A few months earlier, in Asgard—the realm of the Norse gods.

  “Let me in already!” shouted a man from within a vast corridor lined with golden columns and thick incense that hung in the air.

  “Lord Thor, we’ve told you—you do not have permission to enter our father Odin’s royal throne room,” replied two winged women clad in gleaming armor. They wore blue robes beneath, and their helmets bore swan-shaped crests and curved wings on either side.

  Their crossed spears blocked the massive cedar-and-gold gate.

  The man shouting—Thor, god of thunder—was tall, with fiery red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes glowed emerald, and he wore a green tunic with leather boots, a heavy bear-fur cloak draped over his shoulders.

  Valhalla, the palace of Odin where Thor now stood, was an immense structure within the divine world of Asgard. By human measure, it could have rivaled the size of the entire European continent.

  White and gold in color, it shimmered under its own light; its countless pillars and domed ceilings were plated with golden shields that reflected everything around them.

  The palace had thousands of doors and enormous banquet halls where the Einherjar feasted endlessly. There were also training grounds where Odin’s Valkyries taught combat to the honored dead.

  From the outside, it was a forest of golden and silver towers. At the top of the highest spire stood two statues—a goat and an elk—guardians of the divine fortress. Wisps of green-blue clouds drifted around the peaks like celestial mist.

  Beyond the palace stretched a vast garden of towering trees known as Glasir. It was filled with fountains, lakes, and herds of deer and elk roaming freely. The air was crisp and perfumed with the sweetness of ripe fruit.

  At its center stood a massive oak tree called Glasislundr, its golden branches and fruit shining so brightly that the sky itself seemed reflected in their glow.

  “Listen to me,” said Thor, frustration rising. “I’ve been requesting an audience for months and still haven’t seen my father. Can’t you see this is an emergency?”

  The Valkyries guarding the throne only stiffened their posture.

  “No one may enter, Lord Thor—not even Lady Frigg. These are the direct orders of our master and lord, Odin,” said one of them.

  Thor turned away, muttering curses under his breath as he strode down the corridor.

  As he walked through the great halls of Valhalla, he ran into Freyr—the Norse god of light and ruler of álfheimr—who was lounging casually nearby.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Freyr?” Thor growled.

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  “It’s a free realm, Thorsy. I can be wherever I like ?,” Freyr replied with a radiant smile.

  The god of light was nearly naked, wearing only a loose white robe draped over one shoulder. His long golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and his amber eyes gleamed warmly. He literally glowed; it was impossible not to notice him.

  “Bah, like I care,” Thor muttered, trying to brush past the shining god.

  “So tell me, Thorsy—why the angry little face? ?” Freyr teased.

  “Those damned Valkyries won’t let me see my father!” Thor snapped. “I’ve been trying to reach him for months. Every time I ask, they give me a different excuse—‘He’s away,’ or ‘He’s meditating,’ or ‘He’s not to be disturbed.’ None of it makes sense!”

  “It’s about Loki, isn’t it? ?” said Freyr, tilting his head.

  “You know about that too?” Thor demanded.

  “Of course! But apparently, Loki’s trying to bring our people back—to make them worship us again and drive away those followers of the religion from Lel ?,” Freyr said with a careless shrug.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thor growled. “It’s Loki. He always does things that look helpful—until he stabs us in the back. And how the hell did he even escape his prison? We sealed him behind three dimensional walls. Even I couldn’t break through one of them with my hammer!”

  “Thorsy, I think right now we should be worrying more about the plagues coming from Lel ?,” said Freyr, completely unconcerned.

  “The last thing I heard,” Thor said, “is that Father signed a treaty allowing Lel into our Nordic territories. But how? He hasn’t been seen in months.”

  “Is that why you’ve been trying to see him? ?” Freyr asked, smiling.

  “Of course! What kind of nonsense is that? Those bastards from Lel converted our Germanic tribes to Christianity—and now they want to meddle in our northern realms too! Father would never have signed away our people to that wretched faith!” Thor thundered.

  “I know. I don’t understand it either,” Freyr said calmly. “But I suppose Father Odin must have his reasons. That doesn’t mean surrendering Asgard to Lel. If they try to intervene, we’ll give them war. Don’t worry, Thorsy—we’re strong enough to keep those savages out ?.”

  Thor crossed his arms, still fuming. “There’s something else I need to speak to Father about,” he said grimly.

  “Oh? What could make you look so gloomy, my dear Thorsy? ?” Freyr asked, curious.

  “Have you heard what the humans are saying? About Ragnar?k?” Thor asked.

  “Nonsense. Stories humans make up to give their lives meaning,” Freyr replied. “They’re the same creatures who kill anyone who dares think differently ?.”

  “Listen,” Freyr continued, “I’ve never minded humans worshiping other gods or exploring the world—but you all started flexing your power by pushing them to invade the lands of Lel, destroying their monasteries, churches, and temples ?.

  Maybe Loki’s actually doing us a favor by isolating them again… or maybe not. Either way, it’s hardly worth worrying about now ?.”

  Thor let out a frustrated sigh. “You might be right. Those invasions into Lel’s territories never did end well. But tell me, why do they place so much faith in a god who doesn’t even exist? I truly can’t understand it.”

  “I don’t know,” said Freyr. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to visit my dear sister in Fólkvangr ?.”

  He turned and waved cheerfully. “Ta-ta ?.”

  Thor stared after him, stunned. “Seriously? Does no one care that that bastard’s out there wreaking havoc again? After he killed Balder—and everything else he’s done?”

  He clenched his fists.

  “My father would never sit idly by. I’m sure of it,” the god of thunder muttered, his impatience burning hotter than the storm itself.