We made it back to camp just before sunset on the second day. My legs were killing me despite travelling lighter with my bags now loaded on the supply carts. Poor Theo had it the worst by far with the enormous shield that he had to carry in case of attack; he had a carrier on his back for his gear, but it couldn’t have felt good.

  I'd just gotten back from a shower (the ‘eau de hound’ had soaked into everything - clothes, hair, probably even my personality at this point) and the five of us ended up sprawled around the fire together. Nobody said much; we were too busy recovering. Theo was already half-asleep while sitting up. Patchy had the Bookmark open and was staring at it, mumbling something about ‘User permissions!?’ and saying something rude that I won’t write down. Marive had his rapier across his knees, not doing anything in particular, just holding it in his lap with his eyes closed. Athena was etching something with her fingertips; it looked like an ice bolt spell, but it was strangely faint, the rune barely visible between her fingers.

  A Valkyrie runner came to our little campfire.

  "Athena. Commander Freya requests your presence."

  Athena looked up. The runner's expression made it clear this wasn't an optional instruction. She stood, pulled her hood up against the cold, and left without a word.

  The four of us watched her go.

  "Completely normal," Theo said.

  Nobody disagreed.

  She was back maybe an hour later. She sat down, looked at the fire for a moment, then told us what happened.

  Freya knows we're from Earth. She now also knows about the wormhole, the system message, all of it. Apparently, at one point, she thought Freya was about to kill her. She said she could sense a tiny fluctuation of magic under the table, and Athena's not the kind of person to miss that sort of thing. Fortunately, she didn’t die and Freya believed her. Rather quickly in my opinion, but maybe Gods really are just built different to us mortals.

  The part that apparently bothered Freya most wasn't the Earth thing itself. It was that she couldn't figure out who brought us here. Whoever did it has a level of dimensional reach that she can't account for. She said that even Odin can't move between sealed dimensions at will.

  "In other words, we still have no idea," Patchy said.

  "No," Athena said. "But now Freya doesn't either, and she seems significantly more concerned about it than we are. So maybe we’ll have some kind of answer soon."

  We sat with that for the rest of the afternoon, discussing all our guesses and options, even Marive offered some guesses, but nothing came up that carried any real credence.

  After the group had all gone to bed, and I'd personally been asleep for around two hours, the runner came back.

  "Sveit leader. Commander Freya calls."

  Honest first thought: I'd done something wrong.

  Honest second thought: Borik had said something.

  Honest third thought: it was the middle of the night, and I'd been asleep for two hours, and I am too tired for this. Surely calling for me at this hour violates my human rights or something.

  I changed into clean clothes. If I were going to be summoned by one of the highest gods in Asgard at midnight, I was at least going to do it dressed in something other than my PJs.

  Freya was near the central command tent, wearing only a simple chest plate and greaves as she spoke to two messengers. She had that presence she always has; you feel it before you see her, a kind of rolling wave of warmth with a scent of grass. She dismissed one of the runners as I arrived and didn't bother with a greeting.

  "I'm sending a reinforcement and reconnaissance group to the Breachpoint outpost. It's the base closest to where most dimensional rifts appear beyond the warded walls. Our contact messengers didn't return this afternoon. I need eyes on the ground. I'm sending your Sveit."

  I started: "Just us?"

  She said: "You're all I can spare right now for this simple mission. You're the only unit that can travel fast enough and without depriving other areas." Then: "Your contact on arrival will be a Valkyrie named Iskára, she'll brief you. You leave in the morning."

  Iskára. The name seemed strangely familiar in the back of my mind, but I was sure I'd never heard it before. But I just couldn't place it.

  Realising I had been standing in front of Freya in awkward silence for a good few seconds, I gave a salute the Asgardian way, fist to chest, and left before I could say anything stupid.

  I hurried back to the group and gathered them all to relay the ‘wonderful’ news. Theo, who had been comfortably snoring away in his bed, groaned.

  “We just got back!”

  “Welcome to living the dream,” Patchy muttered.

  Marive said nothing, just nodding, before going back to bed.

  As we all went back to bed, Patchy pulled me aside. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with making me keep a journal, but I guess I don’t mind, which is why I’m writing this all down after all.

