https://youtu.be/MRKJZUq034s

Anwin's day hadn't quite been easy. At the very crack of dawn, he'd arisen at Gardariki's command, and headed off on his mission to gather souls for the Angels' schemes. By his recommendation, the group had split up, taking their minions with them. Anwin himself had taken his men to Muspelheim, Realm of Fire, and the group entered an ash-grey cathedral - tall, with a sign next to it reading "Gastgewinn Church". On top of the building was a large, red-tinted sunwheel.

As the doors swung open, screaming ifrits began to swarm out, terror written across their faces, and behind them, a horde of clowns pursued closely. They held knives in their hands, which they brandished menacingly as they cackled joyously, relishing in the newfound coulrophobia that struck the hearts of their victims.

Their leader wasn't quite as happy, though. Anwin, standing behind the knocked-down altar at the back of the church, sighed as he looked down upon the scarlet-robed chieftain, who laid defeated on the wooden floor with Anwin's triplet blades levitating around his neck.

"C'mon, man, give up." Anwin sighed, his gaze utterly lifeless. "You lost. Shoo."

The chieftain, despite being threatened, glared venomously at Anwin, shaking his head. "You think I'll just lay down and let your insane clown posse have your way?"

"I'm gonna keep it real with you, chief. That's kinda the plan." Anwin shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets. "I mean, your worshippers have already fled. We've already established that you can't take on me by yourself. If you flee now, you can go into hiding, form a rebel army against us. You might even win."

"If I die, I'll die fighting..." the chieftain groaned, watching as the blades began to rotate.

"I suppose that's the fiery will of an ifrit for you." Anwin frowned. "Look, I'm not saying you can't die fighting, but wouldn't you rather have more of a chance?"

"Silence, villain!" the chieftain roared, clenching his fists as blue flames slowly began to form around his body. Anwin sighed in annoyance, closing his eyes as the blades rapidly picked up speed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, man." he took in a deep breath, his mind closing in on his daggers and their movements. "And...close."

At that, the blades closed in, piercing the chieftain's neck in three directions as the man dropped dead. Anwin opened his eyes, not sparing him another glance as he walked down the hall, past the exit and past several rows of seats before he walked through the door, into the red-rocked open. Standing before him was an army of clowns, and as he spread out his arms, he clapped his hands, calling them all to attention.

"Alright, folks, that's all of them!" he announced, spreading his arms out. "Gastgewinn is ours!"

His words were met with widespread cheer, enthusiastic whistling, maniacal cackling, and a few rapid honking noises. Anwin allowed them to celebrate their victory for some time before snapping his fingers, chuckling emptily. "Yes, this is all very good news, but that's only part one. We came here to collect souls, and we'll do so using this town. This church will be a home base of sorts." he explained. "Every day, I want you to gather three people and kill 'em. If any heroes try to save the day, you kill them, and nobody else. Let their souls return to Ginnungagap, and Rags'll do the rest."

"Sir, yes sir!"

Anwin nodded contently, looking at his group in satisfaction before his eyes fell on a pair of evil, sinister, malcontent clowns dressed partially in black. "Biff? Chip? Can I count on you two to oversee this without getting too-"

"AHAHAHAHA!" Chip's shrill laughter pierced the air, as he and Biff stepped forth.

"You can count on us, oh ringmaster. We'll kill them nice and obediently for you." Biff replied, taking a bow. Anwin raised an eyebrow, silent for a moment.

"...well, that isn't very encouraging." he frowned, looking into the crowd before pointing his finger. "Abigail!"

"Yes, sir!" a female, blue-haired clown saluted cheerfully.

"Make sure these two don't get too excited, alright?" Anwin ordered. "We're defying destiny, not writing a true crime documentary."

"Understood!"

"Good, good." Anwin said, beginning to walk forth and past the crowd. "Now, I have some business to take care of in Midgard, so I'll be on my way. And before I forget, I want you all to memorise the renovation plans! It shouldn't take too much effort, so I'd really rather you got that done before I return!"

His words were met with resounding cheers of agreement, and Anwin took the time to salute the crowd before taking his leave. It wouldn't be too long before he could find the portal he'd arrived from. It was still dawn in Midgard, so he had plenty of time to do what he had to do.

