As the event drew near, Asgard's golden halls trembled more with each passing day.
Seated on Hlidskjalf, a throne gleaming silver and adorned with pulsing runes, an aged man narrowed his only eye.
Divine energy burst rhythmically, ruffling his long white beard as his knuckles whitened around a mythical spear of horrifying intricacy.
"You preferred Tiamat over me first." His solemn voice reverberated through his gritted teeth. "I gave you a chance to survive as a slave, but survive nonetheless. Yet, you refused my goodwill again."
Soul-chilling caws accompanied his words as a raven perched on his shoulder cried its heart out.
Odin patted its head, yet his finger trembled in suppressed rage.
