But there was carnage; delirium; joy – and a kind of purity. It had been such a long time since I’d last experienced the thrill of unbridled destruction, untrammelled by conscience, fear or guilt or any of those other feelings with which Odin had corrupted me. For the first time in an Age, I was free, and I meant to enjoy it to the full.

I launched my fire-ship at the Bridge. It cast a bloody pall across the plain. Cutting through Worlds like a razor, slashing between Death, Dream and beyond, releasing fragments of Chaos into the charged and rapturous air. All that stood between Asgard and us was that Bridge; cloaked in Northlights; gleaming like eternity.

And now, a figure came to stand halfway across its narrow expanse. Odin in full Aspect; spear in hand; colours flying. Sleipnir stood by him, in giant Aspect, his eight legs spanning the sky like a spider’s web; a nimbus of flame around them both gave them a twin corona. I had to admit that at that moment there was something magnificent in the Old Man; something noble and melancholy that might almost have touched my heart – that is, if I had one. As it was, I dropped my Wildfire Aspect, the better to enjoy the scene about to unfurl in front of me. The noise of the battle fell silent. All eyes turned to the Rainbow

Bridge.

Now Odin comes to face the foe.
Against the Fenris wolf he stands.
He fights; he falls. Need I say more?

The verse was as clear as Mimir’s well, but still, I didn’t believe it. Odin must have had plenty of time to study the Oracle’s small print; to tease the weft of the prophecy into some kind of a safety net. I knew him. He wouldn’t go gently; and although Fenris was powerful, a part of me expected – feared – that Odin’s guile might still win through.

Behind me came an eerie lull as the hordes of Chaos waited. I watched him from the prow of my ship; naked; in human Aspect. Now I could feel the fire at my back; the chill in the air; the smoke in my lungs. All kinds of sensations flooded me – triumph; admiration . . .

Hope?

He looked at me from the parapet, his one eye filled with blue fire. And then he raised his battle-spear and launched it at the fire-ship.

Was he aiming at me? Who knows? If so, he missed his target. I saw the missile coming; swore; slipped back into Wild-fire Aspect. The spear, with its shaft of laddered runes, passed right through the fire-ship and struck the fiery plain below in an icy eruption of glam. He took another step forward and slowly drew his mindsword.

‘Fenris, are you ready?’ he said.