Traversing deeper into the glimmering realm, the evidence of the Drakes' devastation sears into the soil. Trunks are torn asunder from their roots and charred to ash beneath their feet. The air fills with fresh cinders and charcoal gas the further they approach. With hands steady as an undisturbed pool, Atreus wields both bow and arrows for the dangers ahead. Sigyn follows at his side, her hands rippling with wild magic at the inevitable call to arms. Neither shows boldness in the face of the calamity before their eyes. The peaks of the touching mountains reside within a hundred feet from them, and already the tensions slow their march.
"What do you think we'll find inside?" Sigyn asks with declining resolve.
"I've only ever encountered one horror from Mulphelheim until now," Atreus recalls, just as ill confident. "But, what I did find before, may pale in comparison to what lurks beneath this earth."
"Do you think we stand a chance?"
The gravity of their circumstance already tears down at their optimism. Each step forward, a tread of dread and uncertainty. The duo march at an impasse, a crossroad between two of the mightiest powers in all the nine realms. The Aesir and armies of Asgard, along with the horrors of the infernal plane, vie for dominance. Yet, with the worlds on the brink of immolation, only one solution awaits them.
"There's no turning back for me," Atreus claims with a sigh to expel his worries. "Whatever awaits us, better be ready for a fight."
Yet, just as his bravado reply escapes him, his senses catch the sensation of a familiar presence. Something observes them in the trees, carried by the charred wind and looming around the fields. The already taxing tension only weighs heavier now that they are no longer alone. All appear as majestic as expected, yet the sensation won't lift from his shoulders. The revered senses that he's honed won't thwart his focus on the subtle disturbances in the distance. While naked to the mortal ear, the distant noises of breaking branches, exasperating breezes, and perhaps whispers of the realm creep ever toward them. Not long does it take Sigyn to acknowledge Atreus's perturbed behavior.
"Atreus?" She calls for his focus to return, but his eyes don't shift from the enchanted forest. Immediate to his misdirection, Sigyn approaches with a hand on his shoulder. "Atreus?"
His trance relinquishes from the vast groves that look down upon them, reverting his attention back to the sorceress. The fogs of blindsight lift from him with a shake of his head. Along with it, his hardened spirit to face the adversaries of the primordial realm of inferno.
"Are you hearing things again?" She asks, still perturbed by his sixth sense.
"I'm not sure," he answers with a glance but promptly guides her along the trail in haste. "We should keep moving... Lingering in the open may be more dangerous..."
"Then marching into a den of fire lizards?" She follows up, her nerves tingling at the notion.
The two carry along the blazed trail. Only Atreus keeps glimpsing back over his shoulder while the sorceress remains within his reach. Though the voices and echoes of brush and wood creaking and snapping fade, the Wolf of Midgard is a vigilante in upholding his guard. Yet, in those brief moments of averted sight, an approaching omen reaches the heavens in a quick flash. The temple in the realm has opened the way for more strangers to enter.
"Let's not find out..." Atreus mutters, his eyes scarcely missing the looming threat.
In those unnerving moments of exposure to the wilds and heart-racing approach to the challenge ahead, the embers and smoke thicken with fiery intensity. With each passing second, the clouds blacken and grow denser. Although they're beyond mortal, the smoke is enough to break Atreus and Sigyn's clear breaths into choking coughs. Their cloth and fur attire is all that can shield them from the wall of charred fog. But despite the heavy appearance of the black mist, abruptly, it passes. As though passing through a doorway, the duo reaches the other side of the cindering veil.
However, the sight that lays bear resembles what they had imagined prior. The mines of Svartr Djúpr lay bear to them. But reduced to the ruble and ruin by the searing claws and fangs of the drakes that take roost. Of which the beasts are bountiful in number, far too many to brashly face head-on. The two curves mountain peaks reside above like razor fangs, with many dwarven structures and machinery hanging overhead. No doubt, the pristine days of this faculty are lost to the flame of Muspelheim. Atreus and Sigyn take to stealth in urgency before becoming part of the pyre. The two observe, with rock and husks of already burnt oak to cover themselves.
