One hundred mortal years ago, the nine realms lived in peace. One hundred mortal years ago was the coming of Ragnarök.

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The war lasted years. The sky turned red with blood and the realms blurred together. Creatures of all realms faught in a chaos. Each realm was destroyed, one by one, most of their populations along with it. Until Midgard was all that was left. The survivors of each realm, only a few thousand across the nine, came to a truce. Because it was the only chance at survival, the fighting would cease. All surviving creatures would live together on Midgard. But just because the storm ceased its raging dose not mean that the clouds don’t thunder.

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The old ways were myth now. Yggdrasil, the once flourishing world tree, was now a mere stump, balancing Midgard atop it. The Vanir and Aesir where mostly dead, aside from Loki, Freyja and Freyr, Njorod, and Bragi. The Jötnar, like the Vanir and Aesir, were mostly abolished. Surtur, Ymir, and few others were among them. Light and Dark elves had survivors, but none of importance to name, same for the Dwarves. Mortals had also barley survived, with less than a hundred left after the war.

It was these survivors of the old ways that had repopulated the last realm, molding it as it is today.

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This was really me jus exploring what I could do with this prompt, because I used to be obsessed with Norse mythology. Let me know if you’d like to see more of this story, thank for reading!!!