  The fires of camp were little more than fading embers when I woke up. Frost clung to every surface, the cold biting harder than usual in the early light of dawn. Warriors moved like wraiths in the half-dark, tightening harnesses, inspecting gear, speaking only when necessary. The camp hadn’t yet fully stirred, but as Eirik likes to say, ‘war was always early’.

  I rolled up the old map from the last mission, still marked with dirt at the edges, and spread the new one across my bed. A red symbol marked the Breachward outpost. It was a simple oval, hastily inked, like whoever drew it was in a hurry. I tapped the edge of it, but to my lack of surprise didn't come to any sudden enlightenments as to what we’d face.

  Patchy was already sitting up, looking for the Bookmark. It had fallen to the floor sometime in the night. Theo was lacing his boots with the expression of a man who had been personally wronged by the concept of morning. "You know it's too early when your dreams issue an I.O.U."

  Outside, by the campfire, Athena was already dressed, hood drawn low against the slight breeze, checking the sharpness of the short dagger she kept on her. Marive was standing next to Athena, rapier sheathed but ready. He'd probably been up for an hour, judging by the focus in his eyes.

  I walked out our cabin, stretching my shoulders until something clicked, and called back to Patchy and Theo: "We leave in twenty!"

  The camp was still slowly coming to life when we went through it, a faint mist hugging the ground, everything grey and quiet. Theo complained for the first ten minutes about his tired legs, which we all ignored.

  I walked with Athena at the front. Patchy, Theo and Marive spread out behind us.

  "Something on your mind?" I asked her.

  She flexed her hand, tracing the etching magic between her fingers and held it. The rune lasted only a short duration before fading, barely lasting long enough to complete the etching.

  "It's inconsistent," she said. "Sometimes it holds, sometimes it doesn't. I can't work out why. The rune structure is the same each time."

  "Maybe you're tired."

  “That's not it." She tried again, tracing the shape carefully. No change from before. She made a small, frustrated noise. "It's like the magic is fighting against me."

  She went quiet for a few paces. I could almost hear her thinking.

  Then she stopped walking entirely.

  The etching in front of her fingers flared, but now the shape of the rune was sharp and clean, significantly brighter than before too.

  "What did you do?"

  "I stopped thinking about the etching itself." She sounded genuinely surprised. "I was imagining what I actually wanted the rune to do instead of how to form the rune itself.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Is that how it's supposed to work?" I asked.

  "I have absolutely no idea." She let it dissipate, then tried again, deliberately thinking about the result. The etching was drawn easily and smoothly, cleaner than before. "But the pattern's consistent.”

  "Can I cast a spell with my Saga-mark then?" I questioned.

  She turned her whole body and gave me the look. And let me tell you, it is an awful glare. I haven’t missed being on the receiving end of her professional glare whenever I asked a stupid question back when we were a team in Gods and Heroes.

  “Someone clearly didn’t listen to Yrdesa, Runes command magic and are created through etching. Saga-marks command… Well, I’m not entirely sure, actually. There seemed to be an almost infinite array of things Saga marks could do, including interfering with Giant magic.”

  “In my defence, that was like 6 years of school crammed into a week”

  After a moment's thought, Athena replied, “Alright, look, all I know is that while one is learned, the other is earned.”

  “Very poetic.”

  “It’s practical,” she replied. “It’s the difference between Vanir spell-craft and Aesir Magic.”

  I smiled. “Well, that's good. We’ll need every edge.”

  Theo, trudging a few paces behind, chimed in. “If we’re going to keep running around saving the universe from Ragnarok, we should come up with a name.”

  Patchy looked up. “A name?”

  “Yeah, like a cool squad name, or sveit name rather. Makes us sound cooler than just 'Sveit 17!' when our future adoring fans yell it out across the realms.”

  Marive grunted. “We’re not a mercenary guild needing fame.”

  I smirked at Marive’s discomfort. “What did you have in mind, Theo?”

  Theo shrugged. “Something simple. How about 'The Lost' 'cause I have no idea where we are or what we're doing!”

  Patchy laughed, and even Athena let out a smile at that one. Marive maintained his stoic silence, ignoring us with his usual ‘talking to a brick wall’ social skills.

  Whilst funny, this didn’t quite seem the right team for a name... “Let's defer this decision for a little later once we have a bit more experience.”

  We reached the Breachward front by late afternoon. What I expected from Freya’s description: pretty bad. What I saw: pretty worse.

