Since winter began, snowfall on the Scandinavian Peninsula had never ceased. Countless meteorologists had tried to offer their opinions based on satellite cloud maps, predicting when the unending snow would stop, yet they had all failed. The chaotic, abnormal cold air over the Scandinavian Peninsula seemed determined to resist being warmed by sunlight and ocean currents before it froze the seas.
Under the night sky, the grass before the cabin lay blanketed in frost and snow. A bonfire enclosed by stones burned slowly, its firelight dancing over the snow like liquid metal. The aged king sat before the fire holding a golden goblet. The scalding black liquid inside gave off thin white vapor. He slowly swallowed the nearly burning liquid and exhaled air that seemed flammable. The young king approached the fire. The old king shook out his gray cloak and invited him to sit on a stone beside the flames. Then he took out a golden goblet and poured the young king a cup of wine.
"I received your visit request," the old king said. "Why the rush?"
"In two hours, I need to take a Shuttlecraft to the Space Station. Since I had time, I could speak with you, and board here while I'm at it." The young king spoke with an ease that completely disregarded NATO's air defense system. "About the omen on Neptune. You must have some thoughts. After all, Fimbulwinter has arrived, and Ragnarok is at hand."
"Just as I once foresaw. Flame, lightning, a tower, death. No matter how I resisted, I still could not prevent what prophecy decreed. I once believed myself superior to humanity, but the more I tried to avoid the prophecy, the faster Ragnarok came." He spoke with irritation. "A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy. A tired old story, isn't it? I had