"So much for optimism," Sigyn notes with depleted hope. "I didn't believe we'd see them in such high numbers."
"And with realism, it's fair to expect more lingering below in the actual mines," Atreus adds, stern with his stare at the location.
"Why would you say that?" Sigyn questions with nervousness in her tone. Atreus's assumption only drags Sigyn's spirits further into the ashes beneath their heels. "We need to build our confidence, not toss it into the flames..."
"What we need is a plan," Atreus whispers, clinging to his study of the environment.
Looking to the bottom of the mountain's peaks, the prior stations and buildings are shattered and smoldering. Anything of use joined with the other countless piles of ash. The drakes skulk everywhere in the dozens, even beginning to scale the jagged cliffs. However, the hanging buildings, cranes, and stoneworks remain, if only just beginning to wither to the blazes below.
"I may have one," Atreus concurs with a mischievous grin.
Where his eyes direct, Sigyn matches his perspective at the top of the canyon rocks. Initially, the sorceress's over-skepticism deters her from acknowledging the grander picture before them. With a squinted gaze, her focus narrows on the missing details she's briefly oblivious towards. A single speculation blinks into her thoughts, but the absurdity of it clouds her judgment in disbelief.
"You're going to drop the buildings on top of them?" She questions with an expression of concern.
To her dismay, Atreus answers with but another amused grin. A reply both charming, but gravely troubling with the ill-safe predicament that comes with it. Before she can respond to his intentions, the Wolf of Midgard already holds his bow in hand.
"But-But how?" She asks, looking at the sturdy foundations. "Even your arrows can't bring them down that easily."
"My shots are to distract the beasts below," he replies, drawing back the string and arrow. "I'll trust you to bring the mountain fortress down while I make sure they don't spot you."
Despite his assured confidence in the plan, Sigyn yanks him and his arsenal down below cover once more. Ash and powder coat them as they tumble into the ground. Both on hands and knees, meeting eye to eye, Atreus finds her stern glare unnerving to his bolstered strive.
"Atreus, there's too many to take on," she reminds him in hurried whispers.
"Which is why I'm more capable of distracting them long enough for you to bring the dwarven structures down," Atreus replies, cementing his claim for the plan.
Yet, again, Sigyn yanks him down, holding him in place with a single hand on the nape of his neck. Her palm is warm, tight on him, and unwavering to let him free nor break from her pull. The sliver of a gap between them steers Atreus's attention from his intended path. The closeness briefly ceases Atreus's breath, vacating it from his lungs in bafflement. Sigyn, minorly blinded by frustration, is absentminded to his bashful reaction.
"And you don't believe I can manage better?" Sigyn remarks, offended by his assumption.
"I-I wasn't, I-I didn't-" the once confident Last Son of Sparta now rambles his words in guilt.
"You deal with bringing down the mines, and I'll be the distraction..."
His objections are cut off as the switched persona of Sigyn drives her to act first. With silence rivaling feathers falling upon snow, she crawls to an ideal location. Incapable of obscuring his pride for her growing courage, Atreus smirks with fondness.
"Are you sure?" He questions, not out of denial for her statement, but to be assured that she's content with the plan. This time, his concerns are met with her own wordless response of confident smiles.
"I still have plenty of tricks to show off," she replies. "Besides, you're far better at breaking things than I am."
The Wolf of Midgard observes as the rekindling bravado carries Sigyn off. Enchanted with her tread to her desired location, the faded stream of emerald green lingers as she vanishes in a single, mighty beat of his heartbeat. Left to his methods, he gazes back to the summits of the dwarven fort. He can't help but let loose a mutter, quiet chuckle at her remark.
"I'm not sure if she's complimenting me or poking fun at me," he comments, amused by the indifference.