  The ground was basically shattered. There were more craters spread across the plain than there were plains. It was like every meteor that ever existed had visited this part of the realm in particular. What was left outside these craters were broken siege weapons and charred stumps where trees had been. Bodies half-buried in the snow, armour crushed. Marive kicked over a stone that jutted from the ground next to what looked like an old barricade. The stone had a rune etched on it, now flickering faintly as the last of its magic charge faded away.

  Marive looked up from the stone and said flatly: "Recent."

  A distant cry of pain echoed; no bird or natural beast made that noise. Everyone froze. Then we started walking towards our destination, quicker, when we realised the sound matched our mapped destination.

  We finally reached the front lines, and bodies were everywhere. Einherjar and Berserker, as well as innumerable hounds.

  Theo muttered, “Gods above...”

  We found the front line, or rather what was left of it, black scorch marks streaked the snow, and hundreds of arrows jutted from the ground and bodies in front of the makeshift defences like iron thorns. Behind a makeshift barricade of earth and stacked timber, we saw a damaged banner was still flying over the inner rampart.

  As we approached, waved inside by the gate guard, we found barely a few dozen Einherjar remaining, a ragged, sweat-streaked group with most having hastily bandaged wounds. Some leaned on their weapons more than they stood with them. Those still capable stood watch, waiting for the next wave.? I sent the others to inspect the condition of the camp, talk to the Einherjar, and come find me when they thought they had info to share, whilst I looked for the Valkyrie.

  I finally found Iskára standing at the centre, giving instructions to what little remained of her unit. Her wings were singed, one bound to her back at a crooked angle. Her armour was damaged, but her eyes were sharp despite clear exhaustion. As she turned, glaive in hand, I felt a jolt of familiarity. The Valkyrie from my guard duty! She hadn’t exactly been very social back then; I hadn’t even known her name. But now…

  Iskára.

  So that’s who she was.

  She didn’t even flinch when she saw me, despite clearly knowing who I was. Clearly, the personality had stayed the same. “Reinforcements?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Apparently.”

  Iskára snorted. “It was about time.”

  I decided to confront her about her cold attitude: “We’ve met before, you know. The guard duty?”

  Turning away, indicating for me to follow, she replied coolly, “Didn’t have the luxury to talk casually back then. Still don’t, actually.”

  The others swiftly returned with their news and information; meanwhile, Iskára shared what little intel her group had. Enemy forces had struck in waves with every rift that appeared: Tartarus beasts, then half-blood Giants34. The last attack had come hours ago, and they were bracing for another. I shared that the latest messenger from her unit must not have made it; the only information we had was that reinforcements were needed, not that it was this bad.

  The worst, Iskára warned, wasn’t the monsters or the half-bloods. It was the thinning of the dimension; the constant rifts were heightening the risk of a dimensional tear or even collapse.

  Eventually, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, horns began to bellow furiously in the dark. Shadows appeared in the far snowfields, massive, lumbering, and fast. The half-blood berserkers.

  “Positions!” Iskára shouted.

  The defenders scrambled behind the barricades, and we slotted in beside them in a pre-arranged strategy. Athena’s hands glowed faintly with a pre-etched frost rune in front of her. Patchy knelt, Bookmark clutched tight. Marive took to a flank, blade drawn. Theo stood front and centre, shield braced, voice already booming taunts towards the rapidly approaching enemy.

  The half-bloods came fast, their shouts echoing off the snow whilst the unblooded, smaller berserkers charged beside them. The first to reach the embankment slammed into it with a bone-rattling thud, sending shards of frozen earth skyward. They towered over the Einherjar defenders, weapons carved from ruin and wreckage. The normal berserkers charged over the walls loosened by the half-bloods.

  I ducked beneath the wildly swung spiked axe of my first opponent, then parried the wild swing of the berserker's follow-up attack away from my chest. It smashed into the stone beside me instead, showering us both with rock shards. A shard, unfortunately, caught me right on the cheek, cutting quite deep. Cursing my luck, I decided to focus on moving and responding to his attacks by reflex. I judged that it would be more effective to spend more time dodging and parrying whilst attempting to counter, than clashing directly against the berserker's superior strength.

