The Records Of Ragnarok นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Right now, we need those names. Before Obsidian's spies realize he escaped and move up their timeline." Ragnar's eyes opened. "Three names. Remember them. Trust no one else." And he began to speak.

GEMMA I furrowed my brows. Right now, it was from one problem to the other. We still needed time to recover from the fight with the Obsidian Wolves and now, this? Who the hell was even Ragnarok? That was the first important question. George left the office, leaving me and Nate alone. "Who exactly is this Ragnarok? And why does he have such a weird name?" I asked. He sighed. "Ragnarok is a barbarian. For centuries, after his pack broke out from our kingdom, they have lived on the outskirts, having no alliances with anyone. They're strong enough on their own." He explained.

I suppose, that's enough for you to recollect it. What'd you think that you will destroy my entire pack and I will let you get away with it? That I won't seek revenge? I won't do anything? I won't revenge my sons and grandsons you slaughtered? My beautiful granddaughters your soldiers raped? I remember everything, Ragnar. EVERYTHING. I could never forget it. I was busy planning your and your pack's doom all these years. And I seek plight as I tell you that it won't be long before I piss on your grave.

"We are preparing for war. We will need every man, woman, huldre and child at arms - including the Hakkonsdottirs." Heith yawned loudly, then gave a bright laugh. "To think, in all my eighty years, I would see the rooster of Ragnarok. Pah! Tut tut, off to weary bedtime with you both, we need our rest for tomorrow's revelries - at least, these old wicked bones do. I am off to have my sweet mara sing me to sleep!" And with that, Heith hobbled out of the runic room and into the now empty long hall.

And besides, there hadn’t been time. “Do you know how many gods died in Ragnarök? One hundred and thirty million. Of those, fewer than seven thousand were reborn. And you—you are one of the twelve chief gods among those six thousand. Regardless of whether your power has returned, treating yourself like this—working yourself to death—amounts to nothing.”

Ragnar hearing that he was in the room with Loki and Amasteus, when they called regarding the unresolved investigation, as well as numerous life insurance claims. - Nobody would give my money for a murder case. - Loki said. - They called me to help anyway. Ragnar said. - Werewolves with life insurance. – They did. Due to the growing number of life insurance claims, with the deaths of each of the victims, which were discovered, after a space of a week from one to another of their disappearances.

The room was silent but for the scratching of quills on parchment. Ragnar sat at his desk, a mountain of scrolls and maps sprawled before him, lit by the faint glow of the candle flames. Reports of border skirmishes, letters from lords demanding audience, whispers of spies moving in the shadows, all things that should have consumed his mind. But they didn’t. Every time his eyes skimmed a page, it blurred into memory: Atlas kneeling by Freya’s bed, his hands wrapped around hers, his lips pressing against her skin. That image, burned, seared, etched into Ragnar’s mind, would not leave him.

"My ancestor, the first black wolf we know of, was named Fenris. It's an alternative name to Fenrir, a premier character in the story of Ragnarok." I wrinkled my nose. "Isn't that the end of the world?" "Something like it." I leaned in closer, eager to hear more. "Tell me about it." David opened the book to the marked page and began to recount the story of Ragnarok. "I'm not terribly interested in the end," David explained. "Fenrir is the son of Loki and a monstrous wolf. His quick growth, large size, and massive power were a concern to the gods as they couldn't bind him."

I’m surprised she doesn’t ask for brand, style, and inventory number of the tabs. “Our pack is so obsessed with the story of our origins, we ignore the story of our ending.” She opens one of the books and it lays flat, pages perilously close to falling out. There’s a woodcut illustration of Fenrir devouring Odin. “Ragnarök.” Tara braces her hands on the table on either side of the book. “It’s not an end, so much as a renewal. But for the gods, it’s very much an end.” “I don’t like the sound of that,” I say, dread piercing my heart. “You know, since they’re using Nathan and I as avatars for gods in their little plan.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Ragnar's expression remained stoic, but the undercurrent of concern surged beneath the surface. Two deaths in one night? Strange ones at that. He started to pace about the room as he tried to make sense out of what was happening. Deaths of this magnitude haven't been recorded in his kingdom, never. So Ragnar knew that this wasn't ordinary, however, he didn't want to link it to anything that the old prophetess had told jim. Ryan knew that the topic of the Prophetess seemed to aggravate Ragnar, so he chose his words carefully. "The Prophetess mentioned impending suffering, my Lord. I cannot ignore the possibility that this is connected."