue — met. An understanding, and a warmth, passed between them. It was a simple enough decision. Fenrir was her friend, too. And once someone was her friend, she would protect them to the best of her abilities.

And if her abilities failed her...

They would come to that bridge later. Much later, with any luck.

"Good." Hel pulled something from a pocket of her gown, and Meja saw that it was a crude-looking knife with a bone handle. According to lore, this was a blade called Famine. Despite its simple appearance, it was undoubtedly very powerful. "Then step forward. But I warn you now, Meja" — she started, a little, at the use of her name — "that it will not be pleasant to receive the mark of the dead."

Meja took a deep breath, even as Erling whined uncertainly at the sight of the weapon, and crossed back to Hel. The goddess took her right arm and turned it expose the underside of her forearm, just as Eir had done with her left.

"Brace yourself," she murmured, and then she cut the skin of Meja's arm.

The pain was unlike what Meja had felt before. It didn't just hurt, it felt wrong. When she had received her first two runes, it had felt as if the sun was burning her skin with its direct flames. This was something different. It felt as though she was being marked somewhere far deeper than her on her arm, somewhere it should have been impossible to mark. Her knees nearly gave out, and she heard Honir yowling in distressed pain at her feet. But she kept her eyes trained on Hel's knife as the goddess worked. She breathed hard, with determination to keep conscious.

When Hel was done, Haglaz gleamed bloody and bright on her arm, and shadows danced in front of her eyes. The goddess released her and she would have collapsed, but a warm and furry presence beside her kept her upright — Fenrir, head lowered to provide support. Meja held onto him gratefully, continuing to focus on her breathing. The pain wasn't lessening.

"Keep your promise, Odinchampion," Hel murmured, "and you will live. Farewell, my brother. With any luck, we will see each other again."

Meja barely registered as the goddess vanished, just as she'd appeared. All she felt was the pain somehow increasing, and Honir beginning to yowl and hiss again.

She was more grateful for the great wolf's presence than ever as he lowered his body and murmured, "Get on, Meja. I'll take you back to Asgard. You'll need to rest, if you're to break open Jormungandr's cage in a few days' time."

In truth, she barely processed getting on top of her friend, as she fell in and out of consciousness with her fingers tangled tightly in his fur. Fenrir, hurling through the passages of Yggdrasil, deposited her into the cave of the winter wolves, where the alpha female and Erling kept close by as she recovered, sleeping solidly for nearly ten hours.

It was now all on a last event: the breaking of the World Eater's prison. And then Midgard itself would break.