I was just reading Völuspá stanza 41:
Fylliz fiǫrvi feigra manna,
rýðr ragna siǫt rauðom dreyra.
Svǫrt verða sólskin of sumor eptir,
veðr ǫll válynd. Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat?
Did you catch what the Völva prophesied?
Here, let me English it for you:
It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men,
paints red the powers’ homes with crimson gore.
Black become the Sun’s beams in the summers that follow,
weathers all treacherous. Do you still seek to know? And what?