High above the converged realms, Asgard floated in defiance of physics, its golden halls gleaming like a second sun. The rainbow bridge stretched from its gates to the edge of the sky, and upon it stood the host of the north—Einherjar by the thousands, their weapons gleaming with runes of power, their armor bearing the scars of countless battles in preparation for this moment.
Valkyries circled overhead on winged horses, their war-cries echoing across the sky. Each one was a chooser of the slain, and their eyes burned with anticipation for a battle greater than Ragnarok itself.
At the head of the bridge stood Heimdall, his all-seeing gaze fixed on the distant spires of Atlantis. "I see him," the watchman of the gods reported, his voice carrying clearly to those behind him. "Adam the Defiler, surrounded by his transformed servants. They prepare for war."
