Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kratos...

Once the fearsome Ghost of Sparta, now stood amidst the serene landscape, his towering figure a stark contrast to the tranquil surroundings.

The wind whispered through the trees, their branches swaying gently as if in reverence to the man who once brought gods to their knees. His reputation as the harbinger of death had preceded him, whispers of his past deeds echoing through the annals of time.

To many, he was not just a man but a monstrous force—a relentless avatar of vengeance, destruction, and wrath.

Yet here, in this new land, Kratos appeared weathered by the passage of years.

The weight of countless battles and untold sorrows was etched into every line of his face. His once fiery gaze, which had struck fear into gods and men alike, was now tempered, replaced by the somber hues of experience. The deep creases around his eyes hinted at the wisdom gained from living through more than one lifetime of hardship.

His beard, once a shadow, had thickened into a cascade of gray, its strands bearing the ashes of those he had loved and lost. The red tattoo marking his flesh—a tribute to his dear brother, Deimos—had dulled with time, its once vibrant hue now a faded reminder of a life long past. The scar across his abdomen, a testament to his defiance against the gods, remained as a solemn reminder of the sacrifices he had made, each one shaping the course of his destiny.

His attire, a mix of fur-lined leather and armor, was suited for the harsh Norse terrain. The once-proud chains that had bound him to his past sins were hidden beneath his garb, though the memory of them still lingered, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. As an older man, Kratos had traded the fury of war for the quietude of this land, yet no amount of time or distance could truly erase the ghost of his past.

Kratos stood before a towering tree, its trunk marred by the imprint of a golden handprint—a poignant reminder of a soul he had once cherished beyond measure. Faye, his beloved wife, had left her mark on this world, and on him, in ways that even the gods could not erase. With a heavy breath, Kratos raised the Leviathan Axe, her gift to him, its blade gleaming in the soft light.

Kneeling before the sacred tree, he wielded the axe with a fervor born from the deepest recesses of his heart.

Each swing was not just a physical act but a spiritual release, a way to unburden himself of the anguish, the fury, and the regret that clung to him like a shroud. Every strike echoed through the forest like a thunderclap, as if the land itself was responding to his turmoil.

"Aaaaghhh!" Kratos roared, his voice hoarse with emotion, raw and unfiltered. His cry was primal, a man who had faced gods, monsters, and himself—and yet still carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.

With one final, forceful strike, the tree fell. Kratos stood motionless for a moment, his breath labored, his body still tense from the exertion. He sheathed the Leviathan Axe across his back, its weight familiar, yet insignificant compared to the burdens he bore within.

As he reached down to lift the fallen timber, a bandage around his forearm began to unravel, revealing the scars beneath. They were old wounds, reminders of battles fought in rage and desperation, the kind that left marks not only on the body but on the soul. Kratos paused, staring at the exposed flesh for a moment, lost in thought. The memories of his past clawed at his mind—the faces of those he had slain, the cries of those he could not save. His grip tightened as he fought to silence the voices that haunted him.

Was redemption ever truly possible for a man like him? Could he ever be free from the shadows of his own making?

Kratos inhaled deeply and rewrapped the bandage, covering the physical scars as best he could. But the emotional ones? Those would remain, no matter how tightly he tried to conceal them. He was a monster. That truth would never leave him, no matter how much he sought peace.

Before he could sink further into his turmoil, a voice called out, soft yet distinct in the stillness.

"I found some." A young voice said.

Kratos turned swiftly, his senses immediately sharpening. There, standing among the trees, was Atreus, his son. The boy was a reflection of  his mother, with red hair and the sharp blue eyes like his mother.

Though young, Atreus carried himself with a maturity that belied his years. His tunic, worn yet sturdy, was adorned with the wolf fur pelt his mother had made for him, with norse runes tracing his arms.

Atreus gazed at the fallen tree, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and curiosity. To him, his father was not the harbinger of destruction, not the Ghost of Sparta, but simply his father—the man who could fell a tree with a single blow, yet was still a mystery in so many ways.

"Get on the boat, boy," Kratos said, his voice gruff but not unkind. Beneath the roughness was a tenderness he dared not express fully.

Atreus nodded, casting one last glance at his father before heading toward the riverbank.

Kratos watched him go, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn't put into words. His son—his future—was the only thing that gave him hope. But how could he guide him when his own path was so fraught with shadows?

With a heavy sigh, Kratos followed, lifting the tree with ease and securing it to the boat. As they floated down the river, the silence between them was peaceful, but beneath it lingered unspoken questions and untold stories.

"Father?" Atreus's voice broke the quiet, soft yet insistent.

Kratos grunted in acknowledgment, his mind still heavy with the weight of his past.

"The forest... it feels different," Atreus observed, his eyes scanning the landscape as if searching for something just out of reach.

"Everything is different, boy," Kratos replied, his voice carrying the weight of truths he wished he could shield his son from. "Do not dwell on it."

"Yes, sir." Atreus's voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the breeze as they continued their journey down the river, toward an uncertain future.

The river’s gentle murmur blended with the rustling of the surrounding woods, creating a serene lull in the air. Atreus gazed into the water’s shimmering surface, his thoughts drifting like the currents beneath the boat. He could feel the weight of unspoken words between him and Kratos, but there was a comfort in the silence.

"Do you think the others are done with the rest of the stuff?" Atreus broke the quiet, his voice barely louder than the wind. His question lingered, hinting at more than just simple curiosity. 

Kratos grunted thoughtfully, his gaze unwavering from the horizon ahead. "Knowing your aunt and uncle very well..." He hesitated, the corners of his lips twitching with doubt. "Probably."

The unspoken tension between them dissolved into the air once more, leaving behind only the river’s soft whispers and the rhythmic sound of the oars cutting through the water.

---

Elsewhere in the Wildwoods

The Wildwoods pulsed with life, a vivid symphony of nature's wonders. Towering trees stretched their limbs toward the sky, while streams wound their way through the underbrush, glittering beneath the dappled sunlight. Thornnecks, their massive frames blending with the ancient trees, ambled through the shadows, while the distant roars of Polarjaws echoed like thunder through the wilderness.

But amidst a meadow bursting with vibrant flowers, a lone figure moved gracefully—an Drekinian, half-human, half-dragon creature.

She was a rare sight, even in these enchanted woods. Her fiery blue hide shimmered like the last embers of a dying flame, crisscrossed with muted green stripes that hugged her frame. Her tail, lined with venomous spikes, swayed rhythmically behind her as she knelt to gather flowers, her claws gently plucking the delicate petals.

Her wings folded elegantly against her back, their leathery texture rustling slightly in the breeze. Two long, thin horns jutted from her head, framing her aqua hair that cascaded like a waterfall down her shoulders. Her orange eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned the forest with quiet alertness.

Yet, in this moment of peace, Beta—the Inferno-Wing—was unaware that she wasn’t alone.

"Hehehe."

The giggle, soft and mischievous, floated through the air, pulling Beta’s attention away from the flowers. She paused, her keen senses immediately picking up the familiar tone. With a knowing smile, she glanced toward the tall grasses swaying just beyond her.

"I wonder, where did that little cub go?" Beta called out in a playful tone, her voice carrying through the meadow like a gentle breeze. She slowly rose to her full height, her wings stretching momentarily before folding back. "Perhaps... he’s here!"

With a graceful leap, Beta darted into the tall grasses, her sharp senses attuned to the faintest of movements. Her bright eyes scanned the foliage, but despite her keen sight, there was no trace of the source of the laughter.

"Huh?" Beta’s brow furrowed in confusion as she stood still, listening. The forest around her was silent, the only sound the wind rustling through the leaves. 

Suddenly, she felt a weight crash onto her back, tiny arms wrapping around her shoulders as a high-pitched voice shouted in triumph. 

"Gotcha!"

Beta let out a theatrical gasp of surprise, stumbling forward dramatically as if the weight were far greater than it was. "Oh no! I've been caught by the amazing and powerful Bendy!" she cried, her voice dripping with mock defeat. "Oh please, show mercy, mighty dragon!"

Bendy, a mischievous grin plastered across his face, sat proudly atop his mother's shoulders. His small but confident voice rang out, "Only if you admit that I’m the smartest, most handsome, most cunning, and most skilled dragon in the world!"

Beta chuckled, her laughter a warm sound that echoed through the clearing. "Alright, alright. *You*, Bendy, are the smartest, most handsome, most cunning, and most skilled of all the dragons in the world," she conceded with an indulgent smile.

Sliding down from Beta’s back, Bendy landed lightly on the soft grass, a wide grin lighting up his face. He was a creature unlike any other, with skin darker than his siblings’, a striking contrast to his white face framed by two crescent-shaped horns. His clothes—dark purple and yellow—mirrored his bold personality, and his long tail swished playfully behind him, the arrow-shaped tip brushing the ground.

As Beta gazed at her son, her heart swelled with love. Bendy, though different in appearance from his family, had always been a source of joy and pride. His energy and curiosity were boundless, and even his playful arrogance brought a smile to her face.

But then, as Beta straightened up, she noticed the sudden shift in her son’s demeanor. Bendy’s face, once filled with glee, now darkened with melancholy as he stared at the field of flowers before them.

"Hey," Beta said softly, kneeling beside him. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "What's with the long face?"

Bendy sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "It’s just... Aunt Faye loved this place. She brought me here once. It was so peaceful. I miss her." His voice trembled slightly, the weight of his loss heavy in his words.

Beta's heart clenched at the mention of Faye—Atreus's mother, her dearest friend, and the light of their lives. The loss of Faye had left a void in all their hearts, and it pained Beta to see her son carry that burden.

"I miss her too," Beta whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But we’ll always have our memories of her, Bendy and in a way she’s still with us."

She pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, her heart aching for the sorrow he bore. With the flowers now gathered, Beta rose and extended her hand to her son. "Come on, let’s head back. Your father and the others are probably waiting for us."

Bendy nodded, slipping his hand into hers. As they walked, their bond provided the comfort words could not.

"I bet Bucky’s stuck in a hole again, and Lyris is yelling at him to pull his head out!" Bendy said with a grin, the mental image causing a burst of laughter to escape from both of them.

"Hehe, sounds about right!" Beta agreed, her laughter as bright as the sunlight filtering through the trees.

As the cabin came into view, Bendy's thoughts drifted to Atreus, his best friend. "Do you think Atreus will be okay?" he asked, his voice soft with worry.

Beta’s smile faltered slightly. She didn’t have an easy answer. "I hope so," she said gently. "He’s strong, but... losing a mother is hard, especially for a kid at his age." She squeezed Bendy's hand, the weight of her own sorrow blending with his.

They walked in silence for a moment, the forest around them alive with the hum of life. But within them, a quiet sadness lingered, a reminder of the loved ones lost but never forgotten.

In the cabin

The cabin hummed with warmth, the rich scent of wood mingling with the crisp air that drifted in from the surrounding forest. Omega, standing tall and imposing, wiped his brow as he just finished cutting down one of the last trees for the upcoming ceremony, a testament to his strength and resilience.

His bright red hide gleamed in the daylight, black markings adding contrast to his robust frame. The spikes adorning his chin formed a makeshift goatee, giving him a fierce yet regal appearance.

His yellow fiery hair streaked with orange glowed in the fading light, and his long, thick tail, ending in a heavy spiked club, twitched as he stood up straight, satisfied with his progress. The prosthetic right arm and left leg gleamed with a metallic sheen, reminders of battles fought long ago.

As he prepared to resume his work, Omega heard a familiar voice call from inside the cabin.

“Daddy! Can you help here?” Lyris’s sharp tone cut through the sounds of the evening.

Omega turned to see his daughter, a golden cub, wearing a magenta-red blouse and grey-black pants, struggling with something—or rather, someone.

His azure eyes softened as he saw her pulling on her brother Bucky’s tail, trying to free him from the ground where his head had somehow become lodged.

“How did you get stuck this time?” Omega asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

His gaze swept over the scene—Bucky, with his turquoise scales and blue markings, clad only in green pants and dark-teal jacket, was quite the sight, his short red hair sticking out in tufts as he wriggled helplessly and flapping his wings rapidly.

His long, multi-colored tail, usually so useful for all kinds of mischief, was now looped around his sister's arm as she used it to gain leverage.

“It’s an actually funny story... I saw a bug, then I thought I saw an apple, and, well… one thing led to another…” Bucky said, his voice muffled by the dirt, mumbled,

Omega let out a long sigh, his lips quirking into a smile. “Of course, you did. All right, hold still, I’ve got you.”

With a grunt of effort, Omega carefully grasped Bucky’s torso and began to pull. His son yelped and squirmed, his tail flicking in protest as the ground slowly gave way.

After a few moments of tugging, Bucky was finally yanked free with a pop, stumbling to his feet.

“Thanks, Dad!” Bucky said, shaking his head and brushing dirt from his scales. His orange and blue eyes shone with gratitude, though his mischievous grin hinted at future shenanigans.

Lyris, her golden hide gleaming in the light, crossed her arms and huffed. “Maybe this will teach you not to do dumb stuff next time.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky shot back, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’ll just punch you in the face!”

Lyris, ever the firebrand, immediately took a defensive stance. “Bring it on, bug-brain!”

Before the two could escalate further, Omega intervened, stepping between his children with a raised hand. “That’s enough, both of you,” he said firmly. “Save your energy for another time.”

Reluctantly, Lyris and Bucky backed down, though the tension between them still simmered beneath the surface.

Omega shook his head, chuckling to himself as he turned to see Beta and Bendy approaching from the forest.

Beta’s fiery blue hide shimmered as she moved gracefully toward the cabin, her long aqua hair flowing behind her. At her side, Bendy skipped happily, his purple eyes alight with excitement as he spotted his siblings. Omega’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of his family, reunited and whole once again.

“Everything coming along?” Beta asked, her eyes soft as they met her husband’s. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

Omega smiled as he returned the kiss. “Almost done. Just one more tree and we’ll be ready for the ceremony.”

Their tender moment was quickly interrupted by their children’s exaggerated reactions.

“Eww!” Bucky groaned, sticking out his long purple tongue in mock disgust.

“Can’t you two do that somewhere else?” Lyris added, her nose wrinkling in revulsion.

Omega chuckled and waved them off. “If you don’t like it, don’t look.”

The cabin was filled with laughter, a light-heartedness that momentarily lifted the weight of their upcoming responsibilities. However, their joy was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching from the forest’s edge.

Atreus and Kratos emerged from the trees, carrying the final log needed for the ceremony. Atreus’s tired but smiling face lit up as he spotted Bendy, who dashed forward to greet him.

“Atreus!” Bendy called, his voice full of joy.

Atreus grinned and raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Bendy. Good to see you.”

Bendy, always full of energy, circled his friend. “So? How did it go?”

Atreus shrugged, his smile fading slightly. “It went well. Just… a lot to think about.”

Bendy’s exuberance dimmed, sensing the weight of his friend’s mood. He nodded in understanding and fell into step beside him as they made their way toward the cabin.

Omega approached Kratos, clapping a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Is this the last one?” he asked, gesturing to the tree they carried.

Kratos nodded, his expression somber. “Yes.”

As they reached the cabin, the soft crunch of the snow underfoot was the only sound that accompanied them. The silence between Atreus and Bendy was laden with unspoken emotion. Atreus's hand hovered over the door handle, his heart racing as uncertainty clouded his mind. Bendy, sensing the turmoil in his friend, placed a comforting hand on Atreus’s shoulder.

The grip was firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that said more than words ever could: 'You're not alone in this.'

Summoning every ounce of courage, Atreus exhaled slowly before pushing the door open. The creak of the wood echoed in the stillness of the cabin. As the door swung open, the warm interior did little to ease the chill in his soul. His mother, Faye, lay before him, draped in fabrics that had once adorned her with vibrancy, now acting as her final shroud. Around her rested keepsakes she had cherished—tokens of a life lived with strength, wisdom, and love.

Atreus's hand trembled as he lit the first candle, its flickering flame casting long shadows across his face, accentuating the sorrow etched in his young features. His voice, raw and choked with grief, broke the silence.

"Lo there do I see my mother, Lo there do I see my father, Lo there do I see my friends and family, Lo there do they call me," he whispered, the ancient words carrying the weight of generations.

As he scattered the flowers over her, the scent of them mingled with the smoky air, each petal falling like a piece of his heart. With every candle lit, the room grew warmer, but for Atreus, the weight of his grief only deepened. Memories surged forth, unbidden—the way she had smiled at him, the strength in her voice when she had taught him about the world, and the quiet moments of peace they'd shared.

He knelt beside her, resting his head near hers as if to draw some final comfort from her presence. Tears slipped from his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him in waves. Sensing the overwhelming sorrow, Bendy crouched beside him, his hand coming to rest on Atreus’s shoulder. It was a wordless vow of solidarity, a promise that he would stand by his friend through this storm of grief.

The solemn atmosphere in the cabin was disrupted only by a shifting shadow. A figure loomed at the doorway—Kratos, Atreus’s father. The imposing presence of the god-slayer filled the room, but instead of his usual stoic composure, there was a profound sadness etched into his face. His gaze softened as he looked upon his son and the woman who had been his anchor in a turbulent life.

Atreus quickly wiped away his tears, though he couldn’t fully mask his grief. His voice, though soft, carried an unspoken plea as he addressed his father.

"She's ready," he whispered, looking up at Kratos with tear-filled eyes.

Kratos’s steps were slow and deliberate as he approached his wife. Every movement was filled with reverence, as if the very air around her demanded respect. He gazed down at Faye, his heart heavy with the memories they had shared—her fierce spirit, her unwavering guidance, and her love that had transcended even the darkest times. Gently, he placed his large hands under her, lifting her as if she were weightless, her body resting in his arms like a precious relic.

"Find your own path... You are free," Kratos murmured, his deep voice trembling with emotion. It was both a farewell and a blessing, words that released her from her earthly tether.

The gathered group watched in silence as Kratos carried Faye toward the pyre, the weight of her loss palpable in every step. Omega, Beta, and their children stood alongside the others, their gazes somber, their hearts heavy. Despite their grief, they knew that this was not just a farewell to a friend, but a passing of a great spirit into the beyond.

As the flames licked at the wood, Kratos laid Faye’s body upon the pyre with deliberate care. The air grew thick with tension as he withdrew his axe, using its magic to summon a single spark. It was all that was needed—the fire ignited, consuming the pyre in a blaze that sent sparks spiraling into the cold sky.

The group stood still, their faces illuminated by the growing flames. The crackle of the fire was the only sound, punctuating the silence with its quiet roar. Atreus stared at the flames, his heart heavy with the finality of it all, but then his eyes caught something unusual—a glint of metal amidst the fire.

His mother’s knife.

Before he could think, his instincts took over. He lunged forward, reaching for it. The heat from the flames was unbearable, and as soon as his hand made contact with the blade, he recoiled in pain, the searing burn etching itself into his palm.

"Atreus!" Bendy and the others exclaimed, rushing toward him.

Kratos, ever watchful, was already beside his son.

"Sorry..." Atreus murmured, his voice tinged with remorse.

Without a word, he knelt, examining the burn with the practiced care of a warrior used to tending wounds. His face remained expressionless, but his actions were filled with a father's concern. From the snow surrounding the pyre, he gathered a small pack and applied it to Atreus’s burn, then wrapped his hand in cloth with deft precision.

"This knife… It was hers. Now it's yours," Kratos said, his deep voice resonating with solemnity.

Atreus looked at the knife, now handed to him with a reverence that made his heart ache. The blade was more than just a tool; it was a piece of his mother, a reminder of her teachings, her strength, and her love. He clutched it tightly, a mixture of grief and pride filling his chest.

Kratos rose to his feet, his eyes scanning the young faces around him—the dragons, Bendy, and his own son. His voice, though low, carried an undeniable authority as he spoke.

"She taught you and the cubs how to hunt?"

Atreus looked up, blinking away the tears. "What she knew," he replied, uncertainty lacing his voice.

"Show me," Kratos demanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Atreus hesitated, the weight of his father’s expectations settling upon him. "Now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Kratos affirmed, his gaze steady and unyielding. 

With nothing more to say, Atreus turned towards the cabin, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts about what awaited them. The cold air bit at his face, but it did little to cool the feverish anticipation that churned within him. Every step felt heavier, as if the weight of the impending hunt bore down on him with a pressure he hadn't anticipated.

Beside him, Bendy walked with his usual light step, though his eyes gleamed with curiosity. He tilted his head, glancing up at the towering trees surrounding them, but his focus quickly shifted to the excitement of the hunt. 

"Can we go too?" Bendy's voice broke through the silence, his enthusiasm bubbling up as he turned his wide, eager eyes toward Atreus and the adults. There was a spark in his gaze—an electric thrill that came with the promise of adventure.

Omega, standing nearby with arms crossed, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Always the cautious parent, he turned to Kratos for guidance, his silent inquiry clear.

Kratos, who had been watching his son carefully, gave a curt nod of assent.

It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of authority, sealing the decision.

"Okay," Omega said with a measured tone, turning back to Bendy. "But let your mother and I get our weapons first." 

The way Omega spoke carried a tone of responsibility, a reminder that the hunt was more than just a game. There was a solemnity in the preparation, a respect for what they were about to do.

As Omega moved toward the weapons resting nearby, Bendy's gaze followed. His eyes widened slightly as he watched his father retrieve a gleaming Naginata—a long, curved blade that glinted with deadly precision. It was a weapon gifted by Faye, a reminder of her deep bond with the family and her trust in their skill. Beside it lay a spear for Beta, just as formidable, with intricate carvings etched into the shaft. Bendy marveled at the craftsmanship, knowing that each weapon held the weight of their shared history.

Meanwhile, Atreus emerged from the cabin, his expression resolute as he carried his bow. The polished wood of the bow seemed to glow in the pale light, its craftsmanship unmistakable. His mother had made it herself, carving it from the yew tree that grew near their home, each curve designed with care. Beside the bow hung a quiver filled with arrows—each one fletched with precision, a testament to Faye's love and dedication.

Atreus ran a hand along the length of the bow, feeling the smooth grain under his fingers. It was more than just a weapon—it was a piece of his mother, a part of her that would always be with him on the hunt.

"What are we hunting?" Atreus asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he adjusted the quiver on his back. The question hung in the air, his mind already racing with possibilities.

Kratos, standing tall and imposing, turned to face his son.

His eyes, hardened by years of battle and loss, held a quiet strength as he spoke.

"You are hunting deer," he said, his voice deep and commanding. The simplicity of the task belied the importance of the lesson he intended to impart. Kratos’s tone left no room for argument—this was the first step in something much larger.

Atreus nodded but couldn't help pressing further. "Where?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he sought more clarity.

Kratos's gaze never wavered, his stoic demeanor as unyielding as ever. "In the direction of the deer," he instructed, his words final.

"...Okay."

There was a moment of stillness as the gravity of the hunt settled over them all. Atreus stood straighter, his fingers tightening around his bow. Bendy, standing beside him, felt the air shift as well. This was no longer just a simple outing—it was a test of skill, patience, and discipline.

As they leaved the safety of the cabin, the group ventured deeper into the forest, the trees towered above them, their ancient branches casting long, shifting shadows across the snow-covered ground. The cold, crisp air filled their lungs, every breath a visible puff in the stillness.

Atreus walked slightly ahead of the group, his youthful face set in a determined expression, though uncertainty flickered behind his eyes. Beside him, the young dragons moved with a silent grace, their eyes glowing faintly as they scanned their surroundings.

"Father... Why are we doing this now?" Atreus asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice carried a mix of curiosity and hesitation, his brow furrowing in thought as he glanced back toward his father. The question had been nagging at him since they'd set off.

Kratos, ever the stoic figure, kept his gaze fixed on the path ahead. His massive frame cut a formidable silhouette against the backdrop of the forest.

His reply came in a low, measured tone, "I need to know if you and the cubs are ready for the journey ahead."

Atreus blinked at the cryptic response, his mind racing to piece together what his father meant. "And then we go to the mountain?" he pressed, hoping for more clarity.

Kratos’s gaze remained forward, his expression unreadable as always. "That depends on you. Hunt," he said, the word hanging in the cold air like a challenge, leaving Atreus with more questions than answers.

Despite the enigmatic reply, Atreus shook off his uncertainty and refocused on the task at hand.

He led the group further into the forest, his senses sharpened, eyes scanning the ground and the trees for any sign of their prey. The forest seemed to thrum with life, the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. It was all part of the landscape, and yet, Atreus felt something more—something watching.

Kneeling down in the snow, Atreus’s sharp eyes caught sight of a set of tracks, faint but visible.

"Footprints, but not deer's," he murmured, running his fingers lightly over the indentations. "I’ll look for more." He stood, glancing around the clearing, trying to piece together the direction of the trail.

Meanwhile, Kratos had stopped several paces behind him, his keen senses attuned to something else entirely.

His eyes flicked toward a different set of tracks, heavier and more distinct. "Boy. You missed," Kratos called out in his deep, resonant voice, drawing Atreus's attention.

Atreus hurried over, studying the tracks with a practiced eye. He crouched beside his father, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Ah... almost, but not deer," Atreus muttered, noting the size and shape of the prints. "See? They are very wide. Mountain goat."

Kratos gave a curt nod, his approval conveyed without words. "Good. Keep looking."

Atreus smiled slightly, feeling a small swell of pride at his father's recognition.

With renewed focus, he beckoned the young dragons to follow as they ventured deeper into the forest, their steps cautious but determined. Snow crunched softly beneath their boots, and the distant sound of running water hinted at a nearby stream.

As they moved forward, Atreus’s sharp eyes caught something else—an ancient, crumbling staircase half-buried beneath snow and moss. The weathered stone steps bore signs of use, their surfaces worn smooth by countless feet over the years. But what drew his attention most were the faint, rounded footprints imprinted in the snow, trailing up the steps.

"More footprints?" Kratos asked, his deep voice rumbling like the distant thunder.

Atreus knelt once more, examining the prints closely. "Yeah... but they’re rounder," he said, excitement threading through his voice. "Could be from a large deer." His heart quickened at the thought—they were getting closer.

Omega, watching from nearby, couldn't help but smile faintly, impressed by Atreus’s growing skill.

"I have to admit, Atreus has become much better at tracking since last time," he remarked to Kratos, his voice tinged with pride.

Kratos gave a subtle nod, his expression softening ever so slightly. "His mother taught him well," he replied, his gruff tone betraying a hint of warmth. Faye's lessons had clearly stayed with Atreus, guiding him even in her absence.

The group pressed onward, the forest growing denser around them. Tall, gnarled trees twisted overhead, their branches creating a canopy that blocked out much of the light. The air felt heavier here, the quiet more profound.

Eventually, they came to a fork in the path, the trail splitting into two distinct directions.

"Wow," Bendy exclaimed, his voice breaking the silence. His wide eyes were locked on the gaping abyss that stretched before them, where a broken bridge once spanned the chasm. The drop was dizzying, the sheer cliffs on either side slick with ice and snow.

"What do we do now?" Atreus asked, his brow furrowing as he studied the broken bridge.

Without a word, Kratos stepped forward. His powerful legs coiled for a moment before he launched himself effortlessly across the chasm, landing on the opposite side with a soft thud. He stood there, his posture calm, as if such a feat were second nature to him.

"This way," Kratos commanded, his voice carrying across the gap.

Atreus and Bendy exchanged a glance, and then, with a deep breath, they made their way across, following their father’s lead.

Though they navigated the broken bridge with varying degrees of success—Bendy almost slipped once—the group managed to reach the other side without incident.

As soon as they landed, Atreus’s sharp eyes darted to the ground. His heart skipped a beat when he saw them—fresh deer tracks, pressed into the snow like a trail of breadcrumbs. He could almost hear the rhythmic thump of his pulse in his ears.

"Look! Deer tracks. They are new," Atreus exclaimed, his excitement barely contained. His fingers itched to draw his bow.

Kratos stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area ahead. "Very well," he said, his voice calm and measured, but beneath it lay an unspoken challenge—now was the time to prove himself.

As the group moved through the dense forest, the air was thick with the scent of pine and the crunch of snow beneath their boots. The towering trees loomed overhead like silent sentinels, their branches intertwined, casting long shadows on the ground.

Atreus led the way, his youthful curiosity sharp, but the trail of the deer abruptly disappeared, leaving the group at a standstill.

Atreus scratched his head, frustrated. “It just... ends.”

Omega, watching his nephew’s perplexed expression, couldn’t help but smile. "I have an idea. Why don't we let Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris sniff out the trail? Then we can know where the deer might be."

Atreus’s eyes lit up, hope sparking within him. "That’s not a bad idea, Uncle Omega! What do you say, Bendy?"

Bendy, already on all fours, nodded eagerly. “I’m in!” His enthusiasm was infectious as he looked at his siblings, who quickly joined him, their snouts low to the ground.

The three young dragons moved with synchronized grace, their nostrils flaring as they inhaled the myriad scents the forest had to offer.

After a few moments of intense sniffing, Bendy’s tail twitched in excitement.

“We picked up the trail!” Bendy exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement.

Kratos, standing tall with his broad arms crossed, nodded in approval. “Then show it,” he said, his voice as solid and unyielding as the mountains.

The young dragons bounded forward, leading the group deeper into the heart of the forest. The air grew colder, and the towering trees began to thin, revealing a clearing ahead. Suddenly, from behind a cluster of frozen bushes, a majestic sight emerged—a giant white deer with luminous blue antlers stood before them, its eyes glowing like stars in the fading light.

Atreus gasped, startled by the deer's sudden appearance. His heart raced with excitement as he quickly pointed. "Found it!"

Before he could think, the deer bolted, its elegant legs leaping over the snowy underbrush with incredible speed.

Without hesitation, Atreus and the cubs gave chase, their laughter and exhilaration filling the cold air. Snow and dirt kicked up behind them as they dashed through the trees.

Kratos’s stern voice cut through the joyous chase like a knife. “Slow down, boy!” His deep tone was more commanding than ever.

Atreus stumbled to a halt, his breath heavy, the weight of his father’s reprimand settling in his chest. "Sorry..." he muttered, lowering his head, disappointment washing over him.

Kratos approached, his massive form looming beside his son. “You’re hunting deer, not racing,” he said, his eyes hard but protective. There was more behind his words—an unspoken lesson.

Atreus clenched his fists, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling within him. "Yes, father..." he muttered under his breath, his shoulders tense with the weight of his father’s expectations.

The forest grew quieter as they continued on, their pace more cautious. Soon, they came upon an obstacle: a wide, broken bridge spanning a deep ravine. The damage appeared recent, the remnants of wood and stone scattered below.

Lyris, her voice tinged with concern, looked over the edge. "How are we going to cross?"

Kratos’s expression was unreadable, but without a word, he stepped forward, taking in the situation.

“Stand back,” he commanded, drawing his Leviathan Axe from its sheath. With a sharp, controlled throw, the axe flew through the air, shattering the damaged section of the bridge with a deafening crack. The pieces of the bridge fell away, leaving just enough space for them to jump across. As the axe returned to Kratos’s hand, the group marveled at his power.

“Go,” Kratos instructed, his voice firm. The young dragons leaped across first, followed by Atreus, who hesitated only slightly before clearing the gap. They continued through the forest, but the deeper they ventured, the more ominous the surroundings became. Charred trees lined their path, and the earth beneath their feet was scorched black—a reminder of a past catastrophe.

"There!" Atreus suddenly shouted, pointing to a distant clearing where the deer had reappeared, its glowing antlers stark against the gloom.

Kratos immediately raised his hand. "Wait," he commanded.

Atreus, determined to prove himself, ignored the warning and swiftly notched an arrow. He took aim, his breath steady, and let the arrow fly. But he missed. The deer bolted again, vanishing into the shadows of the trees.

Before Atreus could react, Kratos stormed toward him, his face dark with fury. His large hand closed around the bow, yanking it from his son’s grasp. “What are you doing?!” Kratos’s voice thundered through the forest, echoing off the trees. “Now its guard is up! Only fire...!”

but before he could unleash further admonishment, he noticed something in Atreus's eyes—a familiar glimmer of fear mirrored on the faces of the rest of the group.

With a conscious effort, Kratos willed himself to regain control, his breathing slowing as he fought to quell the rising tide of anger within him. For Atreus's sake, he needed to maintain his composure.

“Only fire... when I tell you to.” Kratos instructed, his voice tempered with resolve.

Atreus, ashamed and confused, looked away. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, his voice small.

Atreus's face contorted with shame and fear. "I'm sorry...'' Atreus stammered an apology, his blue eyes pleading for forgiveness. Yet, the boy remained perplexed by his father's harsh reaction to his mistake.

"Do not be sorry, be better," Kratos responded sternly, his words laden with expectation.

As Atreus reached for his bow, Kratos swiftly knocked it out of his reach, his message clear: he would not return the weapon until his son proved himself capable of following orders.

With a low growl of frustration, Atreus and the cubs reluctantly resumed their pursuit of the deer, while Omega and Beta stepped forward, their faces tight with concern and anger.

Betaa’s voice was sharp as he approached Kratos. “What was that?!” she demanded, her protective instinct for Atreus evident.

Kratos didn’t even look at her. “The boy didn’t listen to me,” he replied tersely, his focus still on Atreus.

“And screaming at him like that will help? For the gods sakes! He's a kid, Kratos, not a soldier!” Omega shot back, his frustration palpable.

Kratos finally turned, his eyes cold. “That’s none of your concern, dragon. Take care of your children, and I’ll take care of mine.”

With that, Kratos turned and walked ahead, leaving Omega and Beta with a mixture of worry and apprehension.

.

As the group pressed forward, they stopped after hearing the eerie screams echoeing ominously through the dense forest, their haunting tones reverberating in the ears of the group as they pressed deeper into the shadows.

Each step forward felt heavier as if the very air around them was thickening with an unseen menace. Suddenly, a grotesque figure emerged from the murky shadows, standing before Atreus and the cubs—a Draugr.

Its ghastly appearance froze them in place. The Draugr’s decaying flesh hung grotesquely from its skeletal frame, its bones bleached by sun and time. The creature's eyes glowed with an unholy fire, flickering with malice. With bony fingers gripping a rusted weapon and a shattered shield, it staggered forward with jerky, unnatural movements, its hollow chest rattling with each breath of death that kept it moving.

Atreus instinctively reached for his bow, his fingers trembling with adrenaline, but a thunderous command from his father halted him.

"NO! YOU ARE NOT READY YET!" Kratos’s voice roared like a storm, cutting through the tension in the air. "Stand back!" his words, laden with authority, left no room for argument.

Behind Atreus, Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris huddled close, their wide eyes locked on the advancing Draugr.

Fear rippled through the young cubs, but they parents, all poised for battle.

Kratos gripped the handle of his Leviathan Axe, the runes along its blade glowing with icy blue light, spreading frost along its edges.

With a practiced motion, the blade transformed into a weapon of pure ice, shimmering dangerously.

Beside him, Omega ignited his naginata, flames dancing like serpents up its length, casting a warm glow in contrast to Kratos’s icy weapon.

Beta, not to be outdone, twirled her spear in her hands, the tip erupting into a fiery brilliance that matched her fierce resolve.

With a sharp, guttural battle cry, Kratos hurled his axe through the air.

The weapon soared in a perfect arc before slamming into the Draugr’s chest, freezing it solid on impact. Ice spread rapidly across the creature's body, halting its advance with a sickening crack. Without hesitation, Kratos lunged forward, shattering the frozen Draugr with one powerful blow, its broken body collapsing into icy fragments.

Before they could catch their breath, six more Draugr staggered out of the shadows, their hollow eyes burning with the same unnatural fire. The group was surrounded, a circle of death tightening around them.

Omega reacted swiftly, leaping into the fray with his naginata blazing. He swung the fiery blade in a wide arc, decapitating one of the Draugr with a single, forceful stroke. Its head rolled across the ground before the rest of its body crumpled lifelessly. With unrelenting speed, Omega lunged toward another, grabbing the Draugr by the skull and crushing it in his powerful grip, the sound of bones snapping filling the air like dry twigs breaking.

Beta, meanwhile, moved like a blur. Her agility unmatched, she darted toward a trio of Draugr, her spear flashing as it impaled one through the chest. With a savage twist, she yanked the weapon free, dispatching her prey in a spray of dust and decayed flesh.

Two more Draugr lunged at her, but she was faster—her claws extended like gleaming blades. With one swift motion, she tore through their brittle bodies, her strikes so precise that the Draugr crumbled in her wake. Her clubbed tail whipped behind her, smashing the final Draugr into a splintered mess against the forest floor.

Kratos, ever the juggernaut, opted for brute force. He charged into the remaining two Draugr, his guardian shield raised.

With a bone-shaking blow, he bashed one Draugr’s skull with his shield, splintering it into shards of bone and dried flesh. Without missing a beat, he swung his axe down in a powerful overhead strike, cleaving the second Draugr cleanly in two, its body collapsing into a heap.

As the last of the Draugr fell, the forest grew eerily silent once more. Only the sound of heavy, labored breaths filled the air as the group stood in the aftermath of the battle. The adrenaline still pulsed in their veins, but they knew the threat had passed—for now.

Atreus stared at the carnage, his chest heaving with a mixture of awe and confusion. He couldn’t shake the unsettling thoughts circling in his mind.

Draugr were rare in these parts. Their presence in the forest made little sense.

“Draugrs? But… they never came this close to our home,” Atreus mused aloud, his voice tight with concern.

Bendy, still on edge from the battle, added in a small voice, “And why were there so many? I thought Draugr were supposed to be rare.”

Kratos’s face remained impassive, his eyes scanning the darkened trees around them for any remaining threats. His stance never wavered, even as he began moving forward again, his Leviathan Axe held at the ready.

“We must continue,” he commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

Atreus, still reeling from his father’s earlier reprimand, couldn’t hold back his frustration. He stepped forward, his eyes pleading as he addressed Kratos.

“You know, if you give me back my bow, I can help you in the fight. I’m ready,” Atreus insisted, his voice tinged with desperation.

Kratos glanced at his son, his expression unreadable. “You still have to prove it,” he replied coolly, his words heavy with expectation.

Atreus’s brow furrowed in frustration. “I need a chance!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“You had a chance,” Kratos responded, his tone stoic, offering no comfort.

Atreus bit his lip, his fists clenching in frustration. “Then I need another one.”

Kratos’s gaze locked onto his son, his face stern and resolute. “Then find that deer,” he commanded.

Atreus, deflated but still determined, nodded slowly. His disappointment lingered in the air, but he would not give up. He cast a glance at Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris, their expressions mirroring his own frustrations, and the group pressed on, their eyes scanning the treacherous forest ahead.

As the group resumed their hunt, the eerie quiet of the forest enveloped them once more, the chill of their encounter with the draugr still clinging to their minds. Shadows danced across the trees as they pressed deeper into the woods, their steps slow but deliberate. Every crackle of leaves or snap of twigs heightened their awareness, reminding them of the dangers lurking around every corner. 

Ahead, they reached a fork in the path, where three narrow trails stretched out like veins through the darkened forest. The trees here grew denser, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky, casting long, ominous shadows over the ground.

"Which way did he go?" Atreus asked, his sharp eyes flicking between the paths. His voice, though steady, hinted at his uncertainty. 

Bendy stepped forward, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, his keen senses finely tuned to track their quarry. "I can smell him. He went to the left," Bendy declared with confidence, his gaze following the faintest of tracks in the damp earth. 

Trusting Bendy's instincts, the group moved forward, their collective focus sharpening as they ventured into the heart of the forest.

The oppressive stillness of the woods hung over them, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves or distant bird calls. After what felt like an eternity, they emerged into a clearing dominated by a towering, ancient temple, its stone walls worn and weathered by centuries of abandonment.

The group hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight before them. The temple loomed over them, its imposing facade lined with faded carvings and weathered symbols. The air here felt thick with an old magic, as if the place still clung to the echoes of its past.

Atreus spotted movement—just a flash—at the edge of the temple. "Look! The deer," he exclaimed, pointing toward the entrance, where the creature had just disappeared into the shadows. "But... Mother wouldn't let me go there," he added, his tone hesitant, recalling his mother’s warnings. 

Kratos, standing tall, eyes narrowed, was undeterred. "We do what we must. No excuses," he commanded, his voice a low growl that left no room for debate.

With a nod from Kratos, the group made their way toward the temple. Kratos moved with purpose, his massive frame radiating strength and authority. The others followed, with Atreus and Bendy bringing up the rear, their conversation drifting toward Kratos's ears. The faint sound of their laughter caught his attention.

"Why do you and the cub laugh?" Kratos rumbled, his curiosity piqued despite the gravity of their mission.

Atreus glanced at Bendy, an embarrassed grin tugging at his lips. "It's just... For some reason, Bendy and I kind of expected there to be a Troll under the bridge," he said, a touch of amusement in his voice as he peeked beneath the weathered stone structure they crossed.

Bendy’s excitement bubbled over. "Yeah! That would've been so cool!" he added with youthful enthusiasm.

Kratos grunted in response, unimpressed by their fantasy. "You’re not ready for trolls, boy," he stated flatly, his tone brooking no argument.

Atreus opened his mouth to argue, but the heavy weight of Kratos’s words silenced him. He closed it again, his shoulders slumping slightly in acceptance. "Yes, father," he muttered, his voice quiet but tinged with frustration.

Ahead of them, the massive temple doors stood frozen shut, ancient ice clinging to the stone.

Omega stepped forward to assist Kratos, the two warriors bracing their strength against the frost-encrusted doors. With a deep, resonating groan, the stone creaked as they forced it open, a burst of cold air escaping from within like the breath of the forgotten temple itself. 

As the doors gave way, Atreus and the cubs darted forward, the vast hall of the temple stretching out before them like a grand stage. Faded murals lined the walls, depicting long-forgotten battles and stories, and a faint glow from broken windows illuminated the ancient stonework. The silence in the temple felt thick, as if the very air had weight, pressing down on them.

From the far side of the hall, Atreus spotted the deer once more, standing still on the remnants of the temple’s back wall, framed perfectly by the crumbling stone. His heart quickened.

"Can you give me my bow now?" Atreus asked eagerly, his eyes fixed on the deer.

Kratos looked at him, then at the distance. "Can you hit it from here?" he asked, with a question of his own.

Realizing that the deer was too far away for an accurate shot, Atreus reconsidered. "Better come closer," he suggested.

Kratos nodded, acknowledging Atreus's decision to reassess the situation.

Together, they descended the worn stone steps of the temple, the group moving carefully through the vast, empty space. The sense of something lurking in the shadows never quite left them, but no draugr or creatures emerged to challenge their path.

Reaching the bottom, they approached a large gate that blocked their way forward.

With the calm confidence of experience, Kratos examined the mechanism, pulling a heavy chain with a grunt. The gate swung open slowly, creaking loudly in protest. Before it could slam shut, Kratos hurled his Leviathan Axe at the gears, the freezing magic locking them in place and keeping the path open.

Beyond the gate, they finally came face to face with the deer.

Its eyes reflected the light from the dim temple, soft and vulnerable, unaware of its fate.

Kratos handed Atreus his bow and an arrow. "Wait for my signal," he instructed, his voice a steady guide. "Relax. Do not see it as an animal. Only a target. Empty your mind."

Atreus exhaled deeply, drawing back the bowstring as he steadied his breath. His hands were steady now, his eyes focused. With a silent nod from Kratos, Atreus released the arrow. It flew through the air, finding its mark with a soft thud, strucking the deer's flank, causing it to cry out in pain and collapse to the ground.

The target was down.

"I got it!" Atreus exclaimed, pride swelling in his chest. 

Kratos nodded in approval. "Good."

As Atreus drew nearer, he saw that the deer was still alive, its breathing shallow and labored. The animal's suffering was evident. Atreus hesitated, his heart heavy with the realization of what must be done.

"Father…" Atreus extended the knife to Kratos, asking silently for him to end the deer's pain.

But Kratos remained unmoved. "No. Finish what you started," he said firmly, handing the responsibility back to his son.

Atreus swallowed hard, gripping the knife with trembling hands. He knelt beside the deer, its soft eyes watching him, waiting for release. His hands shook as he raised the knife, struggling to find the strength to deliver the final blow and with the weight of taking another life.

"I… I can’t," Atreus whispered, his voice barely audible.

Kratos stepped forward, placing his massive hands over Atreus's smaller ones. Together, they guided the knife down, and with one swift motion, the deer's life ended.

As the deer lay still, Atreus stared at the lifeless creature, a strange silence filling the space around him. For a moment, he was at a loss, unsure of how to feel, how to speak. He glanced up at his father, searching for words, for understanding.

"I…" Atreus tried to speak, but the words failed him.

Silently he cast his gaze toward the horizon. They were close to his mother's garden, a place that always brought him peace. Today, however, it felt distant, a reminder of the connection he and Kratos still struggled to find.

Kratos remained silent, his face unreadable. He looked at his son, his hand hovering near Atreus's shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort he wasn’t accustomed to offering. But before his hand could rest on Atreus, Kratos hesitated, pulling back.

Omega watched the scene from a distance, his sharp eyes catching the subtle tension between father and son. He understood that Kratos’s journey as a father was far from over, and the road ahead would be long.

As Kratos retrieved the knife from the deer's throat and handed it back to Atreus, the group stood in a tense silence. The fading daylight bathed the horizon in a warm, golden glow, and for a moment, it seemed like peace had returned.

But their brief respite was shattered by a deep rumble, the ground trembling beneath their feet.

Without warning, a gigantic hand emerged from the shadows, seizing the lifeless deer.

The creature's massive fingers dwarfed the fallen animal, the hand covered in thick, leathery skin, rough and pocked with scars from countless battles. 

Atreus reacted instantly, driven by instinct and adrenaline, thrusting his knife into the massive hand with all his might. The blade barely penetrated the thick skin, and the creature let out a low growl of annoyance. In a single, violent motion, it flung Atreus across the clearing like a rag doll, sending him crashing into the far side of his mother's garden.

"ATREUS!!" Kratos roared, his voice booming with urgency and fear for his son. He spun around just as another hand emerged from the shadows, this one poised to crush the group where they stood.

Kratos leaped into action, charging up the massive hand with the agility of a seasoned warrior. He reached the source of the hands, a towering figure stepping into the clearing, its form casting a massive shadow over the group. The creature's tusks gleamed in the fading light, each one as long as a man’s arm. It stood on thick, tree-trunk legs, its eyes burning with primal rage, still clutching the deer in one hand. 

A troll.

Kratos wasted no time. He slammed his fists into the creature’s face with the force of a battering ram, each punch aimed at vulnerable points around its tusks. The troll staggered back, its booming roar echoing through the forest as it swung its other hand wildly, trying to swat Kratos away like a fly.

Omega dashed to Atreus's side, kneeling to check on him. “You alright, kid?” he asked, his voice betraying his concern.

Atreus groaned, pushing himself up on shaky legs, still dazed but determined. "We're gonna fight that!?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he stared at the enormous troll, which now raised a stone totem engraved with a bright, pulsating orange rune.

"We have no choice," Kratos said, his eyes never leaving the troll. His axe gleamed in his hand, ready for the battle ahead.

Omega brandished his naginata, his eyes sharp and focused. "Get ready!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

And with that, the beast roars with rage and soon, the battle begins.

Atreus nocked an arrow and took aim, but his shots barely grazed the troll’s thick hide, each arrow embedding harmlessly in the layers of muscle and sinew. Frustrated, he gritted his teeth and fired again, hoping to distract the creature as his father prepared another assault.

Kratos dodged a massive stomp from the troll, its foot slamming into the ground with enough force to shake the earth. He retaliated, hurling his axe into the troll’s shoulder with deadly precision. The blade bit deep into the creature’s flesh, drawing a thick stream of dark blood before Kratos recalled the weapon back to his hand.

Omega saw his chance and darted in, driving his naginata into the troll's knee with a powerful thrust. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, and the troll let out a deafening bellow, its massive body swaying as it struggled to stay upright. But the creature was relentless, swinging its totem in a wide arc, forcing Omega to roll out of the way just in time.

Atreus, eyes narrowed with determination, released three arrows in quick succession. Two of the arrows struck the troll's forehead, and the third found its mark in the creature’s left eye. The troll howled in agony, thrashing about as it blindly swung its totem, smashing the ground in wild, erratic movements.

Atreus's anger flared, his voice rising above the din of battle. “Just die already!” he screamed, his frustration boiling over. His focus slipped as rage overtook him, clouding his judgment.

Kratos's voice cut through the air, stern and commanding. "Atreus! Focus!" he barked, reminding his son to maintain control.

Atreus clenched his fists, struggling to rein in his emotions. "I'm fine, just kill it!" he shouted back, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Omega, being the strategist he was, observed the pillars nearby, and then formulated a plan.

"Kratos, Atreus! Keep the troll close to the pillar, Beta!" Omega commanded, his voice firm.

Beta and the cubs exchanged worried glances but looked at her husband, understanding the urgency of the situation.

''Beta! At my signal you throw your weapon at that pillar, understand?'' Yelled Omega while evading the troll's attacks.

Omega's command was clear, and Beta understood the plan without hesitation.

"You got it!" Beta affirmed, ready to execute the plan.

"Kratos! You know what to do," Omega directed his next instruction to Kratos, who nodded in acknowledgment.

With the plan set in motion, Kratos and Atreus prepared to engage the troll. Atreus launched two more arrows towards the troll's throat, eliciting a furious roar. Seizing the opportunity, Kratos intervened by hurling his axe directly at the troll's face. The impact of the weapon threw the creature off balance, causing it to stumble dangerously close to the nearby pillars.

Omega saw his opening and didn't hesitate to act.

Omega's voice carried across the clearing. "Now, Beta!" he shouted, his command echoing through the trees.

With all her strength, Beta hurled her weapon at the pillar. The impact sent a loud crack through the air, and the pillar collapsed, sending chunks of stone crashing down onto the troll’s head. Stunned and momentarily disoriented, the troll staggered backward, its movements sluggish and pained.

Kratos seized the opportunity. With a roar of exertion, the warrior dashed forward, charging at the incapacitated troll.

With a powerful thrust, he slammed his body into the giant creature's head, shattering its left tusk upon impact. With a swift motion, Kratos pulled the troll's head to the ground and, summoning all his strength, he twisted and forced the creature's neck with an audible-

"SNAP!!"

With a final, resounding snap, Kratos broke the troll's neck, ending the creature’s life with one decisive blow. The troll collapsed in a heap, its body twitching briefly before falling still.

Kratos stood victorious, his breath heavy but controlled. The forest was silent once more, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the wind.

But the scene was soon charged with a palpable tension as Atreus, consumed by his rage, vented his anger on the lifeless body of the troll.

His screams tore through the otherwise quiet garden, each one raw with frustration and hurt. The sound of his mother’s knife plunging again and again into the troll's flesh echoed like the beat of a war drum, reverberating in the stillness that had followed the battle.

Kratos and Omega, standing nearby, turned to witness the boy's outburst. Concern clouded their faces. 

Kratos’s eyes hardened, his paternal instincts kicking in. He couldn't allow his son to lose himself to this consuming rage. 

“Boy.”Kratos's voice cut through the air, firm and commanding. But Atreus seemed deaf to his father's words, lost in his own turmoil.

The boy was relentless, each stab of the blade more vicious than the last. His knuckles were white as he gripped the hilt of the knife, his breaths ragged, the fury in his eyes burning brighter with each passing second.

Omega stepped forward, his posture less forceful but still firm, his voice a calming force amidst the chaos.

“Atreus, it’s over,” he said, keeping his tone even, though his gaze was filled with unspoken concern.

But Atreus didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The troll’s body was nothing more than a vessel for his anger now, a way to vent the storm that had been brewing inside him for so long. With every stab, venomous words spat from his lips, each one laced with the bitterness of unfulfilled expectations, of wanting to be more than what he was.

Kratos moved swiftly, closing the distance between them in a few long strides. He gripped Atreus's shoulders firmly, yanking him back, forcing him to stop. His massive hands, rough and battle-worn, grounded the boy, pinning him in place with a forceful shake.

"Boy! Look at me!" Kratos's voice boomed, vibrating with an urgency that demanded attention. His tone was a mixture of authority and paternal desperation, the weight of countless moments like this one embedded in his words.

Atreus struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. His hands trembled, the knife barely held in his grip, its blade slick with blood.

He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to face the reality of what he had done, of how far he had let his emotions spiral out of control. 

But Kratos wasn’t going to let him hide. “Look at me,” he repeated, this time softer, but no less commanding. There was no anger in his voice now—just concern. Concern for his son’s soul, for the path he was walking down, and the consequences if he didn’t learn to control the rage burning inside him.

Atreus's eyes, wild with fury, finally met his father’s.

In Kratos's gaze, he saw the reflection of his own sin.

He saw not judgment, but understanding.

The fury drained from his body, leaving him feeling empty, hollow. His breaths slowed, his grip on the knife slackened, and the weapon fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Kratos held his gaze, searching for any sign that his son had truly returned from the brink. When he saw the fire in Atreus’s eyes begin to dim, he nodded ever so slightly.

“We did it,” Atreus muttered, his voice tinged with a strange mix of relief and pride as he processed their victory over the troll. He wanted acknowledgment, validation, something to show that his effort mattered.

