Epona saw Rodrigo standing in front of her, in a fighting stance with glowing energy swirling around both fists. Seeing him, back turned, trying to protect her, snapped her out of her shock.

  “No, Rodrigo! Don’t fight it!” the horse goddess shouted.

  “You have to know how to fight something like that first!”

  Jormungandr hurled its massive head toward them; both barely dodged in time. Wherever its fangs struck, acid ate through the ground, and a purple gas spewed from its monstrous jaws.

  “If that gas or even a drop of its venom touches you, you’ll die in slow, agonizing pain! Dodge it no matter what!” Epona yelled from across the battlefield.

  The serpent raised its head again and opened its maw toward Epona.

  “Well… I knew this would be risky,” she muttered.

  Epona pulled her totema from her dress and clenched it tightly in both hands.

  She whispered to herself:

  “Is mise Epona, leig dhomh mo chumhachd a bhith agam. (‘I am Epona, let me use my power’ in Gaelic.)”

  A blinding light engulfed her, forcing Rodrigo to shield his eyes.

  Jormungandr, impatient, lunged at her—

  but was violently knocked back as if punched away. Through the blinding radiance, it was impossible to see exactly what happened.

  When the light finally faded, Epona’s form had changed completely.

  Her hair was nearly white, her eyes a brilliant green. She now wore a golden crown and a golden breastplate, draped in a brown cloak. A long green dress with Celtic motifs flowed behind her, paired with leather boots.

  Behind her, shaped like wings, floated two horses made entirely of energy.

  (Image created with Gemini AI for illustrative purposes only)

  Rodrigo stared—she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  “There are 351 horses trapped in this dimension,” she said calmly, facing the monstrous tannin.

  “That means my power increases by 351 times.”

  In an instant she vanished—and reappeared striking Jormungandr’s jaw with an uppercut so strong it lifted the serpent off the ground and slammed it back down.

  Epona landed next to Rodrigo, who stared into her bright eyes and immediately blushed—mesmerized by her divine beauty.

  “This is not the time to drool, idiot!” she snapped.

  Rodrigo jolted back to reality.

  “Listen, Rodrigo. These wings are made from the energy I’m borrowing from the horses here. Because it’s a battlefield and so many soldiers rode in on horseback, my power has skyrocketed.

  But it still won’t be enough—tannins are absurdly powerful,” Epona said, watching the serpent rise again.

  “I’ll need your support. But do not touch its venom, or you’ll die.”

  Rodrigo swallowed hard as he looked at the enormous creature.

  “Don’t die, or you’ll make Ana sad. Got it?” Epona added.

  “Well, well… you’re not as weak as I thought,” Loki said, still invisible.

  “But it won’t matter. That boy will die quickly—and his suffering will give even more strength to my lord,” he whispered with glee.

  Athena, still sipping wine as she watched from afar, smiled.

  “With the look in that boy’s eyes… he might surprise all of them. But if I’m wrong, he’ll die in seconds. Either way, this will be worth watching.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Meanwhile, somewhere else in Jutland, Tania appeared in a separate alternate dimension—a vast dry plateau.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Tannit,” a voice growled behind her.

  Tania turned. Surtr stood there in his full blue armor, sword of fire in hand.

  “Well, aren’t I lucky? I was looking for you too, bastard,” Tania said with a wicked smile.

  “And what will you do without your totema, bitch?” Surtr roared, slashing at her.

  Tania flipped away effortlessly.

  She laughed—eyes burning with hatred.

  “Today, you’ll regret every crime you’ve committed.”

  She drew her totema, pressing it hard in her right hand, whispering:

  “Dar lanat, esh lash. (‘Give me your power, divine fire’ in Phoenician.)”

  Her body ignited in a towering column of fire.

  “She has her totema—how?!” Surtr gasped, stepping back.

  The flames faded.

  Tania now glowed crimson. Her hair burned like real fire, her eyes gleamed gold. She wore a golden crown and breastplate, a wide flowing skirt in orange, white and gold, and a long purple cloak. A red crescent moon floated horizontally above her head.

  “I’m sorry to inform you, Surtr—but you won’t see another sunrise.

  Today I erase your existence,” she said, raising her arms in an L shape.

  Surtr grinned, thrilled.

  “I am the goddess Tannit—and those who dare face me end up as corpses beneath my feet.”

  Tania unleashed her fire claws and leapt forward. Surtr swung—she jumped on top of his flaming blade, used it like a springboard, landed on his head, and slammed him into the earth with brutal force, causing a massive explosion of fire and a crater.

  She stepped back, licking her lips.

  “I’m a goddess of fire, idiot. Your shitty sword doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “Legendary Tannit… she’s far stronger than I thought,” Loki murmured.

  “Tannit,” Loki’s voice echoed, “I’m certain you’ll win.

  But how long will it take you to rescue the igigi and the boy?

  Right now, they’re fighting a tannin. If you fail to hurry… they’ll die.”

  “A tannin?!” Tania shouted, suddenly worried.

  “Miserable… does Lel have no dignity left?”

  Surtr staggered to his feet, frothing with rage.

  Tania clenched her teeth.

  “Damn it… I have to kill him fast.”

  Elsewhere in the mountains of Jutland, Ana appeared alone in another alternate dimension.

  Snow fell. Frost covered the ground. Wind howled through the frozen peaks.

  A portal opened in the sky, and an enormous furred claw slammed onto the ground.

  Ana raised her sword.

  “Morrigan… the dark phantom queen,” Loki’s voice echoed.

  “You’ll be my son’s meal. Fenrir hungers.”

  Ana flinched as the giant wolf emerged—ten meters tall, eyes blank white, fur grey and black, saliva dripping from fangs the size of spears.

  “Is that the beast destined to kill Odin?” Ana thought.

  “I must fight at full power or he’ll kill me.”

  “Just a warning, Morrigan,” Loki said.

  (“DON’T call me that!” Ana shouted.)

  “Your boy and the igigi are fighting a tannin. If you take too long, they die.”

  “You bastard!” she screamed, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Fenrir lunged. Ana slashed its jaw, drawing blood, and dodged aside.

  “All right… then I’ll fight with everything I have—and I’ll save Rui.”

  She grabbed her totema with her left hand.

  “I’ll have to kill it in one strike.”

  The wolf snarled as Ana whispered:

  “Tá an oíche síoraí faoi mo radharc. (‘Eternal night surrounds me’ in Irish.)”

  Thousands of dark feathers wrapped her, forming a floating black sphere.

  It cracked open—

  —and a pair of enormous black wings unfurled behind her.

  Ana now bore an armor reminiscent of a valkyrie’s—dark, violet, glowing like night. Her eyes shone ghostly blue, her skin pale, her hair radiating dark energy.

  Her sword had transformed into a massive, ornate golden-handled blade, wrapped in a sculpted dragon, its edge glowing white with ghostly fire.

  “My name is Anand, not Morrigan.

  Morrigan is a fusion of myself and my two sisters—but they’re no longer here. I am unworthy of that title.

  Even so—my current power is enough to kill that underdeveloped wolf.”

  She gripped her sword.

  “Rui… I trust you. I must trust you.

  Show Loki your true potential.”

  Fenrir roared and pounced, jaws wide open—

  and Ana charged forward to meet him.