6/16/2025, 7:59 PM
roughly nine months
He'd had a dream. Or a memory. It was those strange, gossamer moments between waking and sleep, and he saw the sky. It glittered around him, blue as the sky in his twin's eyes, dark charcoal stormclouds rumbling his name like the reverent whisper of a prayer, the sun spilling gold in its wake.
He felt its warmth. His paws carried him around the clouds, the raindroplets misting across his face and the swaying fur of his pelt. He was as physical as the earth and as amorphous as ash on the breeze. Still, within him, he knew he was missing something.
He would have it when his task was finished. He would have it when the sun was broken and bleeding. He would have it when his fate was fulfilled. And then he had awoken, or maybe just come back to himself.
In the very far distant, hidden by the ink of the hour, thunder spoke his name again and again, the sound rabbiting across choppy seas and brine breezes to reach his ears. Restless paws hauled Sverke to his feet.
They're just stories, she had said. And he didn't believe her, even now. He knew what he saw, he knew what was within him. Sverke stumbled through the forest, haste and distraction making his normally smooth pawsteps clumsy as he shook off the last of his strange, lingering sleep.
Her den was easy to find, and smelled strangely, not that he paid it any mind. Sverke chuffed gruffly in an effort to wake her, but then simply lowered himself to squirm his way into the entrance to her den.
Bragi.He said, plain and direct, with little of his usual mocking lilt.
I need to -He was going to ask her about her stories, what she knew of the prophecies. If he could stop Ragnarok.
Then he saw something small and gold and moving?
His nose scrunched.
What the fuck is that.
