It was a beautiful day to die.

The air was cool and filled with fresh falling snow, Sol warmed the realm from her distant throne which blazed with light and fire and stretching across the sky, so far away and so incredibly vast, were the fire blackened branches of Yggdrasil, something about them was soothing like looking at the stars, the scorched patches of ash and the shimmering green regrowth far above the world made mortal concerns seem so small.

Yes, it was a beautiful day to die… but not quite yet.

Hallr Magnison pushed himself back onto his feet, his gut wound had finally stopped bleeding which wasn't actually a good sign considering he hadn't bandaged it yet. Probably wouldn’t get the chance to either, would he?

His fur lined boots skidded as he stumbled along the frost webbed stones of fortresses floor, stepping around the corpses and the red stained snow. Hallr could hear HER footsteps getting closer, the traitor, she was cautious now but arrogance was overriding it, far too trusting these cultist types.

Hallr favoured his left slightly more than needed as he pushed himself out of the shadow of the blood-stained obelisk. His arm dragged behind him, his axe trailing through the snow, the sound it made was inaudible under the steady roaring of the snowstorm.

She was getting closer, she thought he was already done for stumbling out his last breath on the way to Valhalla, but Hallr was an Iron Rank, he didn’t die easy.

Through the roar of the storm Hallr heard it, the popping crackle of frozen blood breaking under a boot, the traitor had walked across the spot he’d been thrown. Without another thought Hallr spun and struck like an uncoiling snake, he ignored his muscles burning the dimness of his vision the screaming of his dying body, all that mattered was the blow. Raising his rune carved axe hight Hallr sucked in Odium from the air, the light, the life around him and pushed it into the runes carved into his body by time and effort and years of practise. The power lit up his body, burning along his skin the Exalted Style of Magni, seventh form, thunder and strife.

His axe bucked in his grip, the durability rune the only thing keeping it whole as he the echo of the Aesir lashed out through him, lightning crackled and thunder roared as the traitors’ eyes widened in panic. Hallr lurched forwards his axe biting the air as he hurled it over arm, shrouded with lightning it sang as it flew, faster than a sparrow, right at the traitor’s throat.

The traitor called upon a divine style of her own, one Hallr didn’t recognise, a mass of light swelling out of her chest like a breastplate blocking his axe. But it didn’t matter, people saw the lightning, but they forget the thunder.

The wave of sound and solid air slammed into the traitor like a falling tree, it swept her up, lifted her from the ground, and hurled her into the wall so hard that bricks were pushed from their lattice and tumbled down into the blizzard outside.

The storm faded, the axe shattered, Hallr collapsed. He was well and truly broken now, invoking like that had taken what little he’d had left and more besides.

Sprawled on the ground gasping for each shallow breath Hallr heard a distinctive pop and crackle as the traitor squeezed her fist closed.

Lifsblut, he realised and managed a wry grin, she needed to cheat to beat me even now, not bad.

“You really couldn’t just lie down and die, could you?” She asked, her voice was so different now, devoid of the sweetness, the hope, that had drawn him to her… but of course that had all been part of her lie.

“You could have joined us, I gave you a chance, we could have had a place at His side... together”

She was next to him again, her sword hanging above his head like an executioner’s axe.

“I gave you the option.” She said, no guilt in her eyes.

Hallr nodded idly, she had at that but it hadn't been very tempting, I mean would you join something that bills itself explicitly as a Ragnarök cult?

“It didn’t have to end like this.”

“Yes, it did.” Hallr wheezed, or tried to, as he raised right hand up in front of his face and crushed the brittle flash bomb he held.

A surge of pure white light washed across the platform, so harsh it was almost solid, it sent the traitor staggering back howling in pain and clawing at her face as Hallr hauled himself upright one final time, broken bones screamed, torn organs howled but something let him move.

Behind him the traitor slashed madly at the air, he ignored her, stumbling along the corridor, towards the altar.

Just a few more steps across the fresh snow from the broken windows.

Just a few more steps the ruined stone so long neglected.

Just… a…. few… the shallow stairs and…

Hallr felt something cold in his chest, looking down with faint curiosity he saw… ah she’d stabbed him in the heart, this time literally.

But he’d already gotten his hand on the altar and, as his corpse toppled over, its weight twisted an ancient mechanism into place.

The traitor howled in fury, hacking at his body again and again but Hallr couldn’t feel any pain just satisfaction. After millennia of idleness the altar activated, the runes on its surface gleaming with strange light as the ancient engine reignited and threw back the Fimbulwinter, the endless hungry storm hurled away. Beyond the tower the wind quieted and Hallr Magnison looked up at the clear blue sky and the branches of Yggdrasil with only one last thought in his mind.

It really was a beautiful day to die.