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Holding the Line

  The bonfire from Sankthansaften had burned to ash, cold to the touch now after a few days. But the training had not abated.

  The fight began again with a flick of Thialfi’s wrist. Marty barely caught the movement before the older warrior lunged, staff striking like a spear toward his chest. Marty dodged—too slow. The wood cracked against his ribs, forcing a breathless grunt from his lips.

  “Again,” Thialfi said, already stepping back into position.

  Marty gritted his teeth and raised his staff, settling into a defensive stance.

  Then there was Roskva.

  She never came at him directly. While Thialfi pressed him head-on, she was the shadow in his peripheral vision, always waiting. She danced around him, never making a sound, striking only when his attention faltered.

  Marty barely found his footing when she struck again. He caught a blur of movement—too late. Her heel slammed into the back of his knee, and he went down, landing hard on his side.

  Roskva laughed, crouching beside him. “You’re still thinking like a human.”

  Thialfi extended a hand, pulling Marty up with a single, effortless yank.

  They started again.

  Still, he was losing. Still too slow. Still one step behind.

  Then something shifted.

  He wasn’t sure when it happened—only that he knew. A whisper at the edge of his mind, a deep certainty that Roskva was coming at him from behind, aiming for his side.

  He moved before she did.

  He turned just as she struck, catching her wrist in midair before she could make contact.

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  Then they both crashed to the ground.

  For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Roskva’s breathless laugh filled the space between them.

  “Hah! Now that’s progress.”

  Someone was clapping on the edge of the training ground.

  “You fight well,” Odin said, his single eye unreadable. “Better than most at your age.” He motioned for them to come and sit with him.

  Marty exhaled as he sat down and stretched his sore shoulders. “Still feels like I’m getting my butt kicked.”

  Thialfi chuckled.

  “You’ve been told what you are,” he said. “But do you understand what it means?”

  Marty hesitated. “I know I have to stop Loki. That’s the whole point, right?”

  Odin studied him carefully. “Perhaps. But the weight you carry is heavier than one battle, one enemy.”

  “You are Thor the Thirty-Sixth, but Loki has worn more faces than we can count. That is why none of your predecessors could end him.”

  Thialfi finally spoke. “You’re thinking about this all wrong. This isn’t about winning some final victory. It’s about holding the line. Preserving the balance of power—crafting a safe world for the people who come after. We live to serve you, and you live to serve and protect mankind from unseen forces.”

  Marty clenched his jaw.

  Ingrid stood at the edge of the camp, getting ready to head back to Oakdale, Idaho—to their home. But now, she was watching the quiet conversation between Odin, Thialfi, and her son.

  Marty had changed.

  He moved with purpose now, spoke with a steadiness she hadn’t seen before. And when he spoke with Thialfi or Roskva or even Odin, it was in her language. Norwegian.

  For years she had tried to protect him from this—not out of shame, but out of hope that he might have a choice.

  She had feared that once it found him, it would devour who he was.

  But it hadn’t.

  It had shaped him.

  A soft rustle behind her broke her thoughts. Roskva emerged from the trees and put an arm around her.

  “I thought if I raised him in the human world, he could escape this,” Ingrid said quietly. “Maybe he still can. But I can see now… this doesn’t have to be a burden.”

  Roskva nodded. “He was free to choose, and he has chosen.”

  Ingrid glanced once more at her son—no longer the boy she had shielded, but someone stronger, someone becoming.

  The ache in her chest was gentler now, laced with pride.

  Roskva had arranged for an escort, and the husnisse and skogsnisse would keep her safe.

  But Ingrid realized, watching Marty laugh by the fire, that she no longer needed protecting as much as he once had.

  saw it coming.

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