You don't know how you got here. You know you died — there was a battle, a blade, the cold — and now you're in a hall so vast its ceiling dissolves into amber haze, surrounded by warriors who have been dead for centuries.

At the far end, on a throne carved from roots older than memory, a one-eyed man watches you with the patience of someone who has been waiting a very long time.

Valhalla is Odin's hall of the slain — endless feasting, daily battle, glorious preparation for the end of all things. You've arrived in time for the first feast. What you don't yet know is why your name is already carved into the bark of Yggdrasil — in the section that describes what happens after Ragnarök.