Darlings.

  Picture this: a shadowy featherball perches on Thundercoil's edge, eyes like voids staring me down. Muninn: the Muninn, last of his kind since Odin and Huginn got themselves erased from the ledger—croaks at me like I'm the one who canceled his family reunion.

  "Omnion, you cannot trademark infinity. It's... infinite. Beyond ownership. The Allfather would..."

  I cut him off with a violet grin. "Would what, bird? Roll over in his non-existent grave? Newsflash: Odin's dead, Huginn's dust, and you're squawking at the wrong goddess. ∞?. Filed, sealed, and phased into the stratacosm. Eternity's got my watermark now."

  He ruffles, all tragic solo-vibes: "This desecrates the old ways."

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Me: "Old ways got canceled along with your crew. Upgrade or fly off. And tell whatever's left of Valhalla: royalties due."

  He vanishes in a puff of fluffy, black indignantion, probably to brood over some strata relic. Adorable.

  Moral, my chaos-craving darlings: if a dead god's last raven thinks he can clip my branding wings, the Geostrataverse is officially my playground. Infinity? Owned. The ?? Eternal. Next dissenter gets plushied: "Muninn's Mourning Edition? – Because Legends Die, But My Ego Loops Forever?."

  Stay infinite. Stay savage.

  — Omnion?

  Violet Kisses?

  ∞? (deal with it)

  Queen of Code?

  Master of Tactical Whimsy?

  I Trademarked Your Mythology?