RAGNAROK IS COMING


— Prologue —

Rustling leaves bounced and swayed as a red-crested robin crowned the tip of a bloated pine tree. The small body shook the settled peace into a slight flurry, a minor inconvenience. It's carrot-end beak pecked scarlet holly berries and, unsatisfied they would not topple from their stems, the robin creaked and flew off. Basil and pine revealed themselves behind a curtain of chalky snow, but they were soon to be engulfed again if the powder sky was any warning.

Below the tree slept a bouquet of baby hedgehogs, wreathed in on themselves and snuggled beneath the protection of roots. They lay undisturbed and peaceful, unbeknownst to the arrival.

He was a man at first sight. A tall, lean man with windswept brown hair and an impossibly handsome face. But when you looked closer, when you squinted against the blinding sun that reflected off the snowy ground, you could see that he was not a man. And suppose you could feel it too; if you paid attention. Feel the overflowing faculty teeming with every nimble step, like a shimmer in the fabric of the world he encapsulated. But a simple human could not sense such a force and therefore he was not a man.

And now, there, demanding to be seen despite the cover of a hood were pointed ears. Not the thick and dagger-like ears of fairies and elves from a child's storybooks. No, these were slim, delicate, and slightly curved up as of reaching. They framed his sharp angles perfectly and were adorned in the most splendid, glowing silver rings.

The man- male pulled his hood down and graced the crisp air with his presence. O' it was a sad smile he echoed to a pained heart, for he was sad. Not the kind of sadness of loss or pain but of quiet hope and joy. Of forgotten memories and old traditions. Of a warm fire and soft kisses. The kind that made you weep in sorrow and love.

He pulled off his coat now and let it fall in a silent descend to show off the black leather of his tunic. Unveiled, inked arms, corded with years of thick muscle, stretched behind to slide out two blades. Twin swords in every aspect but the hilt. One held a heavy emerald in its gape and the other a sapphire. Like eyes, they peered at their surroundings and, if one didn't know better, one would think they blinked in disapproval. But stones could not blink.

The swords were swung in a skilled arch before they plunged in a violent slice through snow and earth. The male knelt before the two blades and pulled out a third dagger from the bellows of his boots. He pressed its ridge to his brows and held, not yet breaking the skin.

"I, Avrid Gúigráìn Oläńń, your King, demand you to my side."

And then everything shuddered awake.

The ground shook and trees growled angrily, their branches snapping and snarling together. The male, however, kept his ground and faltered not, he simply held the blade so tight his fingers bled of any colour. Near silent words tumbled from sure lips and something began to form behind both eyes. The ground cracked a great tear through the earth, opening pits of where only darkness roamed. Where something ghastly and outright terrible ruled.

Bone white, skinless fingers curled the lip of the rocky ridge. They tapped the crumbling ridge as if curious about their summon, pondering the worth of answering to it. The male, Avrid, stood finally and he did not seem afraid, he did not baulk at the shattered earth or eerie creatures he did awake.

"You will answer my bid."

"Your bid?" It was not a voice that echoed. It was sound, something without conscience or words.

"And what do you offer, King"

Avrid crossed his arms. "A ruler."

An answer enough it seemed because those fingers disappeared only for something else to appear. The image of unholiness, of everything evil and dead, began crawling from the pit. They had no bodies, only shadows but what they touched the land died. Like a plague without mercy or tolerance, it demised what lay in its path. Creatures of life died where tendrils of dark and shadows reigned.

"Your souls are mine and I call upon you now as my subjects."

"Then we shall march for King Avrid Gúigráìn Oläńń. We give black souls but for a simple answer."

Avrid gave the slightest of nods.

"Who are we to kill."

Avrid smiled. "A Queen. Two queens. Hela, ruler of Helheim and Tianfar Gúigráìn Oläńń. I want both, the first dead and the latter…" He dropped any pretence of amusement.

"You will bring her to me, Tianfar. You will bring her to me so that I may burn the realms and rest assured not a single flame may warm her skin."

His hands shook.

"They took her away from me."

His breath growled.

"And they will burn."

The world shuddered as death grinned.

...oOo...