A/N

Hi everyone, thanks for all the comments and helpful tips!

I've done a bit of a rewrite to address some of the points you guys raised. Nothing major, but I think it helps with immersion. Munnin's speed has been adjusted to be more realistic for a bird of his status. However, please remember he's not at full power yet.

I've also changed the cloak's name to better fit the Nordic theme—it's now called Nóttkápur. For those who don't want to read back, Taylor's height has been updated to 5'10". There are a few other tweaks to improve immersion and fix some formatting issues, including fixing those near-twin paragraphs.

I definitely need to improve my editing and proofreading process, as I think that's what's causing the twin paragraphs issue.

Regarding Taylor's powers and her fight with Oni Lee—her loss was intentional. I didn't want her to start with everything figured out and then just dominate the world. I think that's a bit overdone. Don't get me wrong, this is leaning towards an OP Taylor because of the Odin alt power, but there will be a gradual build-up. Not glacially slow, but with key events leading to her escalation.

All I ask is—let me land, guys :)

Chapter 8: Forged in Fear

That Night, After her battle with Oni Lee

The air in Taylor's room felt thick, heavy with the weight of her thoughts. The distant hum of the city outside, usually a comforting backdrop, was now muted, overpowered by the echo of her internal turmoil. She sat on the edge of her bed, muscles stiff from the fight, body still aching, but the pain paled compared to the storm raging inside her.

Her fingers hovered over the spot where Oni Lee's blade had cut into her side. The wound had healed without a trace, but the phantom pain lingered—sharp, just beneath the skin. A stark reminder of how close she'd come to losing everything. Too close.

The dim light filtering through her curtains barely cut through the shadows in her room, but Taylor hardly noticed. Her mind replayed fragments of the battle—each swing, each moment of panic. She could still feel the cold edge of Oni Lee's blade slicing through the air, the rush of dread that followed.

She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, frustration coiling inside her. The armour she'd worn—those rough metal plates hastily patched together—had been nothing but a desperate attempt at defence. It had barely held. And the chain, her last-ditch weapon, had only delayed the inevitable. It had worked, but just barely. The fight had revealed a truth she'd been trying to ignore.

I should have been better. Smarter. Stronger.

Her whisper echoed softly in the still room, tinged with bitterness and regret. The Odinforce was a gift of immense power, but when it mattered most, she had hesitated. She had faltered against a single assassin.

The thought twisted like a knife in her chest.

Muninn, perched silently on the windowsill, watched her with dark, piercing eyes. The raven, ever her silent companion, had been with her since the beginning. Tonight, though, there was a palpable distance between them, an unspoken tension. She hadn't brought him into the fight. She'd left him behind, and now she could feel his quiet judgment. His feathers, black as the night outside, gleamed faintly in the moonlight, his gaze unwavering, as if urging her to confront the truth she'd been avoiding.

"I messed up," Taylor muttered, her voice thick with frustration. "I've been holding back."

Her eyes flicked to the crude armor and chain. "All of this," she said with a sharp, dismissive motion, "it's not enough. It's nothing compared to what I should be capable of."

Muninn shifted on his perch, tilting his head as though acknowledging her words. The raven had always known. Maybe deep down, she had too.

The weight of that truth settled into her chest, heavy and relentless. She had known for some time that there was more—more power, more instinct, more Odin in her. But she had resisted, shackled by fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what embracing the full force of the Odinforce would do to her.

The fight with Oni Lee had forced her to confront the cost of her hesitation.

Her instincts had been there during the battle. She could feel it even now—her body remembering the moves, the muscle memory passed down through Odin. But she had fought against it. She had pulled back, afraid to surrender fully to the power coursing through her.

Why? The question gnawed at her, though she already knew the answer.

Fear.

Not just fear of losing control, but fear of what the Odinforce could turn her into. Since her mother's death, she had carried anger, buried deep within her. What if embracing that power meant amplifying her rage beyond control? What if, in becoming stronger, she lost herself entirely? What if she became something monstrous?

Her thoughts spiraled, dark and tangled, but Muninn remained a silent sentinel. The raven had always been more than just a companion. A guardian of spirit and memory, tied to the power of Odin itself. And perhaps, like Odin, he had always seen what Taylor had been too afraid to admit: she was standing in her own way.