But Kratos’s expression didn’t soften. Instead of pride or congratulations, his words came out like a cold, heavy hammer. “You’re not ready.”

Atreus froze, the sense of accomplishment vanishing in an instant, replaced by confusion and frustration.

How could his father say that after everything they’d been through?

After the fight they’d just won? 

"What?” Atreus's voice cracked as he spoke, his disbelief evident. “You're serious? I found the deer! I proved my worth! How am I not ready!?" His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought the rising tide of frustration.

Kratos said nothing in return. His face was a stone mask of resolve as he took Atreus’s bow and pushed it firmly back into his hands, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. Their journey, at least for now, was over.

"We are going home," Kratos declared, his voice like the final slam of a judge’s gavel. There would be no more discussion, no room for argument. The decision was made.

Atreus, still reeling from the blow to his pride, turned to Omega, searching his uncle’s face for any sign of support.

But Omega’s expression mirrored his father’s, his silence a confirmation that this was Kratos’s choice, and he wouldn’t interfere.

Frustration and resignation warred inside Atreus, but he knew there was nothing more he could do. His father’s word was final, as it always had been. 

Desperation creeping into his voice, Atreus made one last attempt to change Kratos’s mind. “I haven’t been sick in a long time,” he insisted, his voice pleading. “I can take it. I’m strong enough!”

But Kratos’s stance remained unyielding. His gaze, though not without emotion, was hard, his words unwavering. “You are NOT ready,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for hope or further debate.

Atreus stared at the ground, his chest tight with unspoken resentment and disappointment. He couldn’t understand why his father didn’t see what he saw—why, after all this time, Kratos still doubted him. But for now, there was nothing he could say to change it. All he could do was follow, even if his heart felt heavy with unresolved anger.

Atreus trudged up the hill behind his father, the weight of disappointment pressing heavily on his shoulders. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension. As they reached the crest of the hill, Beta and the cubs rushed to meet them. Bendy, ever the energetic one, bounced with excitement, his voice practically exploding with enthusiasm.

"Atreus! Dude, that was so awesome!!" Bendy shouted, his tail wagging furiously. "You were shooting at the troll, and it was all like 'Raaghh!' Then Uncle Kratos just walks up and snaps its neck! It was so cool!!" His eyes were wide, sparkling with admiration.

The other cubs were just as animated, their adrenaline still running high from the battle they had just witnessed. Lyris was practically vibrating with excitement, her tail thrashing from side to side. "I've never felt so much energy in my life!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with exhilaration.

Bucky, always the more dramatic of the bunch, chimed in with a grin. "It was like, super hyper radical!! I mean, I thought it was over for sure!"

Bendy laughed and puffed out his chest, feeding off the cubs' excitement. "Man, if that's what we saw today, I cannot wait for us to start the journey to the mountain! Just imagine what kind of monsters we'll run into there!"

But Atreus's face remained dark, the reality of their situation settling in his chest like a stone. He tried to keep his voice steady, but his words came out quieter than he intended.

"We won't..."

The cubs froze, their laughter and chatter dying down instantly. They stared at Atreus, confusion etched into their faces.

Bendy's smile faltered as he stepped forward, his head tilted in bewilderment. "What?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Atreus sighed, feeling the weight of Kratos’s decision crush whatever joy had flickered in him moments earlier.

He clenched his fists before answering, his gaze fixed on the ground. "We're not going to the mountain anymore."

"What!?" Lyris and Bucky exclaimed, their voices rising in disbelief. Bucky's brows furrowed, frustration simmering beneath his confusion. "Why not!?" he demanded.

Atreus glanced at Kratos, then back at his friends, bitterness seeping into his voice. "He said I'm not ready."

Bendy's earlier excitement soon vanished like smoke. "But... you're ready. You fought the troll, you shot it! We all saw it! How can he say you're not ready?" His eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and confusion.

Kratos, standing tall and unmoved, shot a sharp glance toward his son. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the tension like a blade. "I do not wish to hear your voice." His words were cold and final, a clear signal that the conversation was over.

Bendy's eyes flared with defiance, his lips curling in frustration.

Why was his uncle always so... stubborn?

But before he could speak, Lyris stomped her foot in frustration, her voice rising above the quiet. "Are you fricking kidding me? We did all of this for nothing? We didn’t even get to eat the deer!" She pointed towards the lifeless animal, its body mangled and forgotten in the aftermath of the battle.

Bucky kicked at the dirt. "This sucks..." he muttered under his breath, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.

Bendy, always the optimist, tried to salvage the moment. " 'sigh' Come on, guys. Let's not give up yet. Look, I know this sucks right now, but this is nothing! I bet if we just try a little harder next time, Uncle Kratos will change his mind, right, Atreus?"

Atreus hesitated, his gaze shifting from Bendy to his father. For a moment, doubt flickered in his mind. But then Bendy’s hopeful expression stirred something within him. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he allowed a faint smile to creep onto his face.

"Yeah... You're right, Bendy. We just need another chance."

Bendy’s eyes lit up. "That's the spirit!" he cheered, giving Atreus a playful nudge.

Lyris and Bucky exchanged uncertain glances, their excitement tempered by doubt. Lyris spoke first, her voice soft with concern. "But how? He doesn’t seem like he’s going to budge."

Atreus glanced back at Kratos, the imposing figure of his father walking ahead of them. His jaw clenched, and determination flared in his chest. "I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out."

Before any of them could respond, Beta's voice rang out from the distance. "Kids! Let’s go!" Her tone was firm but warm, beckoning the cubs to follow.

The cubs, reluctant but obedient, began to head towards their mother.

Bendy paused, looking back at Atreus with a smile full of encouragement. "You coming?"

With a nod, Atreus fell into step beside his friend. As they began the journey back home, Atreus couldn't shake the lingering doubts about his father's judgment. Despite all they had accomplished, Kratos still believed he wasn't ready. But dwelling on it now wouldn't change anything. It seemed they weren't leaving anytime soon, judging by their current direction.

However, fate would have other plans in store.

To be continued...

Voice Actors for the characters.

-

Kratos- Christopher Judge ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4k69Gp_X9Cg )

Atreus- Sunny Suljic ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFVdKRoyvPc )

Bendy- Walker Scobell (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSxJIoXrfog&pp=ygUacGVyY3kgamFja3NvbiBiZXN0IG1vZW5udHM%3D)

Omega and Beta- James Paul Marsden and Tika Sumpter ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyfWtUl_DiY&pp=ygUSVGlrYSBTdW1wdGVyIHNvbmlj )

Bucky- Shamon Brown Jr ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bI9tJZsaLqk&pp=ygUUIG11dGFudCBtYXloZW0gbWlrZXk%3D )

Lyris- Amanda Leighton ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScYI-8fXW7Q&pp=ygUVQW1hbmRhIExlaWdodG9uIHBvbGx5 )

Chapter Text

"You're not ready."

Those words clung to Atreus's thoughts like a weight he couldn’t shake off, repeating over and over in his mind with a relentless rhythm. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as they walked through the dense forest. After the battle with the troll, Atreus had expected a word of praise from his father—anything to acknowledge his efforts. But instead, all he got was a cold dismissal, the crushing weight of disappointment sinking into his chest.

The path back to the cabin seemed longer now, each step a reminder of Kratos’s judgment. The low hum of the wind through the trees was punctuated by the distant groans of draugrs, their skeletal forms emerging from the underbrush. As Kratos and Omega dealt with the undead with their usual efficiency, Atreus swung his bow with a frustrated edge, his strikes carrying a little too much force, as if trying to vent his anger on the creatures.

Bendy, walking a few steps behind, could feel the tension radiating off his friend. Even he, who loved adventure and excitement, couldn't help but notice the dark cloud hanging over Atreus. He quickened his pace, coming alongside him, his usual playful demeanor giving way to concern.

"Hey... I can tell you're still mad. You wanna talk about it or something?" Bendy asked, his voice low but sincere. He shot Atreus a sideways glance, his tail twitching nervously.

Atreus, still seething, didn’t immediately respond. His eyes were locked ahead, his jaw clenched, but after a few tense moments, he let out a frustrated breath. "I just don’t get it, Bendy. How can he say I’m not ready?" His voice cracked with emotion. "I *found* the deer, I *shot* it, and I *helped* fight the troll! I did everything he asked!" His anger bubbled over, his voice rising. "How am I not ready?"

Bendy, sensing the raw frustration in Atreus's voice, tried to tread lightly. "Well... you did get kinda aggressive with the troll’s body afterward," he pointed out gently, a slight frown crossing his face.

"So what if I did?" Atreus snapped, whirling on Bendy. His voice shook with pent-up rage. "That *thing* ruined Mom's garden! It deserved what it got!"

Bendy took a small step back, his eyes widening slightly. "Whoa, easy," he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He hated seeing Atreus like this, all bottled up with anger. "I get it, man, I really do. It's just... it’s complicated. You and your dad, you barely talk. And even before your mom got sick... it was like there was always this wall between you two."

Atreus’s face twisted at Bendy’s words. He wanted to argue, to tell Bendy he was wrong, but deep down, he knew the truth. His relationship with Kratos had always been strained—cold, distant. His father was a stranger who never seemed to open up, never seemed to care about how Atreus felt.

For a moment, the two walked in silence, their footsteps crunching over fallen leaves. Bendy sighed, his ears drooping as he tried to think of something to say. He hated seeing his friend so upset, but what could he do? He wasn't the one who could fix things between Atreus and Kratos.

"Look," Bendy said after a long pause, his tone softening, "I know it's hard. It's been tough for everyone, especially for you and him. But maybe... I dunno, maybe if you just talked to him, things could get better. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?"

Atreus scoffed, his eyes dark and filled with doubt. "Talk to him? Bendy, we’ve been doing this for years. Every time I try to talk, he shuts me down. It’s like... it’s like nothing I do is ever good enough." His voice wavered slightly as he spoke, the weight of years of frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. "Talking won’t change anything."

Bendy frowned, his heart sinking as he watched his friend march ahead, leaving him behind. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Atreus had always been a bit closed off, and Bendy knew how hard it was for him to open up. But this anger... it was different. More raw. More painful.

As Bendy lagged behind, he found himself lost in thought. Maybe Atreus was right. Maybe this was a battle that couldn’t be won with words. But as he glanced at the back of his friend, head hung low and shoulders tense, he made a silent vow.

Even if Atreus didn’t believe talking would help, Bendy would be there for him. He’d stand by his side, no matter what. Because that’s what friends did—they stuck together, through thick and thin. And maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for things to change.

Bendy quickened his pace, catching up with Atreus. He gave him a nudge with his shoulder, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone in this, Atreus. I’ve got your back."

Atreus glanced at Bendy, his expression softening for just a moment. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, they continued their journey, the forest closing in around them as they made their way back to the cabin, uncertain of what the future held—but certain that they had each other.

Following his father's lead, Atreus's keen eyes caught sight of something unusual nestled in the branches of a nearby tree.

"Father, look," Atreus pointed out.

Kratos followed his son's gaze, his brow furrowing as he spotted a pair of black crows cawing loudly from the tree's boughs.

"What of them?" Kratos inquired.

"I've never seen ravens here before. Mother used to say they were the eyes of the gods, she told me to always warn her if i see one, and then she would dispose of them for some reason," Atreus explained.

Kratos dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"Then let them be. They hold no significance for us," he stated firmly, striding forward.

"Are you sure?" Bendy interjected.

"Yes," Kratos affirmed.

Moments later, a majestic falcon, its wingspan stretching nearly two meters and its speckled black plumage gleaming in the sunlight, emerged from the forest canopy, scattering the ravens in its wake.

"Hey... I recognize that falcon," Bendy remarked, eyes fixed on the bird of prey.

"Jöphie is back," Atreus exclaimed, surprised.

A sense of relief washed over Atreus. "I thought she'd abandoned us after mother died," he admitted.

Extending his arm in a gesture of welcome, Atreus offered his forearm as a perch for the falcon. But the bird ignored him, choosing instead to alight on a nearby tree stump.

"She never came to me or the others. Only mother," Atreus said solemnly, his gaze following the falcon's movements.

With a mere glance at the falcon, Kratos continued to scan the surrounding foliage with a wary eye as they pressed on toward the clearing that led to their home.

The sudden presence of draugr and trolls so close to their dwelling sent a shiver of unease through Kratos's frame, stirring a primal sense of foreboding deep within him.

"Why do you think mother insisted I tell her if I saw ravens? What could their presence mean? And why are we seeing them now?" Atreus queried, curiosity evident in his voice.

"I do not know, and I told you not to speak of it," Kratos replied tersely, his expression unreadable.

With that, Kratos swung open the door to their home.

"Inside," he commanded.

Atreus and the cubs obeyed, stepping into the dimly lit cabin.

However, Omega and Beta hesitated at the threshold, lingering just outside as if sensing something amiss.

"Are you two going inside?" Kratos inquired, his gaze shifting to Omega and Beta.

"No... Beta and I are going to investigate a bit. Atreus was onto something; there's definitely something off about the forest. Draugrs shouldn't be this close, and that Troll's presence is concerning," Omega explained, his tone serious.

"We'll be back soon," Beta added before turning to Kratos. "... And take it easy on Atreus, okay? He just lost his mother. Just as you lost you wife." she advised gently, her words carrying a weight of understanding.

With that, Omega and Beta spread their wings and ascended into the sky, leaving Kratos alone in the quiet stillness of the cabin. As he surveyed his surroundings, he noticed that the funeral pyre, once ablaze with fire, had dwindled to a few glowing embers amidst the ashes.

With a heavy heart, Kratos approached the remains of Faye's funeral pyre, a stark reminder of his loss. Kneeling beside the white pile of ash, he carefully gathered the remains into a small hill, then reached for a leather pouch at his belt. Opening it, he guided the ashes through his calloused hand into the pouch, his movements deliberate and solemn.

Cradling the pouch in his hands, Kratos felt the weight of his grief pressing down upon him once more. The pain of his loss, centuries old yet still achingly fresh, gnawed at his heart with a fierce intensity.

But amidst the anguish, Kratos's thoughts turned to Atreus. The boy, too, was grappling with his own pain and confusion, just as Kratos had once done with his own father. Despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within him, Kratos resolved to be the father his son needed.

He would break the cycle of pain and resentment, guiding Atreus with wisdom and compassion.

He had to be better.

For Atreus's sake, and for his own.

Kratos tightened the pouch of Faye's ashes to his belt, feeling the weight of the task he had just completed, both physically and emotionally. With a deep, heavy breath, he turned from the remnants of the pyre and made his way back toward the cabin, his boots crunching against the frosty ground.

As Kratos pushed open the cabin door, a gust of cold air followed him inside, causing the flames in the hearth to flicker. Atreus sat on his bed, his small frame hunched as he muttered under his breath, clearly still upset. Bendy and his siblings were busy packing supplies, moving with a quiet focus, preparing for the journey ahead to the highest peak, a journey that might never happen, their attention momentarily caught by the palpable tension in the air.

Kratos's deep voice broke through the silence. "You lost control," he said, the words sharp and direct.

Atreus's head snapped up, eyes flaring with frustration. "That thing was going to kill us, and it destroyed Mother's garden! You get angry too when you fight!" His voice wavered, a mixture of defiance and guilt.

Kratos stood tall, his expression as hard as stone. "Anger can be a weapon."

The tension between father and son was palpable, noticed even by the cubs who observed the exchange in silence.

''If you control it, use it. But you can't-' Said Kratos attempting to continue his explanation, but Atreus interrupted.

Atreus's fists clenched. "I can control it! I haven't been sick in a long time. I'm better," His voice was desperate, as if trying to convince himself as much as his father.

Kratos eyed his son, knowing that the boy’s struggles went beyond physical illness. There was something darker at play within him, something Kratos recognized all too well. He needed to teach Atreus the lesson that had been forced upon him through years of pain and hardship.

"Very well," Kratos said, his tone measured. He knelt down before Atreus, extending his hands in a gesture of challenge. "Show me."

Atreus blinked, confused. "You want me to hit you?"

Kratos nodded. "I want you to try."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris paused in their tasks, silently watching the exchange with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Atreus hesitated, but eventually swung his fist toward his father.

With uncertainty, Atreus attempted to strike his father, but Kratos swiftly intercepted his hand, causing Atreus to recoil in pain.

"Ow! Why did you..." Atreus began, rubbing his stinging hand.

"Try again," Kratos urged.

Repeatedly, Atreus attempted to strike his father, but each time, Kratos deftly thwarted his efforts.

"Why did you do that?" Atreus demanded, his frustration mounting.

"You're slow," Kratos explained simply.

As Atreus persisted, Kratos continued to intervene, frustrating Atreus further until his anger began to boil over.

Atreus’s face flushed with anger, his breathing quickening as he swung at Kratos again and again. But each attempt was met with the same result—Kratos stopping him with minimal effort. The frustration boiled over inside Atreus, his cheeks burning as his strikes grew more erratic.

"Stop it!" Atreus shouted, his voice breaking under the weight of his anger and fatigue.

"Again!" Kratos’s voice boomed, undeterred by his son’s outburst.

With a growl of frustration, Atreus swung wildly, his form losing all control. The boy’s anger clouded his judgment, and he stumbled, falling to the floor in a heap. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he was overtaken by a violent coughing fit, his small body wracked with exhaustion.

Bendy, witnessing the scene unfold, moved to intervene, but he was halted by Bucky and Lyris, their silent message clear: don't interfere.

Kratos knelt beside him, gripping Atreus’s arm firmly but not unkindly. "Your anger... It can consume you. The path is difficult," Kratos warned, locking eyes with Atreus. "And you, Atreus, are not ready."

Atreus’s face crumpled with a mixture of shame and anger, the weight of his father’s words hanging heavily between them. The room fell into an uneasy silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire.

Suddenly, the cabin door swung open with a loud creak, drawing everyone's attention. Omega and Beta stumbled inside, their faces pale and lined with exhaustion, as if they had just run from something terrifying.

Kratos’s eyes narrowed. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice edged with concern.

Omega’s breath came in short gasps. "There’s someone in the forest, Kratos," he managed, his voice trembling slightly.

"What?" Kratos asked, his expression darkening.

Outside, an eerie sound echoed through the trees—a guttural roar, unlike anything they had heard before. The sound sent a chill down Kratos's spine. Atreus’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to his father.

"What was that?" Atreus whispered, his voice laced with fear.

"Quiet," Kratos ordered, his senses immediately sharpening. He motioned for everyone to remain still.

The cabin was engulfed in a heavy silence, each person straining to hear beyond the door. Then, the quiet was shattered by a sudden, forceful knock—loud and deliberate. 

"Come on out!" A deep, commanding voice called from outside. The stranger's tone was calm, but there was an unsettling confidence behind it. 

Kratos took a step toward the door, his hand hovering near the handle but refrained from opening it just yet. He listened closely, his muscles tensing as the stranger spoke again.

"There's no point in hiding anymore. I know who you two are..." the stranger continued, his voice carrying a sense of certainty.

"Who is it? Do you guys know him?" Atreus queried, turning to Beta and Omega for answers.

"No," Beta replied tersely.

"Or rather, I know what you two are," the stranger declared ominously from outside.

Kratos’s mind raced. This stranger knew him, knew things he had spent years trying to bury. He turned sharply to the others. "Under the floor. Now!"

Atreus blinked, surprised by the command. "But you told me never to go down there—"

"Now!" Kratos’s voice left no room for argument.

With urgency, Kratos moved a rug aside, revealing a hidden trapdoor. He opened it swiftly, ushering Atreus, Bendy, Bucky, Lyris, Omega, and Beta into the cramped, hidden space below. 

Atreus looked up at his father as he climbed down, confusion etched on his face. "Who is it?"

Kratos paused before closing the door. "I do not know," he said grimly, pulling the rug back over the trapdoor as he shut it.

Standing alone in the quiet cabin, Kratos squared his shoulders and steeled himself. He approached the door, his hand gripping the handle, ready to confront the figure outside.

"Just tell me what I want to know! There's no need for violence," the stranger said, his voice echoing through the cabin like a distant storm, each syllable carrying a subtle threat.

Kratos opened the door, the old wood creaking under the weight of its own age.

Standing before him was a man of average height but with a presence that belied his lean, wiry frame.As Kratos opened the door, he was met with the sight of the stranger—a man of average height with a lean, wiry physique. His body was adorned with intricate peacock-blue tattoos of Norse runes, and his icy blue eyes bore into Kratos with an unsettling intensity. A wild, unkempt beard framed his haggard features, while a string of charms adorned his waistband.

Dressed in baggy black pants and a torn brown waistband—suggesting a life spent wandering, seeking, and perhaps hunting.

Yet it wasn’t just his appearance that gave Kratos pause. There was something more—a darkness, a hidden power, lurking just beneath the surface. An aura of danger surrounded the stranger like a coiled serpent ready to strike.

Kratos stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the man, yet he remained silent. His eyes narrowed as he sized up this unexpected visitor. Whoever this was, he was no ordinary mortal, and Kratos knew better than to make any rash moves without assessing the threat fully.

"Hm... I thought you were bigger," the stranger mused, his lips curling into a smirk as he tilted his head, scrutinizing the god before him. "But you're definitely the one. Long way from home, huh? May I ask... where is the other one?"

The stranger’s words struck Kratos like a hammer, forcing him to swallow a rising tide of unease.

How?

How did this man know who he was? And the mention of 'the other one' sent a cold shiver crawling up his spine.

Atreus. The man was speaking about his son.

But how? Kratos’s hand flexed by his side, fingers twitching toward his axe.

"What do you want?" Kratos demanded, his voice low and controlled, though a current of barely restrained fury flowed beneath the calm surface.

The stranger chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "Oh, you know exactly what I want. Hah..."

"Whatever it is you seek, I do not have it. You should leave," Kratos replied coldly, eyes hardening as he turned to walk back inside the cabin, dismissing the man as nothing more than a nuisance to be ignored.

But before he could reach the door, the stranger’s mocking laughter cut through the night like a blade. "And here I thought your kind and his kind—were so enlightened. So much better than us. And yet here you two are, hiding in the woods... Like cowards."

The words struck deep, and Kratos stopped in his tracks. His chest tightened as he felt the stirrings of something he had long since buried: anger.

His jaw clenched, muscles coiling with tension as he turned back toward the stranger, who stood with that same smug expression, completely unfazed.

"You do not want this fight," Kratos warned, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, his fists tightening at his sides.

"Oh, but I do," the stranger replied, his voice smooth, dripping with defiance. The air between them grew heavier, the tension palpable.

And then, with a swiftness that betrayed his thin frame, the stranger lashed out, delivering a sharp slap across Kratos's face. It wasn’t the strength of the blow that caught Kratos off guard but the audacity of it. The fire within him roared to life, and for a moment, the God of War’s eyes burned with the fury that had once defined him. His entire being ached to retaliate, to crush the man before him. But Kratos had learned from his past. He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing down the rage that threatened to consume him.

"LEAVE... MY... HOME," Kratos boomed, his voice echoing through the forest, carrying the weight of countless battles, of a life filled with blood and war.

But the stranger only grinned, his smile twisted and cruel. "You... are going to have to kill me for that to happen."

Kratos had barely a moment to react before the stranger lunged at him, fists flying with wild abandon. Each punch was fast, almost too fast, as though the stranger’s movements were driven by something more than just human strength. But Kratos, ever the seasoned warrior, moved with calculated precision, catching the stranger’s hand in a grip so tight that bones creaked.

"I warned you..." Kratos growled, his voice low and dangerous as he twisted the stranger’s arm.

The stranger's face twisted in pain, but instead of retreating, his grin only widened. "Finally," he whispered, eyes gleaming with a mad anticipation.

Kratos responded in kind, his fist connecting with the stranger’s jaw with a sickening crack, the force of the blow sending the man tumbling to the ground. The earth trembled slightly beneath the weight of his fall.

"You did not listen," Kratos said, his voice carrying the cold finality of judgment.

But as the stranger lay there, a low mutter escaped his lips. "No... no... no, no, no..." His eyes remained fixed on the ground, as if something had gone terribly wrong, as if the fight hadn’t met his expectations.

Kratos took a step back, glancing toward the cabin, his thoughts immediately drifting to Atreus. He had promised himself that he would never let his son see the monster he had once been. But as his thoughts lingered, the stranger’s voice pulled him back to the present.

"Okay... my turn," the stranger snarled, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Before Kratos could react, the stranger sprang to his feet and drove his fist into Kratos’s abdomen with such force that the God of War was lifted off his feet. He flew backward, crashing through the roof of his home, debris raining down around him, until he finally lands in his backyard.

For a moment, the world was still. Kratos slowly rose to his feet, his muscles aching from the impact, and looked up to see the stranger standing on the roof, a twisted smirk on his face.

Without hesitation, the stranger leaped down, aiming a crushing knee strike where Kratos stood. But the god was faster. Rolling out of the way, he barely avoided the devastating blow as the ground cracked beneath the stranger’s feet.

Kratos's eyes narrowed as he stared at the man before him, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of fear—not for himself, but for what this man truly was. He knew. This was no mortal.

This stranger had divine blood.

"Oh, what an incredible disappointment!" the stranger sneered, stepping forward, his voice filled with mockery.

Kratos planted his feet, his massive form looming over the clearing, every muscle tense and ready. The stranger stood a dozen steps away, eyes gleaming with malicious excitement.

"Come on then," the stranger called out, his voice dripping with confidence.

And with that, the battle of gods had begun.

One would stand; the other would fall.

Soon, Kratos moved with lethal precision, his shoulder colliding with the stranger’s torso in a thunderous impact that sent him hurtling through the air like a ragdoll.

His body smashed into a jagged rock, and the sound of bones cracking filled the air. Without hesitation, Kratos sprinted toward his adversary, his every movement radiating primal fury. The God of War's fists became a blur, raining down heavy, brutal punches, each one shaking the very ground beneath them.

But the stranger was no mere mortal. His hand shot up with unnatural speed, catching Kratos’ incoming fist mid-strike. His grip tightened like a vice.

"You call that a punch?" the stranger sneered, a bright blue glow igniting within his peacock-blue tattoos. His icy blue eyes flashed with malice. "THIS is a punch!"

Before Kratos could react, the stranger retaliated with an explosive counterattack. His fist collided with Kratos’ chest, sending him flying backward, crashing through several trees as though they were made of paper. The trees snapped and groaned under the force, tumbling to the ground as Kratos rolled to a stop, buried beneath broken branches.

The earth trembled as the stranger slammed his hands into the ground, his laugh echoing through the forest. A jagged wave of earth surged forward, ripping through the terrain like a beast awakened. Kratos leaped into the air, his body twisting as he narrowly avoided the earth-shattering force. While airborne, his arm swung backward in a perfect arc, releasing the Leviathan Axe with terrifying precision.

The axe cleaved through the air and embedded itself deep in the stranger's chest with a sickening thud. The stranger grunted, dropping to his knees, but there was no blood. No gasp of pain. His head snapped up, a grin spreading across his face.

Kratos landed with a thud, pulling his shield up just in time to absorb the stranger’s next attack. The man leaped forward, fists clenched, aiming to crush Kratos into the ground. The impact sent shockwaves through the earth, but Kratos stood firm, his shield absorbing the brunt of the attack. With a swift kick to the chest, Kratos knocked the stranger back and called his axe. The blade tore itself from the stranger’s body, leaving him staggering as it flew back into Kratos' waiting hand.

Despite the devastating wound, the stranger simply laughed. His eyes gleamed with manic excitement as he dusted himself off. "Are you really trying?" he taunted, his voice dripping with contempt.

Kratos’ brow furrowed, his grip on the axe tightening as he rushed forward, swinging the blade with lethal intent. But the stranger moved like a phantom, evading the attack with a smooth roll and springing back to his feet. His smile widened.

"You bore me!" he declared, his voice full of madness.

In an instant, the stranger closed the distance again, his fists hammering into Kratos with a speed and strength that would have crippled a lesser god. Blow after blow landed on Kratos’ torso, lifting him off the ground and sending him crashing into the dirt. The stranger’s laughter echoed as he grabbed Kratos by the throat and lifted him high into the air before hurling him into the roof of his own cabin.

Wood splintered and debris fell as Kratos crashed through the roof, landing hard inside his home. Dust and fragments of the ceiling rained down around him. The stranger stood above, peering through the broken roof with a malevolent smile.

"Tell me what I want to know, and the pain stops. It’s simple," the stranger said, his voice dripping with venom.

Kratos remained still, his eyes narrowing as he braced for what was to come. In a heartbeat, the stranger pounced, but Kratos rolled out of the way just as the roof gave way, sending them both plummeting into the house below. They landed in a heap of splintered wood and shattered furniture. The stranger’s eyes scanned the room, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

"Why are there two beds? ...That’s where he sleeps, isn’t it?" he sneered, his gaze fixated on a second bed nearby.

That remark sent a cold rage flooding through Kratos. With a roar that shook the cabin’s very foundations, he broke free from the stranger’s grasp, unleashing a vicious flurry of punches. The two of them grappled amidst the wreckage, smashing through walls and furniture, the house itself groaning under the strain of their battle.

"LEAVE MY HOME!!" Kratos thundered, his voice like a storm crashing down.

With a final, brutal blow, Kratos sent the stranger hurtling through the remains of the roof. The impact shattered the railing on the roof's edge, sending both combatants tumbling to the ground below. The two gods crashed to earth in a storm of dust and debris, the ground itself buckling beneath them.

As they rose to their feet, the stranger lunged at Kratos, his hands closing around the Spartan's throat, his grip like iron.

"I put my finger on the wound, didn’t I?!" the stranger growled, his eyes alight with cruel glee.

Kratos strained against the man’s grip, his muscles bulging as he fought to break free. With a mighty swing, Kratos snatched up a nearby tree trunk and brought it down with bone-crushing force, slamming the stranger into the ground. The earth shuddered beneath the impact, and Kratos pressed his advantage, raining down blow after blow, his rage fueling every strike.

"Who is it? Who are you hiding?!" the stranger demanded, his voice full of venom as they grappled, his fists pounding relentlessly against Kratos. The two titans collided against a nearby stone ridge, Kratos pinning the stranger by the throat.

Yet the stranger’s strength seemed limitless. With a sudden surge of power, he broke free and slammed Kratos to the ground, his taunts echoing in the Spartan’s ears.

"Old and slow. You should never have come to Midgard," the stranger sneered.

Kratos’ eyes widened in disbelief as he watched the stranger’s wounds heal before his eyes, the cuts and bruises vanishing like they had never existed. The man stood tall, his body restored to full strength.

"So... do you want to try again?" the stranger mocked, his arrogance infuriating.

"You talk too much," Kratos snarled, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. 

With a roar, he charged once more, his axe held high. The clash of gods continued, but this time, the weight of fatigue bore down on Kratos. His movements slowed, his attacks less precise. The stranger, fresh and full of energy, overpowered him with ease, sending him flying once more into a mass of shattered rocks and earth.

Kratos lay buried beneath the rubble, his breath ragged, his body aching. The stranger loomed over him, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"You aren't going to talk? Fine! Maybe the other person you keep hidden will," the stranger taunted, turning his back to leave.

But Kratos was not done. Rage erupted from deep within him. With a primal roar that shook the heavens, Kratos surged forward, tackling the stranger and sending them both hurtling into a nearby monolith. The stone cracked and crumbled under their combined weight. Seizing his opportunity, Kratos drove the stranger into the ground, pinning him beneath the collapsing stone.

For a moment, the forest was silent. Dust settled, and Kratos stood over the motionless form of the stranger, breathing heavily. It was over.

Whoever this man was, he was dead now.

Kratos could have spared the stranger’s life if he had simply walked away and left him and his son alone. But now, bruised and sore, he knew that the stranger didn’t understand the kind of people he had provoked. The God of War’s body ached with exhaustion as he removed himself from beneath the towering monolith, his chest heaving as he sucked in deep, revitalizing breaths. The destruction all around him—crumbling hills, splintered trees, and deep fractures dividing the earth—was a testament to the ferocity of their clash. 

Kratos shook his head in disgust. He only wanted peace. A life of quiet solitude with his son. He turned to head back to the house, praying that it had survived the chaos. Just as he took his first step, the earth trembled beneath him. A low, thunderous rumble echoed across the shattered landscape. Kratos froze, dread creeping up his spine.

No… it couldn’t be. No mortal could survive this. It was impossible.

Slowly, Kratos turned around, eyes wide with disbelief as he watched the impossible unfold. The stranger, the man who should have been dead, was standing unharmed amidst the rubble. With an eerie smile, the stranger casually lifted the enormous monolith above his head as though it weighed nothing at all.

“Leaving so soon?” the stranger smirked, his tone mocking as he raised the massive stone higher, eyes gleaming with wicked delight. Without a moment’s hesitation, he hurled the monolith directly at Kratos with terrifying force.

Kratos acted on instinct, unfolding his Guardian Shield in a swift, fluid motion. He hurled it into the air just in time, the powerful artifact colliding with the falling stone. The monolith shattered into a thousand pieces, debris scattering like dust in the wind. 

Before Kratos could even lower his arm, the stranger was upon him, launching himself through the air with his fist raised. Their bodies collided with a thunderous crash that made the ground beneath them tremble once more. Fists clashed against fists, their power locked in a deadly struggle. The force of their clash was so immense that the earth beneath them began to buckle and crack, unable to withstand the strain of their battle.

“When Odin sent me here, I just wanted answers,” the stranger growled, his face contorted in frustration as their hands pushed against each other, neither willing to yield an inch. “But you… you just had to act proud. It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I’ll always come back.”

Kratos's brow furrowed in confusion.

Odin? Answers?

This fight made no sense, but before he could question it further, the stranger’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. 

“This old body is going to give way eventually,” the stranger hissed through gritted teeth. “So you better tell me—where is the Shadow-Wing!?”

Shadow-Wing? Kratos’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the stranger's demand, but he found no answer. 

Before he could respond, the stranger slammed a devastating blow into Kratos’s chest, sending him rocketing into the sky. Kratos grunted in pain as his vision blurred, the wind howling past him as he was hurled higher and higher.

"But before I end this," the stranger called after him, voice rising as he followed Kratos into the air with inhuman speed, "I want you to know something... I can't feel ANYTHING!!"

The stranger's face twisted into a grotesque grin, his words filled with chilling detachment. Before Kratos could react, the stranger unleashed a brutal uppercut, sending Kratos careening further into the sky. The God of War’s body soared through the air like a ragdoll, but even in the face of such punishment, his warrior instincts took over.

With a primal roar, Kratos swung his axe mid-flight, embedding the blade into the rocky cliffside as he plummeted. The force of the impact slowed his descent, and he tumbled downward until he finally hit the ground below with a dull thud. Groaning, Kratos shook his head, clearing the haze from his vision.

“You’ve seen it with your own eyes!” the stranger’s taunt echoed from above. “You can’t hurt me. Nothing can. This fight is useless. Your efforts are futile. It didn’t have to be this way.”

Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through his body, Kratos refused to surrender. Slowly, he dragged himself to the edge of the abyss, his muscles screaming in protest. But still, he stood, towering amidst the chaos, his gaze locked onto the stranger above.

"Pathetic," the stranger sneered, glaring down at him with disdain. "You can't beat me. I don’t feel pain. And you… you feel everything.”

Kratos’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. His body ached, his breath labored, but he would not back down. Not while his son’s safety hung in the balance.

"And yet, you never stop trying,” the stranger continued, shaking his head in contempt. “I'm not like my brother, or the others. If you had given me what I wanted, it wouldn’t have ended like this. But no…"

Suddenly, the stranger leaped from the cliff edge, his body a blur as he hurtled down toward Kratos. The God of War braced himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground, his grip tightening around the handle of his axe.

“Let’s get this over with…” the stranger growled, his voice dripping with malice as he descended upon Kratos, ready to resume their savage confrontation.

Kratos’s eyes blazed with fury, every muscle tensing for the brutal storm that was about to descend. He would not yield. Not now. Not ever.

Kratos gripped the handle of his Leviathan Axe tightly as he pulled himself upright, his muscles screaming in protest.

The battle had dragged on longer than he had anticipated, and every part of his body throbbed with pain. His chest heaved with labored breaths, blood oozing from numerous cuts and bruises that painted his skin like a war map. Each heartbeat echoed in his ears, yet he pushed forward, determined to fight. The image of his son, waiting at home, filled his mind. Kratos couldn't lose—not now.

Not when his son's safety was at stake.

With a growl, Kratos hurled his axe towards the stranger, the weapon slicing through the air like a flash of lightning.

But the stranger, with that maddening smirk still plastered on his face, casually leaned aside, avoiding the blow with minimal effort. "Is that all?" the stranger sneered, his arrogance almost palpable. 

Before Kratos could react, the stranger lunged forward, slamming his fist into Kratos' Guardian Shield with a thunderous impact. Kratos slid back from the force, his boots digging trenches in the earth as he struggled to maintain his balance. As the stranger charged again, intent on delivering another strike, Kratos reached out instinctively.

The axe responded. It boomeranged through the air, its blade catching the stranger off-guard and smashing into the side of his head with a sickening crunch.

The stranger staggered, his momentum faltering just long enough for Kratos to regain the upper hand.

Catching the returning axe mid-air, Kratos wasted no time, slashing it across the stranger's chest in a blur of motion. Flesh tore apart as the sharp edge of the blade bit deep, spraying blood onto the cracked earth beneath their feet.

But the stranger was far from defeated.

He let out a guttural roar and, in a single bound, leapt into the sky, narrowly avoiding Kratos' follow-up attack. The force of his descent sent tremors through the ground, the earth beneath Kratos' feet crumbling slightly as the stranger attempted to stomp his head into the dirt. Kratos barely managed to sidestep the blow, though the aftershock from the impact sent him stumbling backward.

The stranger took full advantage, lunging forward with a relentless barrage of punches, each one like a sledgehammer crashing against Kratos' shield.

The God of War struggled to keep up, his arms trembling with the effort of absorbing the devastating blows. "I. Don’t. Feel. Nothing!" the stranger roared, his voice an unholy mix of fury and glee. "NOTHING!"

Kratos gritted his teeth, focusing on the rhythm of the fight. Every time his axe returned to his hand, he hurled it again, chipping away at the stranger’s relentless assault. And yet, no matter how many times the blade connected, the stranger didn’t slow down. His body healed almost instantly, as though nothing in this world could truly harm him.

In a moment of desperation, Kratos closed the distance, his axe swinging in a wide arc aimed at the stranger's neck. But the stranger caught the weapon mid-swing, his fingers wrapping around the handle like a vice.

Smirking, he delivered a punch that connected with Kratos’ face, sending him reeling. Kratos barely blocked the follow-up with his shield, and in the brief pause, he headbutted the stranger with a bone-shattering crack.

Seizing the advantage, Kratos grabbed the stranger by the throat and hurled him into the ground, the earth splitting beneath the force. Before the stranger could react, Kratos gripped his legs and swung him, throwing him toward the yawning abyss. The stranger, impossibly agile, managed to grasp the edge of the cliff at the last second, pulling himself back to his feet just as Kratos charged again. 

The axe flew out of Kratos' hand, but the stranger deflected it, sending it skittering away. Enraged, Kratos tackled him, locking him into a reverse chokehold as they tumbled dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.

"Stay down!" Kratos growled, tightening his grip around the stranger's throat, every muscle in his body straining.

But the stranger was as slippery as a snake. His elbow jabbed into Kratos' ribs, breaking the hold and forcing Kratos to release him.

"Useless!" the stranger spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I'll end this now!" His hands closed around Kratos' throat, squeezing with inhuman strength.

Kratos gasped, the world around him starting to blur. His vision darkened at the edges as the stranger's grip tightened.

'No... not like this,' Kratos thought. Summoning what little strength he had left, he reached out, praying the Leviathan Axe would come to him in time.

The stranger laughed, sensing Kratos' desperation, and squeezed harder. "You're done, old man," the stranger cackled.

In one final act of defiance, Kratos' hand found the familiar weight of the axe's handle. With a primal roar, he swung blindly, the blade cutting through flesh and bone. 

Blood splattered across both combatants as the stranger staggered back, staring in disbelief at the severed stump where his arm had been.

"What... did you do?" he gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

Kratos didn't give him time to recover. With a savage kick, he sent the stranger sprawling, quickly getting to his feet.

The stranger let out a howl of fury, charging at Kratos once more. But this time, the Leviathan Axe met his torso in a brutal swing, nearly cleaving him in two. Flesh hung by threads as the stranger stumbled backward, his legs barely supporting him.

But even as Kratos watched, the stranger's body began to knit itself back together, his wounds healing as though nothing had happened.

"You..." the stranger snarled, his face twisting in disgust. "I thought that of all the people and Shadow-Wings I've ever faced, you'd make me feel something. But you can't. No one can!"

Kratos’ eyes narrowed. He knew now what had to be done. Tossing his axe aside, he charged forward, his hands free for one last decisive move. The stranger, laughing at his audacity, waited for the attack. 

Kratos swung hard, disorienting the stranger just enough to get behind him. Locking him in another chokehold, Kratos dragged the stranger to the precipice. The stranger's hands flailed uselessly as his neck twisted at an impossible angle. Kratos growled, every ounce of strength pouring into the move. 

'SNAP!'

The stranger's body went limp in his arms, his head lolling grotesquely to one side. Kratos let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and released the corpse, letting it fall into the abyss below. For several moments, Kratos stood there, waiting.

Would the stranger return? Would he rise from the darkness once more?

But no... it was over.

Sighing deeply, Kratos bent to retrieve his axe. Exhausted, battered, but victorious, he turned away from the abyss, his thoughts already with his son, who awaited him back home.

Kratos stood amidst the cold, the wind biting at his skin as he surveyed the desolation left in the wake of his brutal fight. His grip tightened on the handle of his axe, his knuckles white as he tried to process the whirlwind of thoughts that had begun to stir within him.

“Who was he?” Kratos muttered, his voice a low rumble, heavy with frustration and the echoes of old battles long since fought. His brow furrowed in contemplation. “Did he know me? Did he know about my past? How did they find me after so long? And what did he mean by Shadow-Wing?”

The snow swirled around him, as if nature itself still trembled from the fury of their confrontation.

The landscape bore scars of their battle: deep craters, uprooted trees, and charred earth. Smoke from fires smoldering beneath the fresh layer of snow snaked its way into the sky. Yet, despite the chaos that had engulfed the surroundings, the house stood, sturdy and resilient, a testament to Faye’s care in building it with him.

Kratos' gaze softened for a fleeting moment as his thoughts drifted to her. “Faye…” he murmured, her name a whisper of memory and loss, drifting on the wind. She had always been his compass. Without her, he felt lost—uncertain in a way that not even the bloodiest battles could make him feel. “What do I do?”

His eyes fell upon the axe in his hands, its gleaming surface smeared with blood and dirt. The weapon weighed more than ever, not in its physical form but in the symbol it had become. It was a reminder of the burden he carried—the promise he had made to Faye to take their son to the highest peak and scatter her ashes. But beyond that duty, there was a new weight: protecting their son from the ever-encroaching dangers of a world that would never leave them in peace.

“Our son is not ready…” he said quietly, eyes narrowing as he gazed at the distant peaks. His voice trembled, his resolve wavering momentarily. “To take your ashes to the top of the mountain. And what about the others?"

Kratos stood up slowly, his body aching from the punishment it had endured. He could feel his wounds beginning to close, his godly nature knitting the flesh back together. But healing was not the same as rest. He was tired—tired in ways that went far beyond physical pain.

As the weight of his thoughts bore down on him, he turned towards the house, its wooden door still hanging on its hinges despite the chaos. With each step toward the door, the snow crunched beneath his feet, and with each breath, he felt the frigid air fill his lungs, cold and biting. His hand lingered over the doorknob, his heart heavy with the realization that this place, their home, could no longer be their sanctuary.

“But we can’t stay here any longer…” he muttered, his resolve hardening as his grip tightened around the axe.

Kratos stepped inside the house and crossed the room with deliberate, heavy strides. Reaching the center of the floor, he knelt and pulled back the rug, revealing the hidden trapdoor beneath. Lifting it open, he descended into the basement where his family—his son and the dragons—waited in tense anticipation.

Omega and Beta, the massive Inferno-Wings, stood protectively beside Atreus and the cubs, their sharp teeth bared in a defensive stance. As soon as Kratos appeared, their postures relaxed, and the glow of fire faded from their eyes.

“Kratos!” Omega’s voice rumbled in relief, echoing in the confined space. Atreus looked up, his face a mix of fear and gratitude.

“Boy,” Kratos called, his deep voice capturing Atreus' full attention.

Atreus, who had been sitting in the shadows, rose slowly. His heart still raced from the terror of the battle above, but seeing his father alive eased the tension in his chest.

"It was so much... I thought..." Atreus started, but the words seemed to escape him, too overwhelmed by the emotions stirring within him. He wanted to tell his father about the fear, the helplessness, the worry that Kratos wouldn’t return. But all he could manage was a quiet question, “Are you okay?”

Kratos nodded solemnly. “I am well. Come.”

He extended his hand, and Atreus, understanding the gesture, took it. With a firm grip, Kratos pulled his son out of the basement, the Inferno-Wings following closely behind, their scales gleaming in the dim light of the house.

As they stood in the room together, Bendy, tilted his head and asked curiously, “Who was it anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, cub,” Kratos replied without missing a beat. His tone left no room for debate. “Each one of you, get your things. We are leaving.”

Bendy, wide-eyed but obedient, nodded, and Atreus quickly moved to gather their belongings for the journey. Omega and Beta exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a silent understanding—they too knew the dangers that lay ahead.

“I thought you said we weren’t ready yet,” Atreus remarked, hoisting his bag, uncertainty still lingering in his voice.

“You aren’t,” Kratos admitted, his gaze falling to the trapdoor they had just emerged from. His face hardened as he looked back at his son. “But we have no choice. Prove me wrong.”

Atreus stood tall, the weight of his father’s words sinking into him. This was his second chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just a boy hiding in the shadows, waiting to be saved.

“Yes, sir,” Atreus said, his voice steady despite the trepidation gnawing at his insides.

“Oh yeah" We’re going to the mountain!” Bendy exclaimed, his excitement rippling through the room. Lyris and Bucky, joining in with their own enthusiasm, their youthful energy momentarily lightening the grim mood that hung over the family.

Kratos, watching his son and the young dragons prepare, allowed himself a rare moment of hope. Though the path ahead was fraught with danger, uncertainty, and pain, they would face it together.

As the cubs celebrated their small victory, laughing and exchanging playful jabs, Kratos, Omega, and Beta quietly huddled together, their expressions grim.

The joy of the younger ones felt distant, overshadowed by the gravity of what had just occurred. Snow continued to fall lightly, blanketing the landscape in cold silence, but the weight of the conversation that followed hung heavier than the storm outside.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Beta asked softly, her voice betraying the worry etched across her features. Her scaled brow furrowed, the sharp ridges of her face revealing her unease as her fiery wings twitched slightly in agitation. Her serpentine tail flicked anxiously behind her.

Kratos remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains barely visible through the falling snow. His eyes, hardened by battle and years of loss, scanned the horizon as if searching for an answer in the distance. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and resolute. "We have no choice."

His words offered little comfort, but they carried the weight of a decision made. There was no going back now.

Omega, ever the more analytical of the two Inferno-Wings, leaned in closer. His vibrant red scales caught the dim light as he narrowed her eyes, his tone questioning but steady. "Kratos... The stranger was... a god?"

Kratos did not respond immediately, his jaw tightening as the memory of the fight resurfaced—the power he had sensed, the familiarity in the stranger’s eyes. When he finally nodded, it was a slow, deliberate movement. The silence that followed felt thick, like a storm about to break.

“This is bad..." Beta muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The reality of facing another god, especially in these times, was more dangerous than anything they had anticipated. Her wings trembled slightly, not from fear but from the sheer uncertainty of the situation. “Really bad.”

Omega’s concern mirrored Beta’s, though her mind was already racing, trying to piece together the mystery. "Do you at least know what he wanted?" she asked, her gaze locking onto Kratos with a fierce determination.

Kratos's brow furrowed deeply, the lines in his face more pronounced as the memory of the fight played in his mind. "I’m not sure," he admitted, his voice tinged with a rare hint of doubt. "But it seemed like he was after me... and something he called 'Shadow-Wing.' "

The words hung in the air between them, each syllable heavy with meaning, though none of them understood it fully. Kratos's eyes briefly darted to the cubs, Bendy and his siblings, who continued their excited chatter, oblivious to the weight of the danger looming over them. “Does that remind you of anything?”

Beta’s tail lashed the ground as she thought, her claws flexing as if she could tear the answer from the earth. "No," she replied, frustration creeping into her voice. "Not that I know of."

Omega, equally puzzled, shook his head. "Neither do I," he said, his tone tinged with growing unease. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound like anything we’ve come across before.”

They fell into a moment of uneasy silence, each of them grappling with the unanswered questions.

Just then, Atreus emerged from the house, his breath visible in the cold air as he and the cubs approached. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there was a look of resolve in the boy’s eyes.

Behind him, Bendy, Lyris, and Bucky walked with purpose, the weight of their packs dragging at their young bodies but not their spirits. The Inferno-Wings watched protectively, their massive forms casting shadows over the younger ones.

"We’re ready," Atreus said, breaking the tense silence. "We’ve packed water, food, and enough provisions for the journey ahead."

Kratos’s gaze lingered on his son for a moment, a flicker of pride crossing his features. Atreus had grown in ways he could not have imagined, becoming more capable with each trial they faced.

But still, Kratos could not shake the worry gnawing at him. This journey would test them all in ways they had yet to face.

“Then let us go,” Kratos said, his voice resolute once more as he turned toward the path that stretched ahead of them, disappearing into the snow-covered wilderness. His words carried a finality that left no room for doubt. The time for questions was over; now, they had to move.

As they set off, Kratos took the lead, the axe resting firmly across his back, a symbol of both his burden and his strength. Omega and Beta flanked the group, their watchful eyes scanning the horizon for any further threats. Behind them, Atreus, Bendy, and the cubs followed closely, each step taking them further from the remnants of the only home they had known.

But even as they moved forward, Kratos couldn’t shake the lingering question that haunted him.

Who was the stranger?

To be continued...

Voice actor for this chapter's character

-

The Stranger- Jeremies Davies (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_BejLp-x8o&pp=ygUVamVyZW15IGRhdmllcyBiYWxkdXIg)

Chapter Text

The wind howled through the snow-laden valley, its icy breath a constant companion as Kratos led the group deeper into the wilderness.

The towering trees loomed overhead, their branches swaying with the weight of the storm that had begun to gather, but Kratos remained steadfast, his gaze fixed on the distant mountain that pierced the sky like an ancient sentinel.

He had hoped, in this new land, to find peace from the relentless interference of gods, to carve out a life without their ceaseless games.

But that hope had been shattered by the encounter with the stranger.

Kratos’s mind churned with thoughts of the mysterious figure who had challenged them, a god whose intentions were still a mystery. The name "Shadow-Wing" echoed in his thoughts, an enigma that had left him unsettled. But there was no time to dwell on the puzzle now.

The mountain loomed large in their mission.

Marching forward, Kratos’s heavy boots crunched through the snow, his broad frame cutting a path through the wilderness.

To his right walked Omega, his brilliant red wings folded tight against his back, his posture as vigilant as ever.

On his left, Beta, her blue fiery eyes scanning the horizon with a mother’s instinct to protect. Together, they were an imposing force, yet even they could not help but feel the weight of the unknown bearing down on them.

Behind them trailed the cubs, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the somber resolve of the adults.

Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris moved with an eagerness that only youth could carry, their excitement spilling over into boisterous conversation.

"I can hardly believe we're finally journeying to the mountain!" Bendy exclaimed, his voice cutting through the quiet like a spark. His eyes glittered with wonder, the prospect of adventure too thrilling to contain.

Lyris, never one to be outdone, grinned widely, her sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Well, I’m itching to show the baddies what we’re made of!" she declared, her wings twitching in anticipation of the battles to come. She flexed her claws, the thrill of a fight already dancing in her veins.

Bucky, ever the mischief-maker, could hardly contain his grin as he added his own contribution to the conversation, his voice full of pride. "And I simply cannot wait to mark my pee on the mountain!"

His siblings froze mid-step, their faces a mix of disbelief and horror.

Lyris, ever quick to react, turned to face her brother, her expression incredulous. "Why… in over a thousand years would you do that?" she demanded, her tone hovering between outrage and pure confusion.

Bucky puffed out his chest, undeterred by his sister's disapproval. "Because then the mountain will be mine!" he explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It’s the law of the wild: highest pee claims dominion."

The others stared at him in silence, unsure whether to laugh or scold him. Even Kratos, overhearing the conversation, raised a brow, though he continued walking without comment. 

Bendy, trying to regain some sense of normalcy, sighed and shook his head. "I... I don't think that's true, dude," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Turning his attention to Atreus, Bendy attempted to shift the conversation away from Bucky's bizarre declaration. "But what about you, Atreus? Are you excited to go to the mountain?"

