Freya's body trembled as she stumbled across the battlefield, her legs barely holding her weight, blood trailing faintly behind her with every step she took.
The ground shook beneath her as gods unleashed their powers all around, but she didn't care.
She could hear the roars of dragons, the crash of oceans, the wrath of thunder—but to her, they were distant sounds, meaningless compared to the one figure who now sat upon a throne of black stone amidst the chaos.
Her vision blurred, her heart pounded painfully, yet she forced herself forward, one trembling step after another, eyes locked on the man who had appeared like a dream, or perhaps like destiny itself.
"Odr…" she whispered, her voice hoarse, yet filled with emotion that cut through the storm.
Campe's massive head snapped toward her, crimson eyes flaring with menace, flames flickering between her fangs as she growled a warning that could have shattered the courage of lesser beings.