Once more, the same mystic energy of his jotunn heritage warps his visage. Taking on the form of a silver hawk, he takes to the skies in silent haste. His upsurge into flight draws the focus of the few drakes nearby. Their scorching jaws leak liquid fire as they stare at Atreus. However, not long does Sigyn take part in the fray. From a vantage point of stone and charred brush, the sorceress invokes the sigils across her arms. Illumination of blue and green bleeds from her tattoos, drenching her hands in Seiðr magic. At her whim, Sigyn weaves and manifests multiple duplicates of the same grey bird. The Drakes observe, disoriented, and lost in the number of flying critters above. With jaws snapping and infernal claws slashing, the beasts strike and assault the intangible illusions swarming them.
In the outbreak of formation, Atreus reaches the settlement above, reverting himself atop the slopes and structural walkways. Before his eyes, the vast reaches of Svartalfheim are laid out for him. As well as the magnitude of the drop below, tightening his stomach at the sight. The integrity of this construct remains firm, despite the few Drakes that have reached the top. Its heavy chains strap and carry the buildings afloat. And the blend of stonework, iron, and wood interconnects the structure with the mountain.
"Taking single shots won't do the trick, and it would be too loud," Atreus notes, disgruntled. "Sigyn's ploy would mean nothing, and we'd both be cornered rodents... I'll need to create a chain effect to bring the whole base down at once."
Though he's out of sight from the Drakes below, the stalkers above creep and prowl around most corners. Caution and patience carry his absent-sounding footsteps from this point forward. Alerting the skeletal creatures here will alert the ones below. A swarm of charred claws and fangs would consume them in a storm of flame. Matching his pace are the Drakes above, snarling and growling with seething hunger. The display of the enchanted flock of birds holds no sway from their defensive prowl. But, their formation falls short of perfect timing for them.
Light with his steps, Atreus grazes past their very narrow blind spots. When reaching the structural corners of the hanging outpost, all that is found peels out more worry for the Wolf of Midgard. Though this base is hung on mere chains, the dwarven foundation is last but dwindling instability. The metal links are thick, driven deep within the mountain's obsidian exterior. To shatter such binds will take more effort than initially planned. Yet, already, time runs thin as the patience and interest of the illusion below cinders like a dying flame.
In desperation, a reckless thought comes to his mind. Though his plan will utilize all of his arrows, the few gaps and cracks expose the vulnerabilities of the mountain slopes. Firm yet furtive with his movements, he inserts the bolts from his quiver into these openings.
"Bruni," he whispers, etching his arrow with searing orange runes.
Prompted by the scarce free time he has and the minuscule openings available, he sneaks his way to every chained railing. At each point he reaches, Atreus forges a link of his interconnected arrows into the stone surface of the mound. Several close encounters drive him to the shadows, having smoldering jaws of razor obsidian fangs loom too close for comfort. But, through persistent resolve, most of the surrounding walls are rigged with explosive arrows ready for a spark to ignite them. Atreus's trap nears its completion and is made to fruition... Yet, no victory is ever certain...
Again, as though the concept of calamity itself follows the Wolf of Midgard, the realm tremors before them. The outpost rumbles and rattles as the very mountain itself quakes by an unforeseen force. Once more, the fiery boom, an erupting voice heavier and deeper than the void of Ginnungagap, blasts through Niðavellir. Atreus is brought to his knees as a pain rivaling fire courses through his mind. Even the beasts of ember all cease their chase and halt in their infernal tracks at the call. However, this battle cry from beyond the world extends its power into the magics of Sigyn. Whose arms begin to sear and burn in response to her attempts at illusion. In mere seconds, her enchantment ceases, as well as her cover.
As the resonating primordial speech fades, so too does its influence on Atreus's psyche. Yet, his troubles only grow direr as he directs his sights below. Sigyn stands at the epicenter of the mining site, the Drakes, inching closer, prowl with murderous intent toward her. Their spare moments have run dry as the burning oaks below negating and hesitating in Atreus. Despite their initial course, the Wolf of Midgard strikes from above. Instinctively, brashly, and focused on nothing else, he uses what little ammunition lingering in his quiver to bombard the beasts below.