Atreus, however, wasn’t paying attention. He lagged behind slightly, his brow furrowed and his eyes distant, as though lost in a place far removed from the snowy path they walked.

Bendy’s cheerful question hung in the air for a moment, unanswered.

"Atreus?" Bendy called again, this time with concern. He quickened his pace, falling in step beside his friend.

Atreus blinked, snapping back to reality. His face was pale, his lips tight as if he was trying to keep something buried. "W-what?" he stammered, clearly caught off guard by Bendy’s question.

Bendy’s worry deepened as he looked at his friend. "You okay, man? You seem a bit off... What’s up?" His voice was softer now, concerned.

Atreus’s eyes flicked back toward the path behind them, where the scars of the earlier battle still marred the earth. His father’s battle with the stranger weighed heavily on his mind, and the image of Kratos falling—if only for a moment—had imprinted itself in his thoughts.

"He… he could’ve died," Atreus murmured, his voice trembling with fear he rarely showed. "He could’ve left me alone… forever." The admission came out in a breath, quiet and shaky.

Bendy’s expression softened. He had never seen Atreus this vulnerable, but he understood the fear gnawing at his friend. "Come on, Atreus," Bendy said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course he wouldn’t leave you."

Atreus shook his head, uncertainty swirling in his mind. "How do you know?" he asked, his voice filled with doubt.

Bendy paused, thinking for a moment. "Well, first: I don’t even know if he can die," he joked lightly, trying to lift the mood. "And second: He came back, didn’t he? He always does." His tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Look you should talk to him. Tell him how you felt. I mean, he’s your dad. He’ll listen."

Atreus hesitated, glancing ahead to where Kratos walked, his father’s broad shoulders outlined against the white landscape.

The thought of opening up to him felt daunting, but Bendy’s words struck a chord. Keeping his fears bottled up wouldn’t make them disappear.

"I guess it’s worth a shot..." Atreus murmured, nodding slightly. A flicker of determination crossed his face, though the fear was still there, lingering in the back of his mind.

"That’s the spirit!" Bendy said with a wide grin, his fangs flashing as he clapped Atreus on the back. "You’ve got this."

With a final glance toward his father, Atreus resolved to talk to Kratos, knowing that even in the shadow of uncertainty, facing his fears was the only way forward. And as they continued their journey toward the mountain, the storm above them gathering strength, the bond between them grew stronger, even in the face of the unknown.

As Atreus approached his father, a whirlwind of emotions churned inside him, twisting his thoughts into a tangled web of fear, confusion, and curiosity. Every step toward Kratos seemed heavier than the last, the weight of unanswered questions pressing on his chest. He opened his mouth, unsure of where to begin, until one question—burning and insistent—forced its way to the surface.

“Who was he?” Atreus asked, his voice quivering slightly, betraying the apprehension he fought to contain. His eyes searched Kratos’s hardened face, looking for any hint of the answers he desperately sought.

Kratos turned his gaze to Atreus, his eyes as unreadable as the jagged peaks surrounding them. The battle had rattled him, but he wouldn’t show it. There were truths Atreus wasn’t ready to confront, truths that would only complicate their journey. He could not afford to reveal too much.

“I do not know,” Kratos replied, his voice deep and measured, as though every word was weighed and considered before it left his lips.

Atreus wasn’t satisfied. “What did he want? We’re nobodies.” The tremor in his voice was more pronounced now, the chaotic memory of the battle still fresh in his mind. The air seemed heavier, as though the echoes of the stranger’s blows still lingered.

Kratos said nothing at first, his silence carrying a gravity that Atreus could feel in his bones. He stared ahead, eyes scanning the path in front of them. The destruction left in their wake—the cracked earth, broken trees, and blood-streaked rocks—spoke of a violent encounter that had threatened everything they held dear. Atreus's heart clenched.

“Did you kill him?” The question came quietly, but it was weighted with dread. Atreus was beginning to understand what his father had been forced to do time and again.

Kratos’s reply was short, almost dismissive, as if the matter was already settled. “I did what had to be done.”

The words hung between them like a storm cloud, threatening to break. As they resumed their march, Kratos’s boots thudding against the rocky terrain, Atreus’s mind churned with conflicted thoughts. The devastation was undeniable—their clash had left the landscape in ruins, yet somehow, they pressed on, even with the shadow of death hovering nearby.

Atreus stole another glance at his father. The sight of Kratos standing tall, unyielding in the face of danger, was something that usually brought him comfort. But this time was different. The fear of losing him had burrowed deep into Atreus’s heart.

“You could have died. Don’t leave me alone again. Alright?” Atreus’s voice cracked with emotion, each word a raw plea for reassurance. He couldn’t hide the vulnerability, the stark terror that his father’s absence—permanent, this time—might leave him adrift in an unforgiving world.

Kratos stopped walking and looked at his son, his piercing gaze softening just enough to show that he understood. Beneath his gruff exterior, he recognized the boy’s fear—a fear he knew well. He couldn’t offer false promises, but he could offer something.

“Fine,” Kratos replied, his voice steady but filled with a paternal resolve that said more than the word itself.

They continued onward, the terrain sloping upwards until they reached the foot of a steep hill. Without a word, Kratos knelt, gesturing for Atreus to climb onto his back. Atreus obeyed, gripping his father’s shoulders tightly. Their dragon companions flew in lazy circles above, ever watchful.

The climb up the hill gave Atreus time to think, but his thoughts kept circling back to one thing. “You’ve had to kill people before, right?” he asked, almost hesitantly. “You guys are used to it.”

Kratos’s jaw clenched at the question, but he did not avoid it. “We do what is necessary to survive.”

Atreus nodded, but uncertainty crept into his voice. “The animals, I understand. They’re food. The draugrs... They’re already dead. But the people... They just want to survive too.”

Kratos’s grip on his son tightened slightly as he marched up the incline, his deep voice rumbling with the weight of hard-earned wisdom. “Do not let this weigh down on you. On our journey, we will face all matter of creatures. Close your heart to their desperation. Close your heart to their suffering. Do not allow yourself to feel for them. They will not feel for you.”

Atreus swallowed hard, his young mind wrestling with the implications of his father’s words. “Got it,” he said, though the resolve in his voice was less certain than he wanted it to be.

As they crested the hill and descended into a cavernous valley, their path led them into a cave lit by a soft glow, lanterns hanging from the jagged ceiling like stars in the night. The atmosphere was quiet, but there was a strange energy in the air. It felt as though the cave had witnessed much, held secrets long forgotten.

Atreus’s sharp eyes caught sight of something unusual—an old bucket hanging from the ceiling, seemingly out of reach. It swung gently in the draft, casting flickering shadows against the cave walls.

“That hanging bucket... Is it for offerings?” Atreus wondered aloud, his voice echoing off the stone.

Bendy, his curiosity piqued, glanced up at the bucket. “Why put it up there?” he asked, his head tilted as if trying to puzzle out the mystery.

Atreus spoke softly, recalling the stories his mother had told him. “Mother said that Odin’s disciples would fill them with gifts and hang them out of reach of thieves.”

Kratos snorted in disdain, his skepticism cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Nonsense.”

Atreus frowned, confused by his father’s sudden dismissal. “What? Worship the gods?”

Kratos’s voice dropped low, filled with a quiet fury. “The gods don’t care about them. People should stop praying to monsters.”

Bendy, always ready with a counterpoint, hesitated but spoke up. “Uncle Kratos, don’t you think that’s... exaggerating? Not all gods are monsters.”

Kratos didn’t flinch. “No, but most are.”

A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of Kratos’s words lingering in the cave like an unwelcome guest. Atreus, Bendy, and the cubs exchanged uncertain glances, their youthful minds grappling with a philosophy that challenged everything they had been taught.

They continued their journey deeper into the cave, their footsteps echoing through the stone corridors as if the cave itself was listening.

Each step brought them closer to their destination, but also to the hard truths waiting in the shadows.

Pressing onward, the group resumed their ascent, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps echoing through the cave, reverberating off the stone walls like a distant drumbeat. The air was cool, almost biting, as they climbed, the weight of their journey pressing down on their shoulders with every step. Darkness loomed behind them, but ahead, a faint glow promised the summit.

When they finally emerged from the cave, they were greeted by the open sky, a vast stretch of cloudless blue. The summit loomed before them, and below, the forest they had traversed sprawled out like a living, breathing sea of emerald. The leaves, kissed by the golden light of the sun, shimmered as the wind rolled through them like waves on a distant shore. It was a moment of peace, a rare reprieve from the chaos they had faced—and would continue to face.

Atreus, his breath steadying from the climb, paused at the edge, his eyes drawn to the expanse below. His fingers traced the air as if he could touch the trees from so far above. The golden-leafed trees stood out against the deep greens of the forest, forming intricate patterns that seemed too perfect, as if crafted by a divine hand. It stirred something in him, a quiet introspection amidst the turbulence of their journey.

His voice cut through the silence, low but filled with wonder and confusion. "Look... The whole time... There was a protective circle around the forest. But... it was broken there." He pointed to a spot far off in the distance, where the emerald canopy gave way to a jagged, barren scar—a place where the trees had been uprooted, the protective ward seemingly shattered.

The cubs, who had been silently watching the horizon, exchanged bewildered glances. Their young eyes, wide with surprise and uncertainty, turned to their parents. Bendy, his expression etched with a mixture of doubt and intrigue, voiced the question that lingered in their minds.

"Did you guys know that?" he asked, his tone carrying an edge of disbelief. It seemed impossible that something so significant had gone unnoticed, yet here it was, laid bare before them.

Beta’s usually steady gaze faltered as she stared at the broken barrier, her brow furrowing in confusion.

The revelation gnawed at her, a slow-burning anxiety creeping into her thoughts. She exchanged a look with the other dragon, but there were no answers to be found.

"No, we had no idea," Beta finally admitted, her voice tinged with apprehension.

The fact that something so vital had escaped their attention filled her with unease.

Atreus’s sharp eyes shifted to another strange sight—a patch of barren earth devoid of any trees, standing stark and empty amidst the flourishing forest. His brow furrowed in thought, and he couldn't help but wonder.

"Did you cut those?" Atreus asked, the question more curious than accusatory.

Kratos’s jaw clenched as he stood a few paces ahead, the memories of that place—and those trees—stirring within him. He responded tersely, his voice low, almost gruff. "She marked the trees she wanted on the pyre."

There was a heaviness in his words, a weight that carried unresolved emotion. The memory of Faye’s careful selection of those trees lingered like a ghost, a decision whose full meaning eluded them still. Atreus felt the tension in his father’s voice, but he wasn’t ready to let it go.

"But why?" Atreus pressed, his voice laced with curiosity and an earnest desire to understand.

Why had Faye chosen those particular trees?

Why had she marked them?

Every choice she made seemed to carry a deeper meaning, one that Kratos either couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.

Kratos’s throat tightened as memories of Faye surged to the surface—her quiet wisdom, her cryptic actions.

He had followed her wishes, burned the trees she marked, but the reasons for her choices remained locked in a place he could not reach.

The weight of her absence pressed against him like a boulder he could never fully lift. But now was not the time to lose himself in those thoughts. He forced the emotions back, his gaze hardening.

"Come. Do not look back," Kratos commanded, his voice firm, resolute. He didn’t meet Atreus’s eyes, afraid of what his own might reveal.

He couldn’t afford to be swept away by the pain of what he had lost, not now, not when there was still so much ahead of them.

Reluctantly, Atreus tore his gaze from the distant forest and the memories it stirred. His heart ached with a dull sorrow, a sense of loss that gnawed at him. But he obeyed his father’s command, falling into step behind him.

With each step, he pushed away the questions that swirled in his mind, though they buzzed in the background, refusing to disappear completely.

As they approached a narrow entrance cut into the mountainside, the air grew cooler, the shadows stretching longer as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Atreus’s mind raced, still grappling with the protective circle, the marked trees, and the lingering mysteries surrounding his mother.

He could sense the unspoken tension in Kratos, the secrets he held like stones in his chest. But despite the weight of uncertainty, Atreus knew better than to push further.

For now, he would follow. But the questions—those, he would carry with him.

"So... how long will it take to the mountain?" Atreus ventured, his voice breaking the silence with a note of impatience, the weight of their journey pressing on him as they continued through the forest.

Kratos, walking ahead with his usual stoic demeanor, didn’t turn around. "I do not know," he replied curtly, his tone carrying an unspoken command for silence. His jaw clenched as he pressed forward, eyes scanning the path ahead.

Atreus wasn’t satisfied. "Will we arrive before winter?" he persisted, eagerness and a hint of worry creeping into his voice. The thought of being caught in the icy grasp of the cold season unnerved him.

Kratos’s response came swift, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I do not know!" The frustration in his tone was palpable, the furrow of his brow and the tight set of his jaw making it clear that further questions would not be entertained. 

"Okay, okay..." Atreus murmured, sensing the tension in his father. His voice softened, a soothing attempt to dispel the rising discord.

He cast a quick glance at Bendy, who had been watching the exchange from the side, his own confusion evident.

"What’s gotten into him?" Bendy whispered to his siblings, his tone low but brimming with curiosity as he stole another glance at Kratos’s rigid posture.

As they ventured deeper into the unfamiliar forest, the canopy above thickened, casting dappled shadows that danced across the forest floor. The sound of rustling leaves and distant animal calls filled the air, yet beneath it all, there was an unsettling stillness, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Kratos raised a hand, coming to an abrupt halt. His muscles tensed, eyes narrowing as he scanned the underbrush. The others followed his lead, crouching low without question, though Bendy's face was a mask of confusion.

"What? What is happening? Why are we stopping, why are we crouching?" Bendy’s questions spilled out in a hushed whisper, his voice tinged with both irritation and concern. His eyes darted around, trying to see what Kratos had noticed. 

Kratos didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on something up ahead, the muscles in his neck taut with focus. A moment later, a foul stench hit them—a rancid, sickening odor that filled their lungs and clung to the air, heavy and oppressive. Bendy gagged, instinctively covering his mouth and nose, his stomach churning at the nauseating smell.

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Even the dragons seemed affected, their noses twitching as they recoiled from the overpowering stench.

Bendy wrinkled his nose in disgust, eyes scanning the surroundings with growing apprehension. "Ugh, that stinks! Did someone die here?" he muttered under his breath, his voice strained.

Ignoring the noxious odor, Kratos motioned for them to follow as he led them cautiously through the undergrowth. The dense clusters of trees began to thin, giving way to a wide clearing. And there, lurching aimlessly amidst the scattered stones and fallen leaves, were three figures. Their skin hung from their bones in ragged strips, their bodies twisted and contorted with decay.

Bendy squinted, his brow furrowing in disbelief as recognition dawned on him. "More Draugrs?!" he exclaimed, incredulity coloring his tone. The thought of facing these undead creatures again filled him with both frustration and dread.

"They don't see us. Should I shoot?" Atreus whispered, his bow already drawn, an arrow resting against the string, ready to fly at a moment’s notice.

Kratos’s eyes remained fixed on the Draugrs, his expression unwavering. His voice was calm, but there was a commanding edge to it as he laid out his plan. "Wait for my mark. Aim for the head," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Bendy, standing beside Atreus, felt a surge of nervous energy. His eyes darted from the Draugrs to his companions, his heart pounding. "What about us? What can we do?" he asked, his voice tinged with both anticipation and fear.

Kratos’s response was firm, his gaze still locked on the approaching threat. "You and your brother and sister stay here. We'll take care of the rest." There was no arguing with him, no room for negotiation.

Before Bendy could protest, one of the Draugrs let out a guttural roar, its hollow eyes locking onto them. The sound sent a shiver down his spine, the noise primal and filled with malice.

"Fire!" Kratos bellowed, his voice sharp and decisive, cutting through the tension like a blade.

In a swift, fluid motion, Kratos and the dragons charged forward. Atreus loosed his arrow, the shot sailing through the air and embedding itself in the neck of the nearest Draugr.

Beta’s spear followed soon after, striking true and shattering the skull of another. Omega moved with deadly precision, his Naginata slicing through the remaining Draugrs, severing limbs with brutal efficiency.

But amidst the chaos of battle, Atreus faltered. His next shot went wide, missing its target entirely as panic seized him. He could feel the pressure mounting, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, threatening to overwhelm him.

Beta was there in an instant, stepping in front of him just as a Draugr lunged. Her swift intervention bought Atreus the precious seconds he needed to steady himself, to focus. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling less as he notched another arrow.

As the last Draugr collapsed, its rotting form crumbling to the ground, Atreus turned to his father, his expression a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. "How was I?" he asked eagerly, his voice filled with the need for validation.

Kratos approached, his gaze stern but not unkind. "If you want to help, distract them. Whoever is not in my focus or that of Omega and Beta should be yours, but only when it is safe to do so," he instructed, his tone measured and commanding.

Atreus nodded, absorbing his father’s words. "I can do that. Anything else?" he asked, his voice more steady now, his determination clear.

Kratos’s response was short, yet pointed. "Adjust the speed of your shots. Speed costs accuracy."

Atreus met his father’s gaze, a newfound resolve hardening in his chest. "Got it," he affirmed, his voice steady. He could feel the weight of the battle, but more than that, he could feel the strength in his father's words, guiding him forward.

Bendy’s voice sliced through the tension, pulling everyone's attention toward a peculiar discovery etched into the jagged rock wall. His excitement was palpable, his curious tone underscored by an infectious energy. "Hey, guys, check this out!" he called, waving his siblings, Bucky and Lyris, over.

The trio moved closer, their footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor as they approached the carvings. Bendy knelt, his fingers brushing the rough, timeworn stone as he studied the ancient markings. The runes shimmered faintly in the dim light, their meaning elusive yet inviting.

Lyris cocked an eyebrow, tilting her head as she inspected the strange symbols. "Chicken scratch? Does this even mean anything?" she teased, her voice laced with a playful skepticism.

Atreus, always eager to prove his worth, stepped forward with an air of authority. He crouched beside them, tracing the intricate lines of the runes with a practiced hand.

His fingers lingered over the curves and sharp angles of the symbols as he let out a soft breath. "Look closely," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reverence, as if speaking any louder would disrupt the ancient magic etched into the stone.

Bendy leaned in closer, his curiosity sparked by Atreus's tone. "What is it?" he asked, his bright eyes darting between the runes and Atreus.

"They're runes," Atreus explained, his eyes alight with excitement, though there was a solemn edge to his words. "Old ones. From the time of the Jötnar."

Kratos approached, looming over the group with his imposing presence, though his eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Jötnar?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"Giants," Atreus confirmed, his voice steady despite the weight of the revelation. "There’s a settlement ahead. At least, that’s what it says here."

The significance of Atreus's words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Kratos studied his son, a glimmer of pride in his usually stern expression. "You can read this?" he asked, a rare note of admiration in his gruff tone.

Atreus nodded, almost sheepishly. "Not all of it. Just the languages Mother taught me... But some are similar, so i can piece it together sometimes," he explained with modesty, as though downplaying the incredible skill he possessed.

Kratos gave a slow, thoughtful nod. He didn’t need to say anything more. The respect was there in his silence. He turned, gesturing for the others to follow, and with that, the group pressed onward into the dense forest, the wind whispering ancient secrets through the trees.

Suddenly, a chilling sound broke the stillness, an eerie groan that seemed to rise from the very earth beneath them. Atreus stiffened, his head snapping toward the sound, his eyes widening in alarm. "What was that?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

From the shadows ahead, an icy-blue dead-like human figure emerged, its flesh hanging in ghostly shreds, the air around it crackling with frost. The creature's hollow eyes locked onto them, and the temperature plummeted, turning their breath to mist.

Atreus let out a startled cry, stepping back instinctively as the creature lurched forward.

Bendy gasped, his voice tinged with fear. "What is that thing?"

Kratos stepped in front of them all, his voice a steady command. "Stand back!" His presence was a shield, his every move calculated, but when he hurled his axe at the creature, it quicked through its form, the weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

Omega, ever alert, was quick to warn. "The axe won’t work on it!" he shouted.

Kratos's eyes narrowed in grim determination. His axe might be useless, but his fists were not. He launched himself at the creature, closing the distance in two powerful strides. With a savage roar, he delivered a bone-crushing punch to the creature’s face, his fist colliding with cold, unyielding flesh.

The force of his blow was staggering, but the creature barely reacted, its icy form seeming to absorb the impact. Kratos grunted, shifting his tactics. He grabbed the creature by the throat, dragging it down with brute strength. His muscles coiled, and with a final, furious strike, he drove his fist into the creature’s skull, shattering it into icy shards.

Frost exploded into the air, a cold mist swirling around the group as the creature’s body crumbled into nothingness, leaving behind only a lingering chill.

As the remnants of the creature evaporated, Atreus’s trembling voice broke the silence. "W-what was that?" His wide eyes darted between his father and the fading frost, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

Kratos stared at the streaks of blue blood staining his knuckles, his jaw clenched.

For once, even he seemed uncertain. "I... I don’t know," he admitted, his deep voice carrying a rare note of doubt as he scanned the forest ahead, knowing more challenges awaited them.

The air was thick with tension as the group pushed onward through the dense forest, their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves. When they reached a bridge, they found their path blocked by a massive stone pillar, toppled across the walkway.

Without missing a beat, Kratos grunted as he and Omega exchanged a knowing look. With an effortless show of strength, they each grabbed a side of the pillar, muscles straining as they heaved it off the bridge, clearing the way for the others to pass.

Atreus’s eyes lit up as he caught sight of the towering mountain in the distance, its snow-capped peak glistening in the sunlight. "Look at the mountain! Let's go!" he shouted, voice full of excitement, as he darted ahead without a second thought.

"Atreus! Hang on!" Bendy called out, rushing to join him. His paws thudded on the wooden planks, heart racing with a mix of excitement and concern.

Kratos’s deep, booming voice cut through the air like a warning bell. "Not yet!" His tone carried the weight of authority, but Atreus and Bendy were too swept up in their youthful confidence to pay heed.

Omega echoed the sentiment, her sharp voice carrying urgency. "Bendy, wait!"

But the two boys were already halfway across the bridge.

"It's alright!" Atreus called out, his grin wide.

"Yeah, Uncle Kratos, everything’s fine here," Bendy added with a playful shrug.

As they danced on the old planks, Atreus stomped his foot to prove his point. "See? It's safe!" His voice rang out, brimming with the unwarranted assurance of youth.

"Kids, you better listen to Kratos!" Beta’s voice held a warning edge, her eyes narrowed with maternal concern as she watched from the safety of the forest’s edge.

"Mom, nothing's gonna go wrong!" Bendy replied, his voice full of bravado, though a flicker of unease crept into his tone.

But just as Atreus went to stomp again, a loud CRACK echoed through the trees.

The sound of splintering wood froze everyone in place. In an instant, the false security was shattered as the bridge began to buckle beneath Atreus's feet.

"Ahh!" Atreus yelped as the planks gave way, sending him plummeting. His hands shot out, grabbing onto a jagged piece of wood at the last second. He dangled over the abyss, eyes wide with terror, feet kicking in the empty air.

"Atreus!" Bendy’s voice was sharp with panic as he lunged, grabbing Atreus's arm. His grip tightened, but the weight of his friend threatened to pull him down too.

"Someone help me!" Bendy cried, his voice thick with desperation as he tried to hold on, his tail coiling around a nearby plank for extra support.

"F-father, help!" Atreus gasped, the strain clear in his voice as his fingers slipped on the splintered wood.

Kratos and Omega moved as one, their feet pounding against the wooden boards as they raced to the boys. Every muscle in Kratos's body tensed, his focus solely on saving his son.

Omega’s wings flared out, catching the wind as she propelled herself forward with equal urgency.

From the safety of the other side, Beta, Bucky, and Lyris watched in helpless terror, their hearts pounding as they feared the worst. Every second felt like an eternity as they stood frozen, praying that Kratos and Omega would reach the boys in time.

"Bendy, you have to let me go! I’m too heavy!" Atreus begged, his voice raw with fear.

Bendy’s eyes narrowed with fierce determination. "Like hel I will!" he shot back, refusing to abandon his friend.

Kratos’s voice, steady as a rock, reached them just as he closed the distance. "Hold on!" he barked. Omega echoed his sentiment, their presence a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos.

Kratos grabbed Atreus's arm with unyielding strength, pulling him to safety in one swift motion. Simultaneously, Omega swooped in, snatching Bendy up before his paws could slip on the fragile planks.

The bridge groaned one last time before collapsing, its remnants plunging into the chasm below with a thunderous crash. Dust and debris rose from the fall, swirling in the wind as the group stood at the edge, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Atreus and Bendy stood trembling, their clothes dusted with the remnants of the shattered bridge. They looked up at Kratos and Omega, their faces a mix of relief and guilt. Atreus tried to cover his fear with a weak smile. "It wasn’t that bad..."

Kratos’s brows furrowed as he looked down at his son, the stern lines of his face softening just a fraction. "Slowly. Your rush gets in the way," he said, his voice firm but tinged with relief that both boys were safe.

"Sorry, Uncle Kratos," Bendy mumbled, head hanging in shame as the weight of his recklessness settled over him.

"Yeah, sorry..." Atreus echoed, equally contrite.

Beta’s sharp gaze never left Bendy, even as she floated down from the cliff edge with Bucky and Lyris on her back. She landed with a thud, her wings folding tightly against her sides as she stormed over, her eyes blazing with worry and anger.

"Bendy, what were you thinking?! You could have died!" she scolded, her voice trembling as she pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"I couldn’t leave Atreus..." Bendy murmured, his voice small as he clung to his mother. "I’m sorry..."

Beta’s grip softened, her breath hitching as she kissed the top of his head. "It’s okay, just... please don’t do that again. You scared me half to death."

Bendy nodded into her shoulder. "I won’t. I promise."

As Bendy's gaze swept over the eerie scene, the chill in the air seemed to intensify. Dozens of Draugrs, their decayed forms still as statues, littered the area like grotesque relics from a long-forgotten battle. The unsettling stillness made his fur prickle, sending a shiver down his spine.

"What is this place?" Bendy muttered, his voice breaking the tense silence, edged with unease. His violet eyes flicked from one Draugr to another, as if expecting them to lunge at any moment.

Atreus, standing a few paces ahead, studied the twisted shapes, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Argh… more Draugrs," he murmured, his voice low, wary. "But they’re not moving. Are they dead? I mean more dead"

Kratos shifted, his grip tightening on his axe as he raised it in a defensive posture, his piercing gaze scanning the surroundings for signs of danger. The tension in his stance spoke volumes—he knew better than to trust what appeared to be lifeless.

"Boy…" Kratos rumbled, his deep voice vibrating with warning as Atreus inched closer to one of the Draugrs, his curiosity outweighing his caution.

Atreus, undeterred, leaned in, his breath quickening as he examined the creature's rigid, decayed form. Its hollow, lifeless eyes stared back at him, and for a heartbeat, everything was still. But suddenly, in a jerky, unnatural movement, the Draugr’s head twitched.

A faint, eerie glow of translucent orange began to radiate from its body.

"Not dead! Not dead!!" Atreus shouted, stumbling back as the Draugr stirred to life.

With a collective, bone-chilling groan, the dozens of Draugrs rose from their slumber. Their once-slumbering forms now moved with terrifying intent, weapons clutched in their bony hands as they advanced with malicious, unnatural speed.

Kratos acted first, charging forward with a primal roar, his Leviathan Axe cutting through the air with brutal force.

The blade cleaved into the nearest Draugr, splitting it in two. Behind him, Omega and Beta lunged, their razor-sharp claws tearing through the horde with wild fury. Their snarls filled the battlefield as they ripped through flesh and bone, moving with terrifying speed and precision.

Bendy and his siblings, Bucky and Lyris, stood back as the adults fought the onslaught. Atreus, fumbling with his bow, let loose arrow after arrow, though many missed their mark. His frustration mounted, but he pressed on, determined to protect his friends and family.

"Come on, come on!" Bendy urged, his own eyes darting between the advancing Draugrs and his brother and sister, ensuring they stayed out of harm's way.

The clash of weapons against undead flesh rang out across the battlefield. Kratos’s axe cut down Draugr after Draugr with relentless efficiency, while Omega fought like a whirlwind, her claws and teeth tearing through the ranks of the undead with savage force. Beta was a blur, moving with lethal grace as she slashed through Draugr after Draugr, never faltering.

Atreus, his breath ragged, fired another arrow, this one hitting its mark. "I got one!" he shouted triumphantly, as the Draugr collapsed to the ground.

The battle raged on, and slowly but surely, the group’s cohesion returned. With each Draugr that fell, their rhythm improved, their movements becoming more fluid, more in sync. The family fought as one, and before long, the last Draugr crumbled beneath the weight of their combined assault.

Atreus, chest heaving and adrenaline surging through his veins, looked at the carnage strewn before them. “That was the last one,” he gasped, leaning on his bow for support. His eyes flicked to Kratos, searching for approval. “Have I… gotten better?”

Kratos’s stern gaze lingered on his son for a moment. The weight of battle was still fresh in his eyes, but a hint of pride flickered behind them. “It takes time,” he grunted, his deep voice carrying both reassurance and a lesson.

Kratos turned to Omega and Beta, his expression softening slightly as he saw their weariness. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Omega gave a slight nod, though the fatigue was evident in her every movement. “We’re fine," she replied, wiping blood from her claws. "A good warm-up."

But before they could catch their breath, the ground trembled violently beneath their feet. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the sound of shifting stone echoed around them.

"Something’s coming through the wall!" Atreus shouted, pointing to the far end of the chamber.

With a deafening crash, the stone wall burst open, revealing a massive Draugr unlike any they had faced before. Towering above them, it wielded an enormous, blood-stained axe, its eyes burning with unnatural fury. The sheer size of the creature sent a wave of dread through the group.

Kratos reacted first, dodging the creature’s devastating first strike. His movements were swift and precise, but the Draugr was relentless, shrugging off Kratos’s retaliatory blow with terrifying ease.

Atreus leapt into the fray, his bow drawn as he loosed an arrow directly at the Draugr’s head. The creature recoiled as the arrow struck its skull, but the momentary advantage gave Kratos the opening he needed. With a mighty roar, he heaved the massive Draugr off its feet and hurled it into the gaping chasm nearby.

Panting, Atreus approached Kratos, his face flushed with both exhaustion and pride. “How was I?” he asked, anticipation thick in his voice.

Kratos looked at him, his expression inscrutable before he finally grunted. “I see progress.”

As the dust settled, Atreus’s sharp eyes caught something. “Look! Where the Draugr broke through… we can climb up.”

“What place was this, anyway?” Bendy asked, his curiosity piqued as he gazed at the ancient, crumbling structures around them.

Atreus studied the surroundings before answering. “It looks like an old marketplace… a place where gods and giants used to trade.”

"Well," Bendy muttered, his tail flicking nervously behind him, "I think we just broke the market."

As the group climbed the column and entered the mysterious passageway, an eerie transformation took hold. The temperature dropped, and a thick, green fog enveloped them, swirling ominously in the air. The fog seemed alive, carrying with it the weight of an ancient, otherworldly presence that clung to their skin like cold mist. They could barely see ahead as the path twisted into shadowy depths.

Suddenly, the silence of the cavern was pierced by a haunting melody—soft and sinister, its notes weaving through the fog like a ghostly lullaby. The music seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, reverberating off the damp, jagged walls of the cavern.

"What... is that?" Atreus whispered, his voice barely rising above the haunting tune as he gripped his bow more tightly, scanning their surroundings.

"I... I don't know, but I don't like it," Bendy replied, his voice trembling with unease. His sharp senses told him something was watching, lurking just beyond the veil of the green fog. They ventured deeper, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath them.

The melody grew louder as if the source was drawing closer, its eerie rhythm wrapping around them like a shroud. Shadows moved within the fog, playing tricks on their eyes.

"Wow, Atreus! Your hand is so skinny," Bendy remarked, his voice breaking the tension, though his tone carried a note of confusion.

Atreus's brow furrowed. "Bendy... that’s not my hand," he replied, his voice filled with sudden dread.

Bendy froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Wait… if you're there... who’s here?" Bendy whispered in horror, his body rigid with fear.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to the side where the hand was resting. His breath hitched in his throat as he came face to face with something horrific.

Standing next to him, silent and motionless, was a grotesque figure cloaked in tattered, decayed shrouds. Its thin, bony fingers rested lightly on his shoulder. The figure’s hunched, twisted form loomed over him, its face obscured by a macabre skull mask that glowed faintly in the dim light. Hollow sockets where eyes should have been stared blankly, yet Bendy could feel malice radiating from the creature.

Memories flooded Bendy's mind—his aunt's stories of seidr witches, who sold their souls for dark, forbidden magic. The Revenants, beings who had sacrificed their humanity for power, leaving behind only twisted husks of evil.

"AAAH!" he screamed, leaping away as terror gripped him, his voice echoing through the cavern.

"Revenant!" Atreus shouted, his eyes widening as the malevolent creature hissed, its body flickering with dark magic. The Revenant's lips curled back into a grotesque grin as it cackled, its eerie laugh cutting through the air like jagged glass. 

Suddenly, the Revenant raised its emaciated arms, and tendrils of sickly green magic pulsed from its fingertips. A noxious cloud of poison erupted from the creature, the air around it crackling with deadly energy. Without hesitation, Kratos swung his axe toward the Revenant, but the witch was faster. She vanished in a blur, reappearing across the chamber with a mocking laugh.

“She’s too quick!” Atreus cried out, struggling to keep track of her movements as she blinked in and out of view, leaving behind traces of her deadly magic.

Beta lunged, her spear aimed directly at the Revenant’s chest, but the creature twisted in the air, dodging her attacks with unnatural grace. “Damn it! I can’t hit it!” Beta growled, frustration mounting as the witch taunted them with every missed strike.

"Boy! Your arrows!" Kratos commanded, his deep voice cutting through the chaos. Atreus nodded, drawing his bowstring tight, waiting for the Revenant to make a mistake. 

With a sudden flicker, the Revenant materialized in front of Kratos, ready to strike. "Now!" Kratos bellowed. 

Atreus loosed two arrows in quick succession. Both struck true, embedding themselves in the Revenant's chest, its magical defenses flickering momentarily. Taking advantage of the opening, Kratos surged forward, his massive fist connecting with the creature's neck in a powerful blow that sent it reeling.

Before the witch could recover, Kratos grabbed the Revenant by the throat, lifting it off the ground with a roar and slamming it into the cavern floor with bone-crushing force.

The Revenant’s body twitched violently as dark energy leaked from its shattered form. With a final, sickening crack, Kratos snapped the witch’s neck, and the malevolent creature dissolved into black smoke, vanquished at last.

As the fog dissipated, the group stood in silence, catching their breath after the intense battle. The cavern seemed to settle, but the oppressive atmosphere lingered.

"How many things are going to try to kill us!?" Bendy exclaimed, his small voice filled with both exasperation and fear.

"Many," Kratos responded, his tone heavy with the weight of experience.

Omega stepped forward, her gaze lingering on the shadows that clung to the cavern walls. "Your uncle is right, Bendy.

We’ll face more—ogres, trolls, maybe even dragons. Have you ever heard of a Deathgripper?"

Bendy look's wide-eyed. "No..."

Omega crouched down to his level, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Well, you will. And you're going to have to toughen up, son."

"Aww, man!" Bendy groaned, his shoulders sagging as he realized just how dangerous their journey would be.

The group trekked deeper into the wilderness, the remnants of a forgotten civilization looming around them like ghosts of a bygone era.

Crumbling stone pillars and shattered statues were half-buried in moss and dirt, their grandeur eroded by time. Vines snaked through the decaying architecture, while the faint whispers of wind passing through the ruins added an eerie atmosphere.

"Look! Up there!" Atreus called out, pointing toward a narrow path winding up the distant mountainside, barely visible through the mist. His voice carried a mix of awe and uncertainty.

Bendy craned his neck, squinting at the steep incline. "How are we supposed to get up there?" Atreus asked, his tone full of doubt.

Kratos's gaze swept across the landscape, his sharp eyes searching for a solution. "There must be another way," he said with measured calm, scanning the ruins like a seasoned warrior assessing a battlefield.

His eyes settled on an old drawbridge up ahead, suspended above a yawning chasm.

Without a word, Kratos approached the bridge, his mighty Leviathan Axe gleaming in his hand. With a fluid, powerful swing, the axe severed the chains holding the bridge, sending it crashing down with a thunderous clang.

Dust and debris flew up from the impact as the bridge lowered, revealing a way forward.

Atreus clenched his fists, his earlier hesitation melting away, replaced by a steely determination. "Earlier, you said they might try to kill us. I'll kill whoever comes." His voice, though quiet, held a surprising edge.

Bendy nodded enthusiastically. "That’s right, Atreus! If anyone tries to stop us, we’ll deal with them. Together."

Kratos halted and turned to face the boys, his towering presence casting a shadow over them. His voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of his authority. "If anyone appears, you and the cubs stay behind. Do not engage. Do you understand?"

Atreus frowned, the fire of defiance still burning in his eyes. "But, I can fight now. You’ve seen me—"

"And me!" Bendy interjected. "Look, every one of us has been training, Bucky can shoot his flaming gas, and Lyris can manage control her fire. I may not have much, but I can at least distract them!"

Kratos's gaze hardened, his tone brooking no argument. "You. Will. Stay. Away. This is not a debate."

A heavy silence settled over the group as they moved forward. The air grew thick with the scent of decay, and soon, the putrid stench of rotting flesh filled their nostrils. The dragons, with their heightened senses, recoiled from the smell, their eyes narrowing in disgust.

"What is that smell?" Atreus gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve.

Bendy scrunched his face. "It smells like... vomit mixed with poop and rotting meat."

Omega and Beta, their sharp instincts kicking in, tensed.

They exchanged wary glances as the scent intensified, thickening the air with dread. They had come upon an entrance shrouded in death, its threshold marked by the twisted remains of corpses—humans and beasts alike—littering the ground.

"Do you think it's safe to go in there?" Atreus asked, his voice wavering as he peered at the gruesome sight.

Kratos responded with his usual bluntness, "Do you think it's safer out here?"

The group pressed onward, their footsteps slow and cautious. As they entered the passage, the oppressive air felt like a trap closing around them. Then, with a sickening groan, the entrance behind them sealed shut, locking them inside with the foul stench of death.

"NOW!"

Without warning, shadows moved in the dim light. Twelve figures emerged from the darkness—humans, gaunt and ragged, their eyes sunken with hunger. They were armed with makeshift weapons, their postures predatory.

"Are they... Hel-Walkers?" one of the men asked, squinting at the group as though they were seeing mirages.

"No," another man muttered, stepping forward. "They're untouched... But look at those dragons!"

"What in Hel are those things?" another rasped, his eyes wide with fear and awe.

"Drekinians!" one of the men snarled, his voice trembling. "Infernal-wings!!"

"I thought they were just myths!" another whispered, his tone bordering on hysteria.

A sinister grin spread across the face of one of the men. "Oh, they're real all right. Let’s kill ‘em and feast on their flesh. We'll be rich with their skins."

Beta growled, her eyes blazing with protective fury. "Children... behind us. Now."

The men's faces contorted with greed and hunger. "So many days... without meat," one of them rasped, licking his lips.

Atreus's face paled. "M-meat? Wait... Us?!"

"What?! Look, you don’t want to eat us! We taste terrible!" Bendy stammered, his voice rising with panic. "I-I heard that dragon meat is awful! Horrible! Just—just trust me!"

Kratos remained silent, his expression grim as he readied his axe. The air between them crackled with tension.

One of the men lunged forward, and in that instant, Omega and Beta sprang into action. Their fists ignited with blazing flames born from the powders in their wings and scales. With a roar, they unleashed fiery attacks upon the would-be attackers, the heat forcing the men to stagger back.

Kratos stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos with deadly calm. "This fight is ours."

In the chaos of battle, Kratos’s reflexes were sharp as ever. His warrior instincts had been honed over a lifetime of brutal conflict, and in the blink of an eye, he sidestepped the first attack.

The assailant lunged wildly, his blade aimed for Kratos's chest, but the Spartan moved with the precision of a seasoned predator. In one fluid motion, his axe swung in a lethal arc, the blade cutting through the air with a whistling hum before meeting its target.

The man’s head was severed cleanly from his body, a geyser of blood spurting from the stump of his neck. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as the other attackers stared in shock, their resolve wavering at the sight of such cold, unflinching brutality.

“He has magic!” one of the men gasped, his voice trembling with disbelief and fear as he staggered back from Kratos.

Meanwhile, Omega and Beta had unleashed their own fiery brand of retribution. With their massive wings outstretched and their bodies crackling with the raw power of flames, they advanced upon the remaining attackers.

Omega’s fists, wreathed in white-hot fire, slammed into two of the assailants. Their screams filled the air as their bodies were engulfed by the inferno, the heat so intense that their flesh sizzled and peeled from their bones. Beta, swift and merciless, grabbed two more men by their throats and hurled them through the crumbling walls of the ancient ruins with devastating force.

With a deep exhale, Beta unleashed a searing column of flaming breath, her power reducing the remaining enemies to ash and leaving only a scorched path in their wake.

Kratos, focused on engaging the next wave of attackers, sensed danger closing in from all sides. Just as he was fending off three men with a series of brutal blows, a heavy net came flying through the air, entangling Omega and Beta. The powerful dragons thrashed against the bindings, but the enchanted ropes held firm, immobilizing them as the humans regrouped, emboldened by the temporary capture of the fearsome creatures.

Before Kratos could react, the attackers launched a surprise strike from behind. Three men rushed him with jagged swords, catching him off guard. Kratos grunted, his powerful body staggering under the sudden assault, but his focus was diverted by a more immediate threat—one of the men had broken from the group and made for Atreus and the cubs, his eyes gleaming with malice.

The man grabbed Bendy by the neck, lifting him off the ground with a cruel sneer. “I don’t know what you are… but you’ll make a nice pair of boots,” he growled, tightening his grip on the struggling cub’s throat.

“Hey! Let me go!” Bendy’s voice wavered with fear as he clawed at the man’s hand, his small body dangling helplessly.

Atreus’s eyes flared with sudden rage. He could no longer stand idle.

With a primal roar, he lunged at the man, his knife gripped tightly in his hand. In one swift, desperate motion, Atreus drove the blade deep into the man’s neck.

Blood spurted in thick arcs as the attacker gasped in shock, his hands loosening from Bendy’s throat before he crumpled to the ground. The weight of the lifeless body pinned Atreus beneath it, his small form trembling from the adrenaline and the horror of what he had just done.

"Atreus!" Kratos roared, his heart pounding as he finished off the last of his attackers and sprinted to his son’s side. Fear tightened in his chest as he saw the still form of Atreus pinned beneath the corpse, blood matting his young face.

With a fierce grunt, Kratos yanked the dead man off Atreus and knelt beside him. "Boy?!" His voice was thick with worry, his normally stoic expression crumbling for just a moment.

Atreus lay motionless, his eyes wide with shock, staring blankly ahead. His breath came in shallow, rapid gasps, and though he was alive, the weight of what had just transpired seemed to paralyze him. He had taken a life, and the gravity of that act now settled heavily on his young shoulders. Bendy stood a few paces away, his eyes wide with concern as he watched his friend in a state he had never seen before.

Kratos placed a firm but gentle hand on Atreus’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. "Atreus," he said, his voice softer now, tempered by the understanding of the burden his son now carried. Atreus turned his face away, unable to meet his father’s gaze, overwhelmed by the blood on his hands and the body at his feet.

Kratos could see the turmoil in Atreus’s eyes, the storm of emotions threatening to consume him. Gently, he grasped his son’s chin, turning Atreus’s face to meet his own. "Do not let this consume you," Kratos said firmly. "Close your heart to their suffering, to their deaths. This is the path you have chosen, and it will only become heavier."

For a moment, Atreus’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he nodded slowly. He knew his father was right, but the weight of it all was nearly unbearable. Kratos helped him to his feet, but just as they prepared to continue their journey, a sickening noise echoed through the ruins.

The man Atreus had killed began to stir, his body rising unnaturally. His skin had turned a ghostly blue, his eyes glowing with the unmistakable light of the undead. The flesh around the knife wound in his neck twisted grotesquely as he staggered to his feet, a low growl escaping his lips.

Without hesitation, Kratos moved swiftly, yanking the knife from the undead’s throat and driving it into the back of his skull, ending his cursed existence once and for all. But as he did, the other fallen men began to rise as well, their bodies reanimated by some foul magic, their icy blue eyes fixated on the living.

"Undead," Kratos growled. "Stay here."

He passed the knife to Atreus, who tightened his grip on the handle, his body tense with renewed determination.

Kratos, his jaw set and fists clenched, strode toward the horde of undead. Each step was deliberate, his towering form exuding an unshakable resolve as he met the onslaught head-on.

With a primal roar, Kratos’s fists struck with the force of a thunderstorm, each blow sending blue blood splattering in every direction. The undead were no match for his ferocity.

His fists and axe were a blur of motion, cutting through the reanimated corpses with unrelenting fury. One by one, the cursed men fell until none remained, their bodies broken and lifeless once again, littering the ground at Kratos’s feet.

In the aftermath, Kratos stood amidst the carnage, his broad chest heaving with the effort of battle. Blue blood dripped from his axe, pooling around the bodies strewn across the battlefield.

His eyes, still sharp despite the exhaustion gnawing at him, scanned their surroundings for any lingering threat. The flames from Omega and Beta's assault still crackled in the distance, sending shadows dancing across the crumbling ruins. Yet amid the destruction, Kratos's calm presence remained unshaken, as immovable as the mountains he once called home.

Atreus, still recovering from his ordeal, clutched his bow tightly. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he tried to make sense of the horror he had witnessed—the sudden resurrection of the dead, the relentless violence that followed.

"They… they came back," he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. His hands shook, his knuckles white as they gripped the bow.

Kratos, sensing the turmoil in his son, turned his gaze to him. Though his voice remained steady, there was a rare softness in his expression. "It's over," he said simply, though the tension in his posture belied the words. He knew all too well that the battle's end was only a temporary reprieve.

Atreus exhaled shakily, his eyes flickering from the corpses to his father's face. "I want to get out of here," he admitted, the weight of the violence hanging heavy in his tone.

Kratos's brow furrowed, his gaze hardening once more. "Then pull yourself together, boy," he ordered, though beneath the firmness was a deep well of empathy.

He understood Atreus's fear, but there was no time to dwell on it. Survival demanded resilience.

As the dust began to settle, Kratos's sharp eyes caught sight of a glimmer—a faint reflection from a chain, dangling from a stone ledge above. A possible escape route.

He called out to Atreus, his voice a low rumble that carried above the crackling fire and distant groans of the dead.

"Lower the chain," Kratos commanded, already moving toward the wall. His hands flexed, ready to lift Atreus to safety. 

Atreus, his movements jerky and uncertain, approached the chain with hesitance. As he wrapped his hands around it, the boy's tremors betrayed his shaken state. His eyes darted toward Kratos, searching for assurance, but all he found was his father's unyielding expression.

"Atreus..." Kratos began, concern creasing his brow.

"The chain… I know," Atreus interrupted, his voice thin and frayed. His heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of the battle still pulsing through his mind.

Kratos's expression softened. He could see the storm brewing within his son, the doubt threatening to overwhelm him. "You're shaken," he said quietly. "Forget it. He would have killed you."

"I know," Atreus whispered, though the weight of the truth seemed to press down on him. His shoulders sagged under the burden of guilt. "I had to… I know. But it’s just—"

Before Atreus could finish, Bendy, who had been silently watching the exchange, stepped forward with a sense of purpose. His empathetic nature shone through, and he whispered something to Kratos—a plan, a glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

Kratos hesitated for a moment, his mind weighing the merits of the suggestion. Then, with a faint nod, he turned back to Atreus, adopting a tone that was equal parts firm and cunning.

"Then let's go home, boy," Kratos declared abruptly, his voice carrying a false sense of resignation.

Atreus looked up, confusion flickering in his wide eyes. "What?" he asked, taken aback by his father's sudden shift in demeanor.

Kratos narrowed his eyes, the edge of his lips curling in a subtle, calculated smirk. "Giving up so easily, and right from the start?" he goaded, his words intended to ignite a fire in his son.

Atreus's confusion quickly gave way to determination. "Wait, no! I will not give up!" he retorted, his voice regaining strength. "I can do it." The boy’s hands tightened around the chain, his knuckles going white as he summoned all his resolve.

With renewed purpose, Atreus charged toward the wall, leaping for the chain with a fierce determination. The spark of challenge from his father had reignited the drive within him, and with each pull, he climbed higher. His steps were fueled by a sense of responsibility—not just for himself, but for those who relied on him.

Bendy watched with pride from below, his heart swelling as his best friend rose to the occasion. He exchanged a glance with Bucky and Lyris, both of whom were equally astonished by Atreus’s sudden burst of energy.

"How did you do that?" Lyris asked, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looked at Bendy.

Bendy smirked, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "I just told Uncle Kratos to say the opposite of what Atreus wanted," he explained with a chuckle. "I call it 'Mind Reverse.'"

"Wow," Bucky murmured, clearly impressed by Bendy’s quick thinking.

Lyris, however, remained skeptical. "That's a dumb name, dude," she remarked, her tone blunt as ever.

Bendy shrugged, unfazed by his sister’s criticism. "If you say so," he replied, grinning to himself.

Meanwhile, Atreus finally reached the top, pulling himself up with a grunt of effort and soon dropped the chain for the others to climb. As he caught his breath, Bendy approached, a warm smile on his face. 

"Hey, um, thanks for saving my life," Bendy said sincerely, his eyes reflecting genuine gratitude.

Atreus turned to him, still panting slightly from the climb, and gave him a reassuring nod. "Don't worry about it," he said softly. "You're my best friend. I couldn't just let that man hurt you. Besides, I know you would've done the same for me."

Bendy grinned, the warmth of Atreus’s words settling deep in his chest. "I would. And I’ll always be grateful for that." He extended his hand, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. "High five?"

Atreus, his own spirits lifted by the camaraderie, slapped his hand against Bendy's with a solid clap. "High five," he agreed, sealing their bond with the simple, meaningful gesture.

As they continued their conversation, the sounds of the forest whispered around them, broken only by the distant calls of unseen creatures. Omega and Beta approached Kratos, their footsteps crunching lightly on the forest floor. Their expressions were mixed—curiosity laced with concern, and a trace of fatigue from the day's relentless battles.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" Kratos asked, his voice carrying the gravelly weight of uncertainty. He gestured toward the scattered remnants of the blue, deathless beings they had just faced. It was rare for Kratos to admit uncertainty, but these creatures were something beyond even his vast experience.

Omega's gaze swept across the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as he pondered Kratos’s question. "No," he finally replied, his voice deep and resonant. "And we've seen everything," he added with gravity, his words reflecting the burden of millennia spent witnessing the strange and the terrifying.

Beta, her usually sharp gaze softened with lingering unease, folded her arms across her chest. "I didn’t even know those things existed," she murmured, her mind turning over the possibilities. "Maybe it’s magic—or something older." Her voice trailed off as her thoughts wandered into the realms of forgotten lore, the kinds of things they had heard whispered in ancient legends but had never thought to encounter firsthand.

Kratos grunted in acknowledgment, though his brow remained furrowed. He had seen many things—gods and monsters, magic and madness—but these blue creatures unsettled even him. He glanced back toward the twisted, lifeless forms they left behind, his senses still alert for any sign of movement, any hint that they might rise again.

Without another word, they turned toward the path leading out of the clearing. The air around them seemed heavy with tension, the forest eerily quiet as if holding its breath in the aftermath of their battle. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting long, twisted shadows across the trees.

The sky darkened, the world bathed in a deep blue twilight as the faintest stars blinked to life overhead.

Kratos led the group, his powerful form cutting through the undergrowth with ease, while Omega and Beta followed close behind, their eyes scanning the forest for threats. Atreus, trailing just behind his father, kept his bow close, still on edge from the earlier encounter. The weight of the day's events hung heavily on him, though he tried not to let it show.

"This is where we rest," Kratos finally said, breaking the silence as they came upon a small clearing surrounded by thick trees.

The ground here was soft with moss, the towering trees offering shelter from the wind. The smell of damp earth and pine filled the air, a welcome respite from the stench of battle.

Kratos unslung his pack with a practiced motion, setting it down and pulling out provisions. His movements were efficient and deliberate as he distributed dinner to the group—dried meats, bread, and water.

The food was simple but nourishing, exactly what they needed to regain their strength for whatever trials awaited them tomorrow.

"What now?" Atreus asked, his voice betraying his lingering uncertainty. The boy had grown, but moments like this reminded Kratos that he was still young—still wrestling with doubt and fear, though he tried to hide it.

Kratos met his son’s gaze, his eyes hard but not unkind. "Sleep," he commanded simply, the tone leaving no room for argument.

They had been through enough for one day, and rest was the only thing that would prepare them for what lay ahead.

Bendy, who had been quiet for most of the evening, stretched out on the ground with a groan. "You don’t need to tell me twice," he muttered, his voice heavy with fatigue as he settled into the mossy ground.