Her fingers curled around the chain in her lap. The cold metal had saved her life, but it was a symbol of desperation, not strength. The armor, the weapons—they were nothing more than manifestations of her fear. They were distractions from the truth she had been running from.

I've been fighting the wrong battle, she realized, her breath catching in her throat.

She had convinced herself that she could walk the line between mortal and god—that she could cling to her humanity while wielding the power of the divine. But now, the truth was inescapable. There was no middle ground. She either embraced the full extent of the Odinforce or continued to falter, trapped between two worlds, neither human nor Asgardian.

"Maybe…" Taylor's voice was barely a whisper. "Maybe it's time I stopped fighting it."

Muninn cawed softly, a sound both encouraging and approving. His feathers ruffled, his eyes glinting in the faint light. The raven knew, as Taylor now did, that this moment had been inevitable. She had been avoiding it for too long.

The chain slipped from her grasp, clinking softly as it hit the floor. Taylor stared at it, feeling the weight of the decision before her. There would be no going back once she made it.

"How do I do it?" she whispered, her words more to the part of herself still clinging to her humanity than to Muninn.

The raven's dark eyes gleamed, ever watchful, waiting. Taylor knew the answer wasn't a simple one. Letting go, embracing the Odinforce—it wasn't a single action. It was about surrendering to something greater than herself, trusting not only in the power but in her ability to control it. It was about accepting that becoming what she was meant to be might mean leaving behind who she had been.

The thought terrified her. But what scared her more was the idea of standing in another battle, faltering again, knowing that she had held back when she could have done more. Knowing that she had let fear stop her from becoming what she needed to be.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor raised her eyes to Muninn. The raven, always watching, tilted his head in a subtle nod of approval. He was ready.

Am I?

The Next Morning

Taylor walked briskly down the street toward the Boardwalk, her footsteps echoing sharply on the pavement. The morning air carried a crisp chill, biting at her cheeks. She glanced back at the imposing school building, its cold brick and iron exterior looming behind her. A twinge of guilt flickered as she skipped school, but the weight of her purpose pushed it aside. Today, there were more important things at stake.

The Boardwalk was crowded with its usual morning bustle, but Taylor weaved through the throngs with focused determination. Her first destination was an old hardware shop, its exterior faded and worn by time. Inside, the smell of metal and oil greeted her, familiar and comforting.

She scanned the shelves, fingers brushing over rusted hammers and worn pliers. The tools she had at the church were functional, but not precise enough for what she needed now. Today, she was upgrading. Taylor picked out a set of high-quality tools—ergonomic hammers, precision tongs, and a solid pair of durable gloves. Each item was carefully chosen, each meant to enhance her work at the forge. The cost was high, but it barely registered.

As she left the hardware store, a surge of satisfaction coursed through her. These tools would make a difference.

The walk to the quieter end of the Boardwalk took her past faded bookshops and antique stores. Her next stop was an old curiosity shop she'd been eyeing for a while. The sign was almost unreadable, worn down by time: Auld Curiosities. She pushed open the door, the bell chiming softly behind her.

The scent of old wood, dust, and leather hit her as she stepped inside. The space was dim, and cluttered with oddities from forgotten eras. Vintage tools, old lamps, tarnished silverware—everything seemed to carry a weight of history. Taylor's eyes quickly scanned the room as the door clicked shut behind her.

Behind the counter, a hunched man with thinning white hair looked up from a book. His narrow eyes flickered with curiosity, and Taylor could feel his gaze linger on her worn clothes and the bags she carried.

"You lost?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Taylor hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I'm not lost. I'm looking for some stones—raw crystals, garnet, and quartz—for a project."

The man raised an eyebrow. "School project?" His tone was sceptical. "Isn't that where you're supposed to be?"

A pang of tension tightened in Taylor's chest. She could feel his suspicion, but she kept her voice steady. "I'm homeschooled," she lied smoothly. "My dad and I are working on something—a gift for my mom. I'm handling the shopping today."

The shopkeeper didn't look entirely convinced, but he shrugged, deciding not to push. "Alright then." He stood slowly, shuffling to a cabinet behind the counter. "Not many come here for stones, but I've got a few."

