Dreams tumble

Yggdrasil’s roots stretch from floor to ceiling

break past desks and chairs

and there is Jonathan, drawing circles on the chalkboard

and there are the owls, sitting silent in their chairs, watching.

Waiting.

“You’ve come back,” she says

and I turn to see the violet-eyed girl.

She stands among shadows and ravens,

her blade drips blood.

“I thought you had turned away.”

“I need to know,” I whisper.

“I need to know what is happening.”

The girl presses a hand

to a gnarled root.

Ravens twine under treeflesh.

“The end times come,” she whispers.

“Our battlewith the Aesir comes,

but another . . .

another god stirs,

one who should not waken.”

“But my friends. Why are they dying”

“Because the gods require blood.

And this god starves.”

“But why them?”

She turns, and the raven on her shoulder tilts his head. Munin watches us. Waiting. His beak drips crimson.

“They were chosen,

as you were chosen.”

“Chosen for what?”

“To serve.”

Shadows stretch and through the gaps

I see a battlefield, bodies prone and bleeding,

ravens harvesting.

“The owls are screaming,” she says,

tilting her head to the sky.

Blood drips against her porcelain skin.

“And the ravens have gone silent.”

“How do I stop it? How do I keep them safe?”

She steps closer and in her violet eyes I see the void.

“No one is safe. Not from what is yet to come.”

Her blade kisses my skin,

the tip drags against my neck.

“This is not how things were meant to be.

We must stop this new god.

Before he throws off the balance.

Before he kills again.”

“You saved me once. How do I save my friends?”

She doesn’t smile.

But I swear that Munin does.

“By giving yourself to me. Be my vessel.

Together, we will fight him.

When he is gone, our battle with the Aesir may begin.”

Roots twist tighter around us,

bind my arms and legs.

“Vessel?”

Her blade presses deeper,

draws shadows from my neck.

“We gave you your life,” Munin says.

“Now, it is time to give it back.”