His eyelids were already drooping, and within moments, his breathing had evened out, sleep claiming him swiftly. Bucky and Lyris weren’t far behind, their exhaustion evident as they curled up beside their brother, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

As the dragons succumbed to slumber, Kratos turned to Atreus, sensing that his son was still restless. His instincts told him that this was a moment for a lesson—one of many he had imparted over the years, hard truths wrapped in harsh words.

"Boy, listen to me," Kratos began, his voice low but filled with the weight of experience. Atreus shifted his gaze from the fire to his father, his attention focused, though the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. "To be effective in combat, a warrior must not have feelings for his enemy. The road ahead is long and unforgiving; there is no place for a boy on this journey. You must be a warrior." Kratos’s words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. "Can you be that warrior?"

Atreus took a deep breath, his young face hardening with determination. "I will be that warrior," he declared, his eyes meeting Kratos’s with unwavering resolve.

Kratos studied his son for a long moment, pride swelling in his chest. Atreus had come so far from the boy he once was—timid, unsure of his place in the world.

Now, he stood on the cusp of becoming something more. 

"Good," Kratos grunted, giving a small nod. "Sleep, then. You should be well-rested for whatever crosses our path tomorrow." His voice softened slightly, a rare moment of paternal concern breaking through his stoic exterior.

With a final nod, Atreus lay down beside the fire, pulling his cloak around him for warmth. His eyes slowly drifted shut, and within moments, his breathing had deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Kratos, however, remained awake. He sat by the fire, his back straight, his eyes turned toward the sky. The moon hung high above them now, its pale light filtering through the trees, casting ethereal beams across the forest floor.

It was quiet here, the only sounds the occasional rustling of leaves and the crackling of the fire.

But Kratos’s mind was not at peace. His thoughts raced, filled with the weight of his responsibility. The road ahead was fraught with danger—both seen and unseen.

As a father, as a protector, he would do whatever it took to keep Atreus safe. No matter the cost, no matter the trials they would face.

With a heavy sigh, Kratos finally allowed himself to lie down, the weight of the day's battle pressing into his bones. His muscles ached, his body bruised from years of combat, but rest would not come easily.

The dense forest around him was alive with the hum of nocturnal creatures, the rustling of leaves, and the distant cries of predators. It was a constant reminder that danger never truly slept, and neither could he. His mind, ever vigilant, kept scanning the surroundings, anticipating threats before they could strike.

Kratos had learned long ago that safety was a fragile illusion. The forest, for all its quiet beauty, concealed countless perils. He closed his eyes and slept.

However, unbeknownst to Kratos, not all within their group sought refuge in slumber. 

Bendy, the dragon cub, lay still, his violet eyes wide open, gleaming in the dim moonlight filtering through the canopy. His small body was coiled in feigned sleep, but his mind raced with urgency. He had waited for this moment—when the others would finally give in to exhaustion. The faint sound of Kratos’s steady breathing reassured him.

The others, too, were lost in sleep. 

Slowly, Bendy rose, his movements careful, calculated. His wings tucked close to his back, he tiptoed with surprising grace for a creature his size. His heart raced, but his resolve was strong. He padded silently into the deeper part of the forest, casting furtive glances over his shoulder to ensure no one had stirred. 

Once he felt confident he was truly alone, he reached into the small satchel he always carried in his pocket.

His clawed fingers closed around the cold, smooth surface of the crystal diamond—a small, mysterious artifact he had obtained long ago, its origins known only to him.

The crystal pulsed with a soft blue light, as though it were alive, waiting for his command.

Without hesitation, Bendy squeezed the diamond in his palm, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins. A soft hum filled the air as the crystal glowed brighter, and with a flick of his wrist, he hurled it into the empty space before him.

The blue light exploded into a swirling vortex, a portal that shimmered like liquid glass. The colors danced and shifted, casting an ethereal glow across the darkened forest.

Bendy took one last glance at the camp behind him, his mind racing with thoughts of Atreus, Kratos, and the journey they were on.

But this—this was his mission.

His secret.

Without looking back again, he stepped through the portal, the cool energy washing over him as he crossed into another realm.

He emerged on the other side in the bustling underbelly of Undertown.

Undertown wasn’t like the human settlements Bendy had known or the mystical realms filled with gods and monsters.

It was a sprawling city hidden from the world above, a labyrinth of crooked alleys and towering structures that stretched into infinity.

The streets bustled with life, but not of the kind one might expect.

Here, the residents were all extraterrestrial, creatures from distant galaxies, exiled from their homeworlds or seeking refuge from cosmic conflicts. Some were small, insect-like beings with multiple limbs and glowing eyes. Others were hulking brutes with metallic skin, their voices rumbling like distant thunder. No two were alike, yet all found a home in this strange, shadowy sanctuary.

Neon signs flickered in alien languages, casting an eerie light over the streets, and the air buzzed with the hum of advanced technologies mixed with the chatter of countless dialects. Bendy moved through the crowd with purpose, his small stature making him almost invisible among the towering figures that walked the streets.

For he had come here with a goal.

Undertown wasn’t just a refuge for outcasts; it was also a hub for information. Anything and everything could be found here if one knew where to look. Bendy had heard whispers, rumors passed between traders and scavengers, about a place where secrets were stored—forgotten histories, forbidden knowledge, and answers to questions no one dared ask aloud.

That place was the Hall of Archives.

Towering above the rest of Undertown, the Hall of Archives loomed like a fortress. Its sleek, metallic structure gleamed under the artificial lights, a beacon of knowledge—and danger. The building was heavily guarded, accessible only to those who had earned permission from the mysterious Overseers who ruled this part of Undertown.

Bendy, of course, had no such permission.

As he stood at the base of the building, gazing up at the intimidating structure, he knew sneaking in would be no small feat. The Archives were protected by the most advanced security systems, both technological and mystical. He would have to rely on his agility, his wits, and perhaps a bit of luck.

Bendy took a deep breath, his determination solidifying. He didn’t come this far to turn back now. With careful precision, he began scaling the side of the building, using his claws to find purchase in the cracks and ledges. His body moved with fluid grace, a silent shadow against the cold metal walls.

He soon carefully ascended the narrow shaft, his small frame moving with practiced ease as he entered a ventilation duct.

He had memorized every twist and turn of the ducts thanks to a certain 'someone' who had provided him with a detailed map. The map showed exactly which paths he needed to take to reach his target undetected. As he crawled through the metal tunnel, the faint echoes of his movements were muffled by the distant hum of machinery below.

He muttered a quiet thanks to the gods when he finally found the correct vent leading to the archives about Earth and the Nine Realms.

Using his claws, he slowly unscrewed the vent cover, taking care not to make a sound. He peered down, scanning the room below with his heightened senses. Relief washed over him when he saw it was empty—no guards in sight.

However, his relief was short-lived as he noticed a network of red laser beams crisscrossing the room, ready to trigger an alarm if he so much as brushed against one.

Bendy narrowed his eyes, his breath steadying as he assessed the situation. With careful, precise movements, he lowered himself into the room, keeping his wings tucked tightly against his body.

He twisted and contorted himself, dodging the laser beams with agile grace, his small frame allowing him to navigate the narrow gaps. One wrong move and the whole operation would be blown. He knew he couldn’t afford a single mistake.

Once past the lasers, he made his way to the file section, his eyes scanning the shelves until he found the cartridges he needed—rectangular containers labeled with ancient runes and symbols.

He carefully pulled out one of the cartridges, examining it closely. All he needed now was an access panel.

Bendy's eyes darted around the room until he spotted a panel a few meters to his right. Keeping low to the ground, he moved swiftly, avoiding the last of the laser beams until he reached it. He activated the panel, its screen glowing with a soft, blue light as it powered up.

"Okay... Let's see, what we got here," he whispered to himself, holding the cartridge in his hand.

He slid it into the slot, watching as the device whirred to life. But as the file loaded, the screen flickered, and a harsh, high-pitched noise blared through the room.

Bendy's eyes widened in panic. "No, no, no!" he hissed, frantically pressing buttons on the panel in an attempt to silence the alarm. The screech echoed off the metallic walls, threatening to draw attention.

Unbeknownst to him, a surveillance drone patrolling the ceiling picked up the sound, its red eye flashing as it hovered closer. Silently, it scanned the room, picking up the unauthorized activity, and immediately sent a signal to the security system.

Alarms silently activated in the guard station, alerting the Overseers that an intruder had breached the archives.

Bendy finally managed to yank the cartridge out of the panel, and the noise stopped, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

He exhaled a sigh of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. "Phew... Okay, that's not what I wanted," he muttered under his breath, examining the cartridge's entrance. Gently, he cleaned off the dust and debris that might have caused the malfunction. 

"Alright, one more time," he said with determination, slotting the cartridge back into the access panel. "Finally! Now let's see it."

This time, the screen glowed steadily, and a holographic image flickered to life above the panel. A wise, deep voice filled the room, narrating the file’s contents.

"At the beginning of the Earth, the world we walked on had no life, but everything changed when the Primordials were born."

Bendy’s eyes watched with awe as the hologram depicted colossal beings, each one resembling a different form of animal—massive, majestic, and terrifying.

These were 'the Primordial Gods', the ancient beings who had shaped the very essence of the world.

"The original gods of our world, who, thanks to their powerful energy, brought life to the entire world. However, three of these gods were the most important."

The hologram shifted, displaying three massive creatures. The first was a towering, bipedal lizard with a long, crocodile-like tail and serrated dorsal plates running down its back.

The second was a colossal moth, its wings shimmering with iridescent colors, each movement sending a ripple of light through the air.

The third was a golden dragon with three heads, walking on thick legs and spreading its enormous bat-like wings. Its two tails ended in sharp spines, glinting menacingly.

"Gojira: God of the seas, order, and destruction. Mosura: Goddess of life, light, and reincarnation. And Ghidorah: God of the skies, lightning, and rain. Together, these three gods helped establish a powerful hierarchy among the other primordials, ensuring balance across the world. One of their first creations, chosen as their heralds, were the dragons."

Bendy watched as the hologram depicted thousands of dragons of various shapes and sizes, kneeling before the three gods, their wings folded in reverence. Their loyalty was clear, their bond with the Primordials unbreakable.

"However, the dragons would never be able to fulfill their mission without the most important artifact given to them by the gods: The Codex of Balance."

The hologram transformed again, this time showing the Codex—an intricate metallic core with an orb of energy pulsating at its center.

The energy swirled, shifting colors and shapes as if alive, holding a power beyond comprehension. Bendy’s heart leapt with excitement as he saw it. This was the information he had been hoping to find.

"That's it! Keep going," he urged, his eyes glued to the display.

"Thanks to the Codex and the wisdom it contained, the dragons were able to spread Mana, the great energy that ensured that each species could be unique. It was this same energy that gave rise to human intelligence and the wisdom of countless other species. For hundreds of years, there was peace and harmony... However, when the Primordials disappeared, the Codex also vanished, never to be seen again. And as a result, Mana stopped flowing, thus marking the end of 'The Age of the Primordials'."

The hologram faded, and the file ended abruptly. Bendy frowned, his expression one of frustration.

"What? That's it?" he muttered in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?! Ugh... Every time..." He clenched his fists, the irritation boiling inside him. Muttering under his breath, he reached for another cartridge. "Okay, one of these has to have the answer."

As he pulled out the next file, a voice rang out behind him.

"Freeze!!"

Bendy whipped around, eyes wide. A two Overseers stood at the entrance, weapons drawn, their faces shrouded in shadow.

“Crap.”

Seeing the guards block his path, Bendy's mind raced. He needed to think fast if he was going to make it out of here in one piece. He quickly scanned the room for an exit, but with the Piscciss Premann, Cephal, and the Sotoraggian, FiveFive, blocking the way, things were looking grim.

Cephal's mechanical limbs clicked as he moved, his massive pincer raised menacingly. The crab-like alien’s silvish grey armor gleamed under the dim lights, and the blaster integrated into his claw glowed a faint green, ready to fire. His sideways mouth twitched as he spotted Bendy.

FiveFive, meanwhile, stood with his weapons aimed at the ready. His violet armor and green detailing gave him a fearsome, imposing appearance.

He stared down Bendy with an almost predatory glare. "Don't move," he snarled, aiming his blaster at Bendy’s head while keeping his body angled, ready to pounce.

Bendy’s instincts kicked in, and he knew he needed to diffuse the tension. With a sly grin, he raised his hands in a mock surrender, tilting his head slightly as if trying to charm his way out.

"Heeey! Cephal, FiveFive, thank goodness you're here!" he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, playing the innocent card. "Which way is the exist? I somehow got lost and—"

Cephal's mechanical eye narrowed, and his robotic voice cut through the air. "It's that filthy Drekinian, Berry Morake."

Bendy’s smile twitched. "Bendy Morales," he corrected politely.

"Who cares!!" FiveFive shouted, his voice echoing through his helmet. "We told you not to come here again!"

"Why are we yelling?" Bendy asked, maintaining his friendly demeanor. "Look, how about we do this: I try to run away, you chase me, and then you can beat me up. How about it? I mean you two are faster, stronger... At least you’ll have fun."

The two guards exchanged a look. Cephal's sideways mouth twitched with curiosity, and FiveFive’s eyes, hidden behind his helmet, flicked to his partner as if considering the proposal.

"You know what?" Cephal said, his mechanical voice buzzing. "Let's give you a head start."

FiveFive smirked beneath his helmet, his posture relaxing just a bit. "Why not? It's not like he can run away anyway."

Bendy’s grin grew wider, his eyes flashing with mischief. "Oh yeah? Watch this."

In an instant, Bendy's wings unfurled, and he shot off like a bullet, weaving through the space at breakneck speed. His smaller size allowed him to slip past obstacles and dodge the guards' initial attempts to grab him. Cephal and FiveFive immediately took off after him, their heavy footfalls and mechanical movements echoing through the corridors.

The chase was on.

As the guards closed in, Bendy acted fast.

He jumped up, grabbed the edge of the ventilation hatch, and yanked it down, smashing it into the two guards. They stumbled back but quickly recovered, their eyes locked on him. Bendy slid to the right, his mind racing for an escape plan.

He darted down a narrow passageway to the left, his eyes scanning for any exit, and soon he spotted it—a window.

Cephal and FiveFive activated their jet engines, propelling themselves forward.

With no time to waste, Bendy sprinted towards the window and, without hesitation, leapt through.

The wind roared as he plummeted, his clothes whipping around him as he fell over twenty meters toward the ground. Gritting his teeth, he opened his wings, catching the air and gliding over Undertown’s vast, sprawling landscape. He dodged towering structures and navigated the twisting paths between buildings, his eyes darting to make sure he wasn’t crashing into anything.

But Cephal and FiveFive were relentless, their engines roaring as they kept pace. Bendy dipped into a steep dive, aiming for a nearby building. He landed hard on the terrace, skidding to a stop. Breathing heavily, he spotted an elevator at the terrace’s edge.

Grinning, he turned and waved mockingly at his pursuers.

"See you later, suck—" he taunted, only for the ground to give way beneath him. He tumbled down, crashing through the roof and landing in the middle of an alien banquet hall. Plates of food went flying as he slammed into a table, pieces scattering everywhere. Aliens looked up from their meals in shock.

Bendy groaned as he pushed himself up, grabbing a piece of food. "Oh, delicious," he muttered, taking a bite.

Surprisingly, it tasted great, like a spicy alien delicacy. Exiting the place, he glanced around the huge plaza, trying to spot an exit.

But before he could move, he heard the familiar hum of jet engines.

Cephal and FiveFive burst through the sky, their eyes blazing with fury as they zeroed in on Bendy.

"Hey, fellas!" Bendy called out, putting on a cheeky grin. "Thanks for the head start. Want to give me another one?"

Cephal’s eyes narrowed. "You’re dead, Morales!"

Bendy’s grin faltered. "That's a no…" He glanced toward the entrance, praying for his backup.

Before the guards could reach him, a massive cargo cart barreled into them, knocking them off their feet. Bendy seized the opportunity, ducking behind the cart as it crashed to the floor.

"Hey! Watch where you're—Oh..." The stranger pulling the cart started shouting, but his tone quickly shifted when he saw the guards.

Cephal’s eyes flashed with anger. "What did you say?!"

The stranger swallowed nervously. "Uh, sorry, sir, I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the Drekinian behind you."

FiveFive’s head whipped around. "What? Where did he go!?"

"The gray-black Drekinian with purple eyes and white face? Big mouth, sneaky... smells like a Vulpimancer? He went left."

The guards growled in frustration and took off down the wrong path. Bendy stifled a laugh from his hiding spot, feeling relief wash over him.

As the cart moved, Bendy stayed hidden until he felt it slow to a stop. He heard a tapping sound from outside.

"Okay, all clear," said the familiar voice.

Bendy pushed the lid off the cart, climbing out, and found himself staring at his best friend (Besides Atreus) who had just saved his life—Cletus Kasady.

Cletus was a fourteen year-old drekinian, who wore a ragged, loose-fitting orange  button-up shirt, grey-green shorts, and dirty bandages around his wrists and heels.

But what set him apart was his skin—a deep crimson hue—and his blood-red eyes with completely black sclera.

Despite their differences, Cletus looked almost identical to Bendy, with the same horns, wings, and tail.

Bendy grinned, relieved, but still showed a slight scowl, wiping dust off his shirt as he tumbled out of the mining cart.

"Okay, Kassy, I may not take a lot of baths, but Vulpimancer stench? That is too far," he quipped, brushing himself off.

Cletus crossed his arms, giving Bendy a knowing look. "Let me guess. You and 'V' were chased out of the archives again," he said, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance.

Bendy laughed, leaning against the cart. "Yeah, we had to jump out of a window this time. Almost died. Pretty  wild."

"And digging through ancient data is worth dying for?" Cletus scolded, his tone a mix of incredulous reproach and concern. It was the fifth time Bendy had risked his life this way, and Cletus was reaching the end of his patience.

"Yes, it is," Bendy replied brightly, his eyes gleaming with excitement as if the risk meant nothing compared to the thrill of discovery.

Groaning, Cletus laid back on the seat of the alien-train, arms crossed tightly. "I need a new best friend," he muttered.

"If there are clues in Undertown's recorded history that can help locate the Codex of Balance, they’re in the archives. Trust me," Bendy insisted, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"I don't understand why you're so focused on finding it," Cletus said firmly, his brows furrowing. "We don’t even know where it is. And we don’t even know if it even exists."

"It does," Bendy insisted, his tone resolute. "I know it, and I’m going to find it."

Cletus let out a guffaw, shaking his head. "Yeah, okay," he said, knowing that arguing with Bendy would be useless. "But the last thing I need is you causing more shenanigans."

Bendy’s expression shifted, his tone becoming serious. "The sooner it's found, the sooner Mana flows again, and the sooner it flows, the Primordials will come back. And the world won’t need the gods anymore." He paused, frustration creeping into his voice. "Besides, the Codex contains the wisdom of all dragons. With that, we can know exactly what we are. Don’t you wanna know that? To understand why we’re like this?"

Cletus sighed, looking resigned. "We’re just two weird Drekinians. That’s all," he said, as if trying to convince himself as much as Bendy.

"Oh, there’s got to be something more than that," Bendy countered, a spark of determination in his eyes. "I can feel it."

Cletus smirked, his tone turning sarcastic. "Oh yeah? Like the time you said you and 'V' had a feeling you could beat that Tetramand in a arm wrestling?"

Bendy’s face flushed with embarrassment as he lowered his voice, trying not to draw attention to the memory. "You said you were never going to mention that again."

"Took you three hours to fix most of your arm's bones," Cletus reminded him, his tone warning but also slightly amused. "Your feelings get you two in trouble."

"Yeah, yeah," Bendy replied, waving it off nonchalantly as if it didn’t matter.

"Just trust me," Cletus said, his tone softening.

"We do trust you," Bendy replied, leaning back against the seat. "Hey, if you had one cool power—"

"I would use electricity and beat you," Cletus cut in quickly.

Bendy blinked, deadpanning. "...I don't like how fast you answered that." He paused, his tone turning playful. "But listen, if you did beat me, I couldn't give you this awesome Ghidorah thing I have here. It's cool. I’ll just give it to someone else. Maybe Atreus would like it."

Cletus's eyes narrowed with suspicion, one eyebrow raised. "What Ghidorah thing?" he asked, barely concealing his eagerness.

Bendy shrugged casually, pulling out a golden pendant shaped like a three-headed winged dragon. "Oh, it’s just a mint condition Ghidorah Pendant, first edition."

Cletus's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping. "What?" he gasped, his voice filled with awe.

"I mean, if you don’t want it, I can just throw it away," Bendy said, pretending to be offhanded.

"‘Throw it away!’ T-that’s not funny. Let me see," Cletus demanded, indignantly reaching for it.

Bendy held it just out of reach, a grin spreading across his face. "I’ll give it to you if you promise that you’ll tell Shriek how you feel about her."

Cletus froze, glaring at Bendy. Frances Barrison, or Shriek, was a human girl they had met on the same day they saved an entire village from a Screaming Death. Ever since, it had been clear to Bendy that Cletus had developed strong feelings for her.

It wasn’t hard to see why. Shriek’s sweetness and innocence shone in her face and eyes, and her voice was music, even when she wasn’t singing.

From the first moment, Cletus felt something powerful for her, and Bendy took every opportunity to push him into admitting his feelings. But no matter how much Bendy tried, Cletus kept hesitating, torn between his feelings and his fear.

Seeing his friend’s inner battle, Bendy had had enough of Cletus’s reluctance. He wasn’t trying to tease him—he genuinely wanted to see his friend happy with someone who made him smile.

Exhaling heavily, Cletus finally reached for the pendant. "Fine! I’ll tell her soon. Now, will you please give it to me already?"

Bendy’s grin widened as he held up the pendant. "Wait. Don’t grab with those dirty hands. You’re going to make a mess."

He carefully placed the pendant on Cletus’s shirt, smoothing it down so it stayed perfectly centered. The delight and jubilation on Cletus's face were beyond words; he admired Ghidorah so much, and the gift clearly meant the world to him.

Ecstatically, Cletus said, "You know, the archives say Ghidorah was so powerful, he—"

"He could create storms and hurricanes with only the flap of his wings," Bendy finished, smirking good-naturedly. "I know, buddy." He’d heard it plenty of times from Cletus before. "Looks good on you."

Cletus beamed, looking down at the pendant with gratitude. "Ah, it’s really cool," he said, before glancing back up at Bendy. "Thanks, Ben."

"Always got your back," Bendy replied, extending his fist.

Cletus smiled, bumping his fist against Bendy’s. "No matter what."

It was a gesture that had been a testament to their friendship since the day they met—an unspoken promise that they’d always stand by each other, no matter the challenges they faced.

Together as one.

As the train rumbled along the tracks, Bendy and Cletus settled into their seats. The dim, alien glow from the train's interior lights flickered as they passed through tunnels. The air was filled with the metallic hum of machinery and the occasional hiss of steam.

Cletus leaned back, glancing over at Bendy. "So... how are things going with your family? I mean, it must be hard now that your aunt died," he said softly, his voice filled with concern.

He remembered vividly the day Bendy had come to him, tears streaming down his face as he broke the news about Aunt Faye. Her loss still hung heavily in the air, a sorrow neither of them could ignore.

Bendy's eyes dimmed, his expression somber as he stared at the floor. He took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly before speaking. "...We burned her body," he said quietly, his voice heavy with sadness. "Now we're going to the highest peak of the Nine Realms to spread her ashes."

Cletus’s expression softened, his brow furrowing. "That must be rough," he said, though he sensed there was more to the story. His instincts were never wrong when it came to his best friend. "But I feel like there's more to it than that."

Bendy hesitated, his gaze shifting as if debating whether to say more. But he knew he could never hide anything from Cletus.

Trusting him completely, he finally spoke up, his voice low. "It's Uncle Kratos," he admitted, and Cletus's face immediately darkened.

"What did he do now?" Cletus asked, knowing how much of a thorn Kratos could be in Bendy's life.

Bendy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not something he did exactly. It’s just... I think he’s being too hard on Atreus. He expects him to act like a man, to suppress his emotions, to be something he’s not ready for. The worst part is, he still seems hesitant to truly be a father to him. It was bad enough when he’d leave Atreus alone with Aunt Faye while he went off 'hunting', but even now, it feels like he’s distancing himself. Like he’s afraid to get close."

Cletus frowned, shaking his head. "I never understood that guy. How does someone become a father and act like that?" he asked, frustration evident in his voice.

"I don’t know," Bendy muttered, his eyes clouded with worry. "But if he keeps this up, something bad might happen to Atreus."

Cletus shrugged. "I don’t even know why you worry so much about him. Every time you talk about him, this Atreus kid just seems to whine about everything."

Bendy smirked, though his expression was still tinged with concern. "It’s complicated," he said simply.

Cletus raised an eyebrow. "It always is. But that doesn’t mean he should be crying and complaining all the time. 'Oh, my dad doesn’t love me! Oh, I’m not good enough for him, the world hates me, wah-wah!' " Cletus mocked, putting on a high-pitched voice, his hands gesturing dramatically.

Bendy couldn’t help but snicker, the laugh escaping despite himself.

"Okay, take it easy there," Bendy said, trying to regain some seriousness. "He’s my friend too, you know."

Cletus rolled his eyes but relented. "Yeah, but he doesn’t value you like I do." He paused, noticing the train slowing down as it approached their stop. "You should talk to him about how you feel."

Bendy sighed, his eyes flicking to the passing landscape outside. "He’s already going through a lot; I don’t want to be an burden," he said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Cletus folded his arms. "And that’s exactly why you should talk to him. You can’t keep supporting him if he doesn’t give it back. It’s not fair to you."

Bendy turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Why don’t you do it, then?" he challenged.

Cletus smirked. "Because someone made me promise not to go to Midgard and meet his family, unless it an emergency." As the train screeched to a halt, Cletus stood up, offering Bendy a knowing look. "And besides, i know you’re the only one who can get through to him."

The train doors slid open with a sharp hiss, releasing a gust of cool air as Bendy and Cletus stepped onto the platform.

The lights above cast long shadows, the rhythmic clanking of the train fading into the distance as it pulled away. The night was quiet except for the hum of machinery in the background and the faint echoes of distant voices.

Cletus shrugged as they walked side by side. "Look, if you want to tell him, tell him. If you don’t, don’t. It’s your choice," he said, his tone casual, though his eyes betrayed a hint of seriousness. "But at some point, you’ll have to talk to him, especially when you have to reveal your powers."

Bendy glanced down, his footsteps slowing as he considered Cletus’s words. Maybe he was right. He couldn’t hide the truth forever.

His family had to know eventually.

"...You’re right," Bendy admitted, his voice soft but resolute. "I have to talk to him eventually."

"So, what are you going to do?" Cletus asked, stopping to face him.

Bendy took a deep breath, feeling a wave of determination wash over him. "After we spread the ashes, i’m going to tell them about ‘V’ and what I’ve been doing," he said with newfound conviction.

Cletus raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Aren’t you forgetting anything?" he asked, gesturing dramatically with his hands.

Bendy rolled his eyes but smiled. "Relax, I promise I’ll introduce you to them."

"That’s the spirit!" Cletus grinned widely, clapping Bendy on the shoulder. "Well, I have to go. See you in the village?"

"You bet!" Bendy nodded, waving as Cletus turned to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, Cletus called out.

"Hey!" he shouted, causing Bendy to turn back around. "Seriously, talk to him, or I’ll do it myself."

"I’m going, I’m going!" Bendy laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender before making his way to a nearby alley. 

He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching before pulling out a crystal from his pocket. The crystal glowed a deep, vibrant blue as he activated it, opening a swirling portal that shimmered with energy.

With one last look over his shoulder, he stepped through, feeling the familiar sensation of the portal’s pull as it transported him back to Midgard.

On the other side, the cold night air greeted him, and he exhaled, watching his breath fog in front of him. The moon hung high, casting an eerie glow over the forested landscape. It was still night, and everything was quiet. He moved quickly, heading back to where the others were camped, careful to tread lightly among the trees and shadows.

Just as he neared the camp, he suddenly collided with something solid. He stumbled back, heart racing, only to look up and see the towering, imposing figure of his uncle, Kratos. The Spartan’s eyes were hard, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Bendy.

"Where have you been?" Kratos demanded, his voice a low, stern growl.

Bendy’s heart pounded in his chest, and he scrambled for an answer. "I-I went to take a piss," he lied, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kratos’s eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest. "You should have warned me."

"I didn’t want to wake anyone up," Bendy replied, his words partially true.

Kratos’s gaze was unyielding, his voice harsh. "You may not understand, but danger is everywhere. If you’re careless, you—"

"You could die, I know!" Bendy interrupted, his voice rising in frustration. "It’s not me you need to worry about; you need to worry about Atreus."

Kratos’s eyes flashed, his jaw tightening. "Watch your tone with me," he growled, the warning clear in his voice.

Bendy held his ground, meeting his uncle’s gaze with a defiant look. "Look, you and my parents might be friends, but that doesn’t mean I agree with your methods," he said firmly, his voice steady. "So let’s make one thing clear—I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Aunt Faye, because I’m the only friend Atreus has ever had in his life. And honestly, I understand him more than you do. So don’t come to me with a lecture, because you’re not my father. You’re Atreus’s father—or at least you should be."

Kratos’s expression darkened, but he remained silent as Bendy brushed past him, heading toward the camp. The flames of their fire flickered in the distance, casting shadows on the trees. Bendy’s heart was still pounding, but he didn’t look back.

Kratos stood alone, watching Bendy disappear into the camp.

The Spartan’s face softened slightly as he replayed the cub’s words in his mind. Despite the sting of Bendy’s rebuke, he knew deep down that the boy was right. He had to be a father to Atreus—no more hesitations, no more distance. It was the only way to honor Faye’s memory and protect the son they both cherished.

As the wind whispered through the trees, Kratos took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead. 

To be continued...

Voice actors for this chapter.

-

Cletus Kasady- Charlie Bushnell ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hv5qUUaI_88 )

Chapter Text

The journey Atreus embarked upon, envisioning it as a simple trek to the mountain, quickly revealed its true nature—a perilous odyssey fraught with unforeseen challenges. From the outset, hazards emerged that even Atreus, with his youthful optimism, had not anticipated.

Each step along the path to the mountain seemed to unveil new dangers, testing the resolve of the group. Despite the daunting obstacles, they pressed on, driven by the unyielding determination to fulfill their mother's final wish.

The day dawned quietly, the early morning mist clinging to the trees as the sun's first light broke over the horizon, casting long, golden rays across the path ahead.

Kratos, Omega, and Beta moved with determination, their heavy footsteps in sync with the rhythm of the forest.

Behind them, Atreus and the cubs followed closely, the younger ones slightly wary as they gazed around at the towering trees and shadows still lingering from the night before.

The ruins behind them gradually disappeared from view, fading like a distant memory as they pushed forward.

As the group pressed on, they approached a narrow ravine. The path they followed snaked through the dense foliage, leading them toward a weathered bridge spanning the deep chasm. The air around them was still, save for the rustling of leaves, but it was broken suddenly by a sharp, raspy voice echoing across the ravine.

"Move your ass, or i swear I'll put a boot in it!"

Kratos instinctively slowed his pace, raising a hand to signal a halt. His companions stopped in their tracks, tension creeping into the group as they listened intently to the voice growing nearer. Atreus, ever observant, furrowed his brow and leaned forward slightly.

"There's someone up ahead," Atreus whispered, his voice barely audible.

Kratos motioned for them to advance cautiously, and they began moving forward in silence, their senses heightened. As they rounded a bend, the sight that greeted them was strange.

A long, rickety rope bridge stretched across the deep ravine, its wooden planks creaking under the weight of a sturdy gray pack animal laden with heavy supplies.

In the center of the bridge, a small, stocky figure with blue skin and a shaved head was yelling at the beast.

"I'm serious, you stupid beast! If you don't move, i'm gonna kick you right in the balls!!"

The man’s voice, high-pitched and full of frustration, echoed through the air as he pounded his fists against the animal’s side. Despite his threats, the creature refused to move, standing stubbornly in the middle of the bridge, its eyes wide with fear. The group paused, watching the strange spectacle unfold.

Kratos observed the scene carefully, concluding that this man posed no threat. He carried no weapons, only a belt hung with metalworking tools. The man’s blue skin glistened in the sun, and his small, muscular frame contrasted with his gruff demeanor.

"What is he?" Lyris whispered to her brother, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"I think he's a dwarf," Bendy replied, tilting his head as he examined the strange figure.

The dwarf, noticing the newcomers, cast them a quick glance before returning his focus to the stubborn animal. With a resigned grunt, he muttered to himself, clearly exasperated by the beast’s refusal to budge.

"Come on! Move!" he shouted again, pounding on the creature's flanks. But the animal remained firmly rooted in place, its hooves planted on the wooden planks as if glued there.

Atreus, ever the keen observer, took a step forward, carefully considering the situation. "Maybe you overloaded her?" he suggested, trying to be helpful.

The dwarf growled, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Overloaded? What are you, some kind of expert on pack animals?" he barked, though his frustration was directed more at the beast than at Atreus.

"She's scared," Atreus continued, ignoring the dwarf's irritation. He had noticed the fear in the creature’s eyes, the way its muscles were tense, its gaze fixed on something far beyond the bridge.

The dwarf blinked, confused by Atreus' calm observation. "What now? How ya so sure?" he asked, still struggling to make sense of the situation.

Kratos, watching from the sidelines, remained silent but his eyes flicked toward his son, sensing that Atreus had a plan.

"Father," Atreus said, his voice quiet but firm. "Throw your axe at those white trees on the other side of the bridge."

Kratos while not quite trusting the idea, but also wanting to get this over it, gripped the handle of his axe, weighing it in his hand as he aimed carefully.

With a powerful swing, he hurled the axe across the ravine. The sharp blade sliced through the air, whistling as it flew, before embedding itself into the pale bark of the distant trees with a resounding thud.

Suddenly, a haunting cry echoed through the forest as a pair of black ravens erupted from the branches, their eerie calls filling the sky as they flew off in a frenzied flurry. The beast on the bridge flinched, its eyes wide with panic as it finally began to move, its fear of the birds far greater than its earlier stubbornness.

The dwarf stared in shock, watching as his pack animal finally shuffled forward, inching its way across the bridge. He turned back to Kratos, his amber eyes wide with disbelief.

"You were right," Kratos said to Atreus, his voice tinged with quiet pride. He extended his hand, and with a mighty thud, the axe returned to him, the weight of it familiar and comforting in his grip.

The dwarf let out a relieved sigh, shaking his head as he glanced at Kratos and Atreus. "Well, wasn't that something," he muttered, still in awe of what had just happened. With a grunt, he tugged at the reins, urging the now-cooperative beast forward.

As they prepared to continue on their journey, Kratos couldn't shake the strange feeling stirred by the ravens' sudden appearance. It was a reminder of the old days, the gods, and the omens that once guided his fate. But those days were long behind him—or so he hoped.

The dwarf, still wrestling with his stubborn pack animal, cast a glance at Atreus, surprise flickering in his eyes beneath his gruff demeanor. “You must be smart or something, boy. You are a boy, right?” he asked, his voice gravelly but tinged with an odd curiosity.

Atreus stepped closer to the creature, his gentle hand tracing the contours of its rough, weathered hide. “Does she have a name?” he inquired softly, his voice calm and filled with empathy, trying to soothe the beast’s obvious distress.

The dwarf shrugged dismissively, still tugging at the creature’s reins with little success. “Dunno. The rude bastard never asked mine, so I didn’t bother asking hers,” he grumbled, frustration evident in his every word.

Unperturbed, Atreus pressed on. “What’s yours?”

The dwarf paused, clearly unused to anyone showing interest in him. After a beat, he muttered, “Brok.”

At that moment, Bendy took it upon himself to introduce the rest of their group.

With a smile on his face, he stepped forward confidently. “Mine’s Bendy. This is Atreus. And these are my brother and sister, Bucky and Lyris. My parents—Beta and Omega,” he said, gesturing proudly to his family. He pointed at the towering figure standing beside Atreus. “And that’s Atreus' father, Kratos.”

Brok eyed Bendy with skepticism, his brows knitting together as if Bendy’s introduction was some kind of joke. “Oh, and you think I care? And what kind of names are Atreus and Bendy anyway? Sounds like girls' names. You two girls in disguise?” he mocked, a smirk playing on his lips.

Bendy let out a small chuckle, his easygoing nature unfazed by Brok’s taunt.

Atreus, too, remained focused, ignoring the dwarf’s grating attitude. Instead, Atreus leaned in closer to the beast, whispering something almost inaudible, but filled with a soothing tone. “Vera logn…” he murmured, the words soft as a breeze.

To everyone’s surprise, the creature responded immediately. It relaxed under Atreus’ touch and began to obediently walk forward, crossing the bridge without further resistance. Brok stared, dumbfounded, at the boy and his newfound connection to the stubborn beast. His gruff exterior softened, if only for a fleeting moment.

Kratos, watching the dwarf, still held his reservations, his brows furrowed with suspicion.

But before he could speak, Brok broke the silence, his tone laced with a hint of pride. “Hmm. You won’t believe it, but… You know that axe of yours? I made it. Yeah, me and my brother. One of the finest pieces of work we ever did,” he declared, puffing his chest out. “And that Drekinian over there? That metallic arm and leg? Me again,” Brok added, gesturing towards Omega with a smug grin.

Omega blinked, surprised, his gaze shifting to his prosthetics with renewed interest. Beta, standing beside him, exchanged a glance of amazement with her husband.

The idea that this coarse, irritable dwarf had crafted Omega’s arm and leg filled them both with intrigue.

Brok continued, oblivious to their surprise. “So don’t let anyone else touch it, you hear me? The axe or those prosthetics. Only me and my brother are worthy. You gotta treat ’em right, or they’ll break,” he said sternly, his tone brash but sincere. “I’ll even make improvements for you lot. You sons of bitches could use it.”

Kratos narrowed his eyes, considering Brok’s words. His natural skepticism warred with the undeniable practicality of what the dwarf was offering. If Brok was telling the truth, having him upgrade their gear could prove invaluable. But how could he trust him?

They crossed the bridge cautiously, leaving the ravine behind them as the forest stretched out before them once more. It wasn’t long before they reached Brok’s makeshift camp, a rugged lean-to serving as the dwarf’s base of operations.

He gestured proudly toward the crude shelter as though it were a grand workshop. “So what do you say?” he asked, his voice filled with anticipation, as though expecting immediate gratitude.

Kratos remained unyielding, his eyes locked on Brok. “You’re right, I don’t believe you,” he stated bluntly, his tone hard as iron.

Brok smirked, clearly prepared for the doubt. “How about this, then? There’s a rune, shaped like a fork, on the handle of your axe—and on the Drekinian’s prosthetics shoulder pad,” he said, his voice low and confident. “Go on, check.”

Kratos hesitated for a moment, but the curiosity was too much to ignore. He hefted his axe, his fingers running over the worn leather grip until, just beneath it, he found the rune Brok had described—faint but unmistakable.

A fork-shaped symbol etched into the metal. His eyes widened slightly in realization. Omega, too, inspected the shoulder pad of his arm, and sure enough, the same rune was branded there.

“He’s right,” Beta whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Brok crossed his arms, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. “That was our brand before me and my brother split up,” he said, the faintest flicker of emotion passing across his face, before his usual gruffness returned.

Without hesitation, Brok retrieved a branding iron from one of the beast’s packs and swinging it up into place beside the rune on the grip. They matched perfectly, but only one side. After a moment, Brok set the iron aside with an aggravated huff.

"Look, you want to improve it or not?!" Brok interjected, his tone brusque yet resolute, as if daring Kratos to deny him.

Kratos met Brok's gaze with an unwavering determination, his icy stare unyielding.

He weighed the risks and benefits of entrusting the dwarf with their weaponry, calculating the potential for both enhancement and betrayal.

Ultimately, with no other viable options in sight, he chose to place his trust in Brok's expertise. "Fine, but we expect to see results," Kratos conceded, his voice firm, yet cautious, like a general leading his troops into battle.

Brok wasted no time, swiftly unfolding a rickety bench from a wooden box strapped to his animal's side, the wood creaking under the strain. He donned a full-length leather apron, the material worn and stained from years of use, and retrieved a blacksmith's hammer, which was nearly twice the size of his hand. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed through the forest as he struck the axe blade, each blow resonating with purpose and authority.

Meanwhile, Bendy seized the opportunity to engage Brok in conversation, his youthful curiosity shining through. "So, Brok, what happened to the other part of the mark?" Bendy inquired, tilting his head slightly, his eyes wide with interest.

With a gruff sigh, Brok leaned against the makeshift workbench, crossing his arms over his chest as he shared the history behind the divided mark. "Oh, my idiot of a brother took the other part. But I have all the talent," he declared, pride swelling in his voice despite the bitterness underneath.

"But why?" Atreus asked curious.

"Because I'm not in a working relationship with that foot licker anymore, that's why! I wasn’t going to let him use it without me, and neither was he—only thing to do was split the mark fifty-fifty down the middle. I think it was the last thing we saw face-to-face…” His expression clouded with reminiscence, memories of better times washing over him like a fleeting shadow.

Sensing Atreus' sympathetic gaze upon him, Brok quipped defensively, "What, you want a hug?" Atreus, taken aback by the sudden shift, quickly apologized, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he turned his focus back to the task at hand.

After a series of meticulously executed strikes, Brok finally deemed his work complete. With a satisfied nod, he presented the axe back to Kratos, as if bestowing upon him the most formidable weapon in all the realms. The pride in Brok’s chest puffed out like a proud father marveling at his newborn child.

"That'll do it. Enjoy my handiwork!" he proclaimed, his voice ringing with satisfaction as he stepped back to admire his creation.

Kratos accepted the axe graciously, his expression stoic as he tested its weight with a few practice swings, the blade glimmering with a newfound sharpness that caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. He inspected the blade meticulously, his hands running over the finely crafted edges and the intricate runes etched into the metal, each symbol telling a story of its own.

"Acceptable," Kratos concluded, his tone measured and reserved, the word barely escaping his lips.

However, Brok's expression quickly soured at Kratos' response. "Oh, acceptable?!" he exclaimed, his irritation palpable, as if Kratos had just insulted his craftsmanship.

Just then, Omega stepped forward, his metallic arm and leg gleaming in the sunlight, each piece a testament to Brok's skill. "So... Were you really the one who made my arm and my leg?" Omega inquired, his voice low but filled with a genuine curiosity that captured Brok's attention.

"You bet, gecko! I did it myself, as a favor for a friend," Brok replied proudly, puffing out his chest as he basked in the glory of his past work.

Beta’s eyes widened in realization, her heart quickening. "Faye?" she questioned softly, her voice tinged with emotion, the name holding weight that resonated deeply within the group.

Brok looked at Beta with surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion. "How do you know her name?" he asked, taken aback, his mind racing to connect the dots.

At that moment, Atreus entered the conversation, his voice calm yet firm. "She was my mother," he revealed, his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud, an echo of loss that reverberated among them.

Brok's eyes widened in realization, shock replacing his previous bravado. His expression shifted to one of sorrow as he processed the implication. "What do you mean was?" he inquired, his voice tinged with concern, the gravity of the revelation weighing heavily upon him.

Kratos intervened before Atreus could elaborate further, his tone stern and commanding. "Boy, enough," he cautioned, sensing the emotional burden that threatened to spill over, an unspoken warning that hung in the air.

Brok looked at the group, his gaze filled with understanding as the pieces fell into place. "Oh, Faye... I'm sorry. She was... A fine woman… And really fucking great person," he offered, his voice tinged with regret, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through his usual brash demeanor.

Atreus nodded solemnly, accepting Brok's condolences with quiet gratitude. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of sorrow and appreciation swelling within him.

"Alright, enough of that," Brok interrupted, his voice gruff yet oddly hospitable, as if shifting gears. "Storage room’s on the right, bunks are in the middle, crapper’s on the left.” He gestured towards various doors leading to different rooms within the rugged structure, his expression shifting back to that of a practical dwarf more concerned with the day-to-day.

“Bunks?” Atreus queried, his curiosity piqued, the mention of beds in such an unusual place surprising him.

“What, you never ‘eard of a roadhouse before?" Brok chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping him, the sound rough yet warm. "Ya find 'em occasionally, 'ere an' there. They’re more common back home, but Midgard has a few. Make sure not to take too much from the storage, that’s bad manners, an’ don’t touch the runes in the storage room—they keep everythin’ fresh. Now git! I got work to do!” 

With that, Brok turned back to his forge, the familiar clang of metal echoing once more as he resumed his labor, leaving the group to process the blend of camaraderie and tension that hung in the air.

With a vigorous wave of his hammer, Brok shooed them away, muttering a string of dwarven curses in an ancient tongue, his voice gravelly and rich with the weight of his heritage.

The forge crackled with the heat of the roaring fire, illuminating his sweat-slicked brow and the myriad tools hanging from the walls. Kratos noted this wasn’t the first dwarven roadhouse he had encountered in his travels through Midgard, but it was certainly the most well-maintained he had seen so far. The meticulous organization of the workspace, the smell of freshly worked metal, and the gleam of polished weapons spoke volumes about Brok's pride in his craft.

The unexpected discovery of such a well-equipped establishment so close to their current location was a welcome surprise, particularly given the harshness of their journey.

While the children eagerly explored the new space, examining the trinkets and oddities scattered throughout the roadhouse, Kratos, Omega, and Beta made their way to the storage room to inspect its contents. 

The room was a veritable treasure trove, well stocked with supplies that any traveler would envy. The preservation runes etched into the walls gleamed with a vibrant, pulsating energy, their light steady and bright, lacking the flickering, decaying quality often associated with lesser magic. 

Kratos observed the scene with a discerning eye, taking in the neatly arranged assortment of preserved meats, breads, and vibrant plants. The scent of spices and cured meats filled the air, a stark contrast to the damp, musty smell of the forest outside. However, what truly caught his attention were the relatively fresh offerings—a generous pile of bear meat glistening with juices, ripe fruits spilling out from baskets, and a cask of mead marked with a curious symbol: a squirrel riding a stag, entwined in a playful embrace. 

Deciding on breakfast, Kratos reached for the bear meat, envisioning a hearty stew to start the day—a fitting meal for a family of warriors.

A Few Hours Later

Bendy observed with fascination as the water in the pot began to bubble and boil, its steam swirling upward, mingling with the fragrant scents of the cooking stew.

Kratos expertly piled the fire pit high with wood and charcoal, creating a roaring blaze in the center of the room, the flames casting flickering shadows on the walls. Behind the roadhouse, a spring gurgled softly, its crystal-clear water feeding a barrel within the storage room through a series of cleverly arranged pipes, ensuring their food remained fresh.

Meanwhile, Bendy's father, Omega, displayed his skill with knives, deftly peeling and chopping a vibrant assortment of vegetables that would accompany their meal. Each slice was precise, the blade glinting as it danced through the air—a testament to years spent honing his culinary prowess.

Bendy marveled at the compact kitchen his family had managed to pull out of their hip pouches, complete with a sizable jar of coarse salt for seasoning, its texture promising to elevate their dish.

As his stomach rumbled in anticipation, Bendy watched eagerly as his mother, Beta, set aside the freshly chopped herbs she and Omega had been working on earlier. With a practiced hand, she retrieved a familiar jar from their pouch, its contents promising to add a burst of flavor to their hearty stew.

While Kratos tended to the bubbling stew over the fire pit, Bendy noticed Atreus, Bucky, and Lyris outside, tending to Brok’s pack animal.

Despite the dwarf's assurances that the creature would be fine on its own, Atreus insisted on ensuring its comfort, brushing its thick fur and murmuring soothing words. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal echoed through the roadhouse, punctuated by Brok's colorful language as he hammered away, the sounds blending into a symphony of industriousness.

Before Bendy could immerse himself further in the sights and sounds of the cooking process, Kratos thrust a slotted ladle into his hand.

“Stir,” his uncle commanded, his tone brooking no argument, as he added the bear meat to the pot. With a sense of purpose, Bendy took the ladle and stirred the stew, watching as it thickened and began to take on its final form, the ingredients melding together into a rich, hearty mixture.

The crack of an egg caught Bendy's attention, drawing his gaze to the pan Kratos held over a separate section of the fire pit. It was filled with sizzling oil, into which Kratos was now adding the egg, along with a medley of chopped herbs and spices for some sort of sauce that promised to complement their meal beautifully.

As the stew simmered and the aroma of cooking filled the air, Beta turned to Bendy, her eyes glinting with warmth. “Honey, why don't you go out there and get the others?” she suggested, as she continued to tend to the dish in the pan, her movements fluid and graceful.

Following his mother's instructions, Bendy stepped outside, breathing in the crisp morning air, and set off to fetch Atreus, Bucky, and Lyris. He found Atreus diligently washing Brok’s beast with a fragrant washcloth, his expression focused and determined as he rinsed the creature's muddy legs.

Tapping Atreus on the shoulder, Bendy chuckled when his friend jumped, banging his head on a nearby shield that was propped against the wall.

“Oh, Bendy! You want something?” Atreus inquired, rubbing the sore spot on his head, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I just came here to let you guys know that breakfast is ready,” Bendy replied, a grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, really? Thanks!” Atreus exclaimed, excitement lighting up his features as he hurried back inside, joined by Bucky and Lyris, their mouths already watering in anticipation of the meal.

As Bendy followed them inside, he paused, hearing a loud, metallic clang from the direction of the forge. Curiosity piqued, he spotted a knife lying on the ground nearby. Kneeling down, he picked up the unusual blade, marveling at its unique design.

The short purple blade, with its square tip, resembled a thin rectangle—unlike any knife he had ever seen before.

The craftsmanship was exquisite, the metal shimmering in the light, its balance perfect in his hand. He couldn't help but wonder about its origins and the hands that had shaped it.

As Brok noticed Bendy examining the knife, he paused his work and inquired, "Whatcha got there?"

Bendy looked up, holding the knife out for Brok to see, the excitement palpable in his voice. "Seems like a knife. It’s just I’ve never seen one like this."

Brok nodded knowingly, his attention momentarily diverted from his forging. "Yeah, I found it a few weeks ago in an abandoned village. Seems quite unique. You can keep it if you want."

Bendy's eyes widened in surprise at the generous offer. He had not expected to receive such an intriguing artifact from the dwarf. Grateful for the gift, he nodded appreciatively and slipped the knife into his belt pouch, careful not to damage its delicate blade.

"Thanks, Brok," Bendy said, a note of excitement tinging his voice. "I'll make sure to put it to good use."

With a satisfied grin, Brok returned to his work, hammering away at another weapon, the rhythmic clang echoing through the roadhouse as Bendy marveled at his newfound treasure, feeling a sense of belonging in this strange yet familiar place.

With a satisfied grin, Brok returned to his work, the rhythmic clang of his hammer filling the air as sparks flew from the anvil. Bendy lingered for a moment, holding the unique knife he’d just received, turning it over in his hands, feeling its weight and admiring the craftsmanship. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, the square-tipped blade gleaming in the morning light.

"Bendy! Come on, your food will get cold, dear!" his mother, Beta, called from inside the roadhouse, her voice echoing through the small clearing.

He glanced once more at Brok, who was hunched over his latest creation, completely absorbed in his work. “Wanna come?” Bendy asked, half expecting a grunt or a snide remark from the dwarf.

Without lifting his head, Brok shook his head, still focused. “Thanks, kid, but I’m good. Got too much to finish before sundown.”

“Okay then,” Bendy said with a shrug, slipping the knife into his belt pouch. He cast one last glance at the dwarf before heading back inside to join his family. The warmth of the fire greeted him as he stepped through the door, the rich, savory scent of bear stew still lingering in the air.

With breakfast finished and their stomachs full, the group gathered their things and prepared to continue their journey toward the looming mountain, its snow-capped peak barely visible through the thick trees. As Kratos adjusted the straps on his axe, he approached Brok, who was now oiling a piece of leather armor.

“This path. Does it lead to the mountain?” Kratos asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet morning.

Brok looked up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “If you keep heading straight, yeah. But beware…” His face darkened with concern. “The streets are getting dangerous. Dead people walkin' about. Been hearing rumors they’re crawling all over the place.”

Atreus, standing beside his father, frowned. “We've... Seen. Do you know where they’re coming from?”

The dwarf shrugged, sarcasm lacing his words. “Could be Helheim’s bursting at the seams, could be Odin screwin' around again. Or maybe they just got bored being dead. Why don’t you ask the next one before he tries to gnaw on your arm?”

Atreus chuckled nervously at the thought, while Kratos remained unfazed. The boy, ever curious, changed the subject quickly. “It was nice meeting you, Brok! Oh, and i'll think of a name for your animal!”

Brok waved him off dismissively. “Already got one. HEY, FUCKING GRATITUDE! GET OVER HERE!” The creature trotted over, shaking its shaggy head as if responding to its absurd name.

The group, suppressing their laughter, said their goodbyes to Brok and began their trek once more. The path ahead was narrow and lined with ancient trees, their branches twisted and gnarled like the fingers of old gods. Birds chirped high in the canopy, and the air was cool with the scent of pine.

