We camped that night just inside the ward perimeter. The wall behind us still glowed faintly with repaired glyphs, their soft glimmers threading across the stone wall like veins of molten glass. A spell-crafter worked nearby under a flickering torch. She moved with calm precision, carving fresh lines into the wall with a slender chisel tipped in glowing energy. Each gentle strike made the etched glyphs flare briefly before dimming, joining the growing array already spread across the wall. She paused now and then to consult a worn scroll, muttering to herself.

  I watched as Theo wandered closer, hands tucked into his belt. “Need a hand?”

  She didn’t look up from her work as she spoke, “You know your way around warding glyphs?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “Then, unless you want to accidentally open a gate to Niflheim, stand back.”

  Theo lifted his palms in surrender and backed away slightly before turning to walk back towards us, giving me a shrug with a slight smile on his face.

  I turned my gaze back to the top of the wall. I could see two of the local commanders speaking quietly near a brazier. One was sharpening a spearhead in smooth, unhurried strokes, while the other adjusted their armour straps, keeping an eye on the horizon. Everyone looked tired, but, to their credit, none of those on duty once mentioned rest. By the time night settled in and darkness shrouded the camp, the only sound was the slight humming of the runes.

  The garrison here shared some dry rations with us and provided us with two firepits to set up our camp. The Einherjar took one, and we took the other; we arranged ourselves in a rough circle. I stirred the wood in the firepit and watched the flames momentarily soar higher, releasing a wave of warmth, before settling back down. It seemed there were no enemies to attack us tonight, and I was exhausted after all the travel and fighting, but I couldn't fall asleep.

  I kept seeing the rift in my mind, the strange glassy shine of it, and the golden runes Patchy had used to stitch it shut. The wind shifted direction and caught the edge of my cloak, which I was using as a pillow as I lay in my sleeping bag, forcing me to turn over to stop it flapping around – then I realised Theo was still sitting up and staring into the fire.

  As it turned out, the rest of the group couldn't sleep either, but reasons varied. Theo pulled out some dried meat the local Einherjar had pressed on him after the last fight and examined it. “This reminds me of a hot dog-eating contest back on Earth. I was four and a half dogs in when I nearly blacked out from being sabotaged by Patchy and ended up losing to a tiny ten-year-old.”

  Patchy snorted but did not look up from his Bookmark. “You lost because you had eaten an entire buffet with me just beforehand.”

  Theo bit into the meat with a completely deadpan expression. “That's beside the point, you dragged me there against my will, and that buffet wasn’t even that good anyway. Fortunately, this stuff is a lot better than the hot dogs.”

  The fire crackled, and Athena, who had just been watching it for a while, raised her voice.

  “Has anyone noticed how normal this feels?”

  Theo raised an eyebrow. “Define normal.”

  “Just... everything,” she said. “Following orders, taking up guard duty, and even the food we eat. We were dragged into a war between gods and monsters that we believe is real, yet no one is talking about going home!? I mean, I've killed another living being! How I feel can’t be considered normal.”

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  Patchy scooted closer with the Bookmark towards the fire, just enough to catch the warmth. “I haven't really thought about home before today.” His tone was neutral.

  Marive cleaned an invisible fleck from his gloves. “Nobody is waiting for me there.”

  Athena glanced my way. “You?”

  I poked the ember bed and watched it glow. “We are in Asgard during Ragnarok. I am focused on not dying rather than what has been left behind.”

  That earned me a look, indicating she knew I hadn’t answered her properly. “Fine.”

  Theo leaned back and studied the hazy stars. “Maybe that's the point. Worrying about Earth does nothing for us here, so we put it out of our minds automatically.”

  No one seemed to want to argue it.

  Patchy turned a page in his Bookmark and then turned it back again, more a habit than with an actual purpose, I suspect. “What if the divine energy thing is not just physical?” he said. “What if the energy is also affecting our minds, removing our worries to help us acclimate faster and fight in Ragnarok?”

  Athena’s mouth tightened. “That is unsettling.”

  “And what if it's true?” I asked.

  “Then we'd better learn how it works, fast, and decide if we like the changes or not before it becomes irreversible,” Patchy said. He tapped the cover of the Bookmark. “Whoever created this seems to be trying to communicate with me; perhaps they have some restrictions like Kai. So, they left me a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.”

  “The book is talking to you?” Athena asked.

  “Something like that.”

  There was a moment of silence as everyone consolidated their thoughts.

  Theo tipped his chin at Athena. “So, what about you. Anybody waiting back there on good old Earth?”

  Athena paused with a piece of partially whittled ice still in her hand. “Nobody I particularly want to see,” she eventually said, and we all left it there. No one pushed her. Everyone had memories they didn't want touched.

  After a while, the fire weakened, slowly burning up the wood. I lay there long enough to have started counting the stars in the sky to help fall asleep, then gave up, my mind still awhirl with everything we talked about. I threw on my cloak and decided to walk the perimeter.

  I found Marive sat cross-legged on top of a wooden supply crate nearby, rapier beside him as he looked at the sky. He did not look over when I stopped a few feet away.

  “Couldn't sleep either?” I asked.

  “Sleep is for people with fewer sins to tally,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and sat on a crate across from him. The sky was a pale shimmer through the wards, stars pulsing like slow heartbeats. “Well, you have no sins for your actions today. In my eyes, you did well,” I said. “Both in the fight and after.”

  He kept his eyes on the sky. “You know, you will fail at something important to you eventually.” His voice was even. “That is statistics, not prophecy.”

  “Maybe,” I said, before jokingly adding, “But that time is not tonight. Unless you're talking about me losing out on my sleep.”

  Seeing his complete lack of response to humour, as usual, I sighed. I stood up, stretched, and nodded toward the bedrolls. “Make sure you're ready in the morning, we plan to move off right after breakfast.”

  Once again, he did not answer, but I guess at this point, he just didn't want to. Or maybe he was being petty because I sighed at him. Either way, I started walking, leaving him to his stargazing.

  Patchy was asleep and snoring quietly when I got back, curled near the warm firepit with the Bookmark snuggled in his arms. Its cover pulsed faintly with light against his chest.

  I lay down, finally feeling tired, and watched the gently waving flames until everything blurred, and I finally passed into sleep.

  Patchy’s Note: Why are you even down here? That paragraph explains itself. Go back up!

  Patchy’s Note:

  Niflheim: A realm of miserable cold and lots of mist. Contains one very nasty Dragon (Nidhogg) who keeps eating the roots of Yggdrasil.

  NOTE: It is not, in fact, the ‘underworld’. ‘Helheim’ is the actual realm of the dead (for the non-Valhalla souls that is).

  Patchy’s Note:

  Why they all keep giving him meat is something I still don’t understand, and I don’t think Kai knows either as he never writes it in his notes. I assume it’s something to do with Theo’s massive size, helping him stay bulked up or something.

  Patchy’s Note:

  Asgardian field rations can be categorised into the following: smoked strips of meat(?) (edible), stone bread (questionable), and soup/ broth cubes that dissolve in hot water (pretty good actually).

  Be sure to also add crushed pine needles and assorted ‘spices’ (see: dirt) to your meals for essential vitamins and the forlorn and vague illusion of cuisine.