"Þruma Kráka!" He calls out with every ounce of air in his lungs.
At his command, Atreus's projectiles explode into a fury of static crows that crash atop the pack. Surges of lightning scorch the ground in an explosive flurry, rippling static through the earth and beneath the Drakes claws. That brief second of disarray allows the sorceress to make her escape. Only mere inches divide her and the talons of the beasts that lunged at her. Her magic carries her like a leaf in the wind as she flees from their clutches. This game of cat and mouse unfolds while the creatures of ember and coal divide their focus between Sigyn and the assailant above, Atreus.
Beckoned by a charred roar and a cry of aid, more creatures arrive from below the stone earth. Many of them direct themselves to the threat that strikes them from above. Through brute strength and an ever-burning resolve, they scale the mountain's edges. Improvising is key to the drastic deterrent to their strategy, and Atreus does what he and his father have done swimmingly but indirectly very well. Amid the chase, with fangs and claws lashing at him from several conjunctions, the Wolf of Midgard leads the Drakes on. Relentless with his air-raining projectiles and the shouting of his incantations, he steers more of their number to his location. Both as a means of thwarting their hunt for Sigyn and reducing the foundation's stability with their weight.
Sigyn calls upon her quick thought tricks and spells to elude the infernal reptiles. Wild thick vines protrude from the gravel at the flick of her hands, impeding the charge of several pursuers. Oak and stone bind very few to the black charcoaled ground. The momentum of others stumbles and trips at a few stalactites and wood, barring their course. She leaps and even enchants her movement to scale and run along the stoneworks beyond the pack's reach. Yet, as their numbers intensify like a blaze in summer, Sigyn can only outpace the storm for long.
A series of flips, twirls, and leaps are all that keep Atreus from receiving any fatal wounds. Nevertheless, several slashes mark his body with each failed maneuver or an ill-attentive glimpse of the threats that stalk him through the upper level. Until his muscle-throbbing legs lead him to the furthest corner of the base. With sweat and blood blending and dripping off his person, Atreus has cornered himself. Standing at the epicenter of their kill circle, his back to the wall, he arms himself defiantly as a wounded animal. A charred, cindering noise leaves their jaws, reminiscent of laughter and pleasure in trapping their kill, advancing steadily. Atreus can feel the heat evaporating the oxygen around him as their prowl brings them to his platform. But, their sadistic approach also marks their end.
Invoking the jötunn powers bestowed to him by the Hati and Sköll, the hue visage of the wolf envelopes him. Both he and the Drakes take simultaneous action. The beasts of ember leap, pouncing at him from all around him, while he lunges himself back. Briefly, defying the laws of physics, the spectral claws enveloping his heels aid in adhering himself to the walls above the pets of Musphelheim. Thwarted in their conjoined assault, the slamming of their bodies ramming full force into the one untampered chain shatters it like glass to steel. At the same time, with but one last shot, Atreus launches the final bow on his quiver.
"Bruni!" He calls out the spell as fire blazes in his fingers and briefly, the bow he dawns.
A spiraling trail of blazing heat carries with the shot, slipping past the narrow openings in the pack's positions and the solid structures of stone. And with but a spark and the well-placed launch of an arrow, the trap is sprung. A chain of erupting fire and the sundering of stone and obsidian flashes and ravages the mountain rims. Shards and masses of the mason spray in all directions, causing even further devastation to the workshop's integrity. Any such time to act is defied and ceases as the hordes of Musphelheim descend with the work mason's base.