After an hour of walking, Atreus wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the group. “Is anyone else thirsty? Because I’m really thirsty.”

Bendy nodded, feeling his own parched throat. “Yeah, now that you mention it…”

Kratos, glancing at the boys, relented. “We’ll rest here.”

They settled near a patch of moss-covered rocks, pulling out dried meats from their packs. Bucky eagerly snatched the canteen from Lyris, determined to open it and share the water. However, his overzealous attempts quickly turned into a struggle.

“Why won’t this thing open?” Bucky muttered through gritted teeth, his wings twitching with frustration.

Atreus and the others watched with growing concern as Bucky twisted and turned the canteen, his tail flicking in agitation. 

“Um… Bucky?” Atreus ventured cautiously, already sensing the impending disaster.

“I got it, I got it!” Bucky insisted, tail wrapping around the canteen as he gave one final heave. But his grip slipped, and with a loud *thunk*, the canteen tumbled from his hands and splashed onto the ground, its precious water quickly soaking into the earth.

For a moment, the group stared in stunned silence.

“Oops…” Bucky muttered, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Lyris’s fury flared, her fists clenched at her sides. “BUCKY! That was our ONLY CANTEEN!” she snapped, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

Bucky raised his hands defensively. “It was an accident, I swear! I didn’t mean to—”

Before the situation could escalate further, Bendy stepped between them, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. “Okay, let’s not fight about it. We’ll figure something out. There’s bound to be a stream nearby, right?”

Atreus nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “Yeah, Bendy’s right. If we can find some water, we’ll be fine.”

Kratos, who had been watching the exchange quietly, stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “There is a stream ahead. Let’s go.”

The group, still slightly irritated but with a sense of renewed purpose, followed Kratos down the path. The sound of rushing water soon met their ears, and the clear, cold stream came into view. With relief, they refilled their canteen, the cool water flowing through their fingers as they dipped the container into the stream.

As they continued on their way, the tension lifted, and Bucky gave a sheepish smile to Lyris, who rolled her eyes but returned the gesture. The journey to the mountain was long, but with each step, the group grew closer—both to their destination and to one another.

As they approached their destination, the landscape stretched out before them, revealing a breathtaking tapestry of rugged cliffs, snow-capped peaks, and distant forests that seemed to merge with the sky. The mountain loomed above, its jagged slopes glistening under the sunlight, as if beckoning them closer.

The air grew cooler, carrying the scent of pine and the crisp bite of the altitude.

Atreus and the cubs, with an uncontainable burst of energy, sprinted ahead, their eyes wide with excitement as they absorbed the sight of the towering peak. Their laughter echoed off the rocks, a joyful sound against the backdrop of the wilderness. The sheer scale of the mountain left them in awe, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge and significance of their journey.

"Wow," Atreus whispered, his voice a hushed blend of wonder and admiration as he took in the magnitude of the landscape before him. The light breeze tousled his hair, and his eyes sparkled with the thrill of exploration.

Beside him, Bendy nodded, his eyes fixed on the summit. "Now that's a mountain," he remarked, the awe clear in his tone. His wings twitched slightly, the cool breeze ruffling his feathers as he admired the massive expanse of rock and ice towering over them.

Atreus, still staring up at the mountain’s peak, felt a mix of excitement and melancholy wash over him. He could feel the pull of memories, as if the mountain itself carried echoes of the past. "I've never been this close to a mountain... It's so big..." he said, his voice tinged with awe but also a quiet longing. 

He turned to his father, his expression softening as a pang of sadness crossed his features. "I wish mom could see this." The words were heavy with emotion, a longing for the presence of the one person who could share this moment with them.

Kratos remained silent, his eyes trained on the mountain. Beneath his stoic exterior, he felt the weight of Atreus's words. Faye’s absence was a wound that hadn’t healed, a constant reminder of the void left in their lives. He knew Atreus’s pain all too well, for he, too, felt the ache of her absence. Her voice had been the one that guided them, the one that brought light to the darkest corners of his heart. And now, without her, every step felt heavier.

Kratos reached out, his hand hovering just above Atreus’s shoulder, but he paused, hesitating. The uncertainty of his role as a father gnawed at him. Faye had been the foundation of their family, the one who understood how to connect, how to nurture. Without her, Kratos felt adrift, unsure of how to fill the void she left behind or how to bridge the gap that was growing between him and his son. His hand dropped back to his side, the moment of vulnerability passing.

"Come, boy," he said, his voice carrying its usual gruffness, but beneath it lay a hint of tenderness. He gestured for Atreus to move forward, determined to keep his emotions in check, to press on despite the pain. The mountain was a challenge, and they needed to face it together.

Atreus hesitated, taking a moment to soak in the majesty of the scene before him. He felt a sense of belonging, as if the mountains themselves whispered to him, calling him home. Here, amidst the towering peaks and the endless sky, he felt connected to something greater than himself, something beyond the sorrow that had marked their journey.

With a deep breath and one last glance at the distant summit, Atreus set his gaze forward, his resolve renewed. He followed his father’s lead, the echoes of Faye’s spirit guiding his steps as they continued their path up the mountain.

Their path wound through a dense, shadowy forest until they reached a colossal, ancient door carved into the mountainside. It was adorned with intricate designs, its surface weathered with time. A large vase filled with sand sat in front of it, an enigmatic detail that immediately caught Atreus's attention. The strange object, seemingly out of place, stirred his curiosity, making him wonder about the secrets it might hold.

Atreus's eyes roamed the massive door, drawn to the detailed carvings and the unfamiliar runes etched along its side. Each rune was delicate, its lines precise despite the erosion of time. 

"Look, it has runes written on the side," he said, his voice filled with excitement as he turned to the others.

Kratos, ever alert and analytical, immediately demanded clarification. "What does it say?"

Atreus squinted, tracing the symbols with his finger as he deciphered the ancient language. "'As we are, the two of us, the three of us; Alone I will never be,'" he read aloud, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp the meaning.

Bendy's interest was piqued. "Could be a clue," he mused, the gears in his mind turning. Beta, observing the door with keen eyes, nodded. "Then we better look for more of them," she suggested, her tone carrying a sense of urgency and determination.

The group spread out, their eyes scanning the area for anything unusual. Their search led them to a small hill nearby, covered in thick grass and wildflowers. From its crest, Bendy's sharp eyes caught sight of something metallic glinting in the sunlight.

"Guys! I think there's something up here," he called out, his voice echoing through the forest.

The others quickly ascended the hill, their anticipation building. At the top, Bendy crouched beside a lever protruding from the ground, partially obscured by moss and vines.

"It's a lever," he exclaimed, his excitement clear as he brushed the dirt away.

With a deep breath, he pulled the lever. The mechanism groaned, and the ancient gate began to shift, the stone grinding loudly as it moved. The gate rotated slowly, revealing a series of runes that lit up as the mechanism moved. For a moment, nothing happened—until Atreus’s sharp eyes detected a pattern.

"They're runes! Bendy, stop the lever!" Atreus shouted urgently, pointing at the glowing symbols.

Bendy immediately halted the lever, freezing the door’s movement. Atreus stepped forward, studying the runes as they glowed faintly. "The door has already given us the answer. If we fit them correctly, they form the word," he explained, a look of realization dawning on his face.

Kratos's eyes narrowed. "And what is it?"

Atreus's fingers traced the runes as he pieced them together. "If we keep turning and stopping at certain parts, we'll get the answer. Bendy, pull the lever again!" he instructed.

As Bendy resumed his place at the lever, the group worked in unison. Atreus guided him, carefully observing each symbol until they aligned in the correct sequence. The process was meticulous, their focus sharp as they adjusted the lever to fit each rune perfectly.

At last, the runes formed a coherent word. "Family," Atreus announced triumphantly, the realization hitting him like a wave.

"Use your knife to draw the runes in the sand," Kratos instructed, his voice carrying a rare note of encouragement.

Atreus nodded, crouching beside the vase as he etched the word "Family" into the sand with precise strokes.

As the final letter was drawn, a miraculous transformation unfolded—the entire door glowed with an ethereal light, the ancient carvings shimmering. The ground beneath them vibrated as the door began to open, revealing a hidden passage that stretched deep into the mountain.

"It worked!" Atreus exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement as the light enveloped them.

"Well done, Atreus! High-five!" Bendy cheered, raising his hand. Atreus grinned and slapped his hand in celebration before they all moved toward the newly revealed tunnel.

"You know, It was good to meet Brok, but... leaving this place is even better. I just didn't understand why mom never talked about him," Atreus said thoughtfully, his mind drifting back to their encounter with the dwarf.

Kratos, his expression unreadable, gave a terse response. "She must have had her reasons."

Bendy, always curious, pressed further. "But doesn't it make you at least a little curious?"

Kratos’s gaze remained fixed ahead. "No."

"Not even a little bit?" Lyris chimed in, her curiosity as strong as Bendy’s.

"Not one?" Bucky added, his youthful eagerness evident.

Kratos’s tone left no room for debate. "NO."

As they continued their journey through the tunnel, the air grew colder, and the sound of distant wind echoed off the walls. Shadows danced along the path, shifting as the light from their torches flickered. Suddenly, a fleeting shadow darted across their path, catching Bendy’s attention.

"What was that?" he wondered aloud, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness.

Kratos remained calm, dismissing the disturbance. "We must continue," he urged, his focus unwavering as he pressed on.

Emerging from the tunnel’s mouth, they stepped out onto a rocky plateau. The terrain was rugged, with jagged stones scattered across the ground. Kratos’s eyes, trained from years of tracking, immediately noticed something unusual—large, distinct footprints embedded in the earth.

"Boy..." he called, his voice low and serious as he motioned for Atreus to join him.

Atreus crouched beside his father, examining the tracks closely. "The footprints... they’re fresh," he noted, his brow furrowed in concentration.

After a moment of consideration, Atreus offered his deduction. "It could have been a boar. Bendy, can you smell it?"

Bendy sniffed the air, his heightened senses working to identify the scent. "I think so. Come on, guys," he said, confirming Atreus's suspicion.

The trio of cubs sprang into action, noses to the ground as they followed the scent trail with precision. The footprints became clearer as they moved, signaling their proximity to their quarry. The thrill of the hunt filled the air as they crept through the dense forest, weaving between trees and stepping over rocks.

"It's pretty close," Bendy announced, his nose twitching as he caught the scent growing stronger.

Atreus crouched beside the footprints again, studying them carefully. "They look like they're from a wild boar... and they’re fresh."

Kratos observed his son’s work with a hint of pride, though his face remained stern. "Hmm... I see progress in you, but remember, a warrior always has to keep his skills sharp."

"Yes, father," Atreus replied, his eyes filled with determination as he continued to follow the trail.

The tunnel stretched ahead, its darkness punctuated only by the faint echo of their footsteps and the distant drip of water. The air was thick, the earthy scent mingling with the musk of an animal that grew stronger as they moved deeper. Every step felt heavier, as if the tunnel itself was urging them to turn back. But they pressed on, their senses heightened, muscles tense and eyes scanning the shifting shadows ahead.

Kratos's ears twitched, his sharp senses cutting through the silence. His eyes narrowed, and his hand shot up, signaling the group to halt. "Boy... I can hear the animal up ahead," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet firm, confirming Atreus's earlier guess.

Atreus grinned, excitement sparkling in his eyes. "I knew it was a boar!" he whispered back, the thrill of the hunt coursing through him as they continued forward, their footsteps careful and measured.

Their breath quickened as the tunnel finally opened into a clearing, the ceiling widening and allowing a sliver of light to illuminate the path ahead. The creature stood at the far edge, drinking from a shallow stream that trickled down from the rocks. But this was no ordinary boar. It stood taller than a man, its body a mass of sinew and muscle, its tusks gleaming like polished gold. Its sapphire eyes glowed with an eerie intelligence, and its resplendent mane of yellow hair shimmered, catching the light and reflecting a spectrum of colors. Intricate yellow symbols, almost like ancient runes, were etched into its hide, pulsing faintly with energy. The boar was otherworldly, a creature out of myth.

The group crouched behind a rock, their eyes locked onto the majestic beast. Atreus, his heart racing, silently readied his bow. Kratos’s hand rested on his shoulder, steadying him. "Prepare to shoot," he commanded, his voice calm, a warrior’s confidence grounding them.

Atreus drew the arrow back, feeling the tension in the string as he aimed. "Remember, pull it up to your chest; boar skin is thick," Kratos whispered, his tone a reminder of the lessons he'd imparted.

Atreus exhaled, centering himself, and released the arrow. It flew true, slicing through the air with a soft whistle—only to clink off the boar's skin as if hitting stone. The arrow clattered harmlessly to the ground, and the beast bolted, its golden tusks gleaming as it disappeared into the forest.

"What the what?" Bendy exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock, echoing the disbelief etched on everyone’s faces.

Atreus stared at the spot where the boar had been, his brow furrowing. "But... I got it right, didn't I? I did what you said, and it just bounced off... Is the boar magical?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and wonder.

Kratos knelt, his eyes scanning the area where the arrow had struck. He touched the spot, feeling the lingering energy in the air. His expression was thoughtful, assessing. "What do you think?" he asked, turning to Atreus, his gaze piercing yet encouraging. It was a test, as much a lesson as a hunt.

Atreus paused, his eyes drifting to the fading runes on the boar's side. "I've never seen such a strange boar," he admitted.

Bendy nodded, his tail twitching as he crouched closer, sniffing the air. "It also smells different—like really smells weird." he agreed, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Kratos gave a silent nod of approval, rising to his feet. "Then we continue," he stated, his voice steady, a clear directive. "Go after him."

The group moved forward, senses heightened, their determination renewed.

The tunnel seemed to pulse with energy as they pushed ahead, following the boar's trail. The air grew cooler, and the walls narrowed, forcing them into single file. The sound of the stream became a distant whisper, replaced by the growing hum of something magical, unseen but felt deep in their bones.

Atreus's grip tightened around his bow, his eyes scanning for movement. He knew they were venturing into uncharted territory, but the thrill of the hunt, the promise of making his father proud, drove him forward.

As the group ventured deeper into the wilderness, the dense trees gradually gave way to a grisly scene that hinted at untold stories of violence and loss.

They stumbled upon the remnants of a campsite, its scattered belongings and charred remains offering a chilling testament to what had occurred.

Beyond the campsite lay the village of Árfarvegur, now eerily desolate, its once-vibrant life extinguished. 

Kratos scanned the site with his intense gaze, his muscles taut with caution. His terse acknowledgment of the grim scene hung in the air, his stoic demeanor unshaken by the devastation. The others, however, were visibly shaken.

"What happened here?" Beta’s voice broke the uneasy silence, his concern palpable as he took in the sight of tents ripped to shreds and belongings strewn across the dirt.

Omega, ever watchful, stepped forward.

His eyes, sharper than any weapon, analyzed the area.

He crouched, touching the earth where deep imprints—massive, heavy—suggested something beyond human strength had ravaged the place. His gaze moved to the bodies. The sight of the crushed and burned remains brought a furrow to his brow. "Some of these people were crushed by brute force, others burned..." he wondered aloud, his unease spreading.

It wasn’t just the bodies. The trees surrounding the campsite bore strange, unnatural wounds—perfectly round puncture marks. Something large had impaled them with surgical precision, leaving behind a terrifying symbol of power.

"I don’t know what did this, but maybe it’s better to be careful," Omega advised, his voice measured but laced with dread.

Kratos, whose senses had long become attuned to danger, gave a short nod. "Maybe..." he rumbled, his voice filled with unspoken warnings as he glanced around, taking in the surroundings with calculated precision. He knew whatever had done this was still out there, lurking.

With a deliberate pace, the group pressed forward. Every step felt heavier, the weight of foreboding thick in the air. The eerie quiet of the village seemed unnatural, as if the very air itself held its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Atreus, eyes wide with curiosity, spotted something ahead. "Look!" he called, quickening his pace as he darted toward the large monument.

Etched into its surface was the village’s name. "This is Árfarvegur," he announced, glancing back at the group.

The discovery did little to quell the uneasy silence that enveloped the village. They moved slowly through the empty streets, each building they passed standing like a monument to the lives that had once thrived there—now gone. Animal pens lay abandoned, doors to homes left ajar, and the lingering smell of something burned clung to the air.

Atreus, driven by his endless curiosity, approached one of the houses.

He tugged at the door, only to find it locked tight. "It’s locked," he muttered, frowning. But before anyone could suggest another way, Bendy flashed a grin. With a quick leap, he scaled the side of the house with an ease that belied his size, slipping through a window and unlocking the door from within. "Come on, slowpokes!" he teased.

Inside, the house was modest but neat. A stack of books on the mantel caught Bendy’s attention. Atreus joined him, flipping through one of the volumes. The pages were filled with hand-written notes, names, and dates—the last one written years ago. The house, like the village, seemed frozen in time.

As they explored further, Atreus and the cubs climbed a ladder to a loft. Small beds lay undisturbed, a window above allowing faint light to filter in.

Below, Kratos, Omega, and Beta stood before a large painting hanging on the wall. Its image depicted two wolves, their forms massive and majestic, chasing orbs of light across a divided sky—one wolf running through a red and gold horizon, the other across a sea of midnight blue.

"Sköll and Hati," Atreus said from above, his voice thoughtful. "The Wolf-Giants who chase the sun and moon."

Kratos's eyes narrowed as he took in the painting. The image stirred something within him—an ancient recognition, perhaps. He wondered silently if these wolves were more than myth, if they too roamed the lands, waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves.

After thoroughly searching the house, they left, finding little of practical use but leaving with more questions than answers. They continued down the village’s deserted streets, their footsteps the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. Many of the homes had been ransacked, their contents looted, their inhabitants long gone. Kratos felt something shifting in the atmosphere, a presence that hung at the edges of his perception.

As they approached the last house, Kratos’s instincts flared. Something was wrong here, more so than anywhere else. The door was locked, the windows obscured by heavy cloth. With a swift motion, Kratos forced the door open, revealing a room cloaked in darkness.

The moment they stepped inside, Kratos knew something was up.

"We are not alone," he said, his voice low and filled with warning. The air felt thick with tension, the room oppressive with a malevolent force that Kratos could almost feel brushing against his skin.

Before he could react further, a figure lunged from the shadows—a man, desperate and wild, wielding a knife. Kratos moved like a force of nature, disarming the attacker in an instant and pinning him against the wall, his hand like iron on the man’s throat.

Omega and Beta stood ready, their weapons trained on the man, prepared to defend their companions.

The attacker was old and frail, his eyes wide with terror. He struggled against Kratos’s hold, but his strength was nothing compared to the Spartan’s. "Please... mercy," the man wheezed, his breath ragged, his desperation palpable.

Kratos’s grip tightened, his patience thin. "Why did you attack us?" he demanded, his voice a rumbling threat.

The man choked out a reply, coughing between words. "You came into my home," he gasped. Kratos, seeing no further threat, released him. The man collapsed to the floor, trembling.

As Kratos turned to leave, Bendy, to everyone’s surprise, knelt beside the man, offering a hand.

"Bendy!" Omega yelled, but his warning came too late—the man grabbed Bendy, his grip weak but frantic.

"Have you seen them? My girl... my wife?" the man pleaded, his voice breaking with desperation. Bendy recoiled slightly, but the sorrow in the man’s eyes struck a chord in him as he wailed in sorrow in front of the cub.

Kratos, watching from a distance, felt the weight of the man’s anguish. He sheathed his weapon, his silent acknowledgment that there was nothing more they could do for this broken soul.

As they left the house, the man’s sobs followed them like ghosts. Outside, Kratos turned to Bendy, his voice stern but not unkind. "What were you doing? You could have been hurt."

Bendy met Kratos’s gaze with defiance. "I was trying to help him," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

Kratos sighed, his frustration tempered by Bendy’s compassion. "He is beyond our help," Kratos said, his voice heavy with the harsh truth of their journey.

"You don’t know that!" Bendy shot back, unwilling to let go of his belief that there was still something they could do.

Kratos stared at the cub, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he turned away. "It is not our responsibility," he said, his voice final.

The group moved on, leaving behind the broken man and the haunted village, the weight of their encounter settling heavily on them all.

But just as he was about to follow, Bendy turned away from Kratos and the others, for he couldn’t shake the image of the broken man begging for  his family.

The weight of the encounter gnawed at him, urging him to act.

With one final glance at his companions, Bendy made his decision. His heart pounded as he quietly doubled back toward Erik’s house, his steps swift and silent, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his knife. He didn’t know exactly why he felt the need to return—only that he had to.

Reaching the house, Bendy slipped through the cracked doorway, his senses heightened. The man was still sat on the cold, dusty floor, crumpled and hollow, his earlier outburst reduced to pitiful sobs.

The air felt heavy with sorrow, as if the very walls of the house had absorbed the man's grief. Bendy hesitated for a moment, unsure if he could truly offer the help this man needed, but he knew he had to try.

“...Hey,” Bendy called softly, stepping into the dimly lit room. The man jerked upright, startled by the intrusion, his wild eyes locking onto Bendy’s form in the doorway.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to grab you like that," The man stammered, his hands trembling as he tried to rise to his feet, but his legs refused to cooperate.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bendy said, his tone steady, more assured than he felt. “I’m not here for that. I need you to listen to me. I don’t have a lot of time before they notice I’m gone.”

The man's gaze flickered between confusion and hope, but he nodded, listening intently.

Bendy glanced around the room quickly, searching for something to leave behind.

His eyes settled on an old, discarded plank of wood near the hearth. He crouched down, pulling his knife from his belt, and began carving into the wood.

The man watched in silence as Bendy’s knife moved with precision, the image slowly taking shape—a deer or elk’s head, its antlers reaching up like branches of a tree, a symbol he had never seen before.

When Bendy finished, he held up the plank, showing Erik the symbol. “There’s a place I know,” he began, his voice low and urgent. “It’s a hidden village. The people there can help you.”

The man's eyes widened, a glimmer of hope returning to his gaze. “Where? How will I find it?”

“You have to go straight west,” Bendy said, pointing to the direction with a decisive motion. “Don’t veer off course. Keep going until you see trees marked with this symbol.” He tapped the freshly carved mark again. “When you find it, you’ll know you’re safe.”

The man stared at the symbol, his fingers tracing the rough carving as if it were a lifeline. “Why are you helping me?” His voice trembled with emotion.

Bendy hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe because, it's the right thing to do.” He met man's gaze, his own expression softening. “Just... take this. And I’m sorry about your family. I really hope you find them, in some way.”

The man nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you. I—I hope I can find them, too.”

Bendy stood up, slipping his knife back into its sheath. “You will,” he said with a final nod. “Just stay on the path, name's Bendy by the way.”

As he turned to leave, the man spoke again, quieter this time. “My name’s Erik.”

Bendy paused, glancing back at him. “Good luck, Erik.”

With that, Bendy stepped out of the house, his heart lighter but still shadowed by the weight of Erik’s loss. He moved quickly, retracing his steps until he rejoined his family, none of them the wiser about his brief detour.

Yet, as they continued deeper into the village, Bendy couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something important, something that might help heal the wounds of at least one broken soul.

As they pressed on, Bendy’s thoughts lingered on Erik’s face, hoping that the path he’d set him on would lead to the sanctuary the man so desperately needed.

"Bendy," Kratos’s voice boomed like a low rumble of thunder, his expression hard as stone as he fixed his eyes on the young cub. His broad shoulders seemed to loom even larger, casting a shadow over Bendy. The air between them was tense, thick with the weight of Kratos's words. "We cannot risk ourselves for the sake of others. It gains us nothing. You must learn to close your heart to their suffering. Only then will you be able to focus on keeping yourself alive."

Bendy's eyes, fierce and unyielding, met Kratos's unwavering gaze. He felt the heat of defiance building in his chest, the words tumbling out before he could even think to stop them. "Well, then I guess I'll have to disagree," he shot back, his voice ringing with conviction. "Sometimes we do gain something from trying to help."

His hands clenched into fists as he continued, his tone firm. "And by the way, I am not going to close my heart. I'm not like you, never will nor want to be."

Kratos’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched Bendy’s retreating form. The boy’s stubbornness, his refusal to see reason, only deepened the lines of concern etched on the god's face. How could he expect this young cub to survive in a world so ruthless if he refused to heed the warnings of those with experience?

Bendy walked toward Atreus, his shoulders squared, his stride confident. Atreus, sensing the tension, gave his friend a look that mixed admiration and concern. Bendy’s determination was clear, even if it meant standing his ground against someone as formidable as Kratos.

Kratos, still watching the boy, turned to Omega and Beta, his expression a mixture of irritation and unease. "Your son is acting too rebellious," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "He does not listen, and this will only lead to trouble."

Omega, leaning casually against a nearby tree, shrugged with an easy smile, attempting to offer a more optimistic perspective. "Oh, don’t mind what Bendy said, he's just a kid. It’s normal for him to act like that. He’ll learn."

Kratos’s frown deepened, his eyes never leaving Bendy as he stood with Atreus. "That act might bring about his death if he is not cautious," he retorted, his tone grave, every word laced with the weight of his years of experience. The bluntness of his statement hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.

Omega and Beta exchanged knowing, almost amused glances, their lips twitching into faint smiles. They were used to Kratos's penchant for harsh truths and grim warnings. Beta’s eyes sparkled with humor as she let out a soft chuckle. "Do you always have to say something that might end with death?" she teased, finding amusement in her friend's characteristic seriousness.

Kratos huffed, crossing his arms. "It is not a matter of amusement," he muttered, but a flicker of concern remained in his eyes as he glanced once more toward the young cub who had just defied him.

The wooden bridge creaked underfoot as Atreus and the cubs bounded forward, their eagerness evident in their swift steps and excited chatter. The air was filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the sounds of birds echoed through the trees. Atreus’s eyes scanned the ground, searching for tracks, his bow held ready.

"You coming? I think the boar went this way!" Atreus called over his shoulder, glancing back at Kratos, who remained behind, his gaze sharp and wary.

Kratos’s eyes flicked over the surroundings, his senses alert. "Go then," he said gruffly, his voice carrying a hint of caution as he took in the shadows around them. 

Just as they crossed the bridge, Bendy felt a shiver of unease crawl up his spine, a tingling sense of danger prickling at his instincts. His eyes darted downward, catching a glimpse of movement beneath the wooden planks. 

"LOOK OUT!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the air with urgency.

In a heartbeat, the bridge splintered as a massive, gnarled hand erupted through the planks, snatching Bendy with a force that knocked the wind out of him. Atreus and the cubs, caught off guard, tumbled over the edge, their startled cries echoing as they disappeared into the ravine below. 

Bendy struggled against the troll’s iron grip, staring up at the beast’s face—twisted, savage, and filled with rage. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent fire, and its jagged teeth bared in a feral snarl that sent shivers down his spine.

"Umfir fua fik fir Valhalla!" the troll roared, its voice a guttural growl as it lifted Bendy higher, preparing to devour its prey.

But Kratos was already moving. With a roar of fury, he launched himself at the troll, his axe swinging in a deadly arc. The blade struck true, slamming into the troll's side with a resounding thud. The impact sent the massive creature staggering backward, its monstrous form crashing into the cliffside and loosening its grip just enough for Bendy to wriggle free.

Gasping for breath, Bendy scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief as he realized what they were up against. "A troll?!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and awe.

Atreus, having clambered back onto the bridge, called out, "A Fire Troll!" as he notched an arrow, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

Kratos wasted no time, his voice commanding as he barked out orders. "Let's end this together, cub. Take your brother and sister and hide."

Bendy hesitated, his eyes darting to Bucky and Lyris who watched the unfolding chaos with wide eyes. Reluctantly, he guided them to a nearby thicket, keeping them low as he positioned himself between them and the fight.

The troll, undeterred, hefted a massive stone pillar onto its shoulder, roaring its challenge as it prepared to strike. Kratos, axe in hand, met its fury with a roar of his own, charging forward with relentless determination.

"Stand back and find an angle, boy—I'll draw it to you!" Kratos commanded, his voice cutting through the sounds of battle.

Atreus nodded, his eyes focused as he sprinted to a nearby ledge, bow drawn and ready. He aimed carefully, waiting for the right moment.

Kratos’s initial assault was met with resistance as the troll swung its massive arm, sending shockwaves rippling through the ground. Dust and debris filled the air as the earth trembled beneath its feet.

Beta, her eyes blazing with determination, leapt into the fray, her claws slashing at the troll's thick hide as she unleashed a flurry of attacks. The troll roared in pain, turning its attention toward her and unleashing streams of molten lava from its fingertips, the fiery streams splattering the ground around her.

Atreus, crouched on his ledge, marveled at the troll’s fiery abilities. "Wow, he's throwing fire! How does he do that?" he called out, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his focus.

The cubs, hidden nearby, exchanged bewildered looks, their eyes wide as they watched.

"Boy, focus!" Kratos’s voice cut through the air, snapping Atreus back to reality. Shaking off his distraction, Atreus steadied his aim and fired an arrow, the projectile slicing through the air to hit the troll’s shoulder.

Kratos hurled his axe with precise accuracy, embedding it deep into the troll's flesh. The beast howled, but it only seemed to enrage it further. It retaliated with a massive stomp, sending a shockwave that knocked Kratos off balance.

Omega joined Beta in the assault, the two breathing powerful streams—one of fiery orange, the other of icy blue—against the troll’s resilient hide. Despite their combined efforts, the creature's thick skin absorbed the damage, its fiery eyes glowing brighter with each blow.

As the battle raged, Atreus remained determined, his eyes scanning for an opening. The troll’s movements grew more frenzied as it swung its stone pillar, each strike sending tremors through the ground. At last, Kratos pinned the troll down, his muscles straining as he forced it to the ground.

"Now, Atreus!" Kratos called, his voice strained but commanding.

With a deep breath, Atreus steadied his hand and aimed his arrow directly at the troll’s eye, his expression fierce with concentration. Just as he was about to release, the troll’s voice broke through the chaos.

"W-wait…" it gasped, its voice rough and pleading.

Atreus hesitated, his arrow wavering. The troll’s unexpected plea caused him to falter, confusion flickering in his eyes.

"W-what?" Atreus stammered, his bow still drawn as he struggled to comprehend the troll's words.

"DO IT!" Kratos’s voice, booming with authority, snapped Atreus back into focus. He readjusted his aim, but before he could fire, the troll lashed out with a powerful swing. The ground beneath them shuddered violently as the impact sent everyone reeling.

Atreus lost his balance, and his arrow flew, striking Kratos in the shoulder instead of its intended target. The god grunted in pain, the force of the blow knocking him backward.

"Dude! You shot him!" Bendy cried out, his voice filled with panic as the ground beneath them began to crack and shift.

"The floor is collapsing!" Omega shouted, his voice urgent as he scrambled to higher ground.

"Get to higher ground, now!" Kratos bellowed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

With swift, coordinated movements, the group leapt to safety just as the earth beneath the troll gave way, collapsing into a massive chasm. Kratos delivered one final, crushing blow, his axe severing the troll's life force as its body plummeted into the abyss.

As the dust settled, Beta wiped sweat from her brow, her expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Phew, that was close," she muttered, watching the chasm swallow the troll’s remains.

They gathered on a rocky ledge, taking a moment to catch their breath. Atreus, his face flushed with embarrassment and guilt, approached his father, his voice small. "I... I'm so so sorry, I—"

Kratos raised a hand, silencing him. "Your boar is getting away," he said, his voice stern but with a hint of understanding.

Atreus nodded, a mixture of determination and gratitude in his eyes as he slung his bow over his shoulder. "Right... This way," he called out, leading the charge with renewed focus.

Kratos, Omega, and Beta followed closely, their steps quick as they allowed the boy and the cubs to take the lead, their eyes scanning the forest ahead.

As they continued their trek through the dense forest, the sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the path. The earthy scent of pine and moss filled the air, and the distant calls of birds echoed through the trees. Kratos led the way, his heavy footsteps crunching against the leaves and twigs scattered across the forest floor. Atreus bounded ahead, his eagerness evident as he followed the trail of the elusive boar, while Omega and Beta walked side by side, occasionally glancing at their young friend.

Beta took the opportunity to drift closer to Kratos, her voice lowered to a whisper so that Atreus couldn't overhear. "You know, you really shouldn't be so hard on Atreus," she advised, her eyes softening as she watched the boy navigate the trail with determination. "He did his best back there."

Omega nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on Kratos. "She's right. What happened down there wasn’t his fault," he asserted, his tone firm yet respectful, as if hoping to appeal to Kratos's sense of fairness.

Kratos's expression remained as stoic as ever, his eyes fixed ahead. "No, but maybe now he'll learn not to let his guard down," he replied, his voice carrying a note of expectation. His gaze remained vigilant, scanning the surrounding woods for any signs of danger.

Beta and Omega exchanged a quick look, their brows furrowing in surprise. They hadn’t expected such a swift, unyielding response.

"Okayyy, I didn’t expect that answer so quickly," Beta remarked, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone. She tilted her head, studying Kratos as she continued, "Are you sure you’re not even a little mad that he almost shot you, even if it was by accident?"

Kratos’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, a rare and brief expression that softened his usually stern features. "If you think a boy's errant arrow could kill his father…" He trailed off, the words hanging in the air with an almost playful edge before he resumed his brisk pace.

The two dragons blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected glimmer of humor in his response. Beta tilted her head, her eyes squinting slightly as if trying to decipher his meaning, while Omega’s expression remained a mix of confusion and intrigue. They lingered in the moment, watching the Spartan move ahead with his unrelenting stride.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the two dragons shrugged and shared a knowing glance. Whatever Kratos meant, they could tell there was more beneath the surface—layers of wisdom and experience they hadn't quite grasped yet. With a silent understanding, they picked up their pace, their paws padding softly against the ground as they hurried to catch up, the rustling of the forest leaves accompanying their steps. 

Atreus, now a few paces ahead, glanced back at them, a questioning look in his eyes. Omega flashed him a reassuring grin, and Beta gave a small nod. As the group pressed on, the tension from their earlier battle began to fade, replaced by the unspoken bond between them—a bond forged in trust, shared struggles, and the understanding that no matter what lay ahead, they faced it together.

The forest was alive with the scent of pine, the air crisp and cool as the cubs diligently sniffed out the trail of the boar. Their nostrils flared, and their ears twitched as they tracked the faint traces left behind. Twigs snapped underfoot, and the distant rustling of leaves added to the symphony of the woods. The sunlight barely penetrated the dense canopy above, casting long shadows that danced across the forest floor. 

After a lengthy trek through the underbrush, the cubs finally stumbled upon the unmistakable pattern of hoofprints pressed into the soft soil. Atreus crouched down, brushing his fingers over the tracks, his eyes bright with excitement.

"Look, it went under the pillar!" Atreus exclaimed, pointing toward the path where the boar had squeezed through a narrow gap beneath a large, fallen stone pillar covered in moss and vines.

Kratos stepped forward, his expression serious as he approached the pillar with caution. His muscles flexed as he gripped the edge and lifted it carefully, ensuring not to startle the animal hiding beneath. Atreus, his bow already drawn, took position behind a fallen tree trunk. His eyes narrowed, and his breaths came slow and measured. He crouched low, his body taut with focus.

Kratos moved behind him, his towering presence a reassuring shadow. He placed a firm, steady hand on Atreus's shoulder, a silent gesture of support and encouragement. Atreus glanced up at him, his determination evident. 

"I can do it. Elbow, firm hand, relax..." Atreus whispered to himself, recalling his training. His eyes locked on the target, his hands steady as he prepared for the shot. 

He released the arrow, and the twang of the bowstring echoed through the forest. The arrow flew true, piercing the air before striking the boar squarely. The animal let out a startled cry before bolting deeper into the woods.

"Yes!" Atreus exclaimed, his face lighting up with triumph. His excitement was palpable, his eyes shining with pride.

"You did it, Atreus!" Bendy cheered, his voice echoing with enthusiasm. The cubs hopped with excitement, their tails wagging as they celebrated Atreus's successful shot.

"Go after it," Kratos instructed, his voice calm but commanding. Without hesitation, Atreus and the cubs sprinted forward, their eyes locked on the wounded boar as it disappeared into the thicket.

The young hunter and his companions charged ahead, their footsteps pounding against the forest floor. In his haste, Atreus didn't notice a jagged branch that caught the hem of his tunic, tugging at his clothing. The sharp pull caused his mother’s knife to slip from its sheath, tumbling silently to the forest floor, glinting briefly in the dim light.

Omega, his eyes sharp, spotted the knife as it fell. "Hey, Atreus! You dropped it!" he called out, swiftly scooping up the blade.

His voice carried urgency as he held it up, trying to get Atreus’s attention. But the boy was already too far ahead, his focus locked on the hunt.

Kratos's expression darkened as he strode forward, his hand reaching out to take the knife from Omega.

"Another lesson for him to learn," he muttered, his tone tinged with frustration. "There is no greater mistake for a young hunter than losing what he needs to save his life." He shook his head, tucking the knife away with a heavy sigh, the weight of his disappointment hanging in the air as he signaled Omega and Beta to follow.

As they moved deeper into the forest, the shadows grew longer, and the mist thickened around them, obscuring the path. The calls of birds fell silent, replaced by the eerie stillness of the fog-shrouded woods. Soon, Kratos's eyes scanned the area, but there was no sign of Atreus or the cubs.

"Wait... Wait a second," Beta exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm. "They were right there!"

Kratos’s agitation mounted as he came to a halt, his jaw clenched. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, his voice reverberating through the trees. "Boy?! BOY!"

Beta and Omega’s eyes widened as they realized the children had vanished into the mist.

Panic flared in their expressions as they joined in, their voices rising above the silence. "HEY! KIDS! WHERE DID YOU GO?!" Omega shouted, his tone laced with desperation.

For a few tense moments, the forest remained silent, the fog swallowing their voices. Then, a glimmer of hope emerged. Atreus's voice rang out, faint but clear. "Father, we found him!" he called, his tone filled with excitement.

The cubs' excited barks echoed through the fog, followed by Bendy’s enthusiastic shout. "He's running away!" he yelled, his voice alive with the thrill of the chase.

"Get him!" Lyris urged, her tone sharp with determination.

Kratos’s eyes met Beta’s and Omega’s.

A silent understanding passed between them—there was no time to lose. They nodded to one another, and without another word, they split off in different directions, determination etched on their faces as they fanned out into the mist, each one determined to reunite with the children and ensure their safety.

The forest seemed to swallow them whole as they disappeared into the shrouded undergrowth, their figures fading into the fog. The only sounds remaining were the distant echoes of their calls, carried away by the wind.

The fog clung to the forest like a heavy shroud, every step Beta and Omega took feeling like venturing deeper into a maze. The dense mist transformed the woods into a disorienting labyrinth, obscuring familiar landmarks and warping the sounds around them. The thick, damp air muffled their shouts and made it difficult to determine direction, every wrong turn feeling like they were spiraling further away from their goal.

Trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches twisting and intertwining above, creating an almost impenetrable canopy that blocked out what little light remained.

With frustration mounting, Beta and Omega halted, panting as they tried to pick the childrens scent.

The mist wrapped around them, whispering through the leaves as if mocking their efforts. "KIDS! If you can hear us, say 'Terrible Terror'!" Beta called out, her voice echoing through the haze, carrying a note of desperation.

The silence hung thick, but then, faintly, Atreus's voice drifted back, carried on the breeze like a whisper of hope. Beta and Omega exchanged a look, determination etched on their faces. Despite the uncertainty, they pushed forward, clinging to the sound as their guide. 

"Wait for us, boy!" Kratos’s booming voice echoed through the forest, cutting through the oppressive fog. His tone was a blend of command and urgency, urging them all forward. His figure moved through the mist like a giant shadow, his presence reassuring yet filled with tension.

"That's right, stay still, and we'll come to you!" Omega’s voice joined in, his words laced with encouragement as they navigated the dense maze of trees. The tangled roots and overgrown bushes clawed at their legs, and the fog made every movement feel like wading through water. 

With their senses heightened, Beta and Omega pushed onward, weaving through the undergrowth.

Suddenly, Omega stumbled into a large rock jutting out from the ground, Beta following suit with a hiss of frustration as they collided. The impact was jarring, and for a moment, they both paused, breathing heavily, the rock a stark reminder of how treacherous the terrain had become.

But they didn’t falter. Regaining their footing, they surged forward, their hearts pounding with urgency.

The echoes of Kratos’s shouts filled the air, cutting through the oppressive silence. "Atreus! Where are you?! Answer!" his voice called, the note of fear pushing them all to move faster.

As they approached the source of the voices, the fog began to thin, wisps of it trailing off as if retreating before them. The silhouettes of Atreus and the cubs emerged, their familiar forms a welcome sight against the backdrop of the fading mist. Relief washed over Beta and Omega, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they drew nearer. 

But the moment of relief was shattered as they heard a confrontation ahead, an unknown voice strained. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" It shouted, it's tone filled with a mixture of shock and concern.

Instinctively, Beta and Omega charged into the clearing, weapons drawn and eyes blazing. The clearing was sunny, the light harsh compared to the shadowy depths of the forest. Their eyes locked onto the figure standing over Atreus and the cubs—a stranger, tall and imposing. Without hesitation, Beta leveled her spear, her eyes narrowed with fierce intent. 

"Alright, get away from the child and my babies before I cut your head off on top of the flowers!" she roared, her voice dripping with venom as she glared at the intruder.

Atreus, with hands raised, quickly stepped between them. "Wait, Aunt Beta, don't hurt her!" he pleaded, his eyes wide and desperate.

Beta hesitated, her grip on the spear loosening slightly as Atreus’s words sank in.

Omega moved to stand beside her, eyes scanning the stranger cautiously. Atreus lowered his head, an apologetic look crossing his face. "I'm really, really sorry. We didn't know he belonged to anyone," he explained, his voice softening.

The stranger's expression softened slightly as she stepped back, her eyes meeting Atreus’s. "He doesn't. He's my friend," she replied, her tone calm and even.

Beta and Omega exchanged a glance, slowly lowering their weapons as they assessed the woman. She stood tall and confident, long chestnut hair cascading down her shoulders. Faded blue tattoos adorned her arms.

She wore a a light brown dress with animal skins, decorated with intricate jewelry and beads that clinked softly with her movements. Her golden sword and wood bow hung at her sides, glinting in the sunlight.

Kratos's heavy footsteps approached as he pushed through the last of the mist, his eyes filled with concern as he took in the scene. He moved swiftly, positioning himself between the stranger and Atreus, his broad frame a shield.

"It's okay, Kratos," Omega said, his tone soothing. "The kids are just in trouble because of the boar."

Kratos’s stern gaze shifted to the fallen boar nearby. His eyes flickered with relief, but his muscles remained tense, every instinct telling him to stay on guard.

He gave Omega a nod, acknowledging the explanation, but his attention remained fixed on the stranger as he moved closer to inspect the animal.

The woman continued her work over the boar, her hands deftly handling the creature as she glanced up at Kratos. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and a spark of recognition seemed to flash in her brown eyes. It was subtle, but Kratos caught it, and it made him pause.

Could she know him somehow?

"They were following my orders," Kratos asserted, his voice calm yet firm as he addressed the woman. His eyes searched hers for a sign of understanding or hostility.

The woman’s expression remained inscrutable, her gaze unwavering as she studied him. There was a hint of doubt in her eyes, mingled with something like disappointment. She tilted her head slightly, assessing him before speaking again.

"So help me," she said, her tone carrying an urgency that Kratos couldn’t ignore.

Guiding Kratos's hand to the boar's bloody belly, the woman’s touch was firm but gentle as she directed him to press down. "Here, apply pressure. We need to stem the bleeding before it get's worse." Her voice was calm, yet there was a tension underlying her words that spoke of urgency. Kratos’s compliance was immediate; his massive hands, usually instruments of destruction, now moved with delicate precision as he pressed against the wound, his face a mask of concentration.

"The last of its kind in all nine realms, and you attack him," she chastised, her tone laced with disdain and sorrow. "Did you want him for meat?" The disappointment in her voice cut through the air like a knife, and her eyes, dark and piercing, bore into Atreus.

Atreus’s shoulders slumped, guilt flooding his features. "Target shooting..." he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. The shame was evident in his eyes, and he looked away, unable to meet the woman’s gaze.

The woman's expression hardened as she shifted her focus to Kratos, her disappointment clear. "Target shooting?" she repeated, her voice cold. The accusation lingered between them, the weight of her words pressing down like the fog that still hung heavy around them.

"I'm so sorry..." Atreus’s apology trembled on his lips, and for a moment, there was only silence. The remorse in his voice was tangible, and he fidgeted, eyes darting between his father and the woman.

Kratos’s brow furrowed as he maintained pressure on the wound, his face a mask of focus. He felt the tension in the air, the palpable sense of disapproval from the woman, but he kept his attention on the task at hand, the life of the creature now in his hands.

The woman sighed, her voice softening with a touch of regret. "It's my fault. I didn't keep an eye out." She glanced down at the boar, the look in her eyes shifting from anger to sorrow as she brushed a hand over its head, her fingers moving with a gentleness that spoke of familiarity and care.

Bendy’s voice broke the silence, filled with concern. "Is he going to die?" he asked, his eyes wide and worried as he watched the scene unfold.

The woman’s reaction was immediate; she turned her gaze upon Bendy, her eyes studying him with a flicker of surprise, as if she had not noticed him before.

For a brief moment, something darker crossed her expression, a shadow of something she quickly pushed aside. Her features softened as she turned back to the boar, her resolve returning.

"I won't let it," she declared, her voice filled with determination as she glanced at Kratos. "You," she instructed, "the arrow broke a vessel inside him. Find the ends and hold tight. Start on the left, grab and hold tight."

Kratos nodded, his expression solemn. His fingers moved with practiced precision as he searched for the broken vessel, finding the damaged tissue deep within the wound. Carefully, he grasped the ends, his grip firm but gentle, ensuring he did not cause further damage.

The woman watched his every move, her eyes intense and focused. "Great... Sunnan-þoka," she murmured, her words carrying an otherworldly weight, her voice taking on a rhythmic, incantatory tone.

The language was ancient, unfamiliar to the group, and it resonated with a power that made the air around them hum.

As the group looked on in anticipation, the woman placed her hands over the wound. Her palms began to glow with a soft, ethereal light, the warm golden hue illuminating the clearing. Tendrils of light weaved from her fingers into the boar’s wound, the magic knitting the torn flesh together.

The light pulsed and flowed like a river, casting a faint glow on the faces of those watching. Atreus, Bendy, and the others exchanged glances, realization dawning upon them.

"She's a witch..." Atreus whispered, his voice filled with both wonder and caution. The revelation hung in the air, the weight of it causing them to exchange wary looks.

The witch turned her head slightly, her expression serene and calm, though her eyes remained focused on the task. "I can't finish here. My house is just beyond those trees. Do you take him?" she asked, her tone laced with urgency. 

Kratos’s eyes narrowed as he considered her words. Suspicion flickered across his face, and he hesitated, his instincts warning him of potential danger.

Could she be leading them into a trap?

But as he looked into her eyes, he saw a pleading sincerity that softened his mistrust. He knew they had no other choice.

"He can't die," the witch implored, her voice breaking through his doubt. The desperation in her tone was genuine, and Kratos found himself nodding despite his reservations.

With careful strength, Kratos lifted the injured boar, his muscles straining as he hoisted the massive creature onto his shoulders. His family followed closely behind, their eyes fixed on the witch as she led the way through the dense forest. Her steps were quick, each movement guided by purpose as she pushed aside low-hanging branches and navigated the tangled roots that lined the path.

As they approached what appeared to be a solid wall of vines and vegetation, the witch paused. She reached into a small pouch at her waist, pulling out a handful of dirt. Whispering a few words under her breath, she sprinkled the soil before her. The air shimmered, and the vines responded, twisting and parting to reveal a hidden path.

"Great. He seems stable for now, Greiða," she muttered, the sense of relief evident in her voice as she gestured them through.

As they crossed the threshold, the group found themselves in a vast, magnificent forest that seemed to belong to another realm. The trees towered above, their branches spreading wide with leaves of vibrant red, gold, and orange that glowed like embers in the soft sunlight. The air was rich with the scent of pine and earth, and the sounds of a thousand unseen creatures filled the air. Deer grazed in the distance, their antlers catching the light, while wild boars roamed freely, their eyes alert.

The cubs’ eyes widened as they took in the beauty around them. Atreus’s gaze wandered over the strange and magnificent flora, his breath catching as he spotted creatures from his stories—fae-like beings flitting between flowers, and great stags with glistening coats.

"Wow..." he whispered, awestruck, as they walked further into the enchanted grove. The magic in the air was palpable, and for a moment, the world felt peaceful despite the urgency of their task.

The Witch's eyes twinkled as she observed Atreus. "That bow is a little big for you, don't you think?" she teased, her tone light as she strode ahead through the undergrowth, her robe brushing against the tall grass. She glanced back, studying the boy and the cubs who trailed close behind, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Atreus exhaled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

Minutes earlier, he had been certain she might strike him down, her presence imposing and filled with authority. But now, as her expression softened and the corners of her mouth hinted at a smile, he dared to feel a glimmer of hope. 

Clearing his throat, he clutched his bow tighter. "My mother made it. Said it gets better as I get older."

The Witch's face shifted, her interest piqued as her gaze lingered on the craftsmanship of the bow. "I've never seen you in these woods before," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for clues. "She must miss you, with you so far from home."

Atreus's heart tightened, and he felt a lump form in his throat. "She... She died. We are taking her ashes to the highest peak."

The Witch paused mid-step, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler, almost sorrowful. "Ashes?" she repeated softly.

Atreus nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was her last wish…" 

Just as the Witch opened her mouth to respond, Kratos’s deep, commanding voice broke through the air. "Boy!" It was a sharp reminder to stay focused, but even Kratos's gruff demeanor couldn’t hide the faint hint of concern in his eyes.

The Witch, however, regarded Atreus with sympathy. She understood the pain of loss; it was etched into her very soul.

"I... I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly, her tone sincere as she resumed their walk. They pressed on through dense thickets and bushes, leaves crunching beneath their feet until they emerged into a sunlit clearing by the river. In the center stood a majestic hill, crowned with the largest tree Atreus had ever seen—its branches reaching skyward like the arms of a giant.

"We're here," the Witch announced, turning back to see the wonder in Atreus’s eyes.

"You live inside a tree?" Atreus asked, his voice filled with disbelief as he craned his neck to take in the massive structure.

The Witch’s smile returned, a secretive glint in her eyes. "No... I live below it. Heimili!" she called out. 

As her voice carried through the clearing, the creatures of the forest—deer, rabbits, and others Atreus had only glimpsed in legends—paused their grazing and turned to watch. The ground beneath them rumbled, and the hill began to shift, grass and soil cascading down like water. 

From the earth, a colossal leg, draped in moss and dotted with mushrooms, lifted into the air. And then another. Atreus’s eyes widened in shock, and he exchanged glances with Bendy, who was equally astonished. They had heard tales from Atreus’s mother about turtles the size of mountains roaming Midgard long ago, but he had believed they were only stories. Now, standing before this living relic, he realized the truth.

It was powerful, ancient, and alive.

"It's okay, he's gentle," the Witch assured them, noticing their apprehension. Her voice was soothing, filled with familiarity and trust.

Atreus and Bendy approached cautiously, their tiny hands outstretched. Atreus touched the turtle's chin, his fingers brushing its rough, mossy skin. To his surprise, the creature lowered its head, acknowledging him with a soft rumble.

Atreus's face lit up with wonder. "It seems he liked me," he whispered, almost in awe of the connection he felt with this ancient being.

They followed the Witch up the turtle's massive body to the porch of her house nestled beneath its shell.

As they reached the top, the injured boar let out a pained squeal, its legs kicking frantically as it vomited across Kratos's chest, splattering blood and bile.

"Quick!" the Witch urged, gesturing them inside. The urgency in her voice made them move faster as they entered her home beneath the giant creature.

Inside, the cabin was a blend of rustic charm and magical wonder.

On the right, a small set of steps led to a cozy dining area, a long wooden table flanked by benches. Herbs and spices hung from the rafters, filling the air with their fragrant aroma. A three-tiered shelf held jars filled with mysterious ingredients and potions, glowing faintly in the dim light.

In the center of the room, a large window framed an otherworldly landscape, its view shifting and shimmering as if enchanted. To the left, a fireplace crackled, casting warm shadows across the room. Above it, a pan sizzled, releasing a savory smell. Near the fire, two beds rested, their quilts neatly folded.

"Place it on the symbol," the Witch instructed, pointing to a glowing rune etched into the wooden floor. Kratos obeyed, gently setting the boar down.

Moving swiftly, the Witch retrieved a jar from her shelf, filled with crushed leaves and flowers. "Hold him tight," she said as she knelt beside the animal. Her hands moved with practiced grace, applying the salve to the wound. Atreus, now more at ease, took in the cabin's size, wondering why someone would live alone in such a spacious place.

"Do you live alone?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

"Yes... It's better this way," the Witch answered, her tone bittersweet, a hint of loneliness lingering beneath her words.

