Г„gir File
Ægir watched from his high seat, his pale eyes unblinking. He was not a god of order like Odin, nor of chaos like Loki. He was the sea—vast, indifferent, and inevitable.
"The Aesir are coming," Ægir rumbled, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates. Г„gir
The doors swung wide, and the gods entered. Odin, draped in his blue mantle; Thor, still smelling of ozone and goats; and Loki, with a smile as sharp as a jagged reef. Ægir watched from his high seat, his pale eyes unblinking
Deep beneath the churning grey waves of the North Sea, where the light of the sun is but a pale, flickering memory, lies the hall of Ægir. It is not built of stone or timber, but of polished coral and the bones of leviathans, illuminated by the cold, rhythmic glow of phosphorescent deep-sea blooms. "The Aesir are coming," Ægir rumbled, his voice
The gods raised their horns. For a moment, there was peace in the depths, while above, the waves crashed against the jagged rocks, singing the song of the giant who ruled the drownings and the dreams of men.