He pulled out a wooden tray filled with rough crystals. Taylor stepped closer, her fingers hovering over the stones, eyes scanning with practised focus. The garnet caught her attention first—a deep red, jagged crystal that felt full of potential. She turned it over in her hand, inspecting it closely.

"Quality over quantity," she murmured to herself.

The shopkeeper grunted in agreement. "You've got a good eye. Most folks come in looking for flashy things, but these have character—if you know how to use 'em."

Taylor smiled faintly. "Flashy isn't what I need."

She picked up a piece of quartz next, its rough edges catching the light. It was unpolished, but there was a purity in its form that felt right to her. She selected a small shard, free of cracks or imperfections.

"This one's perfect," she said softly, setting it alongside the garnet.

"Garnet and quartz, huh?" The man leaned back, studying her. "Powerful stones, if you believe in that sort of thing."

Taylor nodded, not bothering to explain. These weren't just stones to her—they were symbols. Strength and clarity, things she needed to channel in her work. "Can I have a bag of these?"

The shopkeeper wrapped the stones carefully and placed them in a plain paper bag. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, as though trying to piece together her story.

"Hope your mom likes the gift," he said, his voice softening slightly. "She must be special if you're going through all this trouble."

Taylor's smile was small, distant. "She is," she replied quietly.

As she turned to leave, the shopkeeper called after her, "You've got good instincts, kid. Make sure you use 'em."

Taylor paused at the door, glancing back. "I will," she said, her voice quiet, before stepping back into the crisp morning air.

With the crystals tucked safely in her pocket, Taylor began her walk back toward the chapel. These stones, now chosen and in her hands, meant more than just materials. They represented the strength and clarity she would need to forge her future.

Taylor's footsteps echoed faintly against the pavement as she made her way back to the old chapel. The stones in her pocket felt heavier than their weight suggested—tokens of something much larger. The tools she had gathered from the hardware store swung in a bag at her side, their metal clinking in rhythm with her thoughts. It wasn't the usual kind of trip someone made during school hours, but for Taylor, this was more important than the classroom or even the responsibilities she had once cared about. This was about crafting her future—one she would shape with her own hands.

The chapel loomed ahead, its weathered stone walls towering against a sky swollen with clouds. A cold wind tugged at her hair, but Taylor barely registered it. Her mind was too focused on the task ahead.

As she pushed open the door, the musty air of the chapel greeted her like a long-forgotten memory. Inside, the space was still, save for the scuff of her boots against the stone floor. The forge, old and worn, waited silently in the corner. Its presence filled her with a strange mixture of anticipation and fear. She knew what she was about to do was no ordinary task. The forge had stood dormant for decades, but today, she would breathe life into it again.

Taylor set the bag down and unwrapped the tools, laying them out neatly on the workbench beside the forge. The crystals, still wrapped in the shopkeeper's cloth, she placed carefully on the side. She took a moment to steady her breath, to focus. The Odinforce thrummed beneath her skin, a subtle hum of power that had been waiting, quietly, to be called upon.

"This is it," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the chapel.

Taylor stood before the roaring forge, the flames dancing in rhythmic harmony with her heartbeat. The forge's glow flickered over the old stone walls of the chapel, casting long shadows, and for a moment, she felt the weight of the task ahead. The metals she had scavenged from the Merchants—scraps of steel, iron, and copper—glimmered in the firelight, but they were not enough. Not for what she envisioned.

She reached for the crystals: the raw garnet and crystal quartz she had purchased earlier. The crystals sat in her hand, cool and sharp against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the forge. Taylor's mind was alive with possibilities. Uru briefly crossed her thoughts—a powerful, near-indestructible material that could channel the full extent of the Odinforce.

Her mind buzzed with what she knew about Uru—how it could only be shaped with the heat and power of a star, how its raw power could overwhelm even a master craftsman. She wasn't sure she could control that level of energy, much less handle the fallout if it went wrong. The stars… they were not hers to command. Not yet.

She exhaled, clearing the thought from her mind. She closed her eyes, letting the Odinforce pulse through her. She could feel its depth, its complexity. She focused on the raw metals in front of her and felt the warmth of the fire coaxing them to life. If she couldn't use Uru, she could transmute these materials into something stronger—something unique to her.

