In the mountains where Mjölnir was once born, the betrayer now labored to end the realms. Far to the east, beyond the frost bitten peaks of the Dvergfjell Mountains, where thunder once crowned the heavens and the forge of the gods had layed sealed in the depths of the stone, now awakened. The same forge that birthed Mjölnir, the hammer of storms. Now, it answered to Loki. The fire no longer roared gold. It now bled black and violet, hissing with sorcery and great darkness . Anvils cracked with cries not heard since the First War. Chains made from serpent spine and soul iron dangled from the ceiling. This was no forge of creation, it had become the grindstone of oblivion. Loki stood at its center, his eyes wild with purpose. He was not alone. Thrym the frost giant watched his frost giants Pounding heavy metals around the forge. the chill of Jotunheim pouring off him. Hrym, massive and silent, crouched in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the flames. And Jörmungandr, the gr

Skuggrbani’s roar was not of beast nor man. It was the scream of molten steel being torn apart, of cursed runes breaking and reshaping with every breath. Its eyes blazed like twin suns devoured by shadow. Kael’s blade gleamed as he raised it high. “Einherjar! Shieldmaidens! Strike first and strike deep!” The war cry of the North rose like a tidal wave, and the ground quaked under their charge. Shieldmaidens slammed into Skuggrbani’s legs, driving spears into its joints. Dwarven hammer mages hurled bolts of crushed starlight, cracking through its armor. The elves of Alfheim loosed arrows of radiant wind , yet still, the beast moved. A single swing of its molten arm crushed five men and sent ash flying. “Kael!” Astrid shouted from below, deflecting a falling stone with her shield. “Its heart, the rune-core! It's corrupt but alive!” Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Then we cut it out.” With a leap only an Einherjar could make, he vaulted from a pile of shattered rock and drove his b

Kael felt a pulse within the sword that instant when his eyes met with Draumfangr, it was like a low, thrumming hum that began to build like the deep vibrations of a storm stirring within his chest. The Einherjar’s Blade had never felt like this before. It was no longer simply an extension of his arm, but it had become something else. He could feel it very much alive, reacting to the awakening of Draumfangr, attuned to the terrible magic flooding through Svarthallr. A beast with talons like obsidian struck at his side, but Kael spun just in time, blocking the blow with his sword. The impact sent shockwaves through his body, but it was the blade that sang its edge glowing bright, brighter than the moonlight. Then the world shifted. The moment he held the sword steady, an eclipse of magic washed over him, the blade glowing with a white hot radiance. Kael was awakening with it. The scroll flared in his other hand, and the runes on it writhed like serpents, pulsing in rhythm wit