"Yeah, my father doesn’t like people either," Atreus replied with a shrug, his tone innocent but honest.

Kratos shot him a stern look, and Atreus quickly added, "What? You don’t," his eyes wide as if he didn’t understand what he’d said wrong.

"He’s right!" Bendy chimed in, grinning as he nudged Omega, who nodded in agreement.

The Witch chuckled softly, her eyes softening.

But her focus quickly returned to the task at hand as the boar thrashed, its pain causing it to spasm. "Hold him tight, before he gets hurt," she instructed again, handing Atreus a vial of glowing blue liquid. "This will calm him."

As Atreus administered the potion, the Witch looked up, her eyes meeting Kratos’s. "I need two things, a red root. Grows behind the house. Can you and the cubs bring some?" she asked, her tone urgent but calm.

Kratos considered for a moment before giving a curt nod, granting Atreus and the cubs permission to fetch the roots. Atreus led the way, the cubs following closely, disappearing through the cabin door as they set off on their new task.

Kratos's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening instinctively on the hilt of his axe. "What else?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble of suspicion and concern.

The Witch paused, her eyes flickering toward the door where the children had disappeared moments ago. She took a deep breath, her posture tense, as if weighing whether to speak the truth. She glanced back at Kratos, Omega, and Beta, her gaze serious and unyielding.

"I…" she hesitated, searching their eyes. Finally, she spoke with quiet determination. "I know you are a god."

The words hung in the air like a heavy shroud. Kratos's heart thudded in his chest, the shock of her revelation sending a ripple of tension through his body.

His jaw clenched as he studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. How could she know? He had taken every precaution to keep his identity hidden. The realization set his nerves on edge, every instinct telling him to be wary.

"Not from this realm, but there's no doubt about it," the Witch continued, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

Kratos exchanged glances with Omega and Beta, their expressions mirroring his own—wary, cautious, and filled with the weight of uncertainty. This woman had seen through their disguises, seen past the walls they’d carefully built. It was a vulnerability he couldn’t afford.

"He doesn’t know, right? About your nature... or his own?" the Witch probed, her eyes fixed on Kratos with a penetrating gaze.

Kratos’s fists tightened. "That does not concern you!" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He didn’t take kindly to strangers meddling in their affairs, especially when it came to his son. The Witch’s knowledge felt like an intrusion, a threat to everything he had fought to protect.

The Witch’s eyes softened, but her expression remained urgent. "The gods here do not like outsiders. Trust me, I know. When they find you—and they will— It will be difficult to keep the truth, they will demand answers."

Kratos’s face hardened, his eyes cold as ice. "That will be our problem," he retorted, his tone brooking no argument.

But the Witch wasn’t backing down. "Whatever it is your secret, you can't hide it forever," she warned. "And you two—" she gestured to Omega and Beta, her gaze fierce. "Do you even know what your son is?" She asked pointing to Bendy who was outside the house with Atreus, Bucky and Lyris.

Her words struck a nerve, and the two Inferno-wings stiffened.

Beta's eyes darted to her mate, confusion etched across her features. "Bendy?" she echoed, the name catching in her throat.

Omega frowned, his wings twitching. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a growl of suspicion.

The Witch’s eyes locked onto them, and she let out a sigh of frustration. "Don’t try to fool me. I’m not blind. He’s adopted, isn’t he?"

The silence that followed was heavy, the truth she had unearthed settling like a storm between them. Kratos, Omega, and Beta exchanged looks—an unspoken conversation of shock and fear. The Witch had not only uncovered Kratos’s secret, but she had also pierced through the veil surrounding Bendy’s origins.

"Yes… he is," Beta admitted, her voice barely a whisper as she lowered her gaze. There was no point in lying; the Witch had already seen too much.

The Witch’s expression shifted, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring her features. "Unbelievable… Do you have any idea what you've done?" she demanded, her voice rising as she glanced between the dragons and the god.

Omega bristled, his wings flaring slightly in defense. "You weren't there," he shot back, his voice a mix of defiance and remorse. "He was all alone, only a hatchling. We couldn't just leave him."

The Witch’s eyes flashed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don’t understand," she snapped. "It's dangerous enough to go near one of them, especially a cub! Do you have any idea what will happen when they find him?"

Beta’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by 'one of them'?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

The Witch paused, her gaze shifting between the three parents. Slowly, her anger faded, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "You really don’t know, do you?" she said, almost to herself.

The Witch of the Woods' sigh echoed in the silence that followed her revelation, her eyes lingering on Bendy, who stood by the window, blissfully unaware of the heavy conversation taking place.

The evening light filtered through, casting shadows across his form as he watched the birds outside, his expression innocent and untouched by the growing tension in the room.

“Of course not, how could you all know...” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of ancient secrets.

She paused, her eyes filled with a wisdom born from centuries of watching the realms.

“A long time ago, when the gods created Midgard, Odin learned of a civilization of humans known as 'The First Ones.' According to the stories, they were a race so advanced that they did not believe in gods. They possessed the knowledge to cure the most terrible diseases, and they had the power to travel through the stars.” She paused, observing the confused expressions on Kratos, Omega, and Beta’s faces as they struggled to grasp the history she was revealing.

“Seeing their potential, Odin struck a deal with their king. In exchange for protection, The First Ones would provide him with weapons—tools so powerful they had the capability to wipe out entire pantheons.” Her tone grew grim. “Odin arranged for a ship to transport these so-called weapons to Midgard, where his soldiers would take them to Asgard. But what he didn’t realize was that The First Ones had deceive him.”

Thousands of Years Ago

A Viking ship, massive and imposing, cut through the churning waters of the Aegir Sea. Waves crashed against its sides, and thunder rumbled as lightning streaked across the stormy sky, briefly illuminating the deck. Inside, a guard, clad in furs and armor, tightened his grip on his spear as he prepared for his shift. 

But then he heard it—a low, eerie moan that reverberated from the lower deck where the cargo was stored. His brows knitted in confusion as he edged closer, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His heart hammered in his chest as he approached the heavy door that sealed off the ‘weapons’ chamber.

“What Odin had not realized was that The First Ones had not told the whole truth,” the Witch’s voice narrated over the scene, her words chilling in their certainty.

The guard hesitated, his breath shallow as he fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open, and he stepped inside, eyes wide as they adjusted to the dim light. But instead of weapons, he was met with a bizarre sight—metal structures towering like cages, their transparent walls glowing with an unnatural green light. It was as if the air itself pulsed with life, and the sound, the moan, grew louder.

Swallowing hard, the guard moved deeper, his spear held out as he neared the source of the noise. 

“Because what they hadn’t told him was that the supposed weapons... were alive.”

His eyes locked onto one of the cages—it was empty, the green light flickering ominously. Dread settled in his gut, but before he could react, a shadow loomed behind him.

An enormous, horned figure lunged from the darkness, and in an instant, its fangs tore into his throat. His scream was choked, blood spurting as he was pulled to the ground. More shadows slithered from the darkness, their eyes glowing like embers as they converged on the fallen man.

Chaos erupted as the creatures emerged, their forms monstrous and serpentine.

Screams echoed through the ship as the guards fought for their lives, the deck painted with blood. In the wake of the slaughter, the ship drifted, abandoned and filled with the aftermath of a terror Odin had unwittingly unleashed.

In the Present

“The ship was found stranded, every guard slaughtered in the most horrific ways imaginable,” the Witch recounted, a shiver running down her spine as she recalled the story. “From that day on, the gods—Aesir and Vanir alike—faced the consequences of Odin's ambition. For in his arrogance, he had unleashed the deadliest monsters the nine realms had ever known... the Shadow-Wings. Or, as they became known... The God Slayers.”

Omega’s fists clenched, his knuckles white with tension. “And what’s that supposed to mean!?” he demanded, his voice edged with frustration and anger.

The Witch’s eyes shifted back to Bendy, a solemn expression crossing her face as she weighed her words. “Look at him. He is not like you,” she said, her voice tinged with an urgency that pierced through the room. “He is something entirely different.”

Beta’s wings flared as she stepped forward, her eyes blazing with maternal fury. “Bendy is our son, blood or not!” she declared, her voice resolute, as if defying the world to say otherwise.

But the Witch’s gaze sharpened, her patience fraying. “Don’t you understand!?” she hissed, her frustration boiling over. “You are sheltering a being that feeds on the flesh of gods. He is a predator—a hunter of divine blood. You and your child are his prey, whether you see it or not. No family bond, no matter how strong, can alter this, is his nature.”

Beta and Omega exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes wide with shock and confusion as they struggled to process the magnitude of the revelation. The air between them felt heavy, almost suffocating. “How old is he?” the Witch pressed, her eyes locked onto them, her tone sharpened with urgency.

“Fourteen, why?” Omega responded, his voice tight as unease crept into his expression. He could feel the weight of something terrible, something he couldn't yet understand.

The Witch’s face paled, her expression contorting in horror before she quickly masked it, her composure steadying. “Because it is at this age that their powers begin to awaken, and it is also when they develop the hunger—the need to feed on the divine,” she explained, each word carrying the weight of an ancient curse.

The words struck Beta and Omega like a physical blow, their faces mirroring disbelief and horror. Beta’s wings trembled as she clutched Omega’s arm, her eyes searching his for any sign that this was some kind of misunderstanding. “S-So even if that’s true, how come we never heard about them?” she stammered, her voice cracking as the reality of the situation began to settle in.

The Witch’s gaze darkened, and she lowered her head as if burdened by the weight of an unspoken tragedy. “Because there aren't anymore... They were all hunted to extinction by Odin,” she revealed, her voice laced with sorrow and a deep, ancient grief.

Omega’s eyes narrowed, his confusion morphing into frustration. “How? You just said they hunted gods—how did they become extinct?!” he demanded, his voice rising as he tried to make sense of the conflicting information.

The Witch’s lips curled into a bitter smile, her eyes reflecting centuries of pain and anger. “You would be surprised how determined gods can be when their reign is threatened. Odin feared their power, and he was willing to go to any length to maintain his control. So, he hunted them down—every last one of them and once he finds out one is alive, he will send someone to kill him.” Her tone was heavy, the bitterness seeping through each word.

Kratos, who had stood silently observing, finally stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “What can be done?” he asked, his expression stoic, though his eyes held a flicker of concern.

The Witch’s shoulders slumped, the fight leaving her as she shook her head. “Nothing can be done. I’m sorry, but it’s already in his nature. No magic, no force can change what he is meant to become.” Her voice carried the weight of inevitability, the sorrow of knowing a truth she wished she could deny.

The revelation hung in the air, settling over Beta and Omega like a shroud. Beta’s grip on Omega’s arm tightened as she struggled to hold back tears, her mind racing through memories of her son—every laugh, every smile, every moment that now felt like a distant echo of a life she could barely recognize.

Omega’s face, once filled with resolve, now showed the cracks of uncertainty as he grappled with the reality that their son might be something beyond their control.

The Witch watched them both, her expression softening with pity. “If you don’t believe me, that’s fine,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “But look at the signs. Observe him closely—any changes in behavior, shifts in personality. It won’t be long before you’ll see the truth for yourselves.”

Her eyes then fixed on Kratos, a silent plea in her gaze. “You’re right... It’s not in my interest to meddle, but they need to know, for their own sake.” She paused, then continued with a sense of urgency. “I need watercress flowers—they have white petals and grow in my garden. Just a little will do.”

Kratos nodded, his expression unchanging as he accepted the task. Without hesitation, he turned and exited the Witch’s house, stepping into the garden beyond. The wind whispered through the tall grass, and the sunlight cast long shadows across the path as he made his way toward the patch of flowers. He moved with purpose, but his thoughts were weighed down by the Witch’s words.

Doubt and concern churned within him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the danger she spoke of was closer than any of them realized.

As he knelt down to pick the flowers, he paused, glancing back at the house where Beta and Omega remained. The stranger’s words had planted a seed of unease deep within them—a feeling that something dark and ancient was stirring, something that could threaten everything they held dear.

The gravity of the situation settled like a stone in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, Kratos felt the faint stirrings of fear.

Upon reaching the garden, Kratos knelt down, the sun casting a glow over the dew-covered leaves as he carefully plucked the delicate watercress flower.

The petals were soft, almost fragile under his fingers, and for a moment, he allowed himself to focus solely on the task at hand, trying to quiet the storm of thoughts raging within him. As he straightened up, his eyes scanned the garden, settling on Atreus and the cubs, Bucky and Lyris, who were diligently working together to unearth the stubborn roots of a plant.

Atreus strained against the soil, gritting his teeth as he tugged, his small hands digging into the earth. The cubs mirrored his effort, their claws scratching at the dirt. But something was amiss. Kratos’s sharp gaze swept the garden again, and he quickly noticed Bendy's absence, a fact that sent a ripple of unease through him. He clenched his jaw, another layer of concern stacking onto the others already weighing down his thoughts.

Moving quietly, Kratos approached Atreus. He knelt beside his son, the ground cold beneath his knees, and extended the knife that Atreus had dropped earlier. The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, his brows furrowing as he accepted the weapon, turning it over in his hands.

"Does this help?" Kratos inquired, his deep voice calm, masking the tension he felt building within.

Atreus’s face fell, disappointment clouding his expression. "Did I drop it...?" he murmured, a hint of guilt evident in his voice as he realized his mistake. His grip tightened around the hilt, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his perceived failure.

Kratos’s response was firm but carried a tone of understanding. "When you and the cubs were after the animal," he reminded, his words both a lesson and a reassurance. He placed a hand on Atreus's shoulder, grounding him, reminding him of the importance of vigilance and responsibility in their tasks.

Nodding, Atreus resumed his efforts with renewed determination, his hands moving with more focus and care. Kratos stood beside him, his presence a steady and silent reassurance.

He watched as the boy and the cubs dug deeper, their persistence paying off as the stubborn roots finally yielded, the plant pulling free from the soil. Kratos felt a swell of pride in his chest, mingled with the ever-present concern of a father watching his son grow.

"I'll be more careful," Atreus vowed, his voice carrying a note of determination that wasn’t there before. He glanced up at Kratos, his eyes reflecting both his regret and his resolve to do better.

With a nod of approval, Kratos acknowledged Atreus’s commitment. "See to it," he said, his tone both an affirmation and a challenge. But as he looked around, his eyes darkened, realizing that Bendy was still nowhere to be seen.

"Where is the cub?" he asked, his gaze shifting to Atreus, then to Bucky and Lyris. His voice, though calm, held a hint of urgency.

Lyris, pausing her efforts, looked up and tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright and attentive. "Bendy went to the river," she replied, her voice earnest. "He said he would come back quickly."

Near the river, Bendy paused to take in the serene beauty around him. The river’s surface shimmered under the soft sunlight, reflecting the hues of the autumn foliage—vibrant reds, deep purples, and rich blues.

The gentle rustling of the light brown grass in the breeze and the distant chirping of birds created a tranquil melody, blending with the soft babbling of the water as it flowed downstream. It was a peaceful, picturesque scene, a quiet contrast to the ominous atmosphere lingering in the Witch’s forest.

He moved closer to the river’s edge, where a small pier extended over the water. It was old but well-maintained, with wooden planks that creaked gently underfoot. Hanging from the skinning station were several freshly caught fish, their silver bodies glinting in the sunlight as they swayed slightly in the breeze. The air was filled with the scent of fresh water and the tang of fish, adding to the rustic charm of the setting.

Bendy’s eyes were drawn to a creature lounging beneath the skinning station—a massive cat with a luxurious coat of copper and black fur that seemed to glisten with every movement.

The cat’s presence was regal, its body coiled with the strength and grace of a predator. It was so imposing that even the mighty Thor would hesitate before challenging such a beast. The animal exuded an air of quiet authority, its piercing eyes following the movement of the fish above with laser focus. 

And yet, despite its majestic appearance, the cat was begging. Its head tilted upward, eyes locked onto the dangling fish, and its tail flicked lazily as it let out a soft, pitiful sound.

"Meow."

Bendy couldn’t help but chuckle, amused by the sight of such a regal creature reduced to begging like a common pet. "You want that fish, don't you?" he teased, grinning at the cat’s desperation.

The cat’s eyes shifted to Bendy, and it responded, voice smooth and surprisingly articulate. "You are very cunning, unfortunately, I can't catch it," it said, its tone carrying a hint of sass that caught Bendy off guard.

Raising an eyebrow, Bendy crossed his arms, intrigued. "Why not? Can't you just climb up? I know you're a little fat, no offense, but it’s not that tall," he remarked, playfully challenging the cat.

The cat’s eyes narrowed, its tail flicking with irritation. "Total offense, actually," it quipped back, its tone unapologetically sharp.

Bendy laughed, appreciating the cat’s boldness. "Well, I mean, don't cats climb things?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I’ve seen plenty of cats climb higher than this."

The cat sighed, its expression softening as it lowered its gaze. "Cats climb things, yes," it admitted. "But I can't do it anymore."

The cryptic response only deepened Bendy’s curiosity.

He watched as the cat paused its grooming, licking its paw before shooting him a pointed look. "And before you open your mouth: no, it's not because I'm too fat," the cat added, preemptively addressing Bendy's unspoken question.

Bendy’s expression shifted from playful to serious as he leaned closer, sensing something more beneath the cat’s words. "Then what happened?" he pressed, his voice quieter now, his curiosity piqued by the cat's reluctance.

The cat’s demeanor changed, its playful arrogance giving way to something darker. "My claws were ripped out," it revealed, its tone heavy with bitterness. "Odin's orders."

Bendy’s eyes widened, and he moved closer, his gaze fixed on the cat's paws. The cat extended one, showing him the thick, scarred tissue that marred each paw pad. The sight of it made Bendy’s stomach twist; the scars were deep and ugly, a stark reminder of the violence inflicted upon the animal.

"He sent Thor's sons to do the job," the cat continued, voice laced with anger. "Said I had become too troublesome, that I was defying my place in his realm."

Bendy’s heart ached at the thought of the pain the cat had endured. He had heard stories of Odin’s cruelty, but seeing its consequences firsthand was different. "Why would they do that to you?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with sympathy.

The cat’s eyes gleamed with a mix of sorrow and fury. "Because I once dared to speak out against him," it said, its voice dropping to a whisper. "When he insulted my queen, i mocked his rule, and for that, he took away my freedom. Now, I can’t hunt, I can’t fight—I can only beg."

The weight of the cat’s story settled heavily on Bendy’s shoulders. He stared at the scars, feeling a surge of anger on the animal’s behalf. "That’s wrong," he muttered, his fists clenching. "Nobody deserves that."

The cat’s eyes softened as it looked up at Bendy, a glimmer of gratitude breaking through its pain. "Maybe," it said, its voice a little less guarded. "But the gods do as they please, and we pay the price."

Bendy felt a connection with the cat, an unspoken understanding of suffering and resilience. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small piece of dried meat. "Here," he offered, tossing it to the cat. "It's not fish, but it’s better than nothing."

The cat caught the meat with surprising grace, its eyes lighting up. "Thank you," it said, voice softening. "Not many would show kindness to a stranger."

Bendy shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, maybe not everyone is as bad as the gods. By the way, was it worth it? Defending you queen?" Bendy asked, the question heavy on his tongue. He struggled to reconcile the idea of a god inflicting such cruelty upon a creature that seemed so loyal.

The cat’s eyes burned with determination. "Why yes! I love my queen more than I fear him," it said, voice steady and unwavering. The words were simple, but the conviction behind them was unshakeable, and Bendy sensed that this was not a statement made lightly.

The cat motioned for Bendy to follow, padding silently through the grass until they reached a small waterfall nestled near the edge of the house. The water cascaded down into a pool below, its surface rippling under the force. The cat settled by the water’s edge, gazing at the waterfall with a look that seemed both wistful and resolute.

"I would give everything for her," the cat confessed, its voice barely above a whisper as it watched the water flow. "I have sacrificed more than you could imagine."

Bendy remained skeptical, leaning back against a moss-covered rock. "You're being a little dramatic, don't you think? You're just a cat," he replied, the words slipping out before he could fully grasp the significance of what the cat was sharing.

The cat’s eyes flicked back to Bendy, their depth holding a thousand untold stories. "I am. But once, I had the power of a lion and the heart of a warrior," it lamented.

The sorrow etched into its gaze seemed to look beyond the present, into a past filled with battles and glory. "I was lucky. My brother was not. The sons of Thor are bloodthirsty, vicious animals, but my torturer spared my life. A twisted act of mercy, perhaps.”

Bendy felt a pang of sympathy as the cat’s voice grew heavy with grief. "I'm sorry," he offered, his tone softening as he sensed the weight of loss behind the cat's words.

The cat met his eyes, and for a moment, there was a flicker of gratitude. But it quickly turned somber. "Don't be sorry, child," it said, shaking its head. "Trjegul was a warrior. He fought to the end for his queen. There is no more noble death than this." The cat’s gaze shifted upward, towards the sun that peeked through the trees, its rays dancing on the water’s surface.

"Trjegul was burdened with the dumbest of the brothers, and he damn near slashed the brute in half. The coward ran off crying after frying my brother’s heart. He was spared from this existence. From this wretched form." The cat’s voice trembled, and Bendy could see the raw pain in its eyes, a pain that had long since settled into resignation.

“What do you mean?” Bendy asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece together the cat's cryptic words.

The cat’s gaze hardened, and it slapped the water with a paw. The ripples distorted both their reflections, warping their faces into unrecognizable shapes. "To never change, to stay stagnant is death. Everything lives, everything grows, and everything dies," the cat began. "See, even this pond, as small as it is, is constantly in motion. You—yourself—are growing as we speak, and someday you will die as all things do. To keep a living being trapped in one form, to not allow them to change... it is the cruelest fate imaginable."

The cat’s voice grew softer, almost melancholic. "By living as something I am not, I am building an illusion in my head to cope with reality. Sometimes, others construct that illusion and push you to be in their image. I am fighting through the fog as long as I can, but one day, I will give in. And I will wake up as just a little cat."

The weight of the cat’s words hung in the air, and Bendy felt a pang of helplessness. "And there’s no way to stop it?" he asked, his voice laced with a small hope that there might be a solution for the cat’s plight.

The cat shook its head slowly. "No. The only way to reverse what has been done is to either be made whole once more or confronted with the truth. It is already too late for Hildisvíni, but there is still hope for…” The cat trailed off, its voice catching.

“Who?” Bendy pressed, leaning closer.

Silence.

Bendy frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Who?” he asked again, his voice more insistent. "Who is it not too late for?"

The cat simply stared at him, its eyes unreadable, before it dipped its head into the water and bit into the fish’s throat that he caught. "Meow," it said, a faint, almost sorrowful sound.

Bendy was left standing by the water, his mind swirling with questions and a sense of unease. The cat’s words lingered, hinting at a truth he couldn’t quite grasp. Before he could ask further, the sound of a familiar voice pierced through the silence.

"BENDY!" Atreus’s voice echoed, urgent and loud. Bendy whipped around to see Atreus and the others approaching, their figures silhouetted against the sunlight filtering through the trees.

"Let's go! We already got what we need," Atreus called out, motioning for Bendy to hurry. 

Bendy hesitated for a moment, casting one last glance at the cat before sprinting back to join his friends. As he ran, the cat’s enigmatic words echoed in his mind, leaving him with a nagging feeling that there was more to the story—more that he had yet to uncover.

As they entered the witch’s house, a sharp contrast from the chaos of the forest greeted them. The air was warm, filled with the crackling of the fireplace and the comforting scent of herbs that hung in the air like a protective veil. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by the flickering firelight, illuminating shelves lined with bottles of strange potions and dried plants. The atmosphere was oddly serene, a stark refuge from the dangers lurking outside.

The witch knelt by the hearth, tending to her injured boar companion. Her hands moved with practiced care, dabbing ointments and whispering soft incantations that seemed to soothe the animal’s pain. The boar let out low grunts, its massive form twitching as the witch worked, her touch both gentle and firm. Atreus watched, a pang of guilt gnawing at him.

He clenched his fists, unable to shake the weight of knowing it was his arrow that had caused the creature’s suffering.

Nearby, Omega and Beta stood with a similar look of concern. Their eyes met Atreus’s, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding—a shared worry that ran deeper than the immediate situation. Together, they stepped forward, presenting the ingredients they had painstakingly gathered. 

The witch took them, her expression neutral as she inspected each item before nodding her approval. "Good, this will do," she murmured. She began mixing the herbs and powders into a small cauldron, the contents bubbling and hissing as the potion brewed. A fragrant aroma wafted up, tinged with the earthy scent of freshly cut leaves and the tang of magic.

She dipped a cloth into the potion, then applied it to the boar’s wounds, the liquid glowing faintly as it touched the injured flesh. The boar flinched but soon relaxed under her care, its breathing evening out.

"Will he live?" Bendy asked, his voice carrying a mix of anxiety and hope as he stared at the boar’s side, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.

The witch looked up, her eyes meeting his with a calm, steady assurance. "Yes," she said softly. "He will live."

Bendy’s shoulders sagged with relief, but the tension in the room didn’t dissipate entirely. The witch moved toward a shelf, pulling down a small pot filled with dried mugwort. As she lit it, pink and yellow smoke unfurled into the air, swirling like tendrils of silk and filling the room with a sweet, calming fragrance. The smoke curled around them, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist.

"He’s going to be sore, but he will live," the witch reiterated, her voice gentle yet firm. The group exhaled as one, the weight of the moment slowly lifting.

"Then we are done," Kratos said, his voice gruff as he stepped forward, ever the pragmatist. He made a move to leave, but the witch raised her hand, halting him in his tracks.

"Wait," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "I need to repay you."

Kratos turned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as the witch approached him with a small bowl filled with glowing liquid.

She dipped her fingers into the bowl, the substance clinging to her skin with a faint shimmer. Reaching up, she attempted to press her fingers against the side of his neck. Instinctively, Kratos’s hand shot up, gripping her wrist in a vise-like hold. His eyes were hard, cautious—untrusting.

The witch’s gaze was unyielding, her expression sharp with a hint of annoyance. "Do you want to stay hidden?" she asked pointedly. "This mark will make all of you... invisible to anyone who wants to make things difficult."

Kratos hesitated, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he released her wrist, nodding curtly. Reluctantly, he allowed the witch to press the mark onto his skin. The liquid flared briefly, and a glowing symbol formed before it faded into his flesh, leaving a faint warmth in its wake.

The witch soon finished marking the others with the same care, her touch precise and deliberate. Once the ritual was complete, she rose to her feet and crossed the room, murmuring an incantation as she placed her hand on the wall. The house shuddered in response, the floor beneath them vibrating.

"Heimili," she called out. The walls groaned, and the entire house shifted downward, descending into the earth. The floorboards creaked, and a hidden trapdoor opened, revealing a set of steps leading down into the dark.

"There is a shortcut below the house to get out of the woods safely," the witch explained, her voice echoing in the chamber. "Get down there and head toward the daylight where you can get a boat and used it to swim into the river."

As they prepared to descend, Atreus lingered, glancing back at the witch. There was a sadness in his eyes, a reluctance to leave. "Will we see you again?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty, like a child saying goodbye to a trusted guardian.

The witch knelt down, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "It depends on your wishes," she replied softly, her tone almost maternal. "But for now, you must go."

Atreus nodded, still hesitant, but he allowed himself to be led toward the stairs. The group descended into the passage, the light from the house fading as they went. The air grew cooler, and the scent of earth and roots filled their senses.

As they moved toward the exit, Atreus glanced back one last time, the witch’s words lingering in his mind. The doorway to the forest loomed ahead, the light of day filtering through, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross again—perhaps when they needed her most.

As they bid farewell to the witch and stepped into the entrance of the underground area, Omega and Beta exchanged tense glances. The witch's revelation lingered like a storm cloud over their thoughts.

"What if it's true?" Omega whispered, his voice barely audible as he glanced back towards the witch's house. "Could Bendy really be a Shadow-Wing...?"

Beta’s jaw clenched, her eyes filled with determination. “If he is, we need to tell him. We owe him the truth.”

They descended into the underground tunnels, the air cool and damp as their footsteps echoed through the dim, flickering lanterns mounted along the rough stone walls. The path twisted and turned, each step carrying them deeper into the shadows. Their minds were consumed by the witch’s words, and the weight of the revelation felt heavier with each passing moment.

They approached a small dock where a wooden boat waited, its hull gently bobbing against the stone embankment, the water reflecting their anxious faces.

Just as they were about to board, Bendy froze. His eyes widened, and his body tensed as a wave of panic washed over him. “WAIT!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the cavern, bouncing off the stone walls.

The group halted, turning back to face him. Atreus’s brows furrowed with concern as he moved closer. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but worried.

Bendy’s hands frantically patted down his pockets, his face becoming paler with every second. “I think I left something at the witch’s house,” he said, his voice cracking with anxiety. “I have to go back and get it.”

Kratos’s expression darkened, his focus solely on the mission ahead. “No. We must continue,” he stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

But Bendy’s eyes were filled with desperation as he clutched the side of the boat, his fingers digging into the wood. “Uncle Kratos, please!” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “I promise, I’ll be back soon. I can’t lose it.”

Kratos’s eyes met Bendy’s, and for a moment, the weight of Bendy’s urgency seemed to pierce his resolve. After a tense pause, he exhaled slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “Fine, but be quick,” he relented, though the concern in his eyes remained.

With a nod of gratitude, Bendy leapt from the boat, his heart racing as he sprinted back through the tunnels, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. The stone passageway seemed to stretch endlessly as he pushed himself faster, the urgency burning in his chest.

Meanwhile, in the witch’s house, she sat hunched over an ancient book, her fingers tracing the faded text. Her brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages, searching desperately for any information about the Shadow-Wings. With every page that turned up empty, her frustration grew. “Nothing... nothing at all,” she muttered under her breath, her voice thick with disappointment.

Then, a loose page slipped out from between the book’s spine, fluttering down to the floor. The witch’s eyes narrowed as she picked it up, her fingers trembling slightly as she read. Her heart sank as the tragic tale of the Shadow-Wings unfolded before her. “Poor little one... He doesn’t even know what he is,” she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.

A sudden knock at the door made her jump, the page slipping from her fingers as she quickly concealed it among her other papers. Recognizing the familiar voice beyond the door, she relaxed but couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest.

“Hello? Witch? It’s just me!” Bendy’s voice called from outside, echoing faintly through the wooden walls.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the witch rose and opened the door, a warm smile spreading across her face as she ushered him inside. “Come in, little one,” she greeted gently. “What brings you back so soon?”

“Hi... Umm, sorry for coming unannounced,” Bendy said sheepishly as he stepped inside. “But I think I left something here by accident. Can I look for it?”

The witch’s eyes softened, sadness flickering in her gaze. She knew the weight the young cub carried, even if he did not. “Of course. Feel free to search wherever you need,” she replied, stepping aside to give him space.

Bendy wasted no time, scouring the room, his eyes scanning the shelves and corners with intense focus. The witch watched him curiously before asking, “What exactly are you looking for?”

“It’s a small object, shaped like a triangle,” Bendy explained, his voice filled with hope. “It’s white, with three green lines on it.”

The witch’s eyes darted to the floor, where her foot brushed against something small and hard. Bending down, she retrieved the object—a tiny triangular piece with green markings, just as Bendy had described. She held it up, her smile gentle. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Bendy turned, and his face lit up with joy, relief flooding his features as he saw the familiar shape in her hand. “Yes, that’s it!” he exclaimed, his voice bright with gratitude. “Thank you so much!”

The witch handed him the object, her expression softening even further as she watched the relief and happiness on his face. “You’re very welcome,” she replied warmly. “It’s always good to see a smile on your face.”

Bendy clutched the object tightly, the relief evident in his eyes. After a moment, he extended his hand. “I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Bendy,” he said, a friendly smile lighting up his features.

The witch seemed pleasantly surprised by his introduction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bendy,” she responded, her tone warm. “If I may ask, what is that?” she gestured to the object in his hand.

Bendy’s expression grew thoughtful as he stared down at the triangular piece. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve had it since I was little. Every time I hold it, it feels... familiar, like I should remember something. But... it’s just a feeling.”

The witch’s eyes held a hint of sympathy as she listened. “Sometimes, objects carry memories or echoes of the past,” she said softly. “Perhaps, one day, it will reveal its truth to you.”

Bendy nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his gaze. “Maybe... I hope so.”

As the conversation continued, Bendy’s gaze wandered to the boar resting by the fireplace. The flames cast a soft glow over its coarse fur, highlighting the rise and fall of its breathing. A hint of concern clouded Bendy’s purple eyes as he observed the creature, his brow furrowing.

“How is he?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.

The witch’s eyes followed Bendy’s, settling on the boar with a tender expression. “He needs to rest, but I think he’s out of danger,” she said, though a tinge of sadness lingered in her words as if she knew the struggle was far from over.

Bendy’s curiosity deepened. He tilted his head, glancing at the boar with a look of earnest interest. “Does he have a name?” he inquired, his voice carrying a note of gentle intrigue.

The witch smiled faintly, her eyes softening as she recalled her old friend. “Hildisvíni. He has been a good friend for a long time,” she replied, her tone carrying the weight of years of companionship. She reached out and gently stroked the boar’s side, her touch filled with affection.

Bendy’s eyes widened as he continued to study Hildisvíni.

The boar’s tusks, long and slightly curved, glinted in the firelight, and the patterns in its fur seemed almost otherworldly. “I must say, I’ve never seen a boar like him. You said he was the last one in the Realms?” Bendy asked, his voice filled with awe and wonder.

The witch nodded, her gaze distant as she looked beyond the room, as if recalling a faraway memory. “The last one in this realm. He is from a different place, far from here. At home, he could take any form he wanted—a majestic beast, a swift bird, even a shadow in the wind—but since he arrived here, he’s been... trapped,” she explained, her voice heavy with sorrow.

Bendy’s expression softened, empathy shining in his eyes.

The witch’s words reminded him of something the cat had told him before—of creatures who lost themselves when they were far from home. “Like a boar. Is it that bad?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with compassion as he tried to understand the gravity of Hildisvíni’s plight.

The witch’s eyes darkened as she nodded. “Yes. Because he is trapped in his mind. His true nature has faded into his memories, like a dream he can barely recall... while the illusion of being just a boar grows stronger with each passing day,” she explained, her voice filled with a sorrow that resonated with the flickering shadows on the walls.

Bendy remained quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on the sleeping creature.

He could feel the weight of the witch’s words settling in his heart, and he thought of the struggle Hildisvíni must face every day, battling the confusion between what was real and what wasn’t. “I think it’s hard to resist believing that you are in your form even if it’s not your true form,” he mused thoughtfully, his voice quiet and tinged with understanding.

The witch looked at him, her eyes reflecting a shared sense of sorrow. “Yes... In his youth, he might have had the strength to resist, to fight against the illusion, but... he is getting old. Each day, he forgets a little more of who he truly was,” she replied, her voice soft, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile memory.

Bendy’s heart ached for Hildisvíni and the witch who had taken on the burden of helping him remember. “It seems like without you to help him remember home, he’d just be a boar... I hope he finds his way back,” Bendy said, his voice gentle and filled with a sincerity that made his purple eyes shine.

The witch’s eyes softened, a glimmer of gratitude warming her face. “Thank you, child. I hope so too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She gave Bendy a small smile, touched by his kindness as she watched him with a newfound sense of admiration. For a brief moment, the room felt lighter, as if Bendy’s genuine compassion had cast a warm glow that reached beyond the firelight.

With a soft sigh, Bendy rose from the ground, brushing the wrinkles from his tunic. "Well, I better go; otherwise, my uncle will give me a hard time," he remarked with a grin, his tone lighthearted, though a hint of reluctance lingered in his eyes. He felt a connection to the witch and her home, and part of him didn’t want to leave this sanctuary just yet.

The witch’s eyes followed him, and as he moved towards the door, she felt compelled to offer him something.

She reached out, her expression thoughtful, as if deciding on the perfect gesture to show her gratitude. "Before you go, let me give you something," she said, her voice warm with kindness.

Bendy paused, curiosity lighting up his face. The witch moved to a small table covered in trinkets and tools, her fingers hovering over each item until she settled on a small, ornate object. With a graceful motion, she lifted it and returned to Bendy, placing the object in his hand with gentle care.

"Take this, it's a compass. It will help you and your family find your way," she explained, her voice filled with genuine care. The compass was a beautiful piece, its metal etched with intricate designs, and the needle glowed faintly with a soft blue light, as if imbued with magic.

Bendy's eyes widened, and a bright smile spread across his face. “Wow! Thanks!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement and gratitude. He held the compass close, studying its details with admiration.

The witch offered a gentle smile in return, her eyes reflecting warmth and kindness. "No need," she replied simply, her voice soft, as if to say that the gesture was a small token in comparison to the importance of their meeting.

As Bendy made his way to the exit, he paused, turning back to the witch for a moment.

Their eyes met, and his expression was one of fondness and gratitude. "I hope we meet again," he said softly, his voice sincere, the hope evident in his tone.

The witch returned his gaze with a warm smile, her heart touched by his words. "I hope so," she replied softly, her voice filled with genuine warmth as she watched him go. She gave him a small nod, and with a final look, Bendy slipped out the door, closing it behind him as he departed into the forest.

The door creaked shut, and silence settled over the room once more.

Alone again, the witch’s smile faded as she returned to her table, her thoughts lingering on the encounter with the young cub. She bent down to check on Hildisvíni, who shifted slightly, still deep in his restless slumber. As she tended to her boar friend, a shadow moved in the corner of the room, and a familiar presence made itself known.

“Bygul,” she greeted, her voice soft, filled with affection as she addressed the large, sleek cat that emerged from the shadows. Its fur gleamed like polished onyx, and its eyes glowed with a knowing light.

“My queen,” the cat replied, his tone respectful yet playful. He leapt onto the table with a graceful bound, earning a chuckle from the witch as her hand reached out to scratch behind his ear, her gaze softening as she regarded her feline companion.

“So... what do you think of him?” she inquired, her voice filled with curiosity. Her eyes followed Bygul’s, and for a moment, they both stared at the closed door where Bendy had just left.

Bygul’s eyes glinted thoughtfully, his tail flicking as he paused to contemplate. “From what I observed... I think he knows,” he replied solemnly, his tone tinged with certainty.

The witch’s brow furrowed in thought, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the wooden surface of the table. “Knows? Are you sure?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

Bygul nodded, his expression serious, his gaze fixed on the fireplace. “I talked to him, and when I looked into his eyes, it was as if he could understand what Hildisvíni and I were going through. As if he knew what he is. But I also see that he has... a good soul,” he explained, his tone filled with conviction. “Despite everything, there is still light in him.”

Upon hearing his words, the witch reached for the book she had been studying earlier. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned to a particular page, her eyes scanning the familiar, ancient text. “Sigh... my dear friend, I hope they know what they’re doing. For their sake,” she murmured softly, her voice heavy with concern.

With a heavy heart, she opened the book, revealing a page filled with haunting images.

Her eyes were drawn to the twisted illustration of a Shadow-Wing cub, its form grotesque as it feasted upon the flesh of a fallen ogre. The colors were dark, the lines harsh, showing the hatchling’s hunger and ferocity. Beside it loomed a larger, more terrifying figure—a monstrous entity with wings spread wide, its claws dripping with darkness, casting a shadow of fear and dread over the scene.

The witch’s eyes lingered on the images, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. A sense of dread clawed at her heart, a chill running down her spine. “There are things that even those with pure hearts cannot escape,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. She closed the book, but the unease remained, etched deep within her soul.

Not just for herself, but for the boy she had met.

His father.

And the young Shadow-Wing cub. 

To be continued...

Voice actors for the characters of this chapter

-

Brok- Robert Craighead ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEYR89AQqDk&pp=ygUPZ29kIG9mIHdhciBicm9r )

Witch of the Woods- Danielle Bisutti ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IJhWwOIcmk&pp=ygUdZ29kIG9mIHdhciB3aXRjaCBvZiB0aGUgd29vZHM%3D )

Bygul- Michael Caine ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggfpT6tOFaA&pp=ygUUbWljYWhlbCBjYWluZSBhbGZyZWQ%3D )

Chapter Text

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

In the heart of the Wildwoods, Omega and Beta wandered together, enveloped in the peaceful hush of the trees around them. The dim light filtering through the dense canopy above created a soft, dappled glow that made the forest floor feel alive beneath their feet.

The duo, radiant with the fresh pride and joy of new parenthood, was on a mission — to find food for their newly hatched twins, Bucky and Lyris.

As they walked, they whispered to each other about their hatchlings, voices low but filled with excitement. Every now and then, they stopped to examine a bush or overturned stone, eyes sharp and searching for signs of sustenance in this lush land.

Meanwhile, they knew Kratos and Faye were keeping a watchful eye on their little ones back home, giving Omega and Beta a rare moment alone.

“You know what we should do?” Beta suggested suddenly, her voice bright with a mischievous glint. “We should get them a living rabbit.”

Omega raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard. “A living rabbit? What for?” He chuckled, though curious, as they parted some ferns in search of small game.

“To teach them how to hunt,” Beta explained, a faint smirk crossing her face as she glanced up at him. “My father did the same thing for my sister and me. Once, he brought us this big, juicy groundhog. We fought over it like a pair of wildogs, tugging back and forth until it tore apart between us.” She paused, her eyes distant with nostalgia, remembering every visceral detail. “ 'sigh' It was the best day of my life.”

Omega gave a slight smile, though the image of two younglings tearing at a groundhog had caught him off-guard. He opened his mouth to respond when a sudden, sharp sound split through the quiet forest — a metallic clang, echoing eerily among the trees.

“...Did you hear that?” he whispered, his voice tinged with curiosity and caution as his head tilted toward the strange sound.

“I did...” Beta replied, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the dense undergrowth, every sense suddenly heightened.

Guided by their shared curiosity, they followed the sound deeper into the woods. It echoed rhythmically, each metallic crash filling the forest with an eerie, mechanical pulse, so out of place in this ancient, natural world. Together, they pressed on, stepping carefully through the thick ferns and twisted roots that covered the forest floor.

After what felt like an eternity of trekking through the dense underbrush, the noise led them to the base of a towering mountain. Its dark, jagged form loomed over the landscape, casting a chilling shadow that spread across the forest like a dark omen.

They stopped, breath heavy, their eyes darting around as they searched for the source of the metallic echo.

“I don’t get it…” Beta murmured, brow furrowed in confusion. “The sound led us here, but there’s nothing.”

Omega scanned the area, his senses tingling as something unspoken tugged at his instincts.

He stepped forward, his gaze locked onto the uneven surface of the rock face before them. Slowly, he reached out, fingers grazing over the cool, rough stone — until his fingertips brushed against something… unnatural.

There was a subtle texture, almost metallic, something that didn’t belong in the mountain’s craggy facade.

With a soft rumble, the ground beneath them quaked as hidden mechanisms began to whir to life, filling the air with a vibrating hum.

They stumbled back, caught off guard, as the rocky wall began to shift, revealing itself not as solid stone but as a carefully concealed doorway. Massive metal doors slid open, revealing a vast entrance lined with symbols glowing a deep, ominous purple, casting an eerie light over the forest floor.

“What in the…” Omega trailed off, eyes wide with astonishment as he stared at the doorway before them, its dark interior looming like the gaping maw of a beast.

Beta’s eyes sparkled with a strange excitement as she took in the sight. Without a hint of hesitation, she turned to her mate, a wild grin playing at her lips. “Let’s get in.”

Omega’s head whipped toward her, his face a mix of disbelief and worry. “...What?”

She looked back at him, a glint of adventure blazing in her eyes. “Come on! Don’t you want to see what’s inside?”

“W-wait, Beta!” he protested, voice rising in a rare moment of uncertainty. “We don’t know what’s in there! It could be dangerous—”

But Beta was already stepping forward, unshaken and resolute.

Knowing he couldn’t leave her to face whatever lay within alone, Omega took a deep breath, his heart pounding, and followed her into the towering entrance, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on him with every step.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled of metal and strange energy, almost electric. Soft lights blinked in the dark, illuminating walls carved with symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Their footsteps echoed as they ventured further, and Omega felt a deep sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach, as if something ancient and powerful had awoken.

Whatever they would find here, he realized, would change their lives forever.

PRESENT TIME

"Mom? Dad?" 

Bendy’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of the river, pulling Omega and Beta from their introspective silence.

The couple, lost in the depths of their own memories, looked up to see their son’s concerned gaze fixed on them. They sat together in the small, weathered boat as it glided over the water, with Atreus, Lyris, and Bucky gathered around, and Kratos at the helm, guiding them through the winding currents with ease.

“You guys look… weird,” Bendy continued, brow furrowed with genuine concern. He’d rarely seen his parents so pensive, and something about their quiet exchange left him uneasy.

Omega and Beta shared a quick, meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the secrets buried between them. There were things they could never tell their children—truths they had to protect them from, no matter how much it weighed on their hearts.

“We’re fine, honey,” Beta said, her voice calm and steady, though her eyes held a hint of sadness. “Just thinking about… some things.”

“Y-yeah, it’s nothing to worry about, kiddo,” Omega added, forcing a reassuring smile. He reached over, gently tousling Bendy’s hair, trying to ease his son’s lingering doubts. 

"...Okay." Bendy replied, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him. He knew his parents well enough to sense when something was amiss.

The boat drifted onward, gliding through a dark, narrow tunnel carved into the rock, the light fading as the mountains loomed ahead. The rhythmic sound of water lapping against the boat filled the silence, mingling with the soft echoes of their voices.

As they navigated the cool, echoing tunnel, Atreus spoke up, his voice tinged with a sense of wonder.

"I can't believe I'm doing all this,” he murmured, almost to himself. “There was a time I thought I'd never leave the forest... or my own bed." His words hung in the air, a quiet testament to the journey he had taken, both physically and emotionally.

Kratos, who rarely offered words of comfort, looked down at his son. “Being sick was not your fault,” he said simply, his tone gentle but firm. The father’s voice, though gruff, held an underlying warmth, a silent promise of protection.

“Oh, I know,” Atreus replied, a soft smile crossing his face. “I just mean... this is great.”

Bendy, always the spark of enthusiasm in any situation, grinned and nudged Atreus playfully. “Of course it’s great! We’ve faced powerful foes, survived dangerous situations, and as far as I know, nothing’s gonna stop us. And do you know why?” He leaned in, his eyes alight with mischief. “Because when danger arrives, we punch it right in the face!”

The group erupted in laughter, Bendy’s infectious confidence lifting their spirits. Atreus chuckled, his eyes brightening with genuine admiration. “Hehe, I have to admit, you’re good with words, Bendy.”

“What can I say?” Bendy smirked, his grin as wide as the river itself. “It’s a gift.” They shared a laugh, the camaraderie between them a welcome relief in the quiet tension of the journey.

Omega and Beta watched the exchange, a faint smile touching their lips as they observed their son’s fearless spirit. Yet, beneath their smiles, an unease lingered. Bendy’s exuberance and boundless energy brought warmth to their family, but a dark shadow hung over their thoughts.

They remembered the witch’s warning, that hinted their son could one day become a god-slayer.

The notion was almost impossible to believe, yet the memory clung to them like a shadow.

Despite their love for him, the doubt lingered in their hearts like a hidden scar, a reminder of the unknown future that awaited them all.

But they kept these worries buried, determined to protect their family from the weight of such fears.

The boat slipped through the tunnel, and as they emerged from the darkness, the towering silhouette of the mountain loomed before them. Its rugged peaks pierced the sky, crowned by mist and shadow. Atreus’s eyes widened with awe as he pointed eagerly toward the summit.

“Look! The mountain over there! We’re so close,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

As they drifted closer, Kratos’s gaze sharpened, his senses picking up something amiss. “We’ve entered sea water,” he stated, his tone firm and knowing.

“How do you know that?” Atreus asked, curiosity sparking in his voice as he looked around.

“Can’t you smell it?” Kratos replied, inhaling deeply. 

The others followed suit, drawing in the scent of the air around them. Almost immediately, their noses wrinkled as the pungent odor hit them—a foul, briny smell, mingled with the distinct tang of something rotten.

“Ugh! It smells like rotten eggs!” Bendy grimaced, pulling a face as he tried to shake off the unpleasant scent.

Omega shook his head in agreement, equally repelled. “I don’t know how Sea-Wings can stand living in the sea.”

“If the sea smells like that,” Atreus replied with a frown of disgust, “then it’s a pretty stinky place.” 

The nauseating stench of the sea continued to cling to the air as they rowed, curling up into their nostrils with every breath. The foul, briny aroma seemed to permeate everything around them, an unshakable presence that hung like a thick fog in the tunnel.

They pressed on, their eyes squinting against the dimness as they sought something beyond the shadowy expanse that lay ahead.

Suddenly, a glint of light appeared in the distance, guiding them toward an opening, and as they drew nearer, the vague shape of an imposing statue began to take form, standing guard over the exit of the tunnel.

Its features became clearer, revealing the fierce, sculpted visage of a figure wielding a hammer, his expression stern, his muscles tense with the promise of power and wrath.

Atreus leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the statue in reverence. "Look! It's Thor..." he murmured, awe softening his voice as he recognized the legendary god.

Kratos regarded the statue with an unreadable expression, his face shadowed by memories of battles long past. "Thor... God of thunder…" he muttered, the words slipping from his lips as if pulled from some distant, unspoken history.

Atreus glanced over, a bit taken aback. "That's right... I didn’t think you paid attention when Mother talked about the gods," he said, surprised that his father would acknowledge the deity in such a way.

Kratos’s gaze remained fixed on the statue. "Sometimes," he replied. "Did she ever speak of one who could not feel pain?"

The question seemed to hang in the air, echoing off the tunnel walls. Atreus frowned, piecing together his knowledge before recognition dawned. "Ahh… that sounds like Baldur."

"Baldur?" Kratos asked, the name stirring something deep within him—a memory, perhaps, or a foreboding sense of fate.

Atreus nodded, his voice slipping into a tone that reflected the vast knowledge he’d gathered from his mother’s teachings. "An Aesir god… the God of Light. They say he’s the most beautiful of the gods, born to Odin and Frigg."

Kratos’s brow knitted as he absorbed the words. "And Odin is king…" he murmured, almost to himself, as if connecting threads that led to a past tangled with questions and unspoken truths.

"That’s right,” Atreus affirmed, searching his father’s face. “Why ask?"

Kratos shook his head slightly, unwilling to reveal the unease stirring within him. "No reason…" he replied, his tone carrying the weight of something unsaid.

Beside him, Omega and Beta exchanged a silent glance, both suspecting what lay in Kratos’s mind. They shared the same suspicions, a silent understanding of who the stranger he fought might truly be.

The boat continued onward, slipping past the towering statue of Thor as they entered the open expanse beyond the tunnel. For a moment, the oppressive weight of the sea stench faded, replaced by the fresh, salt-tinged air of open waters. The vastness of the horizon stretched before them, a dark and endless ocean that beckoned toward their unknown destination.

A small glimmer in the distance caught Atreus’s eye, a faint but distinct flicker against the dark backdrop of the water. He pointed toward it, squinting as he tried to discern its source.

"What’s that light over there?" he asked, his curiosity pulling their attention to the far-off glow.

Kratos narrowed his gaze, studying the pinpoint of light as it bobbed gently on the horizon. It seemed too small to be a settlement, too isolated to be anything but a lone marker. Omega shifted slightly, feeling a sense of foreboding as he peered at the distant shimmer.

"Could be a torch," Beta suggested softly, her voice laced with caution. "Or a signal…"

They all fell silent, staring at the light as it flickered, a solitary beacon that seemed to wait for them in the quiet stretch of the night. The stillness around them felt charged, as if the sea itself held its breath in anticipation, a deep quiet settling over the boat as they rowed ever closer to whatever awaited them ahead.

As they neared the source of the light, the group finally made out the shape of a large, weathered statue, half-consumed by nature’s relentless grip. Vines coiled around its limbs, and patches of moss clung to the tarnished metal of its shield and spear, each eroded by centuries of rain and salt air.

Despite the layers of decay, the statue still bore an air of majesty, a silent guardian forgotten in the heart of this mysterious place.

Atreus’s eyes lit up with intrigue as he inspected the statue more closely, his gaze drawn to ancient runes etched along its surface.

He traced them with a cautious finger, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with both fascination and a hint of apprehension. "There are runes on the statue," he announced, breaking the heavy silence that hung over the group.

Kratos stepped closer, his gaze narrowing in concentration. "What do they say?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of old memories and hard-won experience.

Atreus studied the runes, his brow furrowing as he deciphered their message. "It says: ‘Sacrifice your weapons in the center of the water. Awaken the cradle of the world again.’" He paused, the significance of the words settling heavily over him. "Wait... Throw our weapons into the water? I don’t think it’s a problem for you, huh?" he added with a smirk, attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a joke.

Kratos’s expression, however, remained stoic, the humor lost on him as he weighed the command's implications.

Atreus noticed his father’s silence, his face growing more serious. "Are you… gonna do it?" he asked, his voice softening.

A shadow crossed Kratos’s face, uncertainty darkening his eyes.

