The War Room was silent now, its torches crackling softly against the weight of all that had been discussed. The secret chamber had already been sealed, but beyond its hidden walls, Thomas Dracknum walked slowly toward the exit, his footsteps echoing in steady rhythm through the vast hall of black stone.

There was much to be done. Reporting the events to the royal family was only one of his duties. He also needed to review the reports on movements in the neighboring territories, reorganize the border patrols, and, above all, deal with the growing distrust within Dracknum itself. The suspicion of a traitor was eating away at the family’s foundation, like rust corroding an old blade.

And yet, a faint smile lingered on his lips—subtle, but present. His mind wandered, lost in intricate thoughts.

"You never cease to surprise me, little Thomas."

The voice, laced with amusement and familiarity, came from behind. Baldwin Dracknum was following him, his steps firm but unhurried. His tone was far lighter than it had been in the meeting, and there was even a playful glint in his golden eyes.

Thomas let out a short sigh—not of annoyance, but something close to it—and replied without even needing to look back:

"In all of Asgardia, you are probably the only one bold enough to call me ‘little.’"

"Oh, but you are my little brother, aren’t you?" Baldwin shot back with a quiet laugh. "Besides, you miscounted… you forgot—"

He stopped abruptly. The words died on his lips as if he had tripped over them. The playful spark in his eyes vanished, and Thomas stopped as well.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Thomas’s expression hardened—cold as freshly forged steel.

Baldwin averted his gaze for a brief moment. The name he had nearly spoken… it was not to be said. Not here. Not now.

Drawing a deep breath, Baldwin composed himself and resumed, his tone more serious this time:

"But tell me, what was it that frightened you?"

Thomas frowned, not understanding at first.

Baldwin gave a slight nod toward his hands.

Only then did Thomas realize—his fists were clenched, and his palms were damp with sweat.

"Frightened?" Thomas repeated, as if the word itself were an insult.

"Yes." Baldwin smirked. "Your eyes remain unshaken, but your hands… your hands betray your thoughts, brother."

Thomas didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted into the dim corridor, recalling the exact moment it had happened.

.............................................................................

The meeting was unfolding as expected. Discussions on territorial security and the hunt for traitors were conducted with firm yet measured voices. The Dracknum crest, carved into the center of the circular table, seemed to watch over those present—an unyielding symbol of the lineage’s authority.

And then, Thomas heard it.

A voice slithered through the darkness of the hall like a serpent, laced with irony and malice. It came from none of those present. It came from nowhere in this world.

"Thadeus… Thadeus, can you hear me?"

Thomas didn’t move a muscle. But inside, a cold shadow swept through his mind. His blood ran icy. His heart stuttered for the briefest of moments before regaining its steady rhythm.

He would recognize that voice anywhere.

Loki.

‘Loki, why do you invade my mind?’

His lips never moved. His posture remained pristine. Outwardly, nothing betrayed the silent duel already unfolding within his thoughts.

"Let’s just say… something caught my attention. And I thought it might interest you."

Thomas remained impassive. He knew the guardian beast loved to cast its nets, waiting patiently for prey to take the bait.

Silence.

"Oh, come now, don’t be such a spoilsport, Thadeus." Loki’s voice oozed amusement, but there was something else—something almost… serious, lurking beneath the playfulness. "It’s about your youngest one… the one who crossed the rift."

Thomas’s expression didn’t waver, but his mind was already racing.

‘What do you know?’

A laugh—smooth and sharp as a freshly honed blade—rang through his mind.

"Far more than you think you do."

A vein in Thomas’s temple throbbed.

‘I don’t have time for your games, Loki.’

"Oh, of course, of course… The great Thomas Dracknum, always busy, always serious."

A pause. Loki reveled in the suspense.

The silence hung heavy, like a blade suspended in the air.

"But perhaps this will interest you: He… is not in the Black Forest."

Thomas’s mind locked in place, frozen with irritation. But outwardly, he was a statue of pure control. Not even an eyebrow twitched.

