The end? The beginning? The great drama, the great conflict. It is the culmination of our lives, it is the destination we have journeyed towards since birth, and we have no idea what it is.
Disaster, death, celebration. What drives us? what defines...
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There, gold-toothed Heimdal stands upon his bridge, and raises high his mighty horn, that trumpets through the ancient halls a note of desperate tragedy, to sound that Ragnarök is born.
The world tree shudders and the Serpent comes awake, releasing from its grasp the earth, which was encumbered by that snake.
The Æsir stand defiant, knowing doom is on its way, for now the Gods within both worlds will meet their death this day.
Fenrir, the Wolf, strains hard against his chain, held back by father Loki, whose anger is the fury of the spurned and serves as fuel to see this Asgard burned. There, by his side, Surtur leads Múspell's sons, the giant holds his flaming sword on high, to send destruction outward so that the Gods may die, while the Midgard Serpent eats the sun and spits its venom to the sky.
So on the fields of Vigrid, beneath the coal black sky, the Gods and Giants welcomed death, as one by one they died. Now with the deadly battle done, the blood pools on the snow and silence falls upon the land while tragic dirges grow.
Oden, Thor, and Loki, the Serpent and the Wolf, Freyr and Surtur, Garm and Tyr, and Heimdal lay as proof, that death will come for men and God, for giant, dwarf, and troll, and war, no matter what the cause, will take its deathly toll.