The Basilisk slithered up the Bifröst. It was a hateful thing, a serpent crowned with white markings, leaving a trail of withered rainbows behind it. It sought to gaze upon the gods and turn Asgard to stone.
At the top of the bridge stood Heimdall. The Watchman.
Heimdall stood motionless, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword, Hofund. He wore a helmet with ram’s horns and eyes that could see a fly flapping its wings three worlds away.
"You bring poison to a place of light," Heimdall said. He did not turn around.
The Blind Watchman
The Basilisk hissed. It reared up, expanding its hood. Petrifying Gaze. It projected a beam of death, waiting for the god to turn and face it.
Heimdall closed his eyes.
"To see you is to die," Heimdall noted calm. "So I shall not see you."
Hear the Grass Grow.
Heimdall listened. He heard the friction of scales on the magical glass of the bridge. He heard the slow, venomous heartbeat of the reptile. He heard the air displacement as the Basilisk lunged, jaws open to deliver a backup bite.
Heimdall didn't need eyes. The universe spoke to him in vibrations.
He drew Hofund in a single, fluid motion. He spun, his eyes squeezed shut, guided only by the sound of the wind parting around the serpent’s neck.
SNHICK.
The sound was wet and final.
Heimdall sheathed his sword. He waited until he heard the heavy thud of the body falling off the bridge, tumbling into the void below. Only then did he open his eyes, resuming his watch over the Nine Realms.