There came a ripple from the ranks. The Fenris Wolf came forward. Fenris, the Devourer; thirty feet from nose to tail: fangs as long as a man’s arm; fearless as hunger incarnate. For a moment, Old Man and Wolf faced each other in silence. I’d resumed my human Aspect to watch; now I felt the hairs on my neck stand up like a hedge of upraised spears. Behind me, all Chaos was watching; even the dying took notice. We all knew that something legendary was about to happen. And then . . .

They came together like drawn swords; their giant shadows leaping out against the cloak of the Northlights. Below, on the plain, the other wolves howled in unison, a chilling sound. Above them, eight-legged Sleipnir spun his web of runelight.

They fought. From Asgard’s battlements, familiar figures watched the fight, their colours flaring – blue, red, gold. All my erstwhile companions: Thor; Frey; Týr; Njörd; Honir; Aegir; Heimdall. All of them watching in silence as Allfather battled the Fenris Wolf with the mounting desperation of a man who knows he is destined to lose.

It wasn’t an elegant combat. The Old Man had his glam, his runes and his stubborn will to fight. The wolf had cunning and savage strength as well as his mother’s protection. Both were bloodied and tired and torn; their breath plumed pale against the night; below them, Ida’s plain was scorched and spackled with cantrips and broken runes.

But in the end, the Old Man was no match for the wolf’s brutal cunning and vigour. Bleeding in two dozen places, he fell to one knee, and the wolf closed in to tear out his throat in a single bite.

But just as Fenris opened his jaws to howl his victory at the night, there came another figure onto the Rainbow Bridge.

It was Thor, with Mjølnir. His fiery tread shook the Bridge and brought stones tumbling from Asgard’s battlements as, in his rage, he hurled himself at the Fenris Wolf, slamming violently into him and sending both of them hurtling off the edge of the parapet and into the thick of the enemy, who scattered to avoid them like crows at a handful of firecrackers.

Pieces of the Bridge showered down. Thor in full Aspect was far too much for such a delicate structure to take, and the walkway, already compromised by the assault, began to unravel, the thousands of runes that made up its length dispersing into the smoky air. Soon, it would be gone, leaving no means of escape for the gods and opening the way for my fleet.