the face.
She knew what was happening.
A sour smell filled Asgard. The plants and animals stirred.
Odin snapped up from his sleep. The wind bit his ankles, more literally than he would have liked. It was coming. Now. The battle would soon be fought. And won. Or lost, it depended on how you looked at it. He leapt up from his throne, sword in hand.
He had seen Mimir. He knew what was to happen.
In the distance, a horn blew. A horn that would wake sleeping children, that could make mountains crumble, that could burn out the sun. The Gjallar-Horn.
Ragnarok had arrived.
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