Across the high road of heaven, Sòl drove her burning chariot before the black jaws of Sköll, who had hunted her since the first dawn was kindled. The gods said her horses breathed fire into the morning, yet each evening their hooves struck sparks of fear as the wolf drew dreadfully nearer. When clouds reddened like blood, men whispered that Sköll had torn a strand from her golden veil. Still she fled, not from cowardice, but because the world itself turned beneath her wheels. On the last day, when the old bonds break and the seas climb the sky, Sköll shall seize the sun and swallow her light. But from the ashes of that devouring, a hidden daughter of Sòl shall rise, carrying a gentler flame into the newborn world.