"Stronger," she whispered, her voice lost in the crackling flames.

She placed the metals into the heart of the fire, watching as the intense heat began to warp them. Her fingers tightened around the hammer's hilt, and the Odinforce flowed through her more deeply than ever. She felt the forge respond to her will, the air humming with power. The metals glowed white-hot, melding together as she raised the hammer, preparing to strike.

With each swing, Taylor poured everything into the process. The hammer fell rhythmically, shaking the walls of the chapel with each powerful strike. Sparks flew, reflecting off her determined face. The Odinforce coursed through her veins, transforming the steel and copper on a molecular level into something far stronger and more durable.

Her movements became smoother and more precise as the metals began to transform—brighter, harder, imbued with the essence of the Odinforce. The steel gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, while the copper veins seamlessly merged with the alloy, enhancing its strength.

Satisfied with the base metal, Taylor turned to the crystals. The garnet and quartz were not to remain as they were; she had something different in mind—something powerful yet refined.

She held the garnet above the heated metal, feeling the forge's heat against her skin. Channelling the Odinforce into the raw gemstone, she willed it to transform. The deep crimson stone glowed brighter until it was nearly blinding, its energy merging with the alloy as she directed the molten garnet onto it. The gem fused into the metal, spreading vibrant red veins through the armour, which hardened into a rich, pulsating ruby.

Next, she focused on the quartz. Holding it in her palm, the clear stone glistened in the forge's light. As she channelled her energy into it, the quartz trembled, fracturing and realigning into a refined crystalline structure. It glowed softly, a radiant light akin to a star. She placed the transformed quartz alongside the ruby, allowing the contrasting elements to complement each other—sharpness and strength, clarity and power.

The white-hot metals, now cooled, shone with a mix of deep crimson and radiant light, as if the essence of the stones had merged into the metal. The armour was taking shape, but Taylor wasn't finished yet.

Her vision was clear as she began crafting the mask. The base material, gleaming white from the transmutation, was polished to a pristine sheen. She shaped it to fit the contours of her face, creating a regal and commanding piece. The sharp lines highlighted her brow and cheeks. Using the golden veins from the copper, she wove intricate filigree across the mask, each tendril curling into elegant patterns that felt almost alive. At the centre of the mask, just above her brow, she set the ruby—a beacon of her strength and status.

Next came the chest plate. She shaped the white alloy with careful precision, etching golden designs into its surface. Swirling filigree spread from the centre of her chest like vines, contrasted by sleek, mirror-like black plating. This design wasn't just for protection—it symbolized her transformation.

The smaller crimson gemstones were set into the armour at key points—beneath the collarbone, on the belt around her waist, and along the gauntlets. Each piece gleamed in the forge's light, blending white, black, and gold with rich red gemstones that added depth and power.

The shoulder guards were large and imposing, yet graceful. Black as night with golden engravings along the edges, they gave her an aura of strength and beauty. The gauntlets were slender but sharp, their angular design perfect for both precision and protection. Golden highlights traced down the forearms, connecting to the flowing designs on the rest of the armour.

Her legs and boots followed the same motif—white alloy with gold filigree and black accents. Each piece was perfectly fitted, offering mobility and defence, a testament to her mastery of the forge.

When it was done, she stepped back, her heart racing and her body drenched in sweat. The armour stood before her, a breathtaking blend of white, black, and gold with deep red rubies glowing softly at its heart. It wasn't just protection; it was a reflection of her—of what she had become.

Taylor reached out, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the chest plate. It was perfect, every detail flawless. The armour was strong—stronger than anything she'd ever touched before, but she knew there was more to do.

Taylor knew instinctively that the armour could be something far more—if she could embed it with the right kind of magic. The Odinforce whispered in the back of her mind, fragments of ancient knowledge surfacing as if they had always been there, waiting for her to unlock them.

Carefully, she picked up her carving tool—an iron awl she had enchanted to be sharper and more precise—and began etching the runes. She didn't know where the symbols came from; they were older than any language she knew or could find information on, but their meaning pulsed in her mind, ancient and powerful.

She started with the mask.

