Eliudnir, built into the mountainside, was forged entirely from obsidian. It took Solomon and Hela an entire day to walk from the palace to the bedchamber atop the mountain peak. Even with battle just hours away, Solomon didn't mind using this time for conversation. Hela, even less so—she knew the battle she had long yearned for was finally at hand. After enduring thousands of years of isolation, waiting a few more hours was trivial. Like old friends, the two of them overlooked the nine mist-veiled rivers of the underworld, sharing the finest honey mead Solomon had pilfered from the banquet.
Hela spoke at length of Odin's cruelty and lies, while the Arcanist nodded in understanding. In truth, Solomon deeply admired Odin's ruthlessness and political cunning. Though Asgard's records had long since erased that era in smoke and flame, Kamar-Taj's library preserved scattered fragments that Solomon had studied repeatedly, reconstructing the political climate of ancient Asgard.
Perhaps Asgardians were too naturally brash to play at subtle schemes, but Odin's strategic choices on the grand scale were undeniably wise. He eliminated successors with conflicting ideologies who might have destabilized the postwar era. More cleverly, he used Hela's own hand to eradicate the Valkyries—warriors who would otherwise have amassed great renown and possibly rallied the noble class. With those potential threats removed, no force remained in Asgard that could challenge Odin's authority in either power or influence. Thus, he established an unshakable supremacy not seen since the reign of Borr.
"We still have much to talk about," Solomon said as he hurled a black-sword-forged horn from the window into the abyss behind it, adding another blade to the river Slid, whose waters flowed with knives. He donned his helmet, hiding his expression behind a faceless mask. Crimson lenses flared to life, and streams of power armor data flickered across his vision. As he moved, the servos in his joints worked in perfect silence, seamlessly syncing with his limbs, without the slightest lag.
"Follow me, and don't break my favorite bedchamber. Let's fight on the summit platform. If you're still alive by then, I don't mind hearing what else you've got to say." Hela grinned, bloodlust in her tone. She leapt down from the windowsill, pulling her wild black hair back as her crown of sword-thorns slowly emerged.
"Your sword, shield, and lance are worthy of this battle. But don't think me a fool—centuries of imprisonment haven't dulled my mind. I noticed your armor is made of Uru, imbued with dwarven magic. I don't know how you came and went from this place. Perhaps you're tied to Asgard or Odin himself. That's why I intend to kill you outright—before I'm forced to hear another idiotic offer from the Lie-King. If you survive, tell me who you really are. If you die, your corpse will tell me what I want to know."
"You're insane!" No one dared stand in the way of this enraged woman.
Perhaps some inexperienced apprentices still considered speaking up, but facing a Vanir goddess clad in scale armor and wearing a golden feathered crown, they were out of their depth. The Sorcerer Supreme opened the ornately carved, spell-protected door to the meditation chamber, looming over the fully armed, sword-wearing woman. "How dare you let your disciple face her again? Didn't we agree to abandon this plan?" Asgard's queen, flushed with anger, snapped. "He nearly saw through your magic! If not for my Vanir spells concealing him…"
"Not here, Frigga. You injured some of the Arcanists storming up from the mountain's base."
"No one died. Just a few broken bones and concussions. A little healing magic will fix that. I'm not here to quibble over minor injuries, Sorcerer Supreme!"
The Ancient One signaled silently, and Mordo quickly ushered the training apprentices back to their rooms.
Before leaving, however, Mordo sent a telepathic message to the Sorcerer Supreme, asking whether to activate Kamar-Taj's defensive systems. The Ancient One refused, instructing Mordo to stay calm and not to alarm the old families of Arcanists or provoke a premature war.
"Grimnir isn't seated on Hliðskjálf. Huginn and Muninn are patrolling Jotunheim." Once the irrelevant parties had left, the Sorcerer Supreme finally spoke. She concealed many of Solomon's actions and did not tell Frigga the full extent of what he had done. "Everything I've done is to ensure the survival of humanity. According to my disciple's plan, Hela will be a vital ally in the wars to come."
"You and your disciple are gambling on a hopeless future." Frigga seemed to regain her composure. She stepped onto the meditation chamber's worn stone steps, polished by countless Arcanist feet, and approached the Sorcerer Supreme. "Hela will bow to no one. Her heart burns only with vengeance. She and your disciple are both immortals. The Holy Sword cannot sever an immortal's lifeline. We confirmed that when the Dark Elves invaded. The dimensional gateway you've kept open might allow her to escape. Even though she's my daughter, I know: when Hela breaks free, Ragnarök will begin."
The queen had to pause for breath after her tirade.
She inhaled the icy air of the Himalayas, then slowly exhaled.
"In your plan—and your disciple's—there is no place for the Asgardians."
"To be precise, the future world does have a place for Asgardians," the Sorcerer Supreme replied serenely. "Including Thor. Including Thor's three granddaughters. The rest of the Asgardians will integrate into humanity's empire. In the end, they will rise again."
"I've never foreseen Thor having granddaughters!" Frigga said, shocked. "Impossible! The future of the Aesir and Vanir is clouded by Ragnarök! Thor is the last of the Aesir!"
"When it comes to prophecy, Kamar-Taj are the true experts. I saw it. So did Solomon—though by different means. When the Three Storm Goddesses appear, the Nine Realms will be in apocalypse. To salvage what we can, Solomon is forced to seek help from any force available." The Sorcerer Supreme stepped aside, revealing the door to the meditation chamber. A chill breeze, scented faintly with incense, drifted from the hidden room within. "Why don't you come look into the Cosmic Cauldron yourself? I pulled these temporal fragments from the boundless starfields just for you."
Frigga, full of doubt, approached.
"One more thing," the Sorcerer Supreme said suddenly. "This proves I truly am the greatest sorcerer of the Nine Realms."
"If Thor really has three granddaughters," Frigga grumbled, pausing in place, "if this is true… then I'll help you and your disciple continue hiding from Odin. But Hela must remain in Helheim. That is not negotiable."
"Odin has feared Ragnarök since the beginning," the Ancient One said slowly. "Everything the Aesir have done for generations has been to prepare for that moment. Gullinkambi's crowing grows louder by the day. Time is running out for Asgard. Odin must choose. But no matter what… the future belongs to humanity. Just like Ragnarök—this, too, is destiny."