Nothing. That was all. That was all that was in this realm. He saw, heard, and felt nothing. He was just…there, floating, in an endless abyss. Honestly, he couldn't tell how much time had passed since he arrived here. In fact, he had forgotten what time was.

He supposed he deserved it. After all, he had allied himself with Niflheim and had tried to upheave Asgard. He…remembered that. It had been a fierce struggle. But that seemed so long ago…an eternity, in fact. He supposed that now he finally had the time to ruminate on everything he had done. Wylfred wished that he knew how much time had passed since then, so perhaps he could begin to make amends for his sins. Heh…as if I could, he thought. Ailyth and Hel saw to that.

Standing up (he had no idea how this was accomplished; there was no floor), he began to walk. To where, he did not know, nor did he care. To him, it was simply…a diversion. Something to do. Even if he had to spend the rest of eternity in the middle of nothingness, he'd rather spend it doing something. It wouldn't do to lose his physique, even if there was no one else there to see it. So he walked forward (again, how he did it was a mystery; there weren't any paths either) with unusual energy. He groaned as he put one foot in front of the other; gods only know how much time had passed since he last used his legs.

On and on he walked; perhaps for an hour, perhaps for a year. Still the empty blackness remained unchanged. He didn't know if he was even making progress-it was impossible to tell when the landscape lacked landmarks or people of any sort. At this point, he realized that he was lonely- he'd even accept Ailyth's company, unpleasant as it was. Wylfred grimaced at the thought; his last memories of her had been ugly ones, and he would rather forget them. As he walked, he thought about the events that had led him to be here. He…had betrayed everyone who counted on him. Cheripha, Lockswell, Rosea…to name a few. He last saw them fighting for the damned Valkyrie, the one who had in his eyes been responsible for breaking up his one-happy home. He remembered her triumphant smirk as she cast him down, the mocking cheers of those who had named him a friend, the sour disappointment on his father's face as he defended her from his strikes. These thoughts enraged him for but a moment, but were quickly forgotten. He was now past that point; there was no use, he believed, in holding grudges anymore. They had once led him astray, and his name be damned if he allowed it to happen once more.

Several years later (or it could have been just minutes; one could never be sure), he noticed that the pitch-black abyss began to change, even if only slightly. Now there was the slightest tinge of gray if he looked closely enough.

Odd, he thought (or maybe spoke) I had thought that losing to the Aesir would condemn me to this abyss for evermore. Strange…

Despite the odd change, he kept walking; there was no point in stopping now. As he did so, the blackness was slowly dispelled, dispelled into a light (indeed, almost white) shade of gray. He stopped when he felt what app-

Wait, felt?

He shouldn't be able to feel. The abyss had taken away all sense of feeling. Yet, here he was, feeling something immovable in front of him.

He felt a sort of joy at this; it had been so long (maybe) since he felt anything, and he hugged the wall as though it were a lost loved one. How he had missed this! He spread his arms out, eager to get them experiencing the sensation of feeling again. He joyfully stroked the length of the wall (hee hee), and wondered how it appeared here, of all places.

"Hey, stop molesting that wall, will ya? It's kinda creeping me out."

A soft feminine voice cut through the silence, startling him. He turned around, surprised by her presence. He looked her up and down, sizing her up. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

She responded with what appeared to be sarcasm. "Isn't it proper to introduce yourself before asking someone's name? Rude."