The white, polished material was perfect for the intricate carvings she had planned. Her hands moved with precision, guided by instinct and the deep knowledge that came with the Odinforce. She carved Algiz, the rune for total protection, onto the inside of the mask's brow. This rune granted resistance to both magical and physical attacks, absorbing impacts and creating a passive shield around her body. Next to this, she etched Isa, the rune of stillness, which provided extreme resistance to both high heat and cold, making her highly resilient to temperature-based attacks.

Directly beneath the ruby in her mask, she inscribed Ansuz, the rune of knowledge and power. This rune linked directly to the gemstone, allowing the ruby to store energy passively from the environment and actively from attacks she absorbed or energy she stored. She could unleash this stored power at any moment in a devastating burst or use it to enhance her strength, stamina, or abilities.

On the inside of the mask's cheekbones, she carved Eihwaz, the rune of resilience and instinct. This rune enhanced her awareness and reflexes, providing resistance to mental attacks and heightening her combat instincts, allowing her to sense incoming threats more acutely.

Next, she turned her attention to the chestplate. She etched Uruz, the rune of vitality, across the heart of the armour. This rune bolstered her stamina and strength, granting her immense physical endurance, and allowing her to convert absorbed kinetic energy into additional power. Every hit she absorbed would fuel her further.

Across the chestplate, she carved Sowilo, the rune of regeneration. This rune allowed the armour to repair itself over time, mending any damage it sustained in battle. It was as though the armour was alive, healing after every skirmish, its golden veins pulsing with renewed strength.

Taylor paused for a moment, contemplating the next rune carefully. She knew she needed more than protection for herself—her allies were just as important. Across her gauntlets, she etched Tiwaz, the rune of leadership and inspiration. This rune extended beyond her, radiating an aura that boosted the morale, spirit, and stamina of anyone within her proximity. Allies fighting alongside her would find their strength renewed, their fatigue lessened, and their courage bolstered by the presence of the rune's power.

On her belt, she carved Laguz, the rune of fluid movement and agility. This rune granted her enhanced flexibility and speed, allowing her to move quickly and decisively in battle, her reactions almost instinctual. It flowed like water, adapting to every situation and giving her unparalleled grace in motion.

Finally, On the back of the armour, beneath the neck, she carefully carved Nyd, the rune of necessity and perseverance. This rune represented the strength to overcome adversity, granting her resilience in the face of danger. When activated, Nyd would enhance her defensive capabilities, creating a barrier that absorbed damage and reflected a portion of it back at her attackers. It also inspired her to push beyond her limits, drawing strength from the struggle to fight harder and endure longer.

The runes glowed faintly, their power bound to the alloy. The armour wasn't just a physical shield—it was a living entity, a conduit for the Odinforce flowing through her veins, enhancing her strength, stamina, and power.

Taylor examined her work. The armour gleamed in the dim chapel light, every curve catching the light. The ruby in her mask glowed faintly, casting a soft crimson hue across the polished metal. The gold filigree shimmered as the forge flames flickered, highlighting the intricate designs.

She ran her fingers over the armour's surface, feeling the hum of the runes beneath. This wasn't just armour—it was a weapon, a shield, and a symbol of her power.

Taylor slipped the mask over her face, feeling it mould to her skin. The weight was solid but comforting, like a second skin. The world seemed sharper, clearer. The firelight danced vividly in her vision, and the pulse of magic from the runes intensified her connection to the Odinforce, like a third eye guiding her thoughts. Her eyes glimmered with newfound intensity, framed by the golden filigree.

She straightened her back, feeling the armour settle around her shoulders. The weight of the black and white alloy was balanced against the power it contained. The runes hummed softly, their magic woven into the metal.

Taylor clenched her fist, feeling a surge of power as the armour pulsed vibrantly, alive with energy. This was it—raw potential in every part of the armour, a testament to her mastery.

Muninn cawed from the windowsill, his dark eyes watching her carefully. Taylor nodded at the raven, a silent affirmation. She had forged her own path—her own power.

Stepping into the dim light of the chapel, she felt the cool night air brush against her newly forged armour. The weight of her hesitation and uncertainty was gone. She was no longer the weak, broken girl she once was.