Mornings in Asgard came like a cold breath on the back of your neck. Our little cabin fireplace had burned low, frost clinging to the remnants of ash. A soft horn call stirred us from sleep, slow and stiff as old bones waking. Somewhere nearby, I could hear what sounded like a Valkyrie barking orders as a group of Einherjar began early shield wall drills. Blunt blades clashed with wooden shields in rhythmic strikes, each movement accompanied by short, controlled shouts.

  I rolled over in my new bedroll and rubbed the back of my neck. Patchy groaned as he sat up, only to find his socks frozen beside his boots. "Oh, come on," he muttered, holding one up that was as stiff as a board.

  Theo snorted from his blanket pile. "That’s what you get for sleeping without drying your wet socks by the fire first. Rookie mistake."

  Without hesitation, Patchy hurled the frozen sock directly at Theo. It hit him square in the chest with a solid thwack. Theo and I started laughing as Patchy looked even more disgruntled. Before Patchy decided to begin round 2 with the remaining sock, I decided I’d better get ready.

  I stepped outside into the still-grey morning. Smoke curled from cooking pits, and Einherjar shuffled between tents, clutching tin bowls, muttering about the cold, swapping scraps of battlefield gossip. The sparring ring was already in use; two warriors were moving in a slow, deliberate exchange of blows while a Valkyrie circled them, correcting posture and calling adjustments.

  I passed the small cabin Marive had moved into next to us. The door was closed. No surprise there. Patchy was now seated nearby, scribbling in his ‘Bookmark’ with one hand and spooning some kind of soup from a little tin can into his mouth with the other. I have to admit, it’s only been about a week, but I’m enjoying keeping a ‘journal’ of everything that’s happening, though I’m not sure why he insists I have to write it in his ‘Bookmark’ instead of getting my own notebook.

  “Morning,” I said, before inquiring into his current activity.

  He waved distractedly. “Trying to compare the writing in this book to some of the runes I studied in Gods and Heroes. They’re not quite the same. Maybe they’ve changed… or maybe I never memorised them properly in the first place.”

  He frowned. “The ones in this book… they seem to change if I stare too long. It’s like they’re alive or something.”

  Before I could answer my hallucinating friend Eirik’s voice cut through the morning clatter. He was leading a pair of horse-drawn wagons.

  “There you are, lad. Got a task from the Valkyrie commander herself.”

  Freya’s orders were simple enough: escort a small supply unit to reinforce a southern barrier post near the outer wards. A unit of experienced Einherjar would join us for our first mission. No direct rifts or breaches had been reported, but a few hound sightings behind the defensive walls had the zone on high alert.

  Eirik told me to get a proper breakfast at the mess and meet the other group of Einherjar there before heading out, whilst he sorted the wagons. When I gathered the ‘Sveit’, including an uninterested Marive, we eventually found seats in the mess hall. My group sat apart from the other group of Einherjar, not out of tension, but from the distance that comes with unfamiliarity. Eyes that lingered a little too long on new people and voices that dipped when someone approached. I recognised the unease between our groups but had no idea how to break it.

  Then someone I learnt was named Yarun, a shield warrior from Theo’s first battle, spotted him on his way to sit with the other Einherjar. He tossed a large piece of roasted meat to Theo.

  “You look like you’re wasting away over there,” Yarun called. “Stay strong.”

  Theo caught it and acted like it was a sacred relic. “Truly a gift from the gods,” he announced, loud enough to make the nearby warriors chuckle at his casual blasphemy. The wall between the two groups started to crack. After a short while, Theo even wandered over to sit with them, dragging Marive along.

  After we left the mess, Eirik returned and pulled me aside to talk about the other group of Einherjar. “They’re willing to give you leeway to take command, but don’t mistake that for freedom. You’re still green. So, earn your place through wise command.” I just nodded in response; I had figured that much out already.

  Having had our own breakfasts, we all made formal introductions. Aside from Yarun, there was Borik, a grey-bearded veteran whose scarred face looked like he’d been trading blows with Frost Giants for three centuries, and Saka, a younger scout who mostly communicated in nods and grunts, joined us.

