The silence was not that of death, but of bated breath.
Jormund opened his eyes and was immediately struck by the absurdity of the setting. Above him, there was no black rock or sulfur, but an electric purple sky dotted with stars that seemed to wink as if sharing a private joke.
He sat up, his head heavy, to find that he was lying in the middle of what was once a city. White marble columns, slender as giant fingers, rose toward the purple dome, but they were all broken, not by violence, but by time and a strange erosion that made them look like melted sugar.
"Welcome to the forgotten, Anomaly," whispered a voice that seemed to come from a crack in the ground.
Jormund looked for the shadow, but here, the shadow enjoyed changing places as soon as he turned his head. He was no longer in Tartarus. The air smelled of jasmine and cold metal.
"Who's there?" growled Jormund, his hand instinctively searching for a weapon he did not yet have.
A crystalline, almost annoying laugh echoed off the ruins. A being appeared on a ledge, sitting with insulting nonchalance. He was slender, dressed in iridescent silks that changed color depending on the angle, and his pointed ears quivered with amusement. His yellow eyes glowed with ancient resentment masked by a polite smile.
"An elf never tells his name to someone who falls from the sky without wiping his feet," replied the stranger, leaping down with the lightness of a feather. "Look at yourself. You reek of sulfur and seriousness. Seriousness is a deadly poison in Alfheim, you know?"
Jormund stood up, towering over the elf. The golden veins on his arms pulsed, but the elf did not back down. On the contrary, he stepped closer to inspect the marks with misplaced curiosity.
"The Bifrost is closed, little Jötunn," said the elf in a suddenly sharper tone. "Odin has locked the door and thrown the key into the abyss. You are stuck in our crystal cage."
"I'm not staying here," Jormund said firmly. "Where are my companions?"
The elf feigned sadness.
"Scattered. Like the ashes of a bonfire. But if you want to get out, there are two paths. One leads to the broken Bifrost, guarded by those who never sleep. The other crosses the Wild Lands, where your great cousin, the Serpent, dreams sweet dreams of the end of the world." "
The elf approached Jormund's face, his breath smelling of frost.
"But you are weak. Too heavy. Too... physical. If you want to break what cannot be broken, you need a hammer. And there is only one Dwarf crazy enough to forge with pure hatred in this kingdom of light. "
Jormund clenched his fists. He understood the game. He was the new piece on the chessboard of a people bored with their own captivity.
"Take me to this Dwarf," Jormund ordered.
"Oh, I'll take you there," smiled the elf, disappearing in a whirlwind of stardust. "But beware... the price of trickery is often higher than that of blood."