.........

https://youtu.be/4Ay-uozK2ls

Alfheim, Realm of Wind, was to the colour green what Muspelheim was to red. With lush grass carpeting the earth, vibrant flowers blooming, a gentle breeze blowing just about everywhere - even at night, it was a sight to behold, a botanist's dream.

One such garden was truly beautiful, with crickets chirping as yellow flowers stood tall and open in the vast green. A gorgeous meadow, undisturbed by the cruelties of nature. Beasts roamed this realm, many of which were large and ferocious, but they were nowhere to be seen here. One creature stood alone.

"Vindr blásinn, blóma veðr,

kalla ek yðr á fjandi minn,

ilmr blóma, styrkr vinda,

fjǫtur eiðs ins illvirki."

With arcane winds whipping around her body, Aleron was there - no enemies or minions in her vicinity. She was all alone, bent down on one knee with a rapier planted into the ground, whose hilt she clasped in both hands. Through it, she funneled her magic into the ground, letting it flow into the garden and run wild.

"Hringa þorn, svíða rós,

binda anda, brenna sál,

fylgja þeim í hverjum draum,

lúta aldri, hefna harm."

And wild it was. It was as though it couldn't wait to be free to weak havoc. Aleron felt a sense of relief flowing through as she grabbed onto the sword tightly, a bright yellow light bursting out from within her and taking the form of the poem she recited, its words revolving around her like planets and asteroids around a luminary. The elf, with her blue eyes shut, continued to chant.

"Kviðr kraptr, stormr mjúkr,

vinda ótta, blóma skugga,

fara inn í hjarta hans,

kvelja þá með náttúru gala."

And so, it was done. Her magic flared wildly, shining so bright it could be seen from miles away, and the field began rumbling as the flowers, drunk with magic, grew rapidly. They became taller, their petals becoming enormous and their stems whirling around a new growth that rose up from the ground - an enormous seed, with roots wrapping around it like a carapace and holding it up, while a tornado of leaves surrounded it.

With a smile, Aleron stood up, sheathing her sword and admiring her handiwork with her hands on her hips. "And with that, I breathe new life into you." she said, gazing upon the seed as she speculated on what it would grow into. "Nourish it for me - and kill anyone who tries to take it from you!"

Being more or less entirely plant-life whose mockery of sapience relied on pure magic, the meadow did not respond, instead silently taking in her commands. Knowing it would do anything to obey her, Aleron grinned, strolling away from the field while snapping her fingers to a cheerful tune.

"Well, that's taken care of!" she hummed, having memorised the location of the portal to Midgard and heading there seemingly without a care in the world. "Next stop - Midgard! Let's hope this time, I'm the one to meet you...Oz, was it? Haha, can't wait!"

And so, with all the puerile whimsy of a schoolgirl about to visit her best friend for a sleepover, she pranced off, moving from one objective to the next.

.........

https://youtu.be/G6uw7DbUH8k

Unfortunately for Freya, Oz was faster on foot. As she gave chase, he deftly outsped her, seemingly without even realising that he was being followed. He ran out of the palace, donning his mask, and Freya followed him, trying to suss out where he was going. In due time, she realised where he was heading, and high-tailed it back to their home.

Oz's journey took him away from any towns and settlements, and as he made it to the Val Gate, he smiled under his mask, opening the gates and leaping out. He felt the wind blowing against his body, and as he spread his ivory wings, he followed the path of the burning rainbow bridge beneath him. Not that he knew exactly where his destination was, but the Hel's Angels were bound to have gone on the attack by now. It had been a good few days since Anwin had taken over Ine, after all. So, his sights were set on Midgard in general, hoping to land somewhere near Hel's Angel activity.

He went down the path set for him - with a laugh as he realised the irony inherent in that - and did his best to focus on literally anything else. The lovely shade of blue that blanketed the sky. The clouds surrounding him in every direction. The mellifluous voice of Freya echoing in his mind - hang on...

"Oh, Oz~" the goddess cooed, alerting him at once. "Where do you think you're going? You left so suddenly, I was worried..."

"Freya!" Oz exclaimed, immediately composing himself. "I apologise. I simply remembered that the Hel's Angels are most likely attacking as we speak. Somebody has to stop them, and if not I, then who?"