  We set off that afternoon. The first day passed without incident. The terrain shifted gradually from sparse, icy ridges to thick pine groves. I tried to start conversations with the Einherjar, but most gave me simple or short answers. Marive, on the other hand, moved amongst them as if he belonged there, scouting ahead, then falling back into formation without needing to be told.

  Patchy pointed out strange things: symbols carved into tree bark, bird calls that didn’t follow any natural rhythm we knew from Earth. “According to some myths in Gods and Heroes, Fenrir’s power when hunting Odin wasn’t just brute force,” he said. “He twisted the weave of fate around him. Places and even animals started to change under his power.”

  Borik grunted. “Don’t talk like that. The Wolf’s still in chains.”

  Patchy went quiet.

  At one point, Theo wandered off the trail to take a leak and let out a shout when he came face-to-face with what looked like a statue: a pale figure frozen mid-scream at the base of a tree, dusted in snow.

  “Guys,” he called, trying to sound casual, “either someone’s got really bad taste in lawn art, or this is a human popsicle.”

  We gathered closer. Stone skin. Open mouth. Wide, terrified eyes.

  Theo forced a laugh. “Not creepy at all.” But he kept glancing back at it as we moved on.

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  That night, I drew the short stick for stew duty. Theo made cracks about my ‘culinary crimes’ while Patchy scribbled and Athena whittled a piece of ice into something vaguely boat-shaped. Marive cleaned his gear in meticulous silence.

  I asked Athena where such a huge chunk of ice came from, and she told me she made it herself – turns out she can still use the spells she learnt in Gods and Heroes. But, she says she doesn’t have a ‘mana gauge’ to know how many spells she can cast. Now she has to judge it from when casting a spell makes her tired and gives her a headache.

  I tried to recall any of the glyphs for the spells I had used back when I played, but I always used the auto caster… hindsight is 20/20 after all.

  The second day was quieter. The sky stayed pale grey, the light never quite warming the snow. Frost-laced pines lined the path, their needles glistening like glass. Birds with translucent wings flitted between branches, their cries sounding like chimes in the wind. I let myself drift toward the rear, just to breathe it all in.

  This wasn’t Earth. For starters, there wasn't anywhere near enough pollution or rubbish. No concrete to be seen either. Just the whistle of the wind and the strange pulses of energy beneath the ground.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmured without meaning to.

  Patchy muttered behind me, tapping the Bookmark. “Kai, do you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  He hesitated. “It's like someone is trying to say something in my head. Never mind.”

  Trouble found us shortly after that. Just after we passed a narrow in the path, a low, grinding growl rolled through the trees - Hounds had found us.

  Six Chthonic hounds: As always, too many eyes, way too many teeth, their collars rattling with rusty chains.

  We had little room to make a formation as the path narrowed, trees pressed close on both sides, so I shouted my first battle order, “Form a wall!”

  “No!” Athena snapped. “They’ll pile onto us and drag someone down! Break into pairs, choose a hound and use the trees to choke their charge!”

  I froze for half a second at this sudden refusal of my instructions, then nodded. “Do it! Follow Athena’s lead.”

  The fight was short and brutal. Theo intercepted one hound mid-leap on his large shield before slamming it to the ground for Saka to finish. Marive’s blade flashed, piercing another through the neck that Athena had slowed with a frost glyph. I also managed to kill one with Yarun’s help after dodging its hooked tail. The rest of them circled us for a little while longer, then suddenly retreated, chains clinking, as if reacting to some command.

  That night, as Patchy treated a scratch Borik received from a hound, I overheard the other two Einherjar muttering.

  “Could’ve been a mess if the girl hadn’t spoken up.”

  “Yep.”

  I stared into the fire, fists clenched, and silently promised I’d prove myself next time. Marive heard them too, but kept cleaning his blade silently.

  Later, having made a decision, I went to find Athena. “You’ve got a better sense for field command than I do,” I told her. “From here on, you handle tactics in battle. I’ll keep overall command, but you call the shots when blades are drawn.”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

  Theo, who was sitting in earshot, had to stick his oar in, “Probably the smart move.” Nodding his head as he said it, as if he were some kind of sage passing on worldly advice.

