Third Person PoV:
Location: Nornkeep, Root of The World Tree
The Nornkeep, nestled within the heart of Nornheim deep within the world tree's roots, served as the palace of Karnilla and the Norns. This esteemed abode not only hosted the Norns or the Fates but also housed the Well of Wyrd.
The Well of Wyrd is one of the three wells beneath the roots of the world tree Yggdrasill. It is the spring of destiny. It is a mystical pool where its waters intricately connect with the ley lines of Yggdrasill.
Within the depths of this pool, its waters possess diverse magical qualities, granting, among other abilities, the power to perceive events spanning across space and time. Though, obviously, it was far from omniscient.
The three Norns-Urd, Skuld, Verdandi- stood in front of the All-Father and his two sons. In the tranquil backdrop, the sacred waters of the Well of Wyrd enveloped the roots of Yggdrasill.
The three sisters had agreed to offer advice on Yggdrasill's anomaly. Whether it be visions and images or pre-destined prophecies, they would decipher the coming fates of the Nine Realms and perhaps beyond.
For all the insecurities that Asgardians and the other people of the Nine Realms experienced, the Fates were even more anxious. For they had a secret that others did not know.
Their divine powers, sought after by uncountable beings mortal and immortal alike, were given by the Gods Above Gods, Those Who Sit Above In Shadow. They who came from the Beyond, the gap outside the multiverse.
The pre-destined cycle of Ragnarök was a machination designed by them to feed off the energy of Asgardians. It was their life source. The strands of fate of every Asgardian were bound by them to experience their eventual end in Ragnarök, only to be born once again in order to die for them.
It was destined to continue so until the eventual end of all things but the anomaly of Yggdrasill threw a wrench in their plans. An unplanned tremor that spread across the world tree, lasting a mere few seconds, sent ripples across the rivers of fate.
If not salvaged in time, the destiny that once was would be no more. The fate of Asgardians and all that live would sink into the vast ocean of unknowns. That was absolutely intolerable for Those Who Sit Above In Shadow.
And hence, they commanded the Fates to try and interpret destiny once more for the Asgardians. All so that the Asgardians could deal with the chaos themselves, while they rained down Ragnarök on them once more. All for their own well-being, of course.
Little did they know that no being would be exempt from the chaos to come. Or rather the chaos that had already unfolded. Even as the Asgardians were present here to uncover the mysteries of destiny, the chaos spread just like small embers lit in a forest could lead to raging fires.
"Let us begin." Two of the Fates spoke at the same time. Skuld remained silent, for she never spoke. Her face was hidden behind her cowl, as was the future she represented.
The waters of the Well of Wyrd started rippling as images started appearing. Winds started blowing rapidly. Visions of the past, present, and future appeared, covered by a hazy curtain. For they were divining a force beyond recognition. No one was truly disappointed as they expected as much.
Even if the Asgardians could not see the perpetrators, they could see the underlying chaos caused by them. Perhaps only Yggdrasill could match such chaos, but they were not deterred. They were the rulers of a race of proud warriors. They lived to face such futures.
The Norns spoke again in an ethereal and eerie voice combining the results of all their respective domains of past, present, and future to issue a prophecy. A prophecy pertaining to a new unchangeable destiny:
" Upon the roots of Yggdrasil, a tremor shall arise, A ripple through realms, a veil of disguise. The threads of fate, interwoven, frayed, A change in the cosmic fabric displayed.
The world tree shivers, the multiverse stirs, From shadows emerges a force unheard. Known as 'the White Weaver,' a saviour to some, Her touch, a beacon when the darkness has come.
Yet in the cosmic dance of light and shade, A hidden aspect, by chaos portrayed. A dual persona, an Evil God with the name 'D', In shadows, she'll rise, stoking fortune's flame.
Dominion claimed, worlds shall fall, To her power, they'll heed the call. As realms submit to her web of command, An empire forged, by an unseen hand.
In the enigma's rise, a tale untold, Two faces, two paths, one to behold.
One of salvation, one of despair, In her hands, the cosmic threads they wear.
Embrace the transformation, as fates unfold, A multiverse's destiny, in her hand's hold.
From the heart of the cosmos, a shift shall emerge, Two personas, one weaver, a cosmic surge. The threads of time, once tightly woven, Now tremble and shift, by forces interwoven.
As worlds fall to the touch of supremacy's sway, A sovereign's reign, the heavens obey. Invisible threads weave empires' tales, And in their wake, a new era hails.
As the world tree trembles, its roots quaking, Two identities merge, destiny in the making. Known as 'the White Weaver,' her true self concealed, One being, dual masks, in fate's reveal.
A singular presence, a path she'll engrave, Empires crumble, dominions transform, Under her touch, realities deform.
Seekers of answers, the Norns speak true, The enigmatic weaver's rise, a prophecy in view. A multiverse's destiny in her grasp, As empires fall and new worlds clasp.
Yet within the tapestry, choices entwine, Free will and fate, forever align. Destinies woven, paths unknown, In the enigmatic weaver's presence, a new era's throne. "
As the Fates spoke the last line, the waters regained their previous serene silence. The images and visions all but vanished. And so did the three Norns, leaving the All-Father and his sons in empty silence. There was no sign of the disturbance that just took place.
Odin spoke after a few moments, his voice solemn:
"This matter is to be kept a secret and only told to a select few members at my discretion. Is that understood?"
"Yes, father." Both Loki and Thor replied. They had no reason not to listen to his order much less disobey at such a time.
The contents of the prophecy were beyond their imaginations and had to be analysed carefully together with other wiser beings. But they could not let the prophecy dictate their actions.
Fate is a fickle mistress. The more one tried to understand and avoid it, the more they fell into its trap. If this prophecy was destined to unfold, all they could do was face it head-on the Asgardian way. As they had always done.
***
Wrote the prophecy with the help of a few friends who are good at stuff like this. It was rather fun thinking up a cryptic prophecy and playing around with fancy words.
On a side note, I have uploaded this novel on RoyalRoad and Scribblehub with the same novel title and username. If you like this story please follow me on those sites as well. Thanks for reading.