The thought of discarding his weapon—the instrument of countless battles, the very extension of his power—was not a choice he could take lightly. Sacrificing their weapons might strip them of their defenses in a hostile realm where survival hinged on strength and readiness. Was this a genuine command from the gods, or a cunning trap laid to weaken them?

Bendy chimed in, trying to dispel the tension with a casual shrug. "Well, I mean, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, right? The axe will still come back to you, won’t it?" he joked, knowing that Kratos could summon it with a mere gesture.

Kratos remained silent, his gaze distant as he deliberated. He could feel the eyes of his companions on him, awaiting his decision, and though his thoughts swirled with doubts, he knew what he had to do. He drew in a long, measured breath, unsheathing his axe and holding it firmly in his grasp.

The moment stretched as Kratos lifted his arm, his mind flooded with memories of battles, victories, and losses. Then, with a firm resolve, he hurled the axe into the lake’s mist-shrouded depths. It soared through the air before plunging into the water with a resounding splash, disappearing beneath the surface as if claimed by the unseen.

Seconds ticked by, stretching into a tense eternity. The group held their breath, waiting, yet the lake remained eerily still. Kratos extended his hand to summon the axe, but the weapon did not return, as if swallowed by the lake’s depths. The silence weighed heavily upon them, amplifying their growing unease.

"The axe did not return..." Kratos murmured, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension that he could not hide.

Just then, a deafening commotion erupted from the lake as hundreds of white gulls took flight in unison, their cries piercing the air as they rose into a chaotic, swirling mass above them. The group watched in stunned silence as the birds circled overhead, their sharp, watchful eyes trained on the small boat below.

The very air seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, an almost tangible sense of anticipation hanging over the lake.

"What’s going on?" Bucky’s voice wavered, his face pale as he clutched the boat’s edge, his eyes wide with fear.

Before anyone could respond, the lake itself began to churn, waves rising and thrashing against the boat as the earth trembled beneath them. The sky darkened, and the horizon twisted and buckled, as if the very fabric of reality was bending. The boat was tossed violently, the occupants gripping whatever they could to avoid being thrown overboard.

"Hold on!" Kratos commanded, his voice steady and unyielding as he braced himself, one arm wrapped protectively around Atreus.

"Yes, sir!" Atreus called back, his voice calm but filled with an edge of excitement and fear. The boat lurched with the raging waves, each surge threatening to capsize them as they clung to the vessel, every muscle tense with the effort to remain steady.

Finally, the lake’s turbulence began to subside, and an ominous calm settled over the waters. Kratos released his hold on the boat’s edge, his gaze fixed on the shifting water before them. Slowly, a massive, scaly form began to emerge from the depths, rising like a mountain breaking through the surface. The sheer size of it was breathtaking, each scale glistening with droplets of water and adorned with strands of algae and seaweed that clung to its ancient hide.

A towering, scaly wall loomed before them, casting a shadow over their small boat. Kratos and the others braced themselves, sensing the immense power emanating from the being that now filled their vision. The silence deepened, and then, a massive, gleaming yellow eye appeared—a vertically slit pupil that seemed to pierce right through them.

Bendy and Lyris stared in awe, their mouths slightly agape. Bucky, overcome with fear, fainted instantly, his body slumping against the boat’s side. Kratos held his ground, his heart pounding, but his expression remained stoic as he faced the creature, though every instinct within him screamed that this was no mere beast.

Behind that single, colossal eye was a profound intelligence, one that seemed to observe them with a mixture of curiosity and ancient wisdom.

"What is this?" Kratos demanded, his voice echoing with apprehension as he beheld the divine creature before them.

Atreus’s voice broke through the silence, his tone reverent yet tinged with nervous wonder. "It’s the World Serpent…"

Rising higher from the water, the full form of the leviathan finally came into view, revealing an immense, sinuous body that stretched across the lake like a living mountain of scales and power. Seaweed and barnacles covered parts of its face, adding to its primeval, awe-inspiring presence. 

Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, gazed down at the tiny figures on the boat, a creature as old as the world itself, bound by fate and mystery. The group remained still, frozen under its watchful eye, feeling the weight of its gaze as it assessed them. The great serpent seemed to acknowledge them, a silent recognition passing between the ancient being and the God of War, a meeting of two forces shaped by realms and destinies beyond their control.

Kratos held his ground, his jaw set as he met the serpent’s gaze, his mind racing with questions and possibilities. The weight of the World Serpent’s presence was a reminder that they were now entwined with something far greater, a divine purpose that would guide their journey forward—into the unknown depths of fate, where gods, men, and monsters alike would clash.

With a deliberate, graceful motion, the serpent opened its massive maw and expelled Kratos's axe, sending it spinning through the air. Kratos’s hand shot out, catching the weapon effortlessly as if it had been waiting for his grasp.

He tightened his hold, steadying himself as the towering World Serpent leaned closer, its vast shadow blanketing the tiny boat and its occupants in an almost otherworldly twilight.

"Stay calm!" Kratos’s voice cut through the charged silence, his commanding tone grounding them against the weight of the Serpent’s awe-inspiring presence.

"I am... This is great!" Atreus’s voice burst with enthusiasm, his eyes wide and sparkling with a mix of reverence and wonder as he took in the divine creature’s sheer enormity and ancient, weathered scales.

"GREAT?!" Bendy’s exclamation was edged with disbelief, his nerves frayed from the encounter. "That thing could swallow us in one bite!"

Then, the serpent tried to communicate. A deep, resonant sound echoed from its throat, vibrating through the air like the rumbling of distant thunder. The power of its voice was overwhelming, but the meaning of its words remained an enigma, swallowed by the sheer scale of its language.

"It... speaks?" Kratos’s eyes narrowed in surprise, momentarily captivated by the creature’s attempts at communication.

"Yes! Mom said he’s friendly," Atreus replied, a note of reassurance in his voice as he turned his gaze to the World Serpent’s glowing yellow eyes, which seemed to hold a strange, timeless wisdom.

"What’s it saying?" Kratos inquired, his curiosity breaking through his usual stoicism.

"I don’t know," Atreus admitted, his tone laced with frustration as he struggled to understand. He strained to interpret the Serpent's words, but the language was as vast and incomprehensible as the creature itself.

Resigned to their limitations, they watched as the serpent slowly drifted back, its massive body winding between the peaks of distant mountains. The hulking beast eventually settled among the hills, its coils blending with the terrain like part of the earth itself. Even in rest, it remained an imposing figure, a living monument to a time long forgotten.

"That... That was incredible," Atreus breathed, still awestruck, his face illuminated with excitement.

"For you, maybe! I’m gonna be seeing that thing in my nightmares," Bendy muttered, his nerves still on edge.

"That beast was bigger than a Bewilderbeast..." Omega said softly, the awe in his voice mirroring the sentiments of the group.

"Ugh... What just happened? I thought for a second I was dreaming about a giant snake," Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples as he tried to process the surreal encounter.

“See for yourself,” Bendy said with a knowing smirk, gesturing to the serpent sprawled across the hillside. Bucky followed his gaze, his eyes widening in stunned silence.

"Wow..." he whispered, finally grasping the magnitude of the creature before them.

As the serpent’s titanic presence withdrew, the waters around them gradually began to recede, revealing new landscapes hidden beneath the lake’s surface.

Out of the shimmering waters emerged a temple, its golden facade catching the light, while a sprawling beach, gleaming with the wet sand of newly exposed land, stretched around them.

"Wait... There's a shipwreck over there. See?" Atreus’s keen eyes were quick to spot the remnants of a long-sunken vessel now exposed by the retreating water. "And that’s Thor’s statue, but... you can see so much more now."

"The water receded... after the serpent appeared," Kratos noted, piecing together the significance of the shift in the landscape.

"Aah... That’s why this beach didn’t exist before," Atreus explained, realization dawning as he scanned the newly exposed terrain, tracing how the lake’s retreat had unveiled hidden paths and caverns.

The group marveled at the sight before them: golden gates adorned with ancient runes, sandy shores extending into the distance, and dark caves that seemed to beckon with the promise of secrets lying in wait. 

"The mountain is over there!" Atreus pointed toward the towering peak, where a narrow, winding path led from the shoreline up to the golden temple that clung to the mountain’s base. "We can follow that path... from the beach to the mountain temple."

"Everything was hidden beneath the surface," Kratos murmured, his gaze lingering on the distant figure of the resting serpent, an entity as much a part of this world as the stones and stars.

"Minus the statue... and look, there’s a dock next to the flag,” Atreus pointed out. “We might be the first to set foot here in centuries.” 

As they prepared to move forward, the weight of the World Serpent’s gaze still lingered, a silent reminder of the ancient powers surrounding them, woven into the very fabric of this mysterious land.

With purposeful strokes, Kratos resumed rowing, his muscular arms moving rhythmically, yet his gaze continued to drift toward the colossal serpent that towered in the distance. Its scales glistened faintly, catching the light as it coiled among the mountain peaks, a primordial giant seemingly woven from the very land itself.

"Do you know that serpent?" Kratos's voice, calm yet filled with curiosity, broke the silence. His question was directed at Atreus, who had been watching the creature with a mixture of awe and reverence.

"Yeah, it’s one of the Giants... They say it’s so big it can wrap around the entire world and bite its own tail," Atreus replied, his voice filled with a sense of wonder as he recounted the ancient legends his mother had once told him.

"Ooh! Like Bucky did last week?" Lyris piped up, her playful tone breaking the solemnity of the moment. A grin spread across Bendy's face as he chuckled, remembering the incident.

"Hey! That was one time!" Bucky protested, but his indignant tone was met only with the smirks of his siblings, a shared joke bringing a brief moment of levity.

Kratos, however, was less convinced. "An exaggeration," he said flatly, a hint of skepticism in his tone as he kept his eyes on the creature in the distance.

"I don’t know... It looked really big," Atreus replied, his gaze lingering on the serpent’s colossal form, his imagination swept up in tales of ancient, god-like beings capable of reshaping the world.

As they neared the shore, Kratos guided the boat to a dock that had been hidden beneath the lake's surface until the serpent’s presence had mysteriously drained the waters. They disembarked, feeling the damp, weathered wood of the dock beneath their feet, the scent of wet stone and seaweed heavy in the air.

The group climbed a slick, moss-covered ladder, ascending to a pathway that wound up to a temple nestled against the mountain. Vegetation clung to the ancient stone, creeping over pillars and archways, giving the place an eerie, timeless beauty.

"How long do you think this has been here?" Atreus asked, looking up at the temple’s intricate carvings, worn smooth by centuries of exposure to the elements.

Kratos’s eyes moved over the architecture, the weight of ancient history pressing upon him. "Too long," he replied quietly, the gravelly tone of his voice hinting at the respect he held for the relics of the past.

As they traversed the temple grounds, the mountain loomed closer, its jagged peaks piercing the sky above, a stark reminder of the journey that still lay ahead.

The path before them twisted through ruins and overgrown pathways, but Kratos remained vigilant, his eyes scanning for any clues or obstacles that might stand in their way.

"Is this a way to the mountain?" Atreus asked, pointing ahead where the trail seemed to merge with the rugged incline leading toward their destination.

"It appears so," Kratos affirmed, his gaze sharp as he assessed their route, always calculating the safest path forward.

Suddenly, a familiar, gruff voice broke the quiet, a tone thick with both sarcasm and familiarity. "Well, if it ain't the bearded beefer, his sac-seed, and the walking lizards!"

The group turned, their eyes falling on a familiar, squat figure standing near the temple entrance. Brok, the blue-skinned blacksmith, was casually leaning against a column, his gaze fixed on them with a wry smirk.

"Brok? But... how did you...?" Atreus began, his face filled with confusion as he looked between Brok and the newly uncovered temple grounds. Just moments ago, this entire area had been submerged. How could Brok have found his way here?

Brok shrugged dismissively, his expression nonchalant as he cut off Atreus's inquiry. "None of your fucking business. Now, get over here. I got somethin' to show ya—oh, and take your eyes off the place while you’re at it. I found it first!"

"Uh... okay..." Atreus replied, curiosity mingling with reluctance. He shared a glance with Kratos, whose expression remained as unreadable as ever, but he gave a subtle nod to his son. Intrigued by Brok’s cryptic invitation, the group made their way over, casting glances around at the strange, new landscape, eager to see what secrets lay hidden within this ancient, forgotten place.

As Brok opened the massive iron gate, it creaked with a low groan, the sound resonating through the temple’s submerged corridors. Beyond lay a cavernous workshop, a forgotten relic of a bygone age. Faint light filtered through cracks in the stone, casting an eerie, shifting glow over walls coated with algae and encrusted corals—a testament to the centuries it had spent beneath the waves. Massive, barnacle-ridden columns lined the chamber, their surfaces marked with strange runic symbols that seemed to pulse in the dim light.

The group entered, their footsteps echoing across the stone floor, damp and slick with seawater.

Atreus leaned close to Kratos, whispering just loud enough to be heard over the faint dripping of water. "What do you think he wants?"

Kratos's gaze swept the room, his expression tense and guarded. "To test our patience," he replied dryly, his eyes narrowed as he studied their unfamiliar surroundings.

Brok, oblivious to—or perhaps simply ignoring—their caution, ambled toward the center of the workshop, a grin breaking through his usual scowl. “When word gets out about my workshop, folks from all over’ll be clamoring to see my handiwork… Just you wait!” His voice reverberated through the chamber, punctuated by the clang of metal as he adjusted something on his workbench, the steady rhythm of a seasoned blacksmith at his craft.

The group drew closer, drawn to the gleam of polished metal amidst the ancient stone. Brok was hunched over a pair of gloves—no, gauntlets. They shone in the temple’s dim light, the metal smooth and sleek, newly forged but carrying an air of something timeless.

“What’s that?” Atreus asked, curiosity bright in his eyes as he pointed to the strange contraption.

Brok snorted, barely looking up. “A toy, what else would it be?” He shot Atreus a pointed glance, his scowl softening into a crooked grin. “It’s a weapon, ya' fucking genius. One I made just for one of you.”

Atreus tilted his head, intrigued. “For… one of us?”

Brok nodded, his gaze sliding to Bendy. “After I let the black one over there keep the knife,” he said with a nod in Bendy’s direction, “I figured the pups could use some real equipment of their own. Can’t have them running around defenseless.”

Bendy grinned, catching Brok’s eye with a nod of appreciation, but it was clear his attention was on the impressive gauntlets.

Brok lifted the gauntlets and turned them toward the group, letting them see the exquisite craftsmanship.

Each gauntlet was armored with sharp, claw-like blades along the knuckles, gleaming a fierce red and gold with intricate runes etched into the metal. Brok’s symbol was stamped proudly onto each one, a mark of both quality and pride.

“WOW!” Atreus exclaimed, his voice breaking the silence as he marveled at the finely crafted weapon.

Brok smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction. “So… who’s gonna want it?” His gaze moved from Atreus to Bendy, then to Lyris, lingering on each as if sizing them up.

The cubs exchanged uncertain glances, each weighing the responsibility and power that came with wielding such a weapon.

After a moment’s pause, Lyris took a step forward, her golden small frame brimming with determination as she lifted her head to meet Brok’s gaze. “I’ll take it,” she declared firmly, her voice steady with resolve.

Brok’s eyes gleamed with approval as he handed her the gauntlets. “Good choice. These’ll suit you just fine. They’re built to be as natural as claws—just follow your instincts. And the best part?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “They’re forged with a special metal that can withstand your flames. Those blades can catch fire, dealing a whole lot more pain to anyone dumb enough to cross you.”

Lyris’s eyes lit up, and with a quick nod, she slid the gauntlets over her hands, the metal fitting snugly as if made just for her. She clenched her fists, testing the weight and balance of the weapon, the claws gleaming ominously as she imagined them aflame. “DAAAMN!!” Her excitement spilled over as she raised her fists, picturing herself wielding them in battle.

Beta, her mother, looked on with a mix of pride and worry. “Are you sure you want this, Lyris?” she asked, her voice soft but serious. Her gaze lingered on the deadly weapons her daughter now wielded.

“Yes!” Lyris replied, her expression unwavering as she met her mother’s gaze. “I’m ready.”

Omega and Beta exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. With a resigned nod, Omega placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. Beta offered a faint, proud smile, her apprehension tempered by the realization that her daughter was growing into a formidable warrior.

Brok, watching the family moment, merely grunted in approval. “Just don’t go losing ’em. They’re one-of-a-kind, and I don’t make second chances.” His words, gruff but filled with a hint of respect.

Lyris smirked devilishly, her fingers tracing the sharp edges of her new gauntlets as if they were alive. “Oh, ladies, we’re gonna have so much fun together,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of promise, as if speaking to the blades themselves.

Brok, overhearing her, chuckled under his breath before calling out. “Here, take it!” In one smooth motion, he tossed a shimmering blue rock toward Kratos, who caught it effortlessly, his fingers closing around the stone with a practiced ease.

The group’s attention shifted as Brok motioned toward a small pile of stones arranged near an intricately carved pedestal. “That pile there, see?” he said, nodding toward it. “With Yggdrasil’s key in that rock, you can open a door in the branches of the World Tree. It’s a shortcut between realms, and if you find one of these stones out there, you can use it to get back here faster than a Valkyrie on the wind.”

The weight in his tone made everyone listen more intently as he continued. “But remember, the path’s a one-way trip. Straight and only straight. And listen close—under no circumstances, never, never, NEVER, ever, throw yourself over the edge... unless you’re tired of living and in the mood for a free fall to your death.”

Atreus swallowed, his gaze moving to the edge of the platform, where the vast expanse of Yggdrasil’s branches twisted into infinity. “Well, there’s no reason for us to want that,” he replied, a firm edge to his voice.

“Yeah,” Bendy added, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and respect as he studied the mystical doorway. “Not planning on dying anytime soon.”

Brok gave a satisfied grunt, but a frown soon darkened his expression. “Oh, by the way, you lot didn’t get into any scuffle with a guy… scruffy, kinda tall, doesn’t feel pain, looks drunk but probably just slow?” His gaze flicked to Kratos, his expression a mixture of annoyance and disgust.

Kratos’s jaw tightened, an irritated growl slipping past his clenched teeth at Brok’s mention of the mysterious man.

Brok huffed, shaking his head with frustration. “Hey, you think I like dealing with that fool? If I wanted to do business with the Aesir, I’d set up shop outside a brothel—or a fighting pit. Or better yet, a fighting brothel,” he grumbled, folding his arms with a disgruntled snort.

“Aesir?” Atreus interjected, his eyes widening as he exchanged a glance with Bendy. “As in gods?”

“As in… from Asgard?” Bendy added, his voice tinged with both fear and a flicker of unease.

Kratos’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “Why do you mention such a man?” he demanded, his voice low and filled with warning.

Brok shrugged, scratching his head as if recalling a bothersome memory. “Might’ve seen him skulking around here, muttering something about ‘being beaten up by some… proud bunny hiding from a fair trial,’ or some nonsense like that.” He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I usually just tune out whatever they’re grumbling about and hope they wander off.”

Atreus blinked, thoroughly confused. “Um… okay?” he replied, still processing Brok’s peculiar description.

“Anyway,” Brok continued with a dismissive wave, “good luck, and try not to get yourselves killed out there. This place is gonna need some customers eventually, y’know?”

“Thanks, Brok,” Bendy said, a small smile on his face. “Good luck fixing this place up—I’m sure plenty of people will want to come here.” He gave a slight nod, a gesture of goodwill and genuine hope for Brok’s venture.

Brok let out a gruff chuckle. “We’ll see about that, kid.”

Exiting the dim warmth of Brok’s workshop, the group stepped into the chilly air, their breaths forming faint clouds in the morning mist as they marched across a stone bridge that arched gracefully over a ravine.

The air grew sharper, the wind carrying a faint metallic scent that hinted at the path ahead. Across the bridge loomed a massive golden tower, its walls adorned with ancient runes that seemed to pulse faintly, each symbol carved in mesmerizing detail. The golden structure rose high, its gleaming surface reflecting the sparse sunlight and casting long shadows across the mountain path beyond.

"Hopefully, that golden tower leads us to the mountain path," Kratos remarked, his gruff voice steady as he eyed the formidable structure with caution.

The group approached the tower's towering gates, pushing them open with effort. The immense doors creaked, revealing a vast chamber bathed in an eerie, otherworldly light. Before they could take in more than a few steps, the silence shattered. A sharp hiss filled the air, followed by the loud pop of a canister breaking above them. In seconds, a sickly green fog seeped out, and from it emerged dozens of writhing creatures—no more than an eye suspended in the air by thin, spindly tendrils. They swirled downward, darting toward the intruders with hostile intent.

Kratos was the first to react, gripping his axe tightly and flinging it with deadly precision. The Leviathan Axe sliced through the air with a chill whisper before lodging itself into one of the creatures, cleaving it clean in two. The weapon returned to his hand as if tethered by magic, ready for another strike. Beside him, Omega and Beta raised their hands, unleashing torrents of crimson and blue flame that lit up the chamber, incinerating several of the creatures in a fiery burst.

Atreus, standing slightly behind, instinctively drew his knife, quickly slashing through one of the nearest monsters, his aim precise as he drove the blade into its oversized eye. Just as he steadied himself, a shadow moved at the edge of his vision. A mottled green figure—a Draugr with tattered armor and a blade dull with rust—rose from the ground, its hollow eyes fixed on him. Atreus reacted instantly, drawing an arrow and firing it at the creature's knee, causing it to stumble with a hollow groan.

“RRAAAAGHHH!!!” A fierce battle cry tore through the air as Lyris charged forward, her gauntlets gleaming. With feral energy, she launched herself at the Draugr, raining down a relentless barrage of blows. Each punch landed with bone-crushing force until the creature lay mangled and motionless in a twisted heap.

“Yes! I have NEVER felt so alive!” Lyris exulted, laughing as she stood over the carnage, her face and arms spattered with dark, viscous remnants of the creature.

The intensity of her joy, mixed with the gruesome display, left her companions momentarily speechless.

“For the love of Ymir, Lyris!” Atreus exclaimed, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief as he watched her savor the battle's aftermath.

“What?” Lyris replied, completely unapologetic. “He was already dead.”

Bendy shook his head, wincing at the sight of her. “Yeah, but did you have to go full berserker on him?” he muttered, his eyes flicking nervously to the remains scattered across the stone floor.

Lyris shrugged, her excitement undiminished. “Whatever,” she said, wiping her gauntlets on her cloak. “But seriously, what were those weird eyeball things?”

Atreus shuddered slightly as he recalled old stories. “Nightmares. My mom used to tell me about them until… I started having nightmares of my own. I think they either bring nightmares to people or… maybe they are nightmares? I don’t remember exactly.”

“They’re annoying, whatever they are,” Kratos interjected tersely, his eyes scanning the chamber for any more threats.

The group continued onward, cautiously pressing deeper into the passage that led out of the tower and into the mountain path. The air grew thick with an unpleasant stench, the odor of rot and decay growing stronger as they approached a shadowed entrance.

Atreus covered his nose with his sleeve, grimacing. “Ugh… What’s that smell?”

“Poison,” Kratos replied, his voice grim as he studied the source of the foul odor.

Ahead of them, a pole jutted from the ground, covered in rotting vines and emanating a sickly green glow. Toxic fumes seeped from it, filling the air with a poisonous fog. Kratos acted without hesitation, taking aim and hurling his axe at the pole with pinpoint accuracy. The axe struck the mast, its icy enchantment freezing the structure and dispersing the fog, clearing the path forward.

“What were those things?” Atreus asked, relief evident in his voice as he finally lowered his arm. “They smelled awful.”

“Your mother called them ‘curse poles,’” Kratos explained, his gaze softening slightly as he spoke of her. “Toxic magic. She taught me how to handle them.”

Atreus chuckled, unable to hide his amusement. His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he looked up at his father. 

“What?” Kratos asked, a curious look crossing his face.

“It’s just… funny to think that Mom had to teach you something,” Atreus replied, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Kratos fell silent, the edges of his hardened expression softening. His thoughts drifted back to the memories of his wife, of the lessons she’d shared with him. The times spent together felt like an eternity ago, yet they lived on vividly in his mind. Those were good times, he realized, and he held onto them with quiet reverence.

“Yes…” he murmured, his eyes focused ahead but his mind lingering in those memories, a small trace of warmth beneath his stoic exterior as he pressed forward with his family by his side.

As the group trudged through the dense cave, Kratos suddenly raised a hand, signaling them to stop. His gaze sharpened, pointing towards a large crater nestled between rocky outcroppings. The party peered over the edge, eyes widening at the grisly scene below. Within the crater, a frenzy of creatures tore into the flesh of a massive animal carcass, its body half-buried and bloodied from whatever brutal attack had left it there.

"Whoa…" Bendy whispered, his voice barely audible, unable to hide the mix of awe and disgust that tightened his chest.

As Atreus scanned the chaotic scene, his sharp eyes picked out a few wolves, their ragged fur caked in dirt and old wounds, moving erratically as they fought for scraps of meat. Foam bubbled from their mouths, leaving no doubt in his mind about their condition. "Rabid wolves," he muttered, tension coloring his voice. But his attention quickly drifted to another figure lurking among the creatures—a Tatzelwurm. Its lizard-like body coiled with a menacing grace, crowned by a head resembling a cat, but with saber-like fangs and snake-like eyes that glinted with predatory hunger. Long, deadly claws dug into the ground as it snapped at a wolf, tearing through the smaller animal with disturbing ease.

"A… Tatzelwurm…" Atreus murmured, the name escaping him in a breath of trepidation. He knew all too well how dangerous these creatures could be.

Bendy swallowed, his eyes darting nervously from the Tatzelwurm to the foaming wolves. "How are we supposed to get past that?"

Atreus, thoughtful and undeterred, scanned their surroundings, his mind racing for a solution. He wanted to avoid a direct fight if they could. His gaze settled on Bucky, and an idea sparked—a risky, but potentially effective, solution.

"Bucky," Atreus whispered, a grin slowly forming. "How’s your gas?"

Bucky’s eyes lit up, catching the mischievous glint in Atreus’s own. With a playful snicker, he replied, "Oh, it’s ready—and pretty powerful!"

Atreus leaned in, sharing his plan with the little dragon. Bucky listened intently, nodding with excitement. With a determined look, Bucky crept to the edge of the crater, rummaging in a pouch and pulling out a fiery red mushroom that glowed faintly in his hand. Without hesitation, he swallowed it whole, and as he gulped it down, a low gurgling rumble came from his stomach.

The effect was immediate: Bucky’s multicolored tail began to expand, swelling up like a balloon as the magic took hold. He aimed his inflated tail carefully toward the center of the crater, then, with a deep breath, unleashed a long stream of noxious orange gas. The heavy fumes spread out quickly, settling over the feeding frenzy below in a thick, choking cloud.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he watched the gas settle around their foes. With a sly grin, he opened his mouth and released a tiny spark—a flicker of flame that floated through the air before meeting the gas.

"BOOM!"

The explosion rocked the crater, flames erupting and crackling with wild abandon. Shockwaves rippled through the clearing, sending charred bits of dirt and stone flying.

Startled by the thunderous blast, the rabid wolves yelped in terror, scattering in every direction, while the Tatzelwurm hissed, its slitted eyes wide with fear as it slithered away, retreating into the forest shadows. The path ahead was now clear, smoke rising from the crater’s smoldering remains.

Bucky strutted back to the group, a triumphant grin on his face, his chest puffed out with pride. "Yeah, keep running! Did you guys see that? I nailed it!"

Bendy laughed, reaching out to ruffle Bucky’s head. "That was some impressive firepower, Bucky."

Kratos nodded approvingly, his respect clear in the brief look he gave Bucky. "Well done," he said gruffly, before leading the group forward through the now-cleared path, deeper into the wild terrain ahead.

As they pressed forward on their journey, the group approached a towering iron gate. Kratos leaned in, pressing his weight against it, and the old metal creaked open, revealing a landscape shrouded in mist. The fog clung thickly to the ground, swirling around them and obscuring nearly everything but the faint silhouette of the towering mountain ahead, its rugged outline looming like a distant giant in the hazy distance.

"Wow… so much fog," Atreus murmured, his voice barely audible, carrying a mix of awe and trepidation as he peered into the murky unknown.

"Yeah! You can’t even see anything past it," Bendy added, squinting through the mist, trying to make out shapes beyond the dense, shifting gray that lay like a blanket across the land.

As they moved deeper, they came to a clearing bordered by jagged rocks and a massive stone archway that led into a passage beneath the high peak. To their right, a lone figure caught their eye—a small man hunched over an open gearbox, meticulously tinkering with the gears and wires inside. A thick cable snaked from the box up the mountainside, disappearing into the fog above. The man wore gleaming golden armor over his chest and back, and despite his small stature, he looked as sturdy as the stones surrounding him. His arms were covered with very cleaned gloves, though his focus was unwavering.

Atreus leaned towards Kratos, whispering, "Look… another dwarf. Should we…?"

Kratos’s gaze flickered over the dwarf but quickly turned back toward the mountain. "No, he does not matter," he said, dismissing the dwarf’s presence with a shake of his head.

But as they moved to pass, the dwarf straightened and stepped directly in front of Kratos, his expression a mix of apprehension and recognition, his brow furrowed as he slowly walked towards the towering figure of the god.

"Excuse me, but, uuh… how did you come by that axe?" the dwarf asked, his voice carrying a note of nervous curiosity as his eyes lingered on the weapon slung across Kratos’s back.

Kratos’s expression darkened, his patience already wearing thin. "That is none of your concern," he replied, his tone curt and unyielding as he moved to step around the dwarf.

But the dwarf held his ground, his hands trembling slightly but clenched tightly. He swallowed, summoning his courage. "I… I won’t disagree with that, but… I know that blade. It’s one of ours. We crafted it—but not for you."

Seeing Kratos’s growing irritation, Beta smirked, nudging Omega. "So what? Are you gonna try to take the axe by force, shorty?" she teased, exchanging a glance with her husband, both of them clearly entertained by the dwarf’s audacity.

The dwarf bristled at Beta’s comment, his face flushing as he held up his fists, a shaky attempt at defiance in his stance. "I… I’d prefer you hand it over without a fight, but if you refuse, I’ll use force if I must!" he stammered, clearly intimidated but resolute.

Before the situation could escalate, Atreus stepped forward, his hand raised in a placating gesture. "It was my mother’s," he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet sadness that made the dwarf pause. "She left it to my father before she… before she died."

The dwarf’s expression softened immediately, the fight leaving him as he lowered his fists. "Faye’s dead?" he murmured, his voice laced with genuine sorrow. His eyes glazed over, lost in a distant memory, and his hand unconsciously drifted to the gears at his side.

The group exchanged puzzled looks. Faye had never spoken much about her past, especially not about any connection to the dwarves. To Atreus, she had always been his gentle, caring mother, the one who taught him, encouraged him, and showed boundless patience and love. He never imagined her as a warrior, much less one who had wielded a weapon forged by dwarven hands.

The dwarf finally looked up, his face tinged with regret. "I am... So sorry for your loss... She was a great warrior. And a good person," he said, his voice breaking slightly as he offered his condolences.

Soon, the dwarf took a deep breath, pulling himself together, and straightened his back. His gaze returned to the axe, his expression resolute.

"Alright... I'll make improvements to the axe," he declared firmly, eyes fixed on the weapon with a deep sense of duty. There was an unmistakable tone of reverence, as if the axe itself were a relic worth safeguarding, not merely a weapon.

Atreus raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the offer. He exchanged a quick glance with his father before turning back to the dwarf. "But… nobody asked you to do that," he said, genuine puzzlement in his tone. He couldn’t understand why the dwarf, a stranger, would go to such lengths for them.

The dwarf exhaled slowly, his gaze momentarily softening as he looked at Atreus, his eyes clouded with memories of Faye. "Maybe not," he admitted, "but your mother would have insisted that I stop my brother’s… ‘vandalism,’ if you can call it that. He never did respect the finer points of our craft."

Atreus’s eyes widened with recognition as he pieced it all together. He had heard tales, hints dropped in passing about the dwarf who forged remarkable weapons alongside his estranged brother. A spark of realization lit up his face as he exclaimed, "I knew it! You’re Brok’s brother!"

Bendy nodded, his sharp gaze focused on the glowing rune brandished by the dwarf, noting the distinct craftsmanship and the familiarity of the insignia. "Yep, he’s got the other half of the mark," he observed, pointing toward the rune etched into the handle. The symbol, burning with a deep crimson hue, matched the one they had seen on Brok’s tools, confirming their connection.

Kratos’s imposing figure loomed over the dwarf, his presence intense and unyielding. He studied the craftsman with a scrutinizing eye, as if weighing the dwarf’s worth in mere seconds. "The blue one is your brother?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that conveyed both authority and expectation.

The dwarf met Kratos’s gaze, standing firm despite the overwhelming difference in their stature.

He nodded, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "Yes, but I assure you—my talent is far superior," he replied, nervousness lacing his tone. He placed a hand on his chest, as if swearing an oath, and added, "I swear it on Freya."

Kratos held the axe with a visible distaste, studying it as if gauging the extent of his disappointment before thrusting it toward the dwarf with a silent demand. "Do not undo anything. Just improve what has been done," he instructed, his voice calm yet unyielding.

His tone left no room for debate, a tone that hinted at years of battles fought and won, a tone even the bravest would think twice before challenging.

The dwarf swallowed nervously, his face pale under Kratos's intense gaze.

Nevertheless, he gave a reluctant nod, understanding the weight of the task laid before him. “Of course...” he murmured, hands trembling slightly as he reached for the weapon. With a quick glance to the others, he turned and led the group into the depths of his workshop.

Inside, the workshop was a treasure trove of intricate mechanisms, rare materials, and peculiar contraptions. Every surface was meticulously organized, yet somehow the place seemed a chaotic blend of creativity and obsession.

The dwarf moved to a cluttered table, carefully laying the axe down, his eyes widening as he noticed some of its finer details. His gloves hovered over the edge, where dark stains marred the once-pristine metal.

"Is that dried blood…?" He murmured, wrinkling his nose in clear revulsion. "Better not even ask, ugh!" He grimaced, then reached to feel along the blade’s edge before recoiling. "Oh – oh, is that Eitr I feel on the edge of the blade? Oh, gods, I hope not."

“Ei- what?” Lyris asked, her face mirroring the confusion of most of the group.

"Eitr," the dwarf, Sindri, explained, shuddering at the thought. "It’s this vile, nauseating goo. It’s supposed to be remnants of some ancient essence from the Jötnar—primordial stuff that helped create the Nine Realms. Nowadays, though, it’s just a deadly poison. Nasty. Some of the beasts are coated in it, love to spit it around.”

Atreus’s eyes sparkled with realization, glancing between Sindri and the axe. "Is that why the World Serpent… well, ate the axe? As a gift, maybe to help us in some way?"

Sindri’s face contorted further, a mix of horror and disgust as he processed Atreus’s words. "H-he ate it?!” he stammered, his voice rising with each word. “Oh gods, this is… this is just disgusting…”

He fought back a gag, visibly trying to block out the thought, and focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, Kratos observed the dwarf’s reaction, his expression darkening with worry.

The knowledge of Eitr coating the axe posed questions he hadn’t considered. Why would the Serpent gift the axe in such a way? What dangers lay ahead that might require such deadly enhancements?

Atreus, ever-curious, was drawn to a strange contraption near the workbench, a complicated array of ropes and pulleys connected to a large wheel. "What’s that for?" he asked, pointing.

Sindri looked up, pride mingling with embarrassment as he followed Atreus’s gaze. “Ah, that… I call it a ‘skymove.’ It helps me gather rare resources from the mountain slopes. Once I haul them up, I can bring them down here without breaking my back.”

Atreus’s curiosity didn’t stop there. "Do you know how to fix it if something goes wrong?"

Sindri chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Not at all,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

Returning to his work on the axe, Sindri began cleaning the blade, muttering under his breath with each stroke.

Despite his revulsion, his meticulous craftsmanship shone through; every touch was precise, each tool expertly wielded as he polished and enhanced the weapon’s edges. But just as he was about to make a final adjustment, Kratos reached forward and reclaimed the axe, his expression guarded and unreadable.

Sindri blinked, momentarily startled, but quickly composed himself. He wiped his hands and extended one toward Kratos, clearing his throat. "By the way, name’s Sindri," he said, attempting a cordial smile despite Kratos’s intimidating presence.

Atreus stepped in, easing the tension. "I’m Atreus, and this is my father, Kratos. These are my uncles Omega and Beta, and those are their kids, Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris," he introduced, gesturing to each member of their group. 

Sindri nodded politely, a newfound curiosity in his eyes as he looked at each one.

"Was it really you and Brok who made the axe?" Atreus asked, his tone eager, respectful.

"Oh yes! I would recognize it anywhere," Sindri replied, his chest puffing with pride. "It was one of our finest creations… infused with the echoing screams of twenty Ice Trolls."

Atreus’s curiosity only grew. "But how did you know my mother?”

Sindri’s expression softened, a flicker of fond remembrance crossing his face. "She sought us out, in the beginning," he recalled, his voice wistful. “Faye… she was a special woman. Brave, strong, but with a heart that wanted to protect others. We saw it as a chance to give power to someone who would use it for good, so we made the axe for her."

Sindri’s gaze lingered on Atreus a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. “I see a lot of her in your eyes, you know,” he remarked warmly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The words held a sincerity that caught Atreus off guard, and a small, grateful smile spread across his face. He stepped forward, instinctively moving a little closer to Sindri. 

"Thanks, Sin–" Atreus began, his voice warm with appreciation.

But Sindri’s eyes widened with alarm, and he took a sudden step back, his discomfort immediately evident. His hands, clad in protective gloves, flew up in a defensive gesture, and he shuddered visibly, as if the idea of physical contact was an unbearable offense.

"Don't touch me!" Sindri blurted, his voice pitched with an edge of panic. His eyes darted nervously to the grime and dried blood staining Atreus’s tunic and arms, as if he were repelled by an unseen force. He glanced over the boy’s shoulder, scanning for any signs of further mess that might contaminate his pristine self.

"What? I wasn't... Never mind," he sighed, shifting on his feet. "Sorry. It was a pleasure meeting you, Sindri."

Sindri's expression softened at the boy’s politeness, though he kept his distance, a flicker of nervousness crossing his eyes.

“The pleasure was mine,” he said with a slight nod, still maintaining a careful space between them. “Oh, and one more thing before you go—be careful on your trip.”

The group exchanged looks as Sindri’s face turned serious, his voice taking on a more somber note.

“There’s no one nice here anymore, not since all the people left or… well, met worse fates. I hate to generalize, but most of the time, they’ll try to kill you.”

Kratos's eyes narrowed slightly as Sindri's warning sank in. Just as the tension seemed ready to pass, Sindri's brows knit together with a last thought.

“Oh, and I know it’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d wash that symbol painted on your neck,” Sindri said, pointing at the mark with a subtle grimace.

Kratos’s face hardened, eyes locked on Sindri as he spoke, his voice edged with doubt. “We were told it would help protect us. Was that a lie?”

Sindri's lips curved into a wry, knowing smile. “Oh, no, it’s definitely a protection spell, alright,” he said with dry sarcasm, the corners of his mouth twitching as he resisted the urge to shudder again. “But here’s the thing—you can’t get that pigment to stick unless you mix it with boar urine. And let me ask you—” Sindri leaned forward conspiratorially, “is boar piss on your neck really better than death?”

There was a pause, broken by Bendy’s amused voice, “Hmm, boar piss on the neck or death? No thanks; we choose life!”

Sindri blinked at the unexpected humor, momentarily at a loss for words. His lips parted, and then he let out a reluctant sigh. “W-well, it’s your neck,” he muttered with a resigned wave. “Mieeaaaah… Safe travels, all of you,” he added, though he stepped another inch back, just to be safe.

With a determined nod, the group decided to press onward toward the foreboding silhouette of the mountain against the twilight sky.

"He's a little weird... But I liked him," Bendy remarked, glancing back at where Sindri was, his voice tinged with a youthful curiosity about the eccentric dwarf.

Atreus nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on his lips as he reminisced about Sindri's quirky mannerisms and sage insights.

He turned to Kratos, his expression shifting to an earnest one, the weight of their quest reflecting in his vibrant eyes. "So... Do you think we're getting closer to the mountain?" he asked, his voice laced with a hopeful urgency that sought reassurance from the towering figure beside him.

"We are," Kratos affirmed, his deep, gravelly voice steely with determination, solidifying their shared resolve to conquer the ominous peak looming above.

As they trekked deeper into the shadows, the thrill of nearing their goal sent pulses of energy through the group, yet Atreus felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, a bittersweet thought tethered to what he held dear. He hesitated, eyes flickering to the pouch cradling his mother’s ashes.

"Can I carry her this last part of the way?" His voice trembled with mingled desperation and desire, yearning for one last connection.

"No." Kratos's response sliced through the air like a blade.

Atreus's heart sank as he pressed on, his voice filled with resentment and pain, "Why? She was more important to me."

"What?"

The place seemed to thrum with disbelief as Kratos stared down his son, the weight of the moment heavy between them.

Realizing his misstep, Atreus rushed to clarify, "It's just... I spent more time with her, you were always out hunting."

Kratos's face soon hardened, a thundercloud gathering behind his stoic demeanor.

"You'd better stop talking." Silence enveloped them, thick and suffocating, as Atreus grappled with a storm of emotions brewing beneath his mask, aching with unexpressed grief. Compassionate eyes fell on Kratos from Omega and Beta, the Inferno-wings empathy palpable as they took a step closer.

"Kratos... Look, I get it. Faye was very important to you, but that doesn't justify why Atreus can't hold his mother’s ashes for the last time," Omega implored, a gentle lilt softening his assertiveness.

"She was important to him too, not just for you, but for all of us," Beta echoed, laying bare the shared bond they all felt. A heavy silence lingered as Kratos wrestled with their words, the truth of their sentiments reverberating in his mind—perhaps allowing Atreus this final act of affection was indeed what Faye would have wished. Yet, in the depths of his heart, Kratos knew their focus must not waver from the daunting journey ahead.

The group pressed on, their breaths heavy as they ascended the jagged rock face, a sense of camaraderie driving them upward.

Suddenly, a burst of excitement broke the tense atmosphere like a bird springing from its nest. "Hey guys, check this out!" Bendy called, his voice echoing off the ancient stone walls as he beckoned Atreus and the others towards a stunning triptych of carved panels that adorned the nearby wall, the carvings illuminated by dim shafts of light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. Each panel told a story, the figures so intricately carved that they seemed to breathe. 

The central panel depicted the majestic World Serpent, Jörmungandr, its enormous, serpentine body coiling gracefully around the shimmering waters of the Lake of Nine, its formidable jaws biting its own tail, a symbol of infinity.

To the left, the image showcased a towering giant woman, the softness of her features contrasting starkly with the ferocity of a pack of howling wolves that encircled her, while the young Jörmungandr nestled against her, a curious innocence encased in such powerful imagery.

On the far right, a chilling scene unfolded where an adult World Serpent loomed ominously over a hammer-wielding warrior; the man's body bore gruesome wounds, gaping holes that spelled out a grim fate. 

Atreus couldn't contain a smirk. "See? I told you he was big. Oh, look – apparently he bit Thor at one point… or is going to bite him." He chuckled at that thought, his mind racing with possibilities. 

Bendy, never one to miss a chance for lighthearted banter, added with a mischievous grin, "I still think the idea is pretty unlikely. Hmm, I wonder if his friends ever called him something like 'Jörmi'..."

Resuming their climb, they soon reached a formidable gate, its imposing presence demanding undivided attention. They shared cautious glances, senses heightened as they prepared for anything. Massive stone pillars flanked the gate, creating a nearly insurmountable barrier.

With a nod from Kratos, he and Omega positioned themselves to lift the massive pillars—a task that seemed almost impossible, given their weight. However, their effort was abruptly interrupted by a sickening stench that hung in the air like a storm cloud, sharp and acrid, turning stomachs and causing eyes to widen.

Beta inhaled deeply, recognition and fear flooding her senses.

"Kratos, stop! There’s an—” she started, panic lacing her voice, but her warning was tragically cut short.

“BOOM!!" The sound reverberated through the canyon as a hulking figure burst forth from the stone gate, charging with the force of a battering ram. With grayish skin and muscular arms, the creature was an ogre—a grotesque amalgamation of a gorilla and troll, the very embodiment of brute force and rage.

The ogre roared, a dreadful sound that resonated from deep within its throat as it was speaking it's language, soon, it lunged at Kratos, intent on squashing the God of War beneath its heavy weight.

Atreus, heart racing, sprang forward. “Let him go!!” he cried, wielding his mother’s knife, determination fueling his every step. But as he thrust the blade toward the creature, it merely glanced off the ogre’s thick hide like a pebble against a mountainside, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Before the ogre could seize the opportunity to crush his son, Kratos acted, hurling himself into the beast's path. He felt the creature's jaws clamp down on his arm with a sickening crunch, a roar of pain escaping his lips. Atreus, driven by desperation, seized the chance—he gritted his teeth and thrust the dagger deep into the creature’s eye. The ogre shrieked in agony, releasing its grip and stumbling back, giving Kratos a moment to breathe.

Freed from the creature's grasp, Kratos wasted no time. He retaliated with a ferocious swing of his axe, the impact reverberating through the air as it struck the ogre, sending it reeling. But this fleeting victory was short-lived, as Bendy's urgent shout broke through the chaos. “Guys!” He gestured sharply towards a group of Reavers, all covered in toxic Seiðr magic, gathering menacnling at the edges of the clearing.

With the ogre rising, still seething in pain and rage, Kratos tightened his grip around the axe, the sound of impending battle thrumming in his chest. “Ready yourselves,” he commanded, his voice steady and resolute, though the weight of the threat that loomed ahead was impossible to ignore. The air crackled with tension as they braced for the imminent fight, united by their resolve and the unwavering bond they shared in facing the danger together.

The clash that ensued was a tempest of fury and chaos, the air filled with the sounds of bone meeting flesh and the roars of a beast enraged. Kratos moved with the agility of a seasoned warrior, dodging the Ogre's thunderous blows that threatened to pulverize him.

The ground quaked beneath the creature’s monstrous fists as they tore through the air, narrowly missing their target. Despite the creature’s overwhelming size and ferocious strength, Kratos was relentless; his axe bit into the ogre’s thick, gray skin with every calculated strike, drawing deep crimson lines that oozed with each impact. Each swing was a dance of death, fueled by years of honed skill and raw determination, his shield bracing against the most crushing of the ogre's blows.

“Omega, Beta! Now!” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tumultuous clamor of battle like the sharp edge of his axe. The dragon siblings reacted without hesitation, leaping into action with a graceful ferocity that belied their massive size. With powerful flaps of their wings, they unleashed a volley of glimmering, fiery projectiles, with their weapon's blades slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The blades found their marks, embedding themselves into the ogre's flesh, prompting a bone-chilling howl of agony that echoed off the stone walls. For a moment, the beast was stunned, its hulking form momentarily immobilized by the onslaught.

This was Kratos's moment.

Seizing the opportunity, he transformed his own body into a weapon, sprinting forward and using the enraged ogre as a makeshift battering ram. He climbed onto the creature's back with primal ferocity, the stench of blood and sweat filling his nostrils. With a guttural roar, Kratos propelled himself forward, driving the ogre into the ranks of their dark-cloaked adversaries.

The sound of bodies colliding created a grotesque symphony of grunts and screams as enemies were thrown like ragdolls, unable to withstand the sheer force of the ogre's onslaught. Kratps carved a path through their ranks, using the beast to cleave through flesh and armor alike.

Sensing the tide of battle turning, Kratos struck with renewed vigor.

With every swing, he could feel the Ogre’s strength waning, the creature's roars of pain resonating through the mountainous pass, shaking the very ground beneath them. As the final confrontation drew near, an almost primal instinct surged within him, compelling Kratos to deliver the final, decisive strike.

Rounding on the ogre on the ground, he unleashed all his pent-up fury; the axe swung in an arc of blinding fury, cleaving through the ogre’s jaw with a sickening crack that reverberated through the air.

The grotesque creature staggered for a heartbeat before collapsing to the ground, life slowly draining from its eyes, a dark silence settling over the battlefield.

As the echoes of their violent encounter receded, the group stared at the fallen beast in grim silence, the weight of their actions heavy upon them.

Atreus broke the stillness, his voice tinged with disbelief. “An ogre! Here? Who made this place?” His question hung in the air, laden with uncertainty, as he struggled to comprehend the nature of their surroundings.

Bendy, ever the light-hearted one even in the darkest of times, shot back with a wry grin, “I don’t know! But whoever built it, was not in it's right mind.” His attempt at humor, though feeble, brought a spark to the tension-laden atmosphere.

Regaining their composure amidst the aftermath, the group pressed forward, their resolve unwavering despite the horrors they had faced. Kratos, embodying the essence of strength and purpose, stepped toward the formidable gate, the imposing structure now revealed in its entirety. With a powerful heave, he braced his shoulder against the heavy timber, muscles straining as he opened the gate. It creaked ominously, revealing a breathtaking vista beyond—a towering peak of the mountain loomed ever closer, majestic and daunting against the backdrop of an indigo sky.

Atreus stepped forward, awestruck, his gaze sweeping over the landscape bathed in the glow of dusk.

A sense of wonder and reverence washed over him, mingled with longing as he took in the beauty surrounding them. “Wow... I can see why mother wanted this place,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with emotion, as memories of Faye surged to the forefront of his mind.

Kratos regarded the majestic sight before them, his expression unreadable beneath his stoic exterior. “Indeed,” he replied simply, yet the weight of his words was palpable, as his thoughts shifted to the challenges that lay ahead. The summit beckoned, a reminder that their journey was far from over, and a steely resolve settled within him as they forged onward, each step bringing them closer to both their destination and their destiny.

As the group ventured onward, a curious sight caught their attention to the left of the path: a small wooden platform, its construction meticulous and precise, stood resolutely against the elements.

Adjacent to it was a complex gearbox, reminiscent of the intricate machinery Sindri often tinkered with, built with a craftsman’s touch that suggested an unmatched attention to detail. A lengthy cable snaked down the slope, leading to a sizable cart that awaited nearby, seemingly designed for seamless boarding and transport.

Hope flared within Atreus for a moment, but that spark quickly dimmed as they noticed the cart, bound by a chaotic web of thick, twisting vines that clung to the machinery like a serpent determined to ensnare its prey.

"Well, this isn't going anywhere. Does Sindri know that his machine is tangled up in roots on this side?" Bendy inquired, his gaze skeptical as he examined the leafy tangle that seemed to curse the contraption into stillness.

Kratos’s lips curled into a dismissive snarl, his focus already drifting away from the obstacle. "I doubt it." 

Atreus, ever the inquisitive spirit, couldn’t help but press further, curiosity piquing his thoughts. "So how is he going to make it work?" His youthful brows knitted together in concern.

With a bluntness that was characteristic of him, Kratos replied, "I do not care." The finality in his voice left no room for further discussion, and he strode away, redirecting his attention to the rocky path ahead.

Just as they resumed their trek, their journey was interrupted once again, this time by a billowing mass of black miasma that erupted ominously from a nearby cave, shrouding the path in a murky haze, the air thick with malevolence.

"Is that... smoke?" Atreus questioned, unease creeping into his tone as he gazed at the sinister cloud that obscured their route.

Drawing closer, they witnessed a daunting sight—a towering wall of thick, choking smoke formed what appeared to be a twisted visage, seemingly watching them with an unblinking, amorphous gaze. 

"Stay back," Kratos commanded, his instincts razor-sharp, honed by years of combat and survival.

As they neared, the noxious odor wafting from the smoke assaulted their senses, an acrid stench that curled around them like a living thing, causing wrinkled noses and grimaces of disgust to form on their faces. 

"Ugh... What is this?" Atreus recoiled, his eyes watering as the foul smell invaded his senses, leaving a sick feeling in his stomach.

Their attention was drawn suddenly to a trio of crested larks caught in the midst of a fierce aerial battle within the haze. The struggle intensified as two of the birds, startled by the group's presence, soared high into the sky, but the third remained trapped, flapping its wings with frantic desperation, wrestling against some unseen force that held it within the clutches of the smog.

With frantic wingbeats, the trapped creature attempted to break free, but its struggles were in vain. The tension in the air was palpable as it spiraled out of control, a sickening thud silencing its protests as it fell into the abyss of the mist, vanishing from their sight.

It was a chilling revelation that sent shivers down the spines of the companions—the smoke was no ordinary haze; it was a deadly trap.

"I don't think going there is a good idea," Bucky voiced, apprehension lacing his words, his instincts finely tuned to danger.

"You think, genius?," Lyris chimed in, her tone tinged with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, the gravity of the situation only deepening the tension among them.

Kratos wasted no time deliberating in the face of such peril. "We need to find another way." His voice held an authoritative cadence; there was no room for debate in the face of such evident danger.

As the realization of the magical nature of the Black Breath sank in, Atreus's thoughts immediately turned to the one person who could possibly aid them in navigating this perilous obstacle.

“The witch! I really wish she was here; she would definitely help us get through!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with urgency and hope, as if speaking her name might summon her presence.

