The sky crumbles, cries break through the night.

Lightning splits like a merciless blade.

Beneath the withered shadow of Yggdrasil,

The world weeps, drowning in sorrow.

Fire rages, the sea rises.

Eternal winter bites deep.

A giant wolf, Fenrir his name,

Bringing ruin, the end of all hope.

He charges, his jaws agape.

The sun and moon swallowed by his offspring.

Each step shakes the ground.

The world staggers, trembling in despair.

Odin stands, the Allfather steadfast.

Grungnir gripped tightly in his hand.

But fate is carved in stone.

Within Fenrir’s jaws, even a god withers.

A wolf’s howl echoes in the sky.

A sound that extinguishes all feeling.

He lunges, his claws strike.

The earth cracks, the heavens darken.

Fenrir opens his maw.

And the Allfather has fallen.

Grief spreads once more.

As fire engulfs all.

But Vidar, harboring vengeance. 

Emerges from the darkness unseen.

A magical boot treads upon his jaws.

Breaking them in silence.

Fenrir falls, writhing in his end.

His blood floods the land, the world turns grim.

But this is no victory, no tale of glory. 

Only emptiness, a silence so real. 

The world lies in ashes and embers.

Yggdrasil burns, its cracks glowing.

Fenrir is dead, yet his mark remains.

A shadow in history, a hatred reborn.

At the end of all, the night closes in.

And the world falls silent, forever dark.

****** 

After reading the translated poem, I let out a long breath and leaned back against the cold metal chair. My eyes stared blankly at the white ceiling. A glow radiated from the fluorescent light fixed at the center of the room. 

The story kept replaying in my head. I knew all of this was just mythology, mere folklore born from the imagination of ancient humans. And yet, for some reason, these tales always left me obsessed. 

I glanced at the ancient manuscripts scattered across my desk. The yellowed sheets looked fragile, as if they would crumble at the slightest mishandling. 

Dragging my chair back toward the desk, I reached out and carefully touched the aged papers. Their surface was rough, like the bark of a decaying tree. 

These manuscripts were discovered a few weeks ago by my colleagues during an excavation in Norway. They had been found buried within the remains of an ancient temple. 

The manuscripts had been entrusted to me because I was more proficient in translating ancient languages than my fellow archaeologists. 

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I had spent months deciphering the ancient symbols woven into these manuscripts. A wave of relief washed over me now that I had finally managed to transcribe them into poetry. At least, that was how it was supposed to be. 

"What a shame." I carefully gathered the scattered manuscripts, handling them with reverence. "This could have been a truly beautiful poem if not for the language barrier." 

I was an archaeologist capable of translating ancient texts, but I was no poet. I lacked the skill to elegantly reconstruct the verses embedded within these manuscripts. Even so, I could still appreciate their beauty. 

Each region and era had its own rules governing the structure of poetry. And on top of that, language differences were the primary cause of these once-beautiful verses losing their grace. 

My hands froze mid-motion, my gaze locking onto a single name written within the manuscript. 

"Fenrir," I murmured, voicing the name softly. "If you think about it, he was just a lonely wolf." 

Fenrir was the son of Loki and his mistress, Angrboda. He was born alongside Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent, and Hela, the future ruler of Helheim. The three of them played crucial roles in Ragnarok, the great war that could be described as the apocalypse of Norse mythology. 

Fenrir himself was a savage beast who slaughtered gods. He was the one who devoured Odin, though he too met his end at the hands of Vidar. He was depicted as cruel, ferocious, relentless, and immensely powerful. And yet, deep down, I could understand why the wolf had acted as he did during Ragnarok. 

"Ridiculous." I traced my fingers over Fenrir’s name, a faint sympathy in my touch. "Chained by Gleipnir because of a prophecy the Allfather feared. That wolf must have suffered terribly." 

Silence settled over the room. A faint ringing buzzed in my ears, but I ignored it. My thoughts drifted back to the Norse myths I had just finished translating. 

Suddenly, my head felt heavy. Maybe I was too exhausted. The clock on the wall read one in the morning. My body was demanding rest after working nonstop since morning. 

But I couldn’t stop now. There was still one more manuscript I needed to translate. At the very least, I wanted to take a look at it before turning in for the night. 

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the drowsiness. Then, reluctantly, I stood and retrieved a manuscript from a glass case in the corner of the room. With the document in hand, I returned to my desk and opened it. 

Strange symbols lined the parchment, coiling like snakes entwined with one another. A common sight in ancient manuscripts, their scripts shaped by the era in which they were written. Yet, for some reason, I felt an inexplicable unease while gazing upon this particular one. 

"What is this feeling?" I muttered, my brow furrowing. 

