Fallen Máni: Harvest

Across the tree, gods were dead.

Each death a hand crushing the human heart.

This was long promised, and in fairness not unusual, but things had escalated weirdly and out of prophecy's stronghold, ever since Dagr put his plan in motion.

Sif simply sighed. She had a job to do.

Where Asgard meets Vanaheimr, in the wetlands of Fensalir, she cut wheat. It was from her own golden hair, and it was made of gold. On Midgard, a thousand seeds of a thousand crops were planted, and harvests were plentiful.

Yet in this aberrant fate, she felt oddly stagnant, unproductive.

"What troubles you, love?"

An electric voice said, followed by manly hands stroking her shoulders.

"Nothing you haven't heard before."

He sighed.

"Everything will be alright. I promise this much."

Mjölnir landed as Thor sat, a white splash against the muddy marsh waters.

"I will hold you to it."

Sif smirked playfully, and meant it as such, but there was that fear, of the consequences of a promise ill kept.

But for now, neither wanted darkness.

***

Darkness was gone from Asgard, and casted a shadow on a branch of the tree.

"We can't keep on running" Manuel said, stress shedding humanity for the moon, "W-we can't keep on-"

Jonathan's lips calmed him down, but both knew he was right.

Silvia stood in awe of the grandieur of Yggdrasill. Northern lights, distant stars. Far off, a monstruous eagle soared, looking down all the way to the roots of the cosmic structure, before taking a dive.

"Ratatoskr is gone, isn't he?" Hjúki said, sighing.

"The birds up there finally getting to war with the snake" Bil added idly.

"Everything is messed up!" Manuel said.

"But it can be mended" Jonathan said.

The first instinct in everyone else's mind was to protest, but there was a charisma to his voice that shut that dissent down. It was a practice he himself doubted, but felt very proud. He was a cineast, after all.

"For starters, my boyfriend isn't dead. That is good. Second, yes, we can't hide forever, but we need a place to stand strong. A fort to hold."

"Can't be on Midgard, Dagr's there" Bil suggested.

"How about on Fensalir?" Hjúki suggested, "Sits between two realms and has four gods who if nothing else won't tolerate the wolves."

"That's Freyja's domain. Can't say I trust her, but she doesn't strike me as wanting me dead from when I talked to her."

It is a good idea. I'll cover your departure there.

"Nótt!" Bil said happily.

Yeah yeah. Now go.

A shadow was cast again on the tree, darker and more vicious than the moon's, but just as welcoming.

You could almost say this day was fruitful, eh?

Nobody dignified her with a response.