Urd's eyes snapped open.
Her companions stared at her, leaning forward to look into her eyes.
"I have it," she whispered. She closed her eyes and extended her hands to the two women, her wrinkled fingers cold and shaking in their palms. "I can feel it."
The second woman, too, closed her eyes. She inhaled slowly through her nose. "Yes," she hissed. "I sense it too. It is here."
The third woman closed her eyes for only a brief moment before she opened them, staring with wide eyes at something invisible in the air. "It's horrible," she muttered. "I can't bear to look."
"But we must, Skuld. Such is our task."
Skuld licked her lips and reluctantly, she closed her eyes once more. She shuddered faintly, her eyes rolling back behind her lids. And then, she spoke, in a hoarse groan that was matched by her companions.
"Out of Odin's blood
The Catalyst is born
The son of Odin's son
Shall make the whole world mourn
The end of days is looming
Apocalypse draws nigh
An evil now is stirring
It breathes a waking sigh
The only means to cease this,
On which choice it doth depend,
Is to slay the son of Odin's son
To make him meet his end."