BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS

white silk entwined with glimmering silver threads. A diadem took pride of place on her head, showing her importance. She was seated on a regal throne carved from pale rowan, which was shaped like a collection of cornstalks. Her melted-chocolate eyes gleamed with ruthlessness. “We must think about this punishment carefully.”

“What do you mean carefully!” shrieked Ran incredulously. “Just drown them in a tsunami and get it over with!”

“NO!” thundered Sif harshly. Her tone and volume shocked the crowds of ethereal beings. “The murder of a person is one thing, but the double murder of the sovereigns of the Danes is another! Frigg and Grendel must be punished in a way that will last for all eternity, or at least until they are killed.”

“What do you propose that we do then?” questioned Odin.

“Surely I am not expected to be the only one with ideas for immortal punishments. There must be many that you wish to burden on your enemies, but haven’t had the chance to yet. When we were deciding the discipline for the god Loki, after he was found responsible for the murder of Baldr, every one of us had hundreds of suggestions in our moment of wrath. Use your anger and punish them so terribly, you will forever be feared by all of humankind.”

“What about we turn them into monsters,” asked Freya, the goddess of love and beauty. “I have an idea that will use the strength of our greatest enemy to our advantage. All I need is a courageous god who would dare journey into the lands of Hel herself.”

At the mention of Hel, everyone was silent. The temperature of the summer breeze plunged deeply. Clouds smothered the azure sky as a shadow fell upon the grass. Flowers wilted and leaves were torn from trees. The sound of hooves clopping along stone echoed around the kingdom, until the gods were confronted by one of their most feared. The goddess Hel, with her gargantuan horns and midnight robes, sat on a leather saddle. Her steed was a horse-shaped pile of rotting flesh clinging to several bones that were covered in filth and mould. She jumped off, her undead stallion crumbled into ashes, which quickly dispersed in the wind. A spear of dark obsidian appeared in Hel’s ivory hand, the tip surrounded by dim light. Her mouth was contorted evilly as she leered over her peers. Fangs dripping with blood protruded from the depths of her mouth.

“You called.” Her voice was cold and guttural, with a thick accent. Misty hands groped around her furs as the hundreds of souls that were sewn together tried to escape the darkness. All heads turned to Odin and Frigg. Their faces were like chalk, and their hands were clutching the sides of their thrones in fear.

“Y-y-yes,” stuttered Freya. The soft rises in her blonde hair had drooped and blackened, so they looked more like a dead crow. “I would like you to send me to the Isle of Heather.”

Every god present gasped. Hel’s wicked leer faltered for a second, but then returned quickly.

“Very well. You may go and visit my dearest brother. Make sure he doesn’t bite off your hand.” With this, she stared austerely at Tyr, who stared at the stump at the end of his arm. He opened his mouth to reply scornfully, but soon closed it in dread. The wind blew around Asgard as Hel sliced the air with her weapon, making a rip that glowed red and purple. Without a second thought, Freya stepped through.

She landed in a field of heather that stretched for miles. The sky was pitch-black apart from the glimmering stars and the moon. The howl of a wolf and the clank of chains convinced the goddess that she was in the right place. As she stood, she came face to face with a gargantuan creature. It was seven feet tall, with teeth so sharp they could piece diamonds. His skin was the colour of ink but had the rough texture of a Brillo pad. Its electric eyes gleamed with acreage and agony. The beast was shackled by bonds of iron that ran into the ground. Freya stepped back in fear, falling onto her back as she did so.

“Freya. Long time no see,” growled the wolf. The fangs glistened in the moonlight, making them look bigger and more dangerous. The goddess could barely speak as she looked straight into the eyes of Fenris Wolf. He was the most dangerous creature in existence, and his freedom was one of the signs that Ragnarok was to begin. He would supposedly kill Odin and the rest of the gods, and set the Nine Worlds alight, running through the flames as they destroyed all who did not bow to him.

“Fenris, I need to ask a favour.”

“A FAVOUR!” he roared. “YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN ASK ME FOR A FAVOUR AFTER I’VE BEEN TRAPPED HERE FOR MOST OF MY LIFE THANKS TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY!”

“Fenris, this will include killing some of the most disgusting beings in Midgard. If you help me, I will personally see to it that your bonds are slightly loosened, and you are given a little more way to run. You will be treated with food and gifts from all of the gods, and we will hold a banquet in your name. I promise that this will happen. Please, help us. I beg you.”

“Well, a feast and a little more freedom does sound nice. I’ll help you! What do I need to do?”

“Cause a big storm in the sea bordering the land of the Danes. Heimdal knows of the villains’ plans to sail over there, but their attempt will be in vain. You must make sure that nobody on that boat is left alive. They must all die, except for Frigg and Grendel. We shall deal with them.”

Without a second thought, Fenris opened his mouth, and let out a deafening howl. It sliced through the air and ripped heather from the ground. Freya was deafened as the dark waves churned around the island, washing over the plants and flying high onto the sky, before crashing back down again.

Miles away, a Viking longship was deeply in peril. The sea attacked the vessel, snapping the figurehead off the front. The wicked winds tore the sail, canvas flying through the air as it did so. Planks of wood fell into the grey waters as it smashed the hull to pieces. The crew screamed as they were thrown into the savage waves. They clung onto boxes and ropes, but were overcome almost immediately.

In the ship’s galley, Frigg and Grendel crouched in a corner as they hid from the wrath of the gods. They were already drenched to the bone, but their deep cuts were stung painfully by the salt. All of a sudden, the rotting wood on which they were sat crumpled into the waves, taking the evil pair with it. They clung onto each other tightly as seaweed, wind and waves swirled around them. Darkness from the bottom of the sea snaked up around their ankles, binding them like