"There's no need to be so reckless, Oz. You were going to head out, anyway." Freya tutted. "That aside...are you sure you're okay? You seemed a little out of sorts."

"Why, I'm on cloud nine!" Oz declared, continuing his flight. "Why wouldn't I be? It simply doesn't make any sense!"

"I was watching you, you know. When you received your prophecy." Freya pointed out. "You seemed so...spooked. And then, when it was over, you just started laughing. It's plain to see that something was off."

Oz grew silent at that, his flight slowing down as he mulled over her words before sighing, while Freya spoke on. "Hey...what did you see in that prophecy? If you don't mind sharing?"

Oz's silence persisted for a little longer, with Freya waiting patiently for him to either answer her or admit he didn't want to. The images flashed through his mind once again, and he placed his hand on his forehead, his teeth clenched as his mask disappeared, revealing his face that was utterly free of its usual whimsy. He didn't take his eyes off his indistinct path, shaking his head slowly. "I saw...something awful."

Freya waited again for him to finish, while he took a few deep breaths to try and cope with his feelings on this matter. He eventually looked ahead, removing his hand from his head. "If destiny unravels like it should...then I'm going to kill Anwin. Then Yuri will perish before my very eyes." he recounted grimly. "And finally, I shall die. At Svafrlami's hands."

Freya gasped in shock, noticing the visible distress on her Guest as he finished explaining. "So, there we have it. This tale of mine - it is bound to be a tragedy. That much is set in stone."

"...if something so awful is set in stone..." Freya began. "Then why not shatter that stone entirely?"

"Can that really be done?" Oz murmured. "We talked a big game about doing so, but seeing it transpire before my eyes...it doesn't inspire hope."

"Talking is always much easier than doing." Freya mused. "But the only way to know if it's truly impossible is to try."

"Let's say, hypothetically, that it was your fate to kill that king that you love so much. I wonder, would you still be singing the same tune?"

Well, at least he had an answer for Anwin now. He hadn't wanted to consider the possibility of having to kill someone he loved, but now that he knew that was decreed, he wanted to do everything in his power to prevent it. So that begged the question; if he didn't want it, why not work to prevent it?

"Then I suppose it's worth a shot." he said. "But what would I do to defy it, anyway?"

"The first step would be learning what's in store for you; so on that front, you're already ahead of the curve." Freya said. "As for actually averting it, that'll be a little tougher. Were you given any other details? If so, I'd like you to share them. We can work this out together."

"I'm unsure about the exact time frame, but it'll all be relatively soon - within the year, presumably." Oz shook his head. "Anwin would die in a church - in Muspelheim. Yuri would fall to her death from the Val Gate. Resigned to her fate, I think. And Svafrlami would kill me in the Hall of Myriad Might."

"And it's all in that order, I see." Freya hummed, earning a nod from him. "Well, cheer up, Oz! This can still be done. The 'how' of it is still rather dubious, but...if you ever find yourself in a situation where it looks like part of the prophecy might occur..."

"...then I should try my hardest to avert it. And be ever vigilant in case of self-fulfilling prophecies. Those are the worst." Oz nodded, smiling a little. "Thor taught me that one."

"An excellent teacher, I'm sure. Until then, keep fighting the good fight." Freya replied, and Oz could practically feel her warm smile as she said that. "Speaking of which...where in Midgard are you headed, exactly?"

At that, Oz grew silent yet again, slowing his flight to a halt as he donned his mask. He thought diligently of the best way to answer before letting out a nervous chuckle. "That is an exceptionally good question."

"You don't know."

"I didn't think that far ahead." Oz chuckled. "I was hoping it would take me to the nearest site of Hel's Angel mayhem."

"Oh, Oz, you need to be more specific than that!" Freya laughed, earning a sigh from the einherjar. "Luckily for you, I've found the two most urgent places being attacked at Midgard - and Anwin's at one of them."

"Oh?" Oz asked, looking ahead in curiosity.

"Why, yes." Freya responded. "I'll tell you where to land, so just keep flying, okay?"

And so, she continued to guide him, helpful as she always was. But, unbeknownst to them, there was another pair of eyes on the einherjar today. From the depths of Helheim, the trickster god stared at Oz through a crystal ball in his palm, a snakelike grin on his face. Everything was going just as they should, indeed.