"Please refer to local radio stations for emergency instructions. Do not leave your homes for any reason. This is a nationwide warning. Until authorities give the all-clear, you must stay in your home. Do not attempt to leave your dwelling, call emergency services or try to reach loved ones.

This is a national emergency. All television broadcasts are suspended for the foreseeable future. Please refer to local radio stations for emergency instructions."

-+-

18

Runa kept Hertha and Stigr covered by her own body, not wanting them to see the horror of Vidarr's injury, but, after an initial fountain of blood, the stump immediately healed. New flesh, but not a new arm. He seemed to feel no pain, however, his roar one of anger, reverberating around the massive, magical cave.

With his other, uninjured arm, Vidarr struck Fenrir's jaw with the back of his hand, sending the wolf-god tumbling away. From nowhere, a great, jagged axe appeared in Vidarr's hand, crackling with otherworldly energy and the one-armed god prepared to pounce after Fenrir, who had crashed into a stand of trees, uprooting them and sending the animals and birds within to flight.

Runa heard Thor give a rumbling growl and she saw a long-shafted hammer appear in his hands, lightning coruscating along its length. It appeared that Ragnarök would finally come to Runa's island after all. But Odin also moved. He too materialised a weapon. A spear that glowed with a light as fierce as the Sun itself, and he blocked both Vidarr and Thor's rush towards Fenrir, catching their weapons on his own and holding them back with ease.

"No! Were you to end the dog here, it would end this turn of the wheel!" He pushed his sons backwards with ease and pointed the spear at them both. "Fools! It would be a thousand years before the cycle ran its course once more. We all must follow the destiny laid before us as foretold or Ragnarök will not come to pass in this age!"

"Do you understand, Runa Gunnarsdottir? You have heard, but do you understand? The final player approaches and you will have an opportunity. Only one. Take it."

Runa heard Fenrir's words that were meant for her alone. The other gods distracted, they did not know that Fenrir had spoken to her. The wolf-god lifted himself to his feet and moved to stand behind Odin, as though taunting Vidarr and Thor and they fought to pass the All-Father. Fenrir looked beyond them all, however, towards the mouth of the cave and the raging storm beyond.

She turned her head to try to see what Fenrir looked at and saw a figure outside. The figure had paused at the barrier between the cave and the real world, as though uncertain how to proceed and then stepped through, into the interior of the cave.

McAreavey. How he had survived the waves that had smashed against him, especially after the blow from Odin, Runa could never imagine. He was not without injury, however. One side of his face had a mask of blood, one eye swollen so badly, she doubted he would ever see from it again. He stumbled as he tried to walk forwards, but he had a determination about him, step after step, a shotgun in his hands. A different one.

"You think a farmer only has one shotgun? You one eyed, hairy bast ..." He fell to his knees, using the stock of the shotgun to arrest his fall. After a second, he pushed himself up once more. "Let's try that again, eh?"

By the time he came near to Runa, McAreavey collapsed once more and Runa reached out to catch him. His face looked drawn and bloodless, but the wound on his head seemed to have stopped bleeding for the moment. Hertha joined her mother, helping to lay the old farmer on the ground of the cave. Stigr moved towards the shotgun.

"Do not even dare to touch that!" Runa's head snapped around and Stigr's hand pulled back so fast, he almost fell over. "We do not play with guns!"

It seemed ridiculous, as she tended to McAreavey, that she would think of such things as dangerous after everything they had gone through. Everything was a danger in this moment. Least of all the gods that continued to glare at each other and at Fenrir. McAreavey had no idea what Odin had said, that a mortal could not kill a god unless the god wished it. He had come to protect Runa and her children and Runa would forever love him for that. She doubted, however, that anything could protect them.

Odin had managed to push his sons back, away from Fenrir, and now they stood facing the All-Father and Fenrir, their weapons still held in readiness. But Fenrir seemed to care little for their anger. He padded past them all and came to stand above the only mortals within the cave. His massive black head leaned down and Fenrir breathed upon McAreavey. In an instant, McAreavey appeared to calm, his shaking stopped and colour returned to his cheeks. The wound on his head closed completely and the swelling about his eye reduced and then disappeared.

"Thank you, Big Dog." Stigr tried to wrap his arms around Fenrir's neck, but they barely reached the immense wolf. Stigr appeared to listen, then shook his head, tears appearing in his eyes. "No! No, you can't!"