  Regardless, we reached the outer barrier near dusk on the third day. The defenders we saw looked tired, but maintained a cheerful demeanour, though the fortifications could have been in better shape. Then came the blaring of a horn, battle! It sounded like hounds again, judging by the howling we heard as we approached the combatants on the wall.

  Borik and I locked eyes and charged forward with our respective groups to assist the warriors. After some time had passed, during which we successfully eliminated several hounds, Patchy’s book started shaking violently in his bag.

  “Kai!” he yelled, yanking it out. “Something’s wrong!”

  Near the wall’s inner edge, the air began to warp. A hairline Rift began to unzip a hole into reality with a screech that rattled my teeth, setting me on edge. The Bookmark in Patchy's hands snapped open on its own. Dazzling runes began to spill across the pages, reflecting in Patchy’s eyes. He adopted a dreamlike expression, dropped to his knees and started tracing what he could see in the book - the runes he was tracing floated upwards in a spiral of gold.

  I stepped in front of him. “Theo, Marive, Athena, hold the wall. Do not let anything reach him!”

  The hounds went into a frenzy like they could sense what was happening. Borik cut one down as it tried to leap the battlement. Theo slammed another into the stone and kept it there, shield grinding, while Marive finished it with a clean thrust. It was as if they were desperate to stop Patchy.

  Patchy kept working until no more runes appeared in the Bookmark, then he reached up and ‘pushed’ the runes floating in the air before him. It seemed to work, as the golden runes flew forward and began latching onto the rift’s slowly expanding edges like hooks. A deep thrum reverberated through the area, and the air began whipping past us like it was being sucked into the void. The rift visibly shuddered before the edges were slowly pulled together by Patchy’s golden runes. I heard Theo call out for Marive’s help behind me as the last hound lunged at him. Marive’s rapier found it whilst it was busy attempting to overcome the shield.

  Silence fell. The hounds were finally dealt with, and the rift was sealed, leaving just the light slowly dimming from the Bookmark in front of him. Patchy collapsed with the Bookmark on his chest.

  I knelt beside him. “What the hell was that?”

  He looked dazed. “I think… the book knew what to do. Or something in it did. It was like it was giving me instructions.”

  Theo leaned on his shield. “I nominate the book for ‘Most Valuable Player’.”

  I ignored him, still staring at the sealed rift. “Well, either way, good work,” I told Patchy, who gave me a fist bump in return.

  Patchy’s Note:

  Editor's convenience.

  Patchy’s Note:

  They really do seem to move! It’s just that I’m the only one who can see the runes in my book…

  Patchy’s Note:

  You’d think this would be a serious crime in the actual Realm of the Gods, but it turns out Asgardian culture is very much informal and even promotes treating each other as comrades, despite any perceived rank or privilege. Of course, whether you’re brave enough to be informal to Odin himself is another matter entirely.

  Patchy’s Note:

  The pale “statue” Theo found was probably not a statue. Most likely a victim of soul-freeze, the J?tun curse rune that turns a living being to ice and stone in minutes. No confirmed cures yet.

  Patchy’s Note: Going to do a 2-in-1 here.

  First of all, Glyphs are different from runes. Glyphs are used for Vanir magic (casting spells and stuff). Runes are used for ‘divine magic’ (things like healing/ prophecies/ other cool stuff).

  Regarding him memorising spells… How convenient for him not to mention the hundreds of times I suggested doing so. He ‘preferred’ the auto-caster. Now look at him. Doofus.

  Patchy’s Note:

  According to Borik, those birds with translucent wings are called Glasfjaerir. Old Asgardian field guides say their cries sound like “The shards of Heaven”, which is waxing poetic for “like glass chimes in a tornado.”

  Patchy’s Note:

  Rune-scribing (that’s what I’m calling it, no other opinions are required) is not just ‘writing, but magical’, by the way. It is like having someone shove an entire stage play script into your brain whilst you try to carve it into a block of ice at the same time before it melts. My hands cramped, my vision blurred, and for a few seconds during, I was fairly sure I had forgotten my own name. Also, mental note: wear gloves next time. Bookmark runes are hot.