Atreus, never letting Sigyn escape his sight, rushes downward into the calamity of falling debris. Hurling his body with the same speed as his arrows, he draws her attention swiftly. However, he sweeps her into the air by utilizing this momentum with his chain blades clung to a far-sighted reach. But from a bird's eye view, all that can be seen is devastation on a godly level. The air from the igniting explosions, the crumbling of rock and seared wood, and the union of ash turn the mines into a black cloud of ruin. No mortal eyes could perceive the fates of those beneath the crumbling peaks. The spire of smoke and dust ascends, reaching the heavens for all Niðavellir to witness in wonder.
(Authors Notes)
Hello everyone! I hope you all are doing well. It's been a long time, to say the least. It's fair to say that I suffered from writer's block in the most significant way. And the last thing I wanted was to throw out rushed chapters. I should have said something, and I apologize for that and the long wait. It still baffles me how lively the audience is and how much more of you have begun following and showing your most appreciated support for my work. But rest assured, I haven't abandoned this story, and I'm hellbent on seeing it come to a proper conclusion.
So to start things off, yet again I am under new employment. Not nearly as strenuous of work as the previous job. Which is why I'm finding myself less worked up and stress-free. Of course, I have a lot of catching up to do. So many chapters could have been written had it not been for my abrupt hiatus. And with Ragnarok just around the corner, it's safe to assume that we're all itching for the big release. And from what's been revealed, the next installment has blown anything I could create out of the water. All the more wishful that the release will inspire me to provide more chapters at a quicker rate, enough to make up for the year I was gone.
As for my future plans, many of them have been put on hold. Sadly, this includes my book due to the fact I was recently able to have several professional editors look over it. Unfortunately, while they enjoyed the concept, they said I should rework many elements and improve my techniques before considering publishing. Which I will be working on, and this story is the best way to do so. In addition, I was going to create a page for P-atreon that I could use to encourage myself to provide original work for you all. But until I can keep a consistent schedule, it would be best to postpone that step.
Now that I'm back, I will try to update as often as possible. As a token of appreciation, I'm posting several chapters at once. And will continue to do so until I'm caught up with how far the story should be (roughly 12 chapters more as of posting this). And, of course, I'll be answering questions as usual. One other thing I will be doing is posting a special features chapter. This one will be a bit of a spoiler for my story, but I felt I should post it before the game comes out. It will feature character descriptions for those that have not yet been revealed, as well as location previews as well. This is, so everyone will know what I've envisioned compared to the cannon appearances of the same character in the new game. To those who don't want to read it and wish to be surprised, I'll leave a bold Spoiler caption, so you know to skip it without the story being ruined for you.
Now that I'm back from the darkest corners of my room, let's answer some questions.
Question 1: Will Atreus fight Höðr again?
Absolutely! He is one of the sons of Odin, and as we know from Baldur and Thor, the Allfathers' children are not to be taken lightly.
Question 2: Will Atreus meet Hárbarðr or Surtr?
As for the Ferryman, his Fate is uncertain as of right now. But Surtr, most definitely. As to how that interaction will go, it may not be the most friendly, given their opposition and views of the Twilight of the Gods.
Question 3: Will Atreus use the Leviathan Axe after rebuilding it?
... Well, about that... The story of the axe hasn't come close to seeing an end. After all, it was one of the Huldra Brothers greatest works... I won't bluntly say what will happen, but it's fair to say that the Leviathan's job isn't done.
Question 4: How is Höðr not well known in Midgard?
Traditionally, very little of the god is mentioned in the Prose Edda and Poetic Edda. So, I wanted that to reflect in this story. But as to why it could be for many varying reasons. Höðr being reserved and always working in the shadows of the Allfather is a notable one. After all, the best assassin is the one no one knows about. So, how do you anticipate and expect what you don't know exists?
It's good to be back and inspired to write again!
Again, I cannot express how sorry I am for keeping you all waiting and for my sincerest gratitude to those who have stayed and come since my absence. I have no excuses for my sudden drop from the platform. This was a mistake I take full responsibility for. And I intend to make up for it. Thank you all for your continued support, and I will see you all after Ragnarok!