HAVING SEEN their two greatest heroes undone, the remaining Aesir and Vanir gave up any thought of strategy. They fought where they stood; on Asgard’s walls, besieged from all sides by the multitude. Some of our troops had crossed the Bridge and were already chipping away at the battlements, unravelling the thousands of runes that made up Asgard’s gleaming walls. Some attacked from the sky, as birds, or flying snakes, or dragons; some swarmed up from Ida’s depths, clinging to the rock face; some attacked directly from Dream.

Bif-rost was seconds from falling, scattering in bright, glassy shards onto the battlefield. My fire-fleet stood ready to cross; arching brightly into the sky, consuming everything it touched.

I lost my sense of direction; in the turmoil of fire and smoke I caught glimpses of my once-companions, their shadows monstrous against the sky: Freyja in her Crone Aspect, slicing into the ephemera with a viciousness that came naturally; Týr, whose missing hand had been replaced by a gauntlet of glamours, reaping the crowds with his mindsword; Frey, who could have used his own sword if he hadn’t given it away, flinging runes into the plain; Sif, in her Warrior Aspect, almost as fearsome as Thor himself, screaming revenge and murder.

I have to admit, they were good. With my help, my loyalty, they might even have survived the onslaught. That was what hurt me most, I guess; the knowledge that with my help, we could have beaten the prophecy. We could have held Asgard. We could have won. And in the heat of the battle, with fire to the left and ice to the right, and smoke and fumes and glamours and blood painting their own dark rainbow across the sky, Your Humble Narrator was suddenly seized with a kind of clarity.

I looked up at our battlements, now crumbling beneath the assault. I looked up at Bif-rost, its bright curve sagging with a legion’s weight. Once more assuming my Wildfire form, I left my fire-ship and raced across the bloody battlefield, leaving a trail of fire in my wake, and leapt onto the Rainbow Bridge.

There I assumed my human Aspect; clothed in nothing but smoke and glam; ready to take on the enemy in the form in which they knew me best.

Why did I leave my fleet, you ask? Well, I knew what was coming next. Bif-rost was the final link in the chain that joins Worlds together. Gullveig had already opened the gates of Dream and Death. Only one remained: Pandaemonium – which meant that any remaining business, scores to settle, for instance, would have to be dealt with swiftly, if they were to be dealt with at all.