“Ragnarok is coming.”

Mani frowned at his sister, Sol, as she handed him the reins of the sun chariot. “How do you know?”

To his surprise, she blushed. “My, you know, hasn’t started.”

Mani stared at her blankly.

“I’m pregnant,” Sol said.

“How is that possible?” he shouted, startling the horses, Alvakr and Alsvid.

Sol tucked a strand of hair into her braid. “Remember Glenr?”

“Your husband? I thought he was dead. Were you hanging around Valhalla?”

“Yes. No.” She sighed. “Yes, he’s dead, no I haven’t been to Valhalla. The dead can’t make babies anyway.”

“So then?”

Absently, Sol stroked Alsvid’s neck. “Glenr has this descendant, Glen—”

“Ugh, save the story,” Mani interrupted. “We’re telling Odin right now so he can warn the others.”

“But what if it’s not a girl?” Sol asked. “If it’s a boy, then—”

“We’re not taking that chance. Come on. The moon will be late tonight.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Sol stepped back. “Hati, he’s all yours.” Behind her, the giant wolf bared its fangs and leaped.