  Nearby, Theo bellowed and held the centre alone for a moment, his shield wall partners busy with the first arriving berserkers. Theo's shield caught the charge of a half-blood. Athena called out to him, "Hold him still!" Theo nodded and continued to block the Giant with his shield, but was slowly pushed back, feet creating furrows in the snow from their contest of strength. Just as Theo was about to stumble, Athena fired a bolt of ice, piercing through the half Giant's head and felling him instantly. Nodding his gratitude to Athena, Theo changed his stance to a charge and targeted a particularly aggressive half-blood who was suppressing the Einherjar nearby.

  Nearer the backline, I spotted Patchy’s hand move fast, whispering to himself as he gestured over the Bookmark. A golden shimmer traced from the page, turning into a rune that anchored into the chest of a heavily wounded Einherjar who had protected him from a thrown axe with his own body. The man gasped as torn muscle, skin, and bone in his pierced chest began to reknit as the rune was absorbed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was just enough to stop him from dying on the spot and allow him to move.

  “Your life's stable,” Patchy muttered to his saviour. “But only barely.”

  Marive danced around and through the berserkers on the flank, rapier carving relatively shallow but precise lines across the bodies of a group of three that were attacking him. He was a storm of movement, focused and untouchable.?However, even with these miniature victories, we were badly outnumbered, outmatched, and rapidly losing ground. My arms now shook from strain; even with the skills of the Einherjar, the line was breaking. It had barely been twenty minutes. We were tired, bleeding, and exhausted. One more charge would likely shatter the defence completely.

  A truly deafening roar split the air as a true full-blooded Giant thundered into view. Einherjar morale was visibly lowered as both the half-bloods and berserkers cheered. Iskára broke from the combat line, glaive raised with its runes now burning menacingly. Her now unfurled wings surged with power once, just enough. She met the Giant with a cry, clashing with it on the open plains. The two circled each other, the Giants' blows shaking the terrain as Iskára nimbly dodged each wild swing to then return with her own piercing attacks.

  Moments after their battle began, it felt like reality itself was torn asunder with a terrible shrieking, causing both sides to momentarily stop fighting and step back to watch. A truly monumental dimensional rift began to yawn open, it appeared right in the middle of the two forces, tall as a tower, wide as a gate. Energy pulsed from it like a wound in space, staggering everyone in its range; it truly felt like my very soul had been shaken. After the debilitating energy wave passed us, the Rift seemed to shrink for a long moment before suddenly expanding to devour half the front line in an instant. Einherjar, berserker and half-Giants alike vanished, pulled into its hungry maw.? Even the full-blooded Giant was unable to escape, his large size working against him as he was pulled inside.

  Iskára turned just in time to see an edge of the rift surge toward her. She began to flee, then stopped, turning to grab two nearby Einherjar and hurl them clear. She then tried to leap clear of the expanding rift herself, but with her wings already previously wounded, and now weakened from all the fighting and flying, she couldn’t clear enough distance, and one of her legs was caught by the edge of the portal. She turned to the Sveit and me, plunging her glaive, with its runes flaring into the ground to anchor herself momentarily from being sucked into the rift.

  "Retreat! You must take the Einherjar and tell Freya what has happened!"

  A moment later, her glaive broke, unable to handle the pressure being placed upon it, and the rift swallowed her whole, before beginning to shrink.

  "Iskára!"?I began to run towards the rapidly closing rift. Even writing this in hindsight, I couldn’t tell you why she was so important to me or what possible connection I could have felt with her at that time. I just... knew that if I didn’t chase after her, it would be one of the worst decisions of my entire life, and I already had enough regrets.

  Athena, seeing this, shouted out to me, “Kai, stop! We have to report to Freya!"

  "I'm not leaving Iskára and the Einherjar to die!"

  "Stop you idiot! You don't even know if they're still alive!"

  Athena’s hand shot forward, fingertips glowing as she etched a freezing spell in an instant, showing her recovering prowess. Frost traced rapidly across the ground toward my running boots, and it looked like I was going to get caught, but at that moment, the berserkers and half-bloods resumed their charge towards the heavily wounded Einherjar. Athena was no doubt cursing me in her mind as she redirected the spell, encasing a group of berserkers' legs in ice instead.

  “Dammit, Kai!”

  Nevermind, she was going to do it out loud after all. But it was too late now, I was already gone, diving into the tear after?Iskára and the Einherjar.