Jotenheim burned orange in the bright, white light of Asgard’s sun as it broke over the horizon, heralding a new day. Odin stood at the top of the hill, arrayed in shining gold armor, Thor beside him. His hair and beard had been trimmed, and he wore the gold-plated lappets of Valhalla’s warriors, Mjolnir shining dangerously in his hand. Desi stood with her grandfather and great-grandfather, looking as fierce and strong as either of them. Michael shared a look with her, before turning to face his enemy across the field.
His enemy.
Yesterday they were his friends. His brothers and sisters.
How could he raise his sword against them?
As he watched the distant shadow he knew to be Nidhogg approach the field of battle, he gripped his sword tighter and prepared to call the command. This was Loki’s fault. Him, Michael would strike down if given the chance.