The skies over the ruined Samire Kingdom still burned with the static scar of divine lightning. Entire valleys had been carved open as if a titan had raked its fingers across the land.
Forests were nothing but blackened stalks. Rivers hissed with steam. And the air, thick with thunder's ozone, trembled as a giant form strode across the cracked earth.
Thor.
Not the radiant All-Father of myth, nor the polished god the mortals once prayed to.
This Thor was hulking, swollen with divine gluttony and battle-lust, a 10-foot wall of thunder-eaten flesh and muscle. His beard a wild, storm-tangled mane.
His bare chest wrapped in tattoos that glowed whenever he breathed. Mjolnir slung lazily over one shoulder, its head still dripping molten stone from the mountain he shattered an hour earlier.
Beside him walked his son—
