We approached a giant fjord, standing at the edge of the left fork where there was still snow and ice. On the other side, hot lava ran through and dripped down stone that fissured the earth there. For the first time in days, my eyes lay on a landscape other than snow and ice—trees and large boulders and a giant cave that rested in the middle of the fork and looked like it went deep down into the ground, farther than the eye could see.

The ground shook suddenly, and I fell over as the others scrambled to hang onto their balance. My elbow hit something hard; wincing at the sharp pain, I scurried toward the others as they dove behind a boulder.

“This is it,” Lydian hissed. “If you have any prayers, say them now.”

I tensed with my bow already in position and three arrows in my hand, two tucked away in my back fingers until I could use them. With my heart beating in my throat, I wouldn’t have time to keep reaching back for every single arrow.

The ground continued to quake as Fjalar continued toward the entrance of his lair. Did he know we were out here? Could he smell our blood? Did it smell good to him? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“How big is Fjalar, anyway?” Seppo asked quietly. “Like, I know it’s basically a giant rooster but roosters are pretty small, so how much of a threat could it be?”

“Does the fact that it could end the world mean nothing to you?” Rose said. “I’m very sure it’s big and deadly.”

“The books describe it as bigger than a small mountain, but they tend to overexaggerate,” Lydian said. “They like doing that with the godly creatures of the nine realms wherever they lurk. But I have a feeling that my son is right, if less verbose, regarding the rooster being ‘very big and deadly.’”

“Don’t call me your son,” Rose growled but earned a shush from Lydian as the giant creature ambled out of its home, dragging a chain that was attached to one scaly leg—probably the only thing keeping it from going on a killing rampage.

My breath was stolen from my lungs as I finally saw the monster in full. I knew it was supposed to essentially be a giant rooster, but whoever had written that description was being incredibly generous.

Fjalar’s beak was impossibly sharp, and he had black gums that created a stain around his mouth. His feathers—if you could call them that—started out on his skin as scaly appendages before turning into feathers with razor sharp edges, and each wing had a vicious claw. But even more vicious were his scaly, disfigured feet with their wide talons that gleamed in the sunlight—less like the feet of a bird and more like the feet of a dragon.