"Every god who drinks of power must pay with a piece of his soul. And some debts are collected in screams."
The golden mead coursed through Odin like lightning down a tree.
One sip.Then another.Then all three vats—Óðrœrir, Boðn, and Són—emptied into his soul like a flood bursting through a dam.
The moment it touched his lips, the cavern lit with runes. Not carved—alive. They danced across the walls, seared into stone, echoing verses never before heard by man or god.
Words in languages older than the nine realms thundered in his ears.He saw visions: a serpent eating the roots of Yggdrasill… a woman weeping over a broken hammer… a wolf's breath clouding a blood-stained sky.
And through it all—Gunnlöð's voice, still asleep in the other room.
He wanted to run to her.
He wanted to stay.
But the mead… the mead had other plans.
Suddenly, the mountain roared.
Suttung had awakened.
Odin turned toward the entrance. The wards were failing. The mountain's magic had felt the theft like a dagger in its chest.
He moved, cloak whipping around him, golden mead dripping from his lips.
From deep within the earth came the roar of a storm god scorned.
Suttung was coming.
And this time, there would be no parley.
Outside, the sky was already darkening. The winds screamed like angry spirits. The gates of the cave split open, shaking the earth.
But Odin didn't run just yet.
He returned to her chamber.
Gunnlöð sat up, eyes wide, heart already broken.
"You drank it," she whispered.
He nodded, words caught in his throat.
"You lied to me."
"I didn't mean to—"
"Don't. Just… don't."
Her voice cracked.
"I gave you everything," she whispered. "I let you into my soul. I made you a fire in my chest. And you—"
"I loved you," he said desperately. "I still do."
"You don't betray the ones you love."
"I had no choice," he lied again.
She stood, body trembling. "That's all gods ever say."
The mountain shook again.
Suttung was close.
Gunnlöð's form began to change—her eyes glowing, hair rising in flames. The guardian awoke again.
But she did not raise a hand to Odin.
Instead, she turned her back.
"Go," she whispered. "Before I change my mind."
He didn't argue.
Because this was not a battle he could win.
The Escape
Odin burst from the cave mouth, transformed instantly into a giant eagle, wings enormous, black and gold feathers trailing sparks behind him. He beat the wind like a drum and soared into the storm.
Behind him, Suttung rose from the earth like a titan.
Twice Odin's height, eyes glowing red, beard of tangled ash and blood.
He roared up to the heavens and leapt skyward, himself becoming a beast—a hawk of fire, wings spreading across the clouds.
The skies over Jötunheim were torn apart.
Lightning cracked between eagle and hawk.Winds spiraled around them.The mead inside Odin's belly sang, pulling at the seams of his body, demanding to be spilled.
But he held on.
He couldn't lose it now.
Not after everything. Not after her.
The chase raged across three realms.
Through storm clouds over Vanaheim.Through frost winds above Niflheim.Through golden mist across Alfheim's border.
Below, the mortals watched birds of fire and shadow clash in the skies and called it an omen. They lit fires and whispered prayers. But none could know the truth—
That gods bleed, and this was the sound of one god's penance.
The Fall
Odin reached Asgard's edge, already burning from within. The mead was too much.
He dove toward the halls of the gods, his body cracking from the magic in his veins.
And in a final act of defiance—
He vomited.
Not once. Not twice.
Three times.
Three streams of golden mead, spilling across the skies and into the roots of Midgard.
The first stream landed in a forest grove—becoming a sacred well from which poets would one day drink.
The second soaked into the ground, giving birth to madness and beauty.
The third… he never spoke of.
Some say it formed the first true curse.Others say it gave birth to music.
But whatever it was, it was not for gods.
It was for mortals.
And that was the point.
Odin landed in the halls of Asgard, broken but alive. The gods gathered around him, whispering, staring at the blood and mead that stained his lips.
He stood shakily, one eye dimmed.
"It is done," he said.
And then he fell.
Epilogue of the Chapter
Far away, deep in the mountain, Gunnlöð stood alone once more.
The jars were empty. The basin was cracked.
But her heart… her heart was the true vessel broken.
She returned to the chamber where they had kissed.
And for the first time since her childhood…
She wept.