The halls of Gladsheim were alive with flickering torchlight and the low hum of voices as gods gathered for the feast. The long tables had been laid with carved boar tusk platters and polished bronze cups, waiting to be filled with mead brewed from the honey of immortal bees. Servants moved silently between the tables, placing wreaths of fresh pine and ironwood leaves along the carved benches.
Odin and Zeus walked side by side into the hall. As they entered, the Einherjar guards lining the walls stamped their spear-butts once against the stone in silent salute, the echo ringing like distant war drums. Loki slipped past them with a grin, vanishing behind a pillar as Thor followed, his heavy boots shaking the tiled floors with each step.
A low horn sounded from the outer gates.