"I understand." Hertha stood. She looked at Runa with a great sadness and then reached out her hand to Stigr. "We won't. If its what has to happen, we won't blame her."

Fenrir had spoken to the children alone, leaving Runa out of the conversation. She didn't like that, but there was little she could do. Stigr fell into Hertha's arms and began to cry. He glanced at Runa and she had never seen such a look on her son's face before. She didn't have time to think any more of it. Odin and his sons had returned to Runa and the others.

"A pointless kindness, dog. He is a fine man. Strong and wilful. They would have welcomed him in Valhalla." The All-Father planted the spear butt onto the ground. "Come, son of Loki. Let us be done with this foolishness. Let the end play as it should."

He seemed almost respectful, tired of everything. He reached up a hand towards Fenrir, the gesture almost fatherly. Fenrir dipped his head, but those flaming eyes stared at Runa. Both Vidarr and Thor had returned to stand at Odin's flanks, their weapons gone, but none of their anger. They wanted to fight. That seemed clear, but it seemed important that they fought at the right time, the right place. This was not that time or place.

"If he goes with you, what happens. Not to you, but to us? To this world?" She felt as though this were a pivotal moment. "Look what's happened to it already. Don't you care about us, about mortals, at all?"

"The world will fall into catastrophe. It will break as we gods fight our war and face our destined ends. It was written long ago, as you well know, daughter of the North." Odin waved a hand towards Vidarr and Thor, as though the matter were now settled. They began to head towards the cave entrance. "The world will recover, after some time, but mortals will be diminished and the gods will be all but gone. Caring has little to do with it."

She stepped forward, wishing to say more, but she couldn't think of anything. She could fall into logic and put forward arguments, a detailed defence, but she knew it would mean little. These gods were so tied in to stories written centuries ago, they could see nothing else. Her foot caught against McAreavey's shotgun, dropped by the man as he collapsed.

"Remember all you have heard, Runa Gunnarsdottir. There is a way to end this now. Remember. If I die before my prophesied time, I will reform after many centuries. Remember. I give you that choice and that permission. Remember!"

Fenrir's words tumbled through her mind. The wolf-god sounded desperate, rushing to speak to her before the All-Father could lead Fenrir away, to the end of all things. She tried. Tried to remember what Fenrir wanted her to remember. Tried to understand what permission he gave her. And then she understood. The choice that Fenrir gave her now was a heavy one. She glanced towards Hertha and Stigr and she understood what Fenrir had said to them in private. Hertha had said they wouldn't blame her.

She crouched, picking up the shotgun. She had never held a gun in her life, but she was no fool. McAreavey had closed the barrels, the dual hammers cocked back, ready to fire. The other gods did not appear concerned. They had nothing to fear from a mortal with a mortal weapon. Not unless they wished that mortal to kill them. Like Fenrir wished.

"I'm sorry." She raised the shotgun and Fenrir opened his great, tooth-filled mouth.

"Oh. You mortal fool." Odin's words came almost as a sigh as Runa fired both barrels into Fenrir's mouth, the shot tearing through the roof and into the wolf-god's brain.

As soon as Runa released the triggers, the shotgun blast sending her flying backwards, tripping and falling to the stony cave floor, she could tell everything had changed. Fenrir fell. The wolf-god's legs collapsed and he became nothing more than a heap. A great black mound that no longer held fire in its eyes.

Somehow, she knew the storm had ended. She didn't bother to look around to the cave entrance. She didn't need to. She felt it. A lifting of the pressure that had pressed upon her for days. A release. With Fenrir no longer able to fulfil his part in Ragnarök then the whole of it fell apart. A prophecy could not be fulfilled without such a key component.

Stigr and Hertha ran to Fenrir's side, burying their heads into the creature's fur. Runa could hear their tear-filled cries. She could almost cry herself, but, right now, she feared the retribution of gods denied their glorious ends. Odin glared down at her, appraising her with his one eye.

"What will you do to me?" She would not face his wrath on her backside. She stood and held her head high. "Do what you will, but leave my children alone."

"You think me so petty, Runa Gunnarsdottir?" The All-Father's face cracked into a smile. "I will let you live, for now, but I will keep an eye on you. I think all of the gods in Asgard will watch you very carefully."

The All-Father began to laugh, walking towards the cave mouth and gathering up his two sons. He ignored their protests, pushing them towards the world outside, leaving Runa, Hertha and Stigr alone to mourn the end of Fenrir and to care for McAreavey.