Almost as though answering his heartfelt invocation, a familiar voice drifted through the haze, echoing with an ethereal quality that caught the group off guard. “My magic is useless against the Black Breath, and there is no other way,” the voice declared solemnly, reverberating from the depths of the murky veil.

Turning toward the source, the group’s breath caught in their throats as they beheld the witch standing before them, a cunning smile playing on her lips. 

“Odin made sure of that,” she said with a smirk, the flicker of amusement contrasting with the somber reality.

Her sudden appearance elicited a blend of surprise and skepticism among the travelers, the tension palpable in the air like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“What are you doing here?” Atreus queried, his curiosity piqued, his heart racing with the prospect of aid.

“I came to help complete your journey,” the witch responded with a deadpan expression, her lips curving into something that was both a smile and a mask, inscrutable as the depths of the shadowy mist that surrounded them.

Kratos, ever the sentinel, remained guarded, his massive arms crossed over his chest in a stance of unwavering mistrust.

“Why didn’t you warn us earlier, then?” he challenged, his tone laced with suspicion, skepticism draping over his words.

The witch’s calm was unbroken, her sarcasm a thin veil over her response. “I was busy trying to save my friend, remember?” Her eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and truth, but her expression remained enigmatic. 

“Hmph,” Kratos grunted in response, offering no further comment as he continued to eye her, distrust simmering just beneath the surface of his steely exterior.

With the optical illusion of a face looming in the thick smoke, the witch turned her focus to the daunting presence, assessing the danger with a practiced eye.

“The Black Breath is a corrupted magic that not even I know how to dispel. Only the pure light of Alfheim is strong enough to cross it. But the path is long. Is your quest that important?” Her gaze pierced through the haze, assessing the resolve of the companions before her.

Atreus met her scrutiny head-on, his expression imbued with unwavering determination. This journey was about more than mere survival; it was a sacred honoring of his mother’s last wish, a promise made to a loving spirit that transcended the veil of life and death. 

“Is everything," Atreus affirmed resolutely, his voice resolute and unwavering, each word a testament to his conviction.

The witch considered him for a moment, nodding in understanding as if Comprehending the weight of his burden and the gravity of what lay ahead. “Then follow me,” she commanded, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

But just as the witch began to lead the group onward, Kratos’s skepticism lingered like a shadow, prompting him to grasp her arm firmly, searching her eyes for clarity. 

“Why help us?” he questioned, his voice low and tinged with the remnants of doubt, challenging the sincerity of her sudden willingness to assist.

The witch’s gaze met his head-on, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her features before she steadied herself, grappling with her own motivations. “Maybe I identify with you more than I admit. Maybe... by helping you, I’ll make up for a lifetime of mistakes,” she offered, her voice layered with both regret and a newfound resolution that seemed to pulse with authenticity.

Her gaze then shifted to the children, a softer expression washing over her.

“Or maybe I just like the little ones,” she added, a faint smile threading itself through her words, a rare glimpse of warmth emanating from her.

Bendy’s curiosity couldn't resist seizing the moment, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Even after we hurt your friend?” he posed, his voice laced with a hint of remorse, making the atmosphere tense again.

“Even after you hurt my friend, yes,” the witch affirmed, her forgiveness unwavering, emanating a sense of understanding that momentarily eased the tension that clung to them.

With the air lightening ever so slightly, Kratos, though still wary, felt the pressing need for guidance as they faced the unknown. “Where should we go?” he inquired, his tone shifting from suspicion to acceptance, indicating a willingness to forge ahead under her lead.

“To a realm beyond your own... Come! Alfheim waits for us,” the witch replied, urgency flooding her voice, a beckoning that resonated with deep purpose.

Bendy, caught in the thrill of the present moment, couldn’t help but let out an exhilarated cheer, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “Cool! We’re going to Alfheim!” he exclaimed, excitement radiating off him like a beacon.

Yet, amidst the fervor of impending adventure, Bendy’s youthful exuberance brought him to a brief pause as uncertainty crept in.

“Uhh... How do we go to Alfheim?” he asked, genuine curiosity knitting his brow, the question hovering in the air, teasing the edge of what awaited them.

To be continued...

Voice actors for characters of this chapter.

-

Sindri- Adam J. Harrington ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PzU2lkUutQE )

The World Serpent- As Himself ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CmTK0oTfJ4 )

Chapter Text

Kratos did not trust the witch, and that mistrust settled over the group like a thick fog, permeating the air with an almost tangible tension, an unspoken barrier that separated them from the enigmatic figure before them.

His instincts, honed from countless battles and betrayals, screamed at him to remain vigilant, to question every motive, every flicker of her gaze. It wasn’t merely the confidence she exuded or the shadows of her past that unsettled him; it was something deeper, a visceral sensation that resonated through the bond he shared with Omega and Beta. The dragons, sensing their guardian's wariness, mirrored his sentiment, their scales rippling in slight agitation as they cautiously approached her.

As they neared, Omega and Beta exchanged furtive glances, an unspoken communication flowing seamlessly between them—an understanding forged through shared experiences of danger and intrigue. The conversation that followed weighed heavily on their minds, the burden of concern swaddled in the dim light of the misty landscape.

“So... anything?” the witch asked, her tone tinged with a hint of curiosity, her eyes pinning Bendy with an inscrutable her gaze.

Omega hesitated, his reptilian eyes narrowing as uncertainty clawed at his gut. “Nothing... how are we supposed to know what the signs are?” he finally admitted, his voice low as if afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere.

A soft sigh escaped the witch, her expression shifting to one of contemplation as she delved deep into her well of arcane knowledge.

“It's difficult to know,” she admitted, her voice layered with the weight of years steeped in mystic wisdom. “Few have managed to document the growth of a Shadow-Wing. But according to some veiled whispers, it starts with an insatiable appetite. Has he been... hungrier than usual?”

Beta shook her head, scaly brows furrowing in deep thought as she processed her words. “Bendy never showed a voracious appetite.” 

“Besides appetite, what else can we predict?” Omega pressed, curiosity igniting beneath the layers of skepticism he still harbored.

The witch paused, her eyes drifting into the distance as if sifting through foggy recollections that danced just out of reach.

“Well, there’s the sweat and vomit,” she stated, her tone grave. “When they go through this phase of growth, their sweat turns an obsidian black, and they often become ill, releasing a thick, viscous liquid. Also...” she continued, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her focus to Bendy, “their pupils will expand until they consume their entire eyes. If you see these signs, you'll know that my warnings bear weight.”

Omega and Beta exchanged puzzled glances, the weight of this obscure knowledge settling heavily on their shoulders.

They grappled with the implications of what the witch revealed, the fear of what might unfold entwining with their concern for Bendy.

Though they couldn't fully grasp the full scope of her cryptic guidance, they understood one thing for certain: vigilance would be paramount as they embarked on their unpredictable journey ahead. Dust stirred beneath their feet, and the air quivered with the knowledge that unseen forces were converging, leaving no choice but to tread carefully as allies in a world steeped in danger and uncertainty.

As they pressed forward down the hill, Atreus cast a questioning glance at the witch walking just ahead.

"Are we going to another realm? Are you coming with us?" Atreus inquired, his voice a blend of curiosity and tinged with apprehension, the weight of the journey ahead pressing heavily on his young shoulders.

Kratos’ response was terse, a steel wall of mistrust encasing his words. "Only for a while." The nickname, “the witch,” seemed to flavor his tone with skepticism, a reluctant acknowledgment of her abilities yet devoid of his characteristically stoic warmth.

The witch echoed Kratos’ sentiment, her voice soft yet laced with an enigmatic undertone that made Atreus shiver slightly. "Only for a while... Yes." The phrase hung in the air, an ambiguous promise that left room for doubt.

Undeterred by the lingering unease woven into their interactions, the group continued their descent down the mountain, the weight of the unknown coiling tightly around them. Their destination loomed larger in the distance—a distant silhouette against the darkening sky, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching shadows that threatened to swallow them whole.

When they finally arrived at Sindri’s Sky-Mover, its intricate framework stood as a testament to the ingenuity of dwarven craftsmanship, glimmering faintly in the waning light.

The witch surveyed the broken machine, a glimmer of determination igniting in her deep-set eyes. "Let’s use this." she said toward the group, gesturing to the Sky-Mover

"We can’t. Sindri said it’s broken." Atreus said with concern.

"Sindri?" the witch echoed, curiosity sparking in her expression, hinting at the unraveling tapestry of information that connected every being in this intertwined world.

“The dwarf at the base of these hills.” Kratos’ voice cut through the air gruffly as he explained, his tone was curt, but the flicker of annoyance that passed over his rugged face was unmistakable.

"I didn’t see anyone when I was passing by. Perhaps he has finished? Dwarves are very resourceful," she mused, a warmth creeping into her voice that hinted at a shared history with the industrious beings.

“And annoying, based on the two we know,” Kratos remarked dryly, a wry twist to his lips betraying both disdain and grudging respect.

"I don’t know, Uncle Kratos, they’re kind of cool." Bendy, colorful and optimistic, interjected, his innocent tone inserting some levity into the heavy atmosphere

“Even so, they are still annoying.” Kratos remained unmoved, the edges of his gruff demeanor unyielding.

The witch chuckled at Kratos’ comment, the sound ringing through the air like melodic chimes, easing some of the tension that had gripped them. "With that attitude of yours, it's no wonder." she teased lightly, the shift in her demeanor drawing a less intense energy to the crude surroundings.

With grace and purpose, she deftly waved her hand in a gesture steeped in magic, summoning her ethereal energies to remove the obstructing roots that had ensnared the means of transport. Without hesitation or a moment's pause, the group boarded the sky mover at her command, the mechanism creaking slightly beneath them, a ghost of past adventures echoing in its structure.

"Just turn that lever," the witch instructed as she gestured toward the mechanism that would herald their next step.

Kratos complied wordlessly, his movements swift and efficient as he engaged the lever, the mechanism creaking to life as they began their descent.

As they slid down, cutting through the thickening mist, the witch’s voice resonated with assurance. “The temple of Týr is in the center of the lake,” she explained, her words rich with purpose. “From there, we will travel to Alfheim. Luckily, it is no longer submerged.”

Kratos’ brow furrowed with intrigue, and without missing a beat, he inquired, “What was that creature in the lake?”

The witch’s expression soon shifted to one of solemnity, the faded memories reflecting in her eyes.

“Nobody knows. It appeared out of nowhere, and shortly after, Thor attacked. We felt the reverberations of that battle across all the realms, a clash so fierce that it rattled the very fabric of our world. In the end, it was a draw… and Thor returned to Odin empty-handed. The serpent stayed here and grew so large that it now occupies the entirety of Midgard.”

Atreus couldn’t resist a smirk as he glanced at Kratos, the glimmer of mischief lighting up his features. "See? I told you..."

"They have hated each other ever since. Their destiny is to kill each other during Ragnarök.” The witch interjected, her voice tinged with a newfound solemnity that captured their attention.

Atreus’ interest piqued, the fire of curiosity evident in his gaze.

“Do you believe in Ragnarök?” The question hung between them, weighty with implication of the so called 'end of the world'.

“I wish I didn’t believe it.” The witch’s response was laden with a profound sense of resignation, her voice almost a whisper. 

Descending to the base of the hills, the group disembarked from the sky mover, the cool breeze wrapping around them like a shroud as they stepped onto the uneven ground. 

"You know... we talked to the Serpent of the World!" His voice rang out as he turned to the witch, youthful enthusiasm weaving through the dense underbrush around them.

"Really?" The witch's curiosity heightened, her brows arching in genuine interest. 

"It's just an exaggeration." Kratos said dismissing, Atreus' proclamation.

Atreus shook his head vehemently, his expression earnest and resolved as if the truth clung to him like a second skin.

"I’m good with languages… Even ones I’ve never heard before. But when he talks, I can't understand anything!"

"Unfortunately, no one understands it. It’s a dead language." The witch states as she guided them.

"Oh… it must be lonely." Atreus' heart sank at what seh said, a deep frown creasing his brow.

Bendy, ever the cheerful optimist, chimed in, his voice tinged with shared empathy.

"You mean no one can understand him...? That’s sad... I would be very sad if no one understood me." His innocent perspective cut through the conversation, imbuing it with a purity that made the others pause.

"It must be, cub," the witch agreed, her gaze softening as she regarded Bendy.

She saw the innocence gleaming in the young dragon’s eyes, a stark contrast to the daunting reputation of the Shadow-Wings. Yet a heavy weight settled over her, an unbearable knowledge of the primal instincts that awaited Bendy with the shadows of adulthood, clouding the bright light of his youth. How long could innocence endure against such primal urges? Those thoughts loomed ominously in her mind, but she set them aside, if only momentarily.

As they reached a towering gate, Kratos strode purposefully to open it, revealing a crack that had previously barred their passage. The air held a stillness as anticipation spiked among them, a palpable tension thrumming in their chests.

"Are you sure? We've already passed here, and there was no way to cross," Atreus questioned, brow furrowed in confusion, memories of their previous journey flooding back with uncertainty.

"Is that so?" the forest witch echoed, interest igniting in her voice, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.

With a determined resolve,she raised her bow, the ethereal glow from the string and arrow illuminating the surroundings with radiant energy.

"Ljósta!" the forest witch exclaimed, her voice filled with command, resonating with the ancient power that coursed through her veins as she released the arrow.

It sailed through the air, striking a crystal embedded in the wall, and in an instant, a bridge of shimmering light blossomed, forming a magnificent span over the once-impassable gap.

Atreus gasped, eyes wide with awe. "WOW! What! Is it solid?" His excitement bubbled forth, infectious and bright.

Bendy marveled at the spectacle, chattering excitedly, "Damn! How did you do that?" His youthful exuberance tinged the moment with further magic, the enchantment of discovery threading through their hearts.

The forest witch explained, her tone reverent, wrapped in a shroud of mystery. "Elven architecture. My bowstring was imbued with the light of Alfheim. Now it can awaken the magic of the elves." 

Crossing the bridge, each step resonated with vibrancy, the energy from the light beneath their feet primarily one of hope. As they ventured forward, Atreus noticed a peculiar change in their surroundings: the curse poles that once hindered their path were now entwined with magical roots, throbbing with life and vitality.

"The roots... What kind of magic is this?" Atreus inquired, his gaze captivated by the intricate patterns woven into the vibrant green vegetation, every twist and turn echoing with ancient tales untold.

"It's Vanir," the forest witch replied, her voice wrapped in reverence for the ancient magic that thrummed within the Earth.

"From Vanaheim?" Atreus sought clarity, his thirst for knowledge relentless.

"You know?" The witch countered, her interest piqued, impressed by the young boy's eagerness to learn.

"A bit," Atreus admitted, his cheeks flushed with the thrill of sharing. "Mother didn’t talk much about the Vanir gods, just that they were at war with the Aesir. I think, compared to Odin and Thor, they are the good guys." 

Kratos interjected with a stern reminder of his teachings, his voice gruff but steady.

"There are no 'good' gods, boy. I taught you this." The conviction in his words held slices of hard-won lessons, the gravity of moral ambiguity that life had taught him in ways painful and profound.

Bendy, ever the optimist, offered a contrasting perspective, light embedded in his words.

"That’s what he says, but honestly, that’s a terrible ideology." 

"Really?" the witch inquired, intrigued by Bendy's dissenting opinion, finding charm in the young dragon’s wisdom.

"If all people were bad, why would there be good people?" Bendy posed, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "Look, I know the world isn’t perfect, but there is no need to blame everything on the gods." 

Kratos remained steadfast in his belief. "And yet, they don't do anything to improve it."

Bendy soon challenged Kratos' assertion.

"I didn't say they needed to. If the world needs to be fixed, then it's up to the people to fix it, not the gods. People are too dependent on them in my opinion."

A moment of silence enveloped them, the profundity of Bendy's words resonating deeply with the group, prompting introspection even from Kratos. He found himself momentarily taken aback by the young dragon’s insight, pondering the potential truth of those naïve yet hopeful statements.

Departing from their intense discussion, the group trekked together through the thickening mist, eventually arriving at the golden lake temple, a breathtaking testament to the craftsmanship of the giants.

Its immense structure shimmered under the soft caress of sunlight filtering through the clouds, the intricate carvings and architectural grandeur evoking a sense of awe tinged with foreboding. Set against the backdrop of a tranquil yet unnerving landscape, the temple manifested both beauty and mystery, its golden surfaces gleaming like captured sunlight against the dark waters of the lake that surrounded it.

"The temple of Týr, made with the help of the Giants," the witch explained, her voice reverberating with reverence as they stepped closer to its imposing entrance. “The Great Týr used it to travel through the Nine Realms and keep peace between them.” Her eyes glimmered with the weight of history as she gestured towards the ornate symbols adorning the temple walls, each etched with tales of valor and sacrifice.

Atreus, however, observed the temple's surroundings warily, his youthful instincts alert.

"It doesn't look very peaceful. There were a lot of things trying to attack us." His brow furrowed, analyzing the chaotic remnants of battles fought, the remnants of shattered wooden barricades, and the faint echo of discord lingering in the air like an ominous shadow.

"Mostly dead things," Bendy added, his tone matter-of-fact, a juxtaposition of childhood innocence and sobering truth that hung in the air as he lifted his little snout to survey the temple grounds, his eyes wide with youthful wonder.

"The undead are even more numerous," the witch elaborated, her expression shifting to one of melancholy. “Before, the roads were full of people, but now many hide or flee, except for reavers—thieves who would do anything to survive." Her words resonated with the melancholy of lost lives and fading echoes, encasing them in a shroud of urgency.

As the group continued their journey, the forest witch turned her gaze towards Kratos, signaling a pause in their progress. The atmosphere thickened, crackling with anticipation as she gathered her thoughts.

"Turn right at the end of the stairs," she directed with firm authority, her voice cutting through the ambient noise of the lake, bringing focus to their mission.

Kratos, Atreus, Omega, and Beta descended the grand stone stairs, the spiraled carvings beneath their feet creating a rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts.

The dragon pups, filled with boundless energy, remained close to the witch.

"What are we doing exactly?" Atreus inquired, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within him as he glanced back at the witch, keen to understand their next steps.

"We're gonna fix this. To start, lift that axle," the witch instructed, pointing towards a giant shaft that loomed above them like a steadfast sentinel.

Kratos approached the axle with a sense of purpose, his powerful frame casting a long shadow as he lifted it with a primal ease, steel cords of muscle flexing beneath his skin.

"Now put it back in place," she continued, her watchful gaze locked onto him, filled with a blend of expectation and assurance.

"Perfect! Now just push to move the bridge along the trail," the witch directed, her voice imbued with an air of command that spurred the group into action.

Kratos, Omega, and Beta exerted their combined strength, muscles straining as they pushed against the axle. The entire structure began to shift under their unwavering resolve, the sounds of grinding stone and creaking metal mingling with their exertion.

"The whole bridge is spinning!" Atreus exclaimed, his eyes wide in amazement, the sight drawing gasps from the others as the light reflected off the rotating structure, creating a dazzling display that momentarily captivated them all.

"Holy crap!! I mean, how?! How is this possible?!" Bendy voiced his confusion as he marveled at the spectacle unfolding before them.

Yet it was the sheer strength of their parents that left a lasting impression on Atreus and the puppies, a tangible manifestation of their resilience.

"Wow, you guys are pretty strong," Atreus remarked, admiration coloring his tone, his gaze shifting to Kratos, the awe obvious in his youthful demeanor.

"Keep pushing until the bridge reaches the first position. Are you tired yet?" the witch inquired, her bright eyes scanning the group, encouragement dancing within them.

"No," Kratos replied, his determination unwavering, the slightest hint of a smile softening his otherwise stern visage.

"Neither do I," Omega chimed in, a proud loyalty burning in his gaze.

"My muscles are on fire, but I'm fine!" Beta added, determination flaring in his youthful spirit, his claws gripping the axle with fierce resolve.

"They have always been strong," Atreus noted proudly, observing his dad,uncle and aunt unwavering devotion to their shared goal, an entire tapestry of familial strength weaving itself before him.

As the group continued their task, a new thread of curiosity wove its way back into Atreus’ thoughts, urging him to seek deeper truths.

"Well, about the dead... We've heard some call them 'Helwalkers,' but what are they?" he asked, his voice softer now, each word laced with a hunger for knowledge.

"They are poor, restless souls, devoid of judgment and peace," the witch explained solemnly, her tone reverberating with a sorrowful understanding that lingered in the air like an unshakeable specter.

Atreus pressed further, desire to understand igniting between them.

"Why? Can Vanir magic raise the dead?"

"In the past, yes, but it's not a spell,” she answered, her voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. “The plague of the dead is just one symptom of the world in imbalance. Something or someone moved powerful forces. I can only say this," the witch replied cryptically, a veil of mystery shrouding her words.

Once the bridge reached its designated position, the forest witch declared, "Perfect! You can go up now." 

Kratos, Omega, Beta, and Atreus ascended the stairs.

The witch of the woods guided the group with a steady hand as they approached the imposing temple doors, their intricate carvings shimmering faintly in the muted light.

“After these doors,” she instructed, her voice resonating with authority, as though the very stones listened to her.

“Wait, was it the Giants or the Elves who built the temple?” Atreus asked, his innate curiosity piqued.

“All races helped build it,” the witch replied, her tone filled with nostalgia, as if she were recalling a cherished memory. "It was the last great act of cooperation between the realms before peace ended for good." Her eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow as they reflected on a time of unity that seemed far removed from their troubled present.

With a firm push, Kratos opened the large doors to the temple, revealing a grand hall bathed in ethereal twilight. As they stepped inside, the air felt heavy, laden with ancient secrets waiting to be unveiled. The space felt vast and echoic, punctuated by a striking silence that hinted at the power contained within its stone walls.

However, they soon encountered another door, this one adorned with a luminous rune, standing resolute and blocking their path. The witch, undeterred, quickly scanned the room until she spotted an elven light crystal glimmering enticingly nearby.

Raising her bow with a fluid motion, the witch took aim at the crystal, her expression one of unwavering focus.

“Ljósta!” she commanded, her voice imbued with ancient power as she released the arrow with impeccable precision. The arrow soared like a comet through the air, striking the crystal and igniting a dazzling cascade of light that formed a solid bridge of luminescence before them.

However, Atreus frowned, his observant nature catching something amiss. “Your bowstring has stopped glowing,” he remarked, concern creeping into his voice.

“The power ran out. There was only a little magic left on the rope, and we used it all,” the witch explained, her tone heavy with resignation as she dispersed the remnants of the once-vibrant magical rope into the ether.

Turning to Atreus, her expression softened. “Your bow, please.” 

With a hint of hesitation, Atreus handed over his bow, watching in awe as the witch levitated it with a gentle flick of her wrist, the air around it shimmering with residual magic as she began integrating the essence of her bowstring into his own.

“When you have obtained the light of Alfheim, imbue its power into your bowstring,” the witch advised, her words resonating with the weight of wisdom and responsibility meant for the boy.

As Atreus inspected the newly infused bowstring, noticing its radiant blue glow pulsating steadily. “Seems like you’re not coming along,” he remarked, his voice heavy despite his attempt at composure.

“I’ll try, but they made sure I was stuck here in Midgard,” the witch confessed, her gaze clouded with a somber understanding of her circumstances.

“Why?” Kratos inquired, his curiosity piqued, an unyielding intensity behind his words.

“The gods don’t like me very much,” the witch replied with a wry, bittersweet smile, hinting at a backstory steeped in turmoil.

Upon Kratos swinging open the large door, the group entered a vast room shrouded in darkness, the once-shimmering beauty now cloaked in a heavy veil.

“It’s so dark in here,” Atreus remarked, his voice reverberating softly in the cavernous expanse, almost swallowed by the shadows.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Bendy questioned, his tone trembling with uncertainty as he glanced around, reassured by the only company he had: the familiar scent of his family.

“This temple is dormant, submerged for almost 150 winters. You just need the light of Bifröst to wake it up,” the witch assured them, her voice threading optimism into the stale air as they moved deeper into the heart of the structure.

Pressing forward through the obscurity, they finally reached a colossal tree, its gnarled roots sprawling outwards to form a natural bridge. The roots twisted and danced as they enveloped the chamber in ancient life.

“Those roots don’t seem to be your magic,” Atreus observed, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns woven through the wood, feeling a pulse of energy emanating from them.

“And they are not,” the forest witch confirmed, her voice imbued with reverence. “These roots are part of the great World Tree and allow travel between the realms.”

Arriving at the center of the hall, the group beheld a large panel adorned with a miniature version of the golden temple, its details painstakingly carved, like a model frozen in time.

“How does it work?” Kratos inquired, his sharp gaze fixed on the enigmatic mechanism, studying it as if it held the answers to millennia of strife.

“You’ll need this—a Bifröst, to create the journey between the realms,” the witch replied as she handed Kratos a key-like relic adorned with a large, shining crystal that captured the dim light and refracted it into ethereal colors.

“With it, you can capture and transfer the light of Alfheim. Place the Bifröst there,” she instructed, pointing to the panel lock, a destination that held untold potential.

Taking the relic in hand, Kratos inserted it into the lock mechanism, and suddenly, the entire room exploded into brilliant illumination, the darkness banished under waves of radiant glow cascading off the walls like sunlight flooding a shadowy glen.

“What now?” Kratos queried, his eyes now scanning the brightly lit chamber, seeking the next step in their mission.

“Just wait. The temple has yet to awaken from its long slumber,” the witch replied, her anticipation palpable as they stood listening to the loud noises—bangs, rumbles, and shifts echoing throughout the chamber—as the temple came back to life.

The diorama on the table glowed with a bright blue aura, illuminating the platform beneath, while around them, eight elaborately designed doors radiated with a spectrum of colors, each hue representing a different passage waiting to be unveiled.

“It is from this room and this room alone that you will be able to travel between the realms,” the witch explained, her voice resonating in the now vibrant space, rich with promise. “What you see in the panel represents the temple where we are as well as the towers of the realms that surround the Lake of Nine. All the realms exist in the same physical space, reflecting each other. These doors, the towers outside, and the nine realms are all interconnected, coexisting on the branches of the World Tree, separated only by the light of the Bifröst of Alfheim. This place focuses and controls light.”

Atreus, captivated by the intricate tapestry of knowledge, paused.

He looked up from the platform and beheld what appeared to be a cosmic and legendary image of the World Tree spiraling forth in ethereal beauty.

“And this is the World Tree?” he questioned, his gaze transfixed by the awe-inspiring sight, breath caught in his throat.

“It’s just an artistic representation. No, Yggdrasil is much, much more than that,” the witch explained, her voice infused with a deep reverence. “The Tree of Life is linked to the destiny of the world as we are. The Tree nourishes our soil; the dew on its leaves feeds our rivers and valleys. The very existence of the tree sustains all creation. Along its branches, its vital energy is intertwined in the weave of life… Birth, growth, death, and rebirth… Each thread transcending time and space. Everything is connected to the tree. Well… It works like this. But I think you expected a more practical answer.” She finished her long explanation with a sly smirk, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes as she regarded the group.

“Yes.” Kratos interjected with characteristic brevity, the simplicity of his response hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the complex web of connections they were just beginning to comprehend, but it also resonated with a silent agreement that their journey had only just begun.

"Well, the bridge you pushed is directed towards Vanaheim. Instead, turn it towards Alfheim," the witch instructed, her tone steady and authoritative as she gestured towards a large, ornate wheel embedded in the floor. 

The group followed her direction, collectively pushing the heavy wheel, feeling its taut resistance as the mini-bridge on the panel shifted. As it whirred and clicked into place, Atreus observed the trajectories aligning with the various realm towers visible beyond the temple's walls, which framed the tranquil expanse of the Lake of Nine. 

“Wait… This one doesn’t have a tower,” Atreus noted, a frown creasing his brow as he pointed to a gap where the silhouette of a tower should have stood, his gaze narrowing at the discrepancy on the gleaming panel.

“This is why it is impossible to travel to the realm of Jötunheim,” the witch explained, her voice tinged with an air of melancholy. “Without a travel tower for the bridge to attach to, the sequence cannot begin.” 

“Jötunheim?” Bendy questioned, his eyes widening, curiosity bubbling forth like a spring unbidden.

“The Realm of the Giants,” the witch clarified, a hint of reverence lacing her words. “All realms have a specific rune that unlocks them. I am giving you the one for Alfheim. Now you can define the destination.” She reached into her satchel and produced a stone-like rune that shimmered with an otherworldly glow, handing it to Kratos with a solemnity that underscored its significance.

With the rune in hand, Kratos positioned himself before the Bifröst and activated realm travel, the air crackling with energy as he channeled its power.

“We’re ready. Don’t forget the Bifröst,” the witch cautioned, her eyes narrowing, “It will not be good to lose that. Now the bridge will align, and the realm between realms will open.”

The group watched as the panel redirected toward the gate of Alfheim, excitement mingling with apprehension coursing through them. Their eyes fell upon the roots that intertwined at the base of the gate; nestled among them was a giant blue crystal, its radiance pulsing gently, casting ethereal light that transformed the otherwise somber atmosphere into something vibrant and alive.

"Do you see the crystal?" the witch continued, gesturing toward the luminescent gem, her expression a mixture of awe and urgency. "Each realm has its own, which concentrates and amplifies the power of Bifröst, opening the bridge to the realm. That’s why travel between realms is only possible in this room." 

And then Atreus furrowed his brow, seeking greater understanding. “And the missing tower?”

“The tower of Jötunheim disappeared from all the realms more than a hundred winters ago when the Giants vanished from Midgard. The whereabouts of the tower—and what they did to make it disappear—is still a mystery,” the witch explained, her voice tinged with intrigue, pulling the group deeper into a web of forgotten tales and ancient secrets.

As their gazes fell once more upon the gate of Alfheim, doubt clouded their expressions, a collective concern brewing in the silence.

“It didn’t work. We’re still here,” Atreus observed, disappointment evident in his tone as he felt the weight of their urgency hanging heavy in the air.

“Come with me,” the witch beckoned, motioning for the group to follow her, their path veering away from the panel.

“The Bifröst is dark,” Kratos noted, his voice tinged with concern that pierced the ambiance. 

“We used the last remaining charge. There’s no way back until you replenish,” the witch confirmed, her expression solemn as she met Kratos's piercing gaze.

“So we’re stuck here?” Kratos pressed, the hint of frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw.

“For a group like you, this won’t be difficult,” the witch assured them, an air of confidence echoing in her words, though the tension in their surroundings persisted like a lingering ghost.

“And then we’ll be able to get past the black breath?” Atreus inquired, a glimmer of hope igniting within him at the prospect of advancing through their trials.

“Yes,” the witch affirmed, her voice carrying a note of reassurance that wrapped around them like a warm cloak, if only momentarily.

Leaving the room, the group ventured forward, guided by Kratos as he pushed open the imposing gate. As they stepped through, they were met with the breathtaking sights of Alfheim, the great Realm of Light.

They found themselves enveloped by an overwhelming abundance of colorful flora; flowers bloomed in every hue imaginable, their petals warm and inviting, while luminous fauna danced in the air, casting a radiant glow across the verdant landscape that stretched out before them. 

“Welcome to Alfheim, ladies and gentlemen. I think you can see…” the forest witch began, her voice trailing off as she gazed skyward. A sense of unease washed over her, her features shifting from welcoming to wary.

Something was amiss—the sky, typically a brilliant shade of blue, was now marred by an ominous red hue. Tendrils of shadow flickered across the landscape, and the legendary light that should have suffused the realm seemed to pulse weakly, flickering like a candle threatened by a gust.

“The light... I can barely see... Something’s wrong,” the witch murmured, concern etched deeply into her brow. “See that column of light on the horizon? It is at the center of a ringed temple. What you need is there.”

But before she could offer further explanation, an unexpected phenomenon disrupted the moment—the witch’s hand began to glow with an ethereal light, a gleam that escalated in intensity, causing her to grow visibly agitated, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. DAMN IT! Not now...” she muttered, frustration and fear intertwining in her voice.

Confusion rippled through the group as they exchanged worried glances, concern etched into their features. 

“What’s happening?!” Atreus exclaimed, his tone tinged with rising panic, heart pounding in his chest.

“What’s wrong with her?!” Bendy added, his wide eyes betraying alarm as he shifted uneasily.

Then, without warning, the witch was suddenly pulled by an unseen force, her form slowly being drawn towards a swirling vortex that had materialized beside her, dark and pulsing.

Reacting quickly, Kratos lunged forward, grabbing her hand in a desperate attempt to halt her descent, clenching tightly as if to anchor her to the ground.

“To restore the magic of Bifröst, you must step into the light. But be careful not to get stuck and—” the witch began, her words abruptly cut short as the portal exerted its mystical pull, drawing her into the swirling depths, her form twisting violently before disappearing from view.

“NO!!” Atreus cried out, anguish echoing through the chamber, piercing through the uncertainty that had surrounded them moments before.

Stunned silence enveloped the group, their hearts heavy with dread as they faced the void left by the witch, her absence an unbearable weight on their collective spirit.

Yet amidst the uncertainty, Kratos remained resolute, a stoic determination burning within him.

He could only say one thing, a singular word heavy with intent: “Hmm.”

Atreus, his worry palpable and hope wavering, sought reassurance. “She didn’t die, right?” His voice trembled, the question sounding more like a plea.

“...I don’t think so. Stay close and do not touch anything,” Kratos advised, his voice steady and low, a steady force against the chaos threatening to close in around them as he assumed command within the tense atmosphere.

Marching forward, the group made their way towards the dimly lit landscape of Alfheim, uncertainty shadowing their every step as they ventured into the unknown, guided by the remnants of hope that still flickered like a fragile flame within their chests.

Unbeknownst to them, however, danger lingered at the edges, as they were silently followed by a small, hooded and cloaked figure, its curious gaze fixed upon them from the shifting shadows, a haunting presence in the vibrant yet eerie realm that stretched before them.

During the travel, Atreus clutched his well-worn journal, his fingers quickly flipping through pages filled with sketches from previous adventures. His eyes darted about, absorbing the vibrant life that unfolded around him—his heart raced as he spotted an enormous, diamond-shaped flower with emerald-green petals that delicately tapered into vivid blue tips.

Hovering nearby, a fascinating hybrid creature, resembling both a butterfly and a wasp, alighted upon the flower, delicately probing its nectar with a bristled proboscis. 

With furrowed brows, Atreus meticulously sketched the intricate flower, capturing the delicate veins and folds of the petals with careful strokes. “I gotta say, the creatures and plants of this realm are beautiful,” he remarked, a sense of wonder in his voice. “Makes me a bit envious.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Bendy responded, looking around in awe. His attention was captured by a unique bird, its feathers shifting in color as it flitted from tree to tree, reflecting a stunning array of deep blues, fiery reds, and luminous yellows. “Look at that! It’s like a walking rainbow!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling.

As they continued deeper into the realm, Atreus noticed a cluster of luminescent mushrooms, each cap glowing softly with a serene blue light that seemed to pulse gently, illuminating the darkened forest floor.

He knelt to examine them closer, shading in their delicate details as he added them to his journal. “These mushrooms look like something out of one of Mother’s stories,” he mused, captivated by their enchanting glow.

Bendy crouched down beside him, his curiosity insatiable. “I wonder if they glow because of some kind of magic,” he pondered aloud, studying the mushrooms with wide eyes.

“Boy! Cub!” Kratos’s commanding voice broke through, making their heads turn. He motioned for them to stay alert as they continued their journey, soon encountering a daunting obstacle—a dense, web-like expanse of red, pulsing tendrils that stretched across their path.

“What is this?” Atreus wondered aloud, gazing at the obstruction, his heart racing as he examined the throbbing mass that seemed alive.

“Hmm,” Kratos hummed thoughtfully, his brow furrowed as he observed a specific section of the structure that pulsed rhythmically, resembling a heartbeat. 

With a firm grip on his axe, Kratos raised it high and hurled the weapon toward the pulsing core of the tendrils. The blade sliced through with a satisfying crack, and the tendrils shuddered violently, splitting apart and releasing a path that had been blocked moments before.

With the pathway cleared, the group pressed onward, their determination solidified by their success in overcoming the obstacle.

“I think you killed it,” Atreus remarked, a hint of concern creeping into his tone as they marched past the remnants of the torn tendrils.

“It’s just a plant,” Kratos replied dismissively, his demeanor unflinching as he forged ahead, guiding the group with purpose through the lush but dangerous terrain.

As they ventured further into the heart of Alfheim, Kratos’s keen eyes caught sight of a shimmering rune etched onto a nearby stone. The rune glinted in the muted light, an artifact of ancient lore.

“Boy, what does it say?” Kratos asked, his curiosity sparked as he descended into the depths of the mysterious realm.

“Hm… It’s about an ‘eternal war for light,’” Atreus translated, his brow knitting in confusion. “I don’t understand… If both sides need the light, then why don’t they share it?”

“Greed. This often causes many wars,” Kratos replied, his tone somber, reflecting on the tumultuous nature of conflict that seemed to span countless realms and ages.

As they walked on, the oppressive weight of darkness gathered around them, unsettling the group as they stumbled upon the lifeless bodies of light elves strewn across the ground, their radiant forms now dulled and lifeless.

“What happened here?” Atreus questioned, the sorrow in his voice palpable as he surveyed the heartbreaking scene.

“The end of a war. The robed ones lost,” Kratos explained succinctly, his gaze sweeping over the devastation, his heart hardened against the sight of fallen warriors.

Suddenly, the air became tense and electric as a discordant buzzing filled their ears, announcing the approach of new dangers. 

“There! Hide,” Kratos commanded, his voice sharp and urgent. He led the group to seek sanctuary behind a large rock, their breaths held in trepidation.

Peering out from their hiding spot, they watched with baited breaths as dark elves emerged, their insectoid features twisted and terrifying. Bioluminescent skin glimmered under the dim light, and insect wings produced a low hum that vibrated through the air as they glided gracefully.

Their sharp horns curved menacingly, and they brandished glowing spears that seemed ready to summon chaos.

Atreus listened intently, catching snippets of their conversation in a harsh, guttural tongue. One elf spoke urgently, gesturing with their spear, while the others nodded, an air of anxious obedience underlying their discussion.

“Fannstu dulræna tunglvænginn?” asked one of the elves, their voice an ominous whisper in the stillness.

“Nei, við misstum af henni,” replied another solemnly, the weight of their words heavy with disappointment.

“Hvað gerum við?” queried a third, their voice strained as if wrestling with fear.

“Höldum áfram, við getum ekki svikið konunginn,” the first elf asserted with a sense of urgency before ordering the others to depart, their wings buzzing dramatically as they took flight into the shadowed canopy.

As the elves vanished from sight, confusion settled over the group, weighing heavily on their thoughts.

Bendy couldn’t contain his curiosity, breaking the silence that enveloped them.

“What did they say?” he inquired eagerly, his fascination momentarily overtaking his fear.

“They said they’re after something called a…Mystical-Wing?” Atreus recounted their conversation with a sense of urgency.

“Mystical-Wing?” Omega echoed, his brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to Atreus, wanting more answers.

“Do you know what it is?” Atreus asked, glancing between his uncle and aunt, desperate for insights.

“Not that we know of,” Beta replied, shaking his head, her eyes distant as if grappling with a hidden knowledge.

Kratos, ever the pragmatist, reclaimed control of the situation with a firm declaration. “Whatever it is, it is not our problem,” he said, his voice resonating with determination as he led them deeper into the darkness, the shadows whispering secrets around them, urging them to tread carefully lest they fall prey to the lurking perils of the realm.

Resuming their journey toward the temple, Bendy was captivated by the vibrant flowers that adorned the path, bursting with life and color.

Their petals glistened in shades of violet and blue, interspersed with vibrant reds, yellows, and greens that seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, mesmerizing him with the pure beauty of the realm.

“Look how colorful these flowers are,” Atreus remarked, matching Bendy’s awe as he knelt to examine a particularly stunning bloom, its intricate patterns swirling like galaxies trapped within its delicate petals.

“I wonder what they smell like,” Bendy mused, entranced by the blossoms. Leaning in closer to one, he inhaled deeply, drawn by the allure of its fragrant nectar. But as he leaned near, he accidentally jostled its delicate stamen, releasing a cloud of fine, shimmering pollen into the air, which immediately tickled his nose.

“Ah... Ahh... ATCHIMM!” Bendy exclaimed, his loud sneeze shattering the serene ambience and echoing through the stillness.

“Bless you,” a soft, feminine voice responded unexpectedly.

“Thank y—” Bendy began, his words faltering as he froze in place, the unfamiliarity of the voice pressing a sense of unease into the air.

The rest of the group mirrored his tension, eyes darting around for the source of the sound.

“Who said that...?” Atreus questioned, unease creeping into his voice as he instinctively moved closer to Kratos.

With a determined glint in his eye, Bendy took a step forward, retracing his steps to see the footprints nearby that had caught his attention.

The small, delicate marks in the soft earth led him to a shadowy figure, elusive and indistinct, yet somehow possessing a strangely familiar silhouette. Ignoring Kratos’s warning gaze, Bendy approached the shadow cautiously, heart racing with curiosity.

“Cub…” Kratos's voice rang out, filled with a warning silent enough to make even a fierce creature pause. 

Just as Bendy reached the shadow, his trembling fingers barely hovering over its surface, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with an astonishing sight: a pair of piercing blue eyes flashed open wide at him. 

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!” he shrieked in alarm, the sound escaping him before he could contain as the stranger echoed in sheer panic, their own scream mirroring his.

In the chaos, the moment was abruptly punctuated by a sharp “POW!” as the mysterious figure swung her fist, landing a swift punch straight to Bendy’s face.

The young Drekinian stumbled backward, sprawling onto the ground as he groaned in unexpected pain.

“‘Groan’ What the hell?!” he exclaimed, a mix of anger and confusion evident in his voice.

But as he looked up, all traces of irritation faded, replaced by sheer astonishment. Before him stood a fourteen-year-old Drekinia child, her skin as white as freshly fallen snow, glimmering subtly in the diffused light. Her eyes, bright and crystalline blue, sparkled like sapphires, and delicate violet lines adorned her eyelashes—features that sent a surge of recognition coursing through him. 

Her abdomen glowed softly with an enchanting blue hue, illuminating her surroundings with a ghostly light, while her long, slender tail tapered to an arrow-like tip, dazzling with alternating shades of blue and violet. Most striking of all were her four wings, ethereal and translucent, reminiscent of a moth’s, shimmering like the surface of a still lake under moonlight.

Bendy, breathless, gazed at her as he processed the undeniable resemblance between them—a reflection of himself captured in this incredible girl.

“You’re…” he began, his voice faltering as he reached out, overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions.

But before he could finish, the female cub’s skin shifted instantly to a vibrant purple as her fear took hold; with a frightened gasp, she turned and fled, disappearing into the dense foliage surrounding them.

With adrenaline surging through his veins, Bendy found himself chasing after her, his heart pounding determinedly with a mixture of urgency and a longing he didn’t fully understand.

“Wait!” he called, pushing through the brush as her silhouette became a blur ahead of him. 

“Bendy, wait!” Atreus called out, concern lacing his tone as he followed closely behind, trying to keep pace with his friend.

“Atreus!” Kratos barked, sensing the potential for trouble; his voice was stern and commanding, urging caution as they pressed forward into the tangled wilderness.

Undeterred by the fleeing shadow of the white cub, Bendy and Atreus pressed onward, the quick thud of their footsteps mingling with the rustling leaves around them, creating a rhythm that echoed through the enchanting yet treacherous forest. The vibrant hues of the flora blurred past them as they navigated through the thicket, urgency propelling them forward as they chased the elusive figure, determined not to lose her again.

But just as hope flickered in their hearts, their pursuit led them into a snare, the atmosphere shifting ominously.

Suddenly, they found themselves cornered as the same three dark elves from earlier emerged from the underbrush with a menacing grace, their eyes glinting with malice. The elves formed a tight circle around Bendy and Atreus, their weapons raised in a show of dominance, the tension palpable as they advanced.

One of the elves, taller than the others and adorned with jagged markings on his skin, seized the white cub by her arm, lifting her high off the ground as she cried out in despair.

“No! Let me go!” she pleaded, her voice shaking with a mixture of fear and desperation that pierced through the forest chaos.

Bendy’s heart raced, protective instincts surging through him as he stepped forward, defiance etched on his youthful face against the towering, dark figures.

“Hey! Let her go!” he demanded, brandishing his small knife with resolve. Atreus stood beside him, nimble fingers nocking an arrow in his bow, ready to defend this newfound ally with every ounce of his skill.

The dark elves responded with cruel laughter, their mocking jeers slicing through the tension like a knife.

“Sjáið til, vinir mínir, lítið skítkast að spila eroi. Haha ha!!” One elf spoke in their guttural tongue, the words dripping with contempt. 

Bendy’s brow furrowed in confusion as he instinctively turned to Atreus, guided by the need for clarity. “W-what did he say?” he asked nervously, the creeping dread in the air amplifying his unease.

“Nothing that you will like.” Atreus grimaced, his voice low and serious.

As the dark elves braced themselves to strike, poised like coiled serpents ready to attack, they didn’t anticipate the fierce intervention of Kratos.

With grim precision, his axe cut through the air, sinking into the arm of the elf holding the white cub. The elf howled in pain as the blade bit deep, forcing him to release her and stagger backward while clutching his injured limb, white blood pooling around his feet and staining the vibrant soil.

With the arrival of Beta and Omega, chaos erupted. The air thickened with the sounds of battle, every soul kicking into high gear as Beta’s spear whirled through the air, striking one of the elves squarely in the chest, silencing him forever.

Omega, wielding his naginata with practiced ease, hurled the weapon toward the last of the adversaries. It struck with lethal accuracy, embedding itself deep into the elf’s skull and ending the fight instantaneously.

The remaining dark elf, now acutely aware of his grim fate, scrambled to his feet, wings flaring wide as he took to the sky, desperation fueling his escape. Atreus aimed his bow, arrows flying wildly but missing their mark as the elf soared higher, disappearing into the dusk above, a whisper of a threat that lingered in the air.

Bendy rushed to the side of the trembling white cub, his heart filled with empathy as concern clouded his features.

He approached her cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, reaching out a hand.

Yet, the cub recoiled, her skin a vivid purple, reflecting the turmoil within her.

“Stay back! Get away from me!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp with fear and uncertainty.

Atreus stepped closer, sensing her distress. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you,” he reassured her, his voice steady and warm as he tried to bridge the gap of fear.

Gradually, the cub began to relax, her skin softening as it shifted back to its original white hue. She turned her gaze to the rest of the group before her, realization dawning that these strangers did not wish her harm, yet her relief was short-lived as thoughts of the fleeing dark elf flooded back, casting a shadow over her newfound hope. 

“The elf ran away... Oh no...” she murmured, dismay creasing her features, the weight of impending danger settling heavily around her.

Standing upright, her small form radiating urgency, she turned to Bendy and Atreus, emotions swirling between despair and anger, her skin now a fierce white-to-red gradient that mirrored her turmoil.

“Do you have any idea what you did!?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with the intensity of her fears. “That elf was an escort. He must be heading to the hive to warn the others!”

Kratos’s expression grew grim, the reality of their situation sharpening like the edge of his axe.

“Then more of them will come,” he warned, his voice a low rumble as his gaze scanned the surrounding trees, ever vigilant.

“We have to go, NOW!” the female cub urged, her tone imbued with a sense of urgency that brooked no arguments. “Come with me,” she implored, eyes glistening with a fierce resolve.

Bendy, intrigued by her sudden invitation and driven by an unexplained connection, responded eagerly, “To where?”

The cub fixed him with a determined gaze, a flicker of hope against the darkness that threatened. “My home.” she declared, her voice a clarion call as she turned, her emotions solidifying her courage, leaving no room for hesitation.

The group fell into step behind the cub as she led them through the forest, their footsteps crunching against the vibrant undergrowth, the sounds resonating like a rhythmic drumbeat in the stillness of the trees. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above, casting speckled patterns of light and shadow that danced around them as they hurried along.

Bendy, brimming with curiosity about their mysterious companion who had just saved them from the elves, eagerly attempted to introduce himself.

“By the way, my name is—”

But before he could finish, the cub cut in, urgency threading her voice as she quickened her pace.

“We don't have time for introductions!” 

As branches brushed past them, they approached a large, illusionary structure covered in vines and moss, nearly blending into the forest backdrop. The cub sidled up to a nondescript section of the wall, revealing a hidden passage. With practiced ease, she unlocked the door with a deft flick of her wrist, ushering them into the dim interior beyond.

“This way!” she instructed, her voice firm and insistent, leading the group into the concealed entrance that felt steeped in secrets and echoes of past lives.

Inside, the space was cramped, with rough-hewn walls that seemed to pulse with the energy of hidden stories.

Despite its size, it was enough to accommodate the group comfortably. Wasting no time, the cub sprang into action—her movements a blur as she set about laying traps and fast locks, her fingers deftly working to secure their temporary sanctuary. Each click and snap was a note in a hurried symphony of survival, and once she was satisfied that they were as protected as possible, she stepped back, energy crackling around her.

“I—” Bendy attempted to speak again, breaking the heightened tension in the air, but the cub’s sharp “Shhhhhh!” rang out, silencing him with an edge of urgency.

Undeterred, Bendy pressed on, determined to break through her insistence on silence. “I just—” he began once more, but was met with another urgent “Shhhhhhhh!” from the cub, the impatience palpable.

Frustration bubbled within him as he waved his hands frantically, hoping to catch her attention amidst the mounting tension. However, his persistence only fueled her irritation, her skin flushing a deep shade of crimson with frustration. 

“What!?” she exclaimed, her voice laced with exasperation. “What could be so important to alert the elves of our location?”

Atreus stepped in to mediate, sensing the rising discord. “Maybe they don’t know,” he suggested, attempting to calm the situation with a level-headed approach.

“You don’t know that!” she retorted, her voice now tinged with fear and a hint of paranoia. “They could still be out there! Watching. Waiting. Listening…”

A heavy silence enveloped the group, their gazes fixed upon the cub, who now appeared lost in a fog of her own trepidation, moments away from unraveling.

Bendy, however, couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling washing over him as he observed her more closely, their shared resemblance striking him like lightning.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she queried, her tone revealing a touch of nervousness.

“...You look just like me,” Bendy remarked, awe coloring his voice as realization bloomed in his chest. 

The cub’s eyes widened slightly, her white skin now restored to its full brilliance as she regarded him with newfound curiosity.

“You too, only black and with just one pair of wings,” she pointed out, her voice softening with intrigue. “But you don’t look like a Mystical-Wing,” she continued thoughtfully, as if sizing up the implications of his presence.

As Bendy processed the name, the pieces clicked for Atreus.

“Wait… You’re the Mystical-Wing the elves are looking for!” he exclaimed, the revelation blooming in his mind like a wildflower.

“Yes… Yes, I am,” she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with an unshakeable sense of inevitability. “But now it’s my turn to ask: Who are you? You don’t look like you’re from Alfheim.”

“We are from Midgard, and we are going to the temple,” Atreus explained, anticipation and urgency threading his words. 

The cub’s expression shifted at this revelation, surprise flashing across her features as she processed their intention.

“The temple of the light?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with intrigue, a mixture of concern and curiosity dancing within their depths.

“You know about it?” Atreus inquired, his voice filled with hope, longing to peel back the layers of their current conundrum with her insight.

“I’ve been there. Well… Not inside, but closer to the entrance,” she replied, a slight tremor of uncertainty lingering in her voice.

As Atreus absorbed her words, the potential significance of their newfound ally unfurled in his mind, a glimmer of opportunity lighting the path ahead.

“That’s great! Then you can help us,” he said, optimism woven into his expression as he leaned closer.

Yet, the cub’s expression shifted again, confusion presenting itself as her blue eyes sharpened. “With what?” she asked, bewilderment creeping into her tone like a dark shadow.

Atreus seized the moment to clarify their need. “To get us inside the temple,” he stated earnestly, earnestness threading his words as he sought to sway her.

Her reaction was immediate and fierce, shooting down his request with adamant refusal.

“WHAT!? No! I will not do it!” she declared with resolve, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Undeterred by her initial rejection, Atreus persisted, a gleam of determination igniting within him. “But you can help us,” he urged.

However, the cub’s resolve remained steadfast, her fear radiating off her as she shook her head. “I don’t care and I won’t! Staying here is safer,” she insisted, her voice firm and unwavering.

Seeing the deadlock emerging, Lyris stepped forward, her expression steely and uncompromising as she addressed the cub directly. “So you plan to stay here forever?” she challenged, her gaze unyielding.

At the mention of such ridiculous word, the cub burst into laughter, a sound both bright and chilling echoing through the cramped chamber. “Forever? Hahahahaha!!! No!” 

With a swift motion, she pulled a lever hidden in the wall, and to everyone’s astonishment, the space shifted beneath them. The platform they stood on trembled slightly, revealing that they had been sitting on a moving platform the whole time. It began to glide downward, the walls darkening as they were enveloped by secrecy, the promise of adventure looming just beyond the concealed entryway.

As the group descended deeper into the subterranean lair, the damp, cool air enveloped them, enriched with the earthy aroma of soil and the