And yet, another pulse flickered at his temple.

That was all it took for Loki to burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha!"

The sound echoed through his mind like mocking thunder. But then—something shifted. The sarcasm faded, replaced by something heavier, something real.

"But don’t worry… he’s not in the Demon Forest either."

And for the first time in a long while, Thomas Dracknum felt a genuine chill.

Loki let the silence stretch, dramatic as ever.

"Hey, Thadeus… have you ever heard of the Threshold?"

Thomas remained silent. He knew the Trickster God loved to weave his victims into a web of words before handing them any real truth.

Loki sighed, exaggeratedly.

"You’re lucky I’m in a good mood." His voice took on a mock-wounded tone, as if offended by Thomas’s continued silence. "The Threshold… is the space between the Demon Forest and the Black Forest. A rift, a passage, a place that both exists and does not exist at the same time… an intersection between dimensions."

The explanation made Thomas’s mind reel. That wasn’t in Dracknum’s records. Or at least, not officially.

‘And Alexander… is he in this so-called Threshold?’

Loki chuckled again, this time lower, as if thoroughly entertained.

"Quite possibly… Who knows, he might just find him there."

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘Him?’

Loki let out a dramatic sigh, exasperated, as if realizing he had said too much.

"Well, well, would you look at that—I actually managed to catch your attention, didn’t I?"

Thomas’s silence was answer enough.

"Ah, but I think I’ve said too much for one day. I’ll be expecting your next visit, Thadeus."

And with that, Loki’s presence dissipated like smoke in the wind.

But the unease he left behind… that remained.

.........................................................

The wind howled around me, roaring in my ears as I plummeted at a terrifying speed.

The initial shock of the fall had caught me off guard, and now, with gravity mercilessly dragging me toward the unknown, I fought to regain control of the situation.

Dust and tiny fragments of earth stung my skin, making it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open. Still, I forced my vision through the swirling haze of debris.

My heart pounded violently in my chest when I finally saw it—the wolf pup, flailing midair, tumbling helplessly within my reach.

With a desperate lunge, I stretched out my arms and caught it, pulling the small creature close, shielding it in a protective embrace.

"Hang on!" I muttered instinctively, as if it could actually understand me.

Now that it was safe in my arms, I tried to take in my surroundings. But all I could see was darkness and rock.

The walls around me were jagged, covered in cracks and protrusions, but none were close enough to grab onto. Streams of water trickled downward along the uneven stone, disappearing into the depths below.

And beneath me? Only endless emptiness. The bottom remained unseen.

A sickening sensation twisted in my gut as the fall dragged on with no end in sight.

"What the hell…?!" My voice was swallowed by the abyss. "How deep does this thing go?!"

I held my breath, forcing myself to stay calm. If I counted the seconds, I might get an idea of how far I’d fallen. But as the minutes stretched on and the ground refused to appear, an uneasy realization began to creep in.

"Is this… a bottomless pit?" I whispered. "No, that’s ridiculous. Bottomless pits don’t exist."

“But—” A chill ran down my spine. I had read about something like this before. "Wait…"

According to ancient legends, there was only one true bottomless pit.

"But it’s supposed to be in Yggdrasill…" I murmured, struggling to recall everything I knew about the old elven nation.

My thoughts spun, trying to make sense of it all. But before I could reach any solid conclusion, something caught my eye.

A faint glimmer. Something that shouldn’t be there.

I turned my head, eyes widening. There—water, running down the walls of the ravine.

"Huh?"

It streamed steadily, weaving through the cracks in the rock. Not a mere trickle, but not a rushing torrent either.

I blinked, trying to be sure of what I was seeing.

“…”

I waited. Watching in silence, counting the seconds as I fell.

Minutes passed.

And then—there it was again. The same stream of water appeared in my line of sight.

My stomach dropped.

"Didn’t I just see that?"

An unsettling realization hit me. I had been falling for far too long. My mind worked fast, piecing it together.

If I was seeing the same stream of water more than once, that meant—

"Shit. I’m in a loop!"