Without realizing it, my hands moved on their own, flipping through the pages relentlessly. My eyes scanned each symbol at a feverish pace, as if compelled to memorize every detail. 

At last, I reached the final page of the manuscript. There, a symbol was etched. A raven perched upon a branch, its head turned backward as if watching something in the distance. 

I reached out and ran my fingers over the engraving, brushing it with great care. The moment my fingertips made contact, a chilling sensation spread from the tip of my fingers throughout my entire body. 

I bit my lower lip as a sudden, unbearable dizziness surged through my head. 

Then everything changed. 

A flash of blinding light burst from the manuscript, forcing my eyes shut on instinct. My heartbeat pounded wildly, and my body jolted, crashing to the floor. I tried to get up, but a searing pain invaded my skull, as if thousands of needles were stabbing into my brain. 

"Aaaargh!" I screamed, clutching my head with both hands. 

Inside my mind, visions surfaced. Scenes I had never seen before, things beyond explanation. 

A battlefield engulfed in flames, gods locked in combat, and a colossal wolf standing over a fallen deity. I knew it was Fenrir, even though I had never seen him before. 

These images flashed by like a film playing at an impossible speed. It was as if my brain was being force-fed every detail of the Norse myths I had just translated. 

And amidst it all, a deep voice echoed within my head. 

You must become a part of this. 

I struggled against it, trying to pull myself away from the growing pain. My body trembled violently, as if I was being torn apart from within. The manuscript’s glow intensified, bathing the room in a brilliant white fire. 

With the last of my strength, I reached for the desk, gripping its edge desperately, trying to hold on. But my hands soon slipped. 

My body collapsed to the floor, unresponsive. My eyes closed. And then, there was only darkness. 

A darkness absolute.

******

The winter coastline felt eerily silent. The sea breeze blew fiercely, carrying a sharp, salty scent. Waves rolled sluggishly, reluctant to crash against the rocks covered in a thin layer of ice.

The cold wind ruffled my black feathers, making my small body shiver. I slowly flapped my wings, trying to chase away the relentless chill creeping through me. Sunlight bathed my obsidian-black feathers, standing in stark contrast to the white snow blanketing the landscape behind me.

"Koak, koak. (It's freezing today.)"

Yeah, this is who I am now. Not a human but a black raven perched on a tree branch, basking in the sun while gazing at the vast horizon beyond the endless ocean.

After touching that ancient manuscript, I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I found myself here, reborn as a raven in the world of Norse mythology.

Though my memories as a human were blurry, so much so that I couldn't even recall my real name, fortunately, almost all of my modern knowledge remained vividly intact.

Norse mythology was a world centered around the great tree Yggdrasil, forming its cosmic structure. The stories of gods, their battles, and even the legendary Ragnarok were all still clearly etched in my mind.

This world consisted of nine realms, divided into three levels: branches, trunk, and roots. Each level contained three realms, all connected by a rainbow bridge known as Bifröst.

A glimmer of purple light flickered in the distance, once again catching my eye and reigniting my curiosity. That light again.

Since the moment I hatched, there was one thing that had always captivated me. A tiny purple light shining in the northern sky. It appeared every morning and evening at specific times. Strangely, none of my fellow ravens could see it.

It was as if that light was a special call meant only for me. A raven carrying human memories from a past life.

I had always believed that it held the answer to why I was brought into this world. That was why, when I reached adolescence, I left my nest, allowing my wings to guide me toward it.

And now, here I was, standing on the shore, driven by an insatiable curiosity. This feeling wouldn’t fade until I reached that place and unraveled the meaning behind the mysterious light.

Cautiously, I spread my wings, feeling the icy night air brush against my feathers. The sea breeze was strong, but I knew I had to try. My eyes swept across my surroundings, carefully scanning the area.

If I couldn’t find something to ride on, at the very least, I could rest on the ice-covered rocks jutting from the water’s surface.

Studies had shown that ravens were renowned for their intelligence. They could use tools, take advantage of other animals for transportation, and possessed remarkable problem-solving abilities.

Well, I had experienced it firsthand after living as a raven for the past four years. My mind felt much sharper, my memory significantly stronger, and I had noticed countless other signs of heightened intelligence.

"Koak. Koak." Once again, I cawed loudly, encouraging myself.

Slowly, I took a few steps back, preparing to take flight toward the place that had haunted my thoughts for so long. Whatever awaited me there, I had to find out. That purple light, whatever it meant, might be tied to my fate in this world.

I flapped my wings, leaped into the air, and let the wind carry my small body skyward. Beneath me, the waves roared endlessly, while above, clouds drifted across the vast blue expanse of the Norse sky.

I soared through the heavens, flying toward the glimmering light that refused to leave my mind.