"Is it pure guesswork? Or do you have some basis for it?"
Su Ming mounted his steed, pulling both others onto its back. The eight-legged Pegasus could easily bear the weight of three, a veritable stretch limousine among horses.
"There's some basis in Earth mythology. Ever heard of the Edda?"
Monarch sat behind Su Ming, while Gin sat in front, the Cloak of Levitation curling a corner to nudge the mage in greeting.
"I know of Homer's epics, Virgil's Aeneid, and Milton's Paradise Lost. I've even heard of the Manas epic, but what's the Edda?"
Deathstroke's memories held some literary knowledge, but it was patchy. Combined with Su Ming's own recollection, he was half-baked at best.
The trio galloped toward Vanaheim's capital. In the village, only elders and children peeked from behind doors, leaving Gulveig's palace defenses vulnerable.
He let the Pegasus run wild across the boundless grasslands, where no roads existed.
"As the name suggests, it's a long poem chronicling history, mainly about how Odin gathered materials, overcame obstacles, and had the dwarf king Eitri forge Mjolnir for him, later using it to slay Laufey, king of the frost giants."
Monarch explained to Su Ming, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the wind whip past, his stomach settling.
"Sounds like the epic leans more literary than factual," Su Ming shrugged, gripping the reins as Gin's head brushed against his chin. "Mjolnir was tricked into being made by Loki, and Laufey's still kicking."
"Troy and The Divine Comedy were once considered epics too. I get it—stories are stories, but parts are true. Like Mjolnir's materials. I think the epic's version is the real one."
Monarch flashed a refined smile, as if he'd penned the poem himself.
Su Ming rubbed his chin, recalling Mjolnir's origins. Generally, two theories existed about its composition.
One claimed the hammer's head came from the core of a dying planet, its collapsed matter insanely dense, forged by dwarves using a star.
The other said the head was Uru metal, crafted by dwarves and imbued with Odin's power by the All-Father himself.
Both agreed the handle was made from a branch of the World Tree.
The handle was originally longer, but Loki's prank shortened it. When Thor took it from Odin, it felt off, so he wrapped it in dragon leather, developing a habit of swinging it.
"What does the epic say?" Su Ming pressed.
"I don't have your memory, just a rough idea. In the poem, the dwarves used a dying star to create a forge called the Heart of the Sun. In their world, Nidavellir, they heated Uru metal with another star to craft Mjolnir, and Odin imbued it with Asgardian power."
Monarch gazed at the sky, the horse's jostling making recall tricky as he pieced together the tale.
"I'm starting to get it. Go on."
The mage exhaled deeply, unable to recall the last time he rode a horse—elephants were more his speed.
"The hammer was completed and handed to Odin, but the forge, blessed by Odin, was used several more times to create other things."
"I get it. The Norn Stones."
Su Ming nodded slowly. Artifacts born from the same source as Mjolnir, looking like a pile of small stones—that's the Norn Stones.
"Yes, the epic calls them Norn Runes, but you call them Norn Stones. I think they're the same thing, both infused with Odin's power, just like Mjolnir."
Monarch rubbed his stomach, satisfied that Deathstroke understood, sparing him further explanation.
Su Ming pinched his brow. Knowing was one thing, but if Zemo had the Norn Stones, things just got tricky.
They were like random cheat codes, granting different superpowers depending on the user.
Normally, they appeared as a box of about a hundred small stones. When used, they fused into a fist-sized rock.
Each user gained unique abilities, purely by chance.
Flight, vacuum breathing, or disease immunity were basic. Telekinesis or mind-reading were high-tier.
Abilities weren't singular—you could luck out with multiple.
From what Su Ming knew, in the Siege comics, Thor used the Norn Stones and Asgardian power to defeat the Sentry, who was about to wipe out the heroes.
That was a brawl between brutes, no tactics, just raw power—winner takes all.
Monarch, true to his magical prince title, had dropped critical intel. This also explained what the frost giants stole from the archives.
The Heart of the Sun.
Infused with Odin's power, it was too sacred for the dwarf king Eitri to keep. For any smith, it was the ultimate artifact, an unmatched miniature forge.
Once used, it was returned to Asgard, where Odin stored it in the archives.
Zemo had been after it from the start. He already had the Norn Stones, then got the forge with Odin's power and solar heat, and snatched a thread of fate from the Norns.
He had all the materials.
Zemo was set to mass-produce Norn Stones. All he needed now was a star for energy and a few craftsmen.
Gin had been quietly listening, pondering. As an Asgardian, she knew the most.
She'd seen the Norn Stones, even touched them a few times.
They were kept in the Golden Palace, in a massive brazier in the archives. Back then, she thought they were just decorative.
Like a fountain or fireworks.
When the flames burned, they danced around the brazier like moths or planets orbiting a star.
But after Monarch's words, if they were born alongside Mjolnir, their value was incalculable.
Who stole them and got them to Zemo? The Serpent? But the Serpent couldn't enter Asgard unnoticed—that didn't add up.
"Why's Zemo in Vanaheim? No master smiths here," she asked her boss, scanning their surroundings.
It was peaceful, Vanaheim serene as it was decades ago.
Fields of green hills, golden wheat, and clear streams stretched as far as the eye could see.
A breeze passed, plants bowing like waves in a glossy sea.
"The Heart of the Sun is a mold. Craftsmen just pour molten material in. Norn Stones are tiny—goldsmiths are better suited than blacksmiths."
Su Ming answered Gin, readying himself to face Zemo and the frost giants while taking in the scenery, steadying his breath.
His underworld trip had cost him blood, and wrangling wolves left internal injuries.
His body and fighting strength were fine, but his bloodlust was stirring. He fought to keep it in check.
"The Norn Stones are powerful. They can be split among many or fused to give a leader terrifying abilities. Why did Odin just leave them in the archives?" Monarch shook his head, sighing at Asgard's carelessness.
Su Ming pulled out guns and ammo from his pouch, handing them to Gin.
She had no weapons or armor, but unlike other Valkyries, Gin could shoot.
Arming her, he answered the mage: "Because the Norn Stones hold Odin's power, his own essence—crucial. Acting like he didn't care was the best disguise. Everyone eyes the treasury, but who'd think a dull furnace and some pebbles in the archives were the real treasures?"
The Golden Palace glittered, its treasury famed across the cosmos. Who'd suspect a dusty furnace and stones in an unguarded archive?
Asgardians weren't big readers—nobody visited the archives.
The trio discussed this while racing forward, but as the Pegasus charged, something felt off.
"Feeling a bit hot?" Su Ming asked Monarch and Gin. He didn't feel it, but Stranglehold was sensitive to heat.
"No temperature change, but I'm picking up massive magical fluctuations ahead," Monarch pointed.
"Stay sharp. We're going in."
Su Ming patted the horse's flank. Little Eight veered, charging toward the source.
Their target was a lava pool, abruptly sitting in the middle of the grassland.
The heat was intense, air shimmering, the pool expanding steadily, devouring nearby plants like an invisible maw.
"No illusion. This lava pool's real, projected from another plane via magic," Monarch added, knowing Deathstroke liked intel before action.
"Gulveig's deal with Surtur's kicking in. Vanaheim's turning into a firestorm," Su Ming deduced.
Though he'd convinced Gulveig to stand down, the pact hadn't been broken. Surtur was collecting.
"What do we do?" Gin asked, watching the pool. The Pegasus backed away as the lava, bathtub-sized on arrival, neared swimming-pool size in seconds.
"We save Vanaheim. Holway, prep your magic."
Su Ming dismounted, approaching the lava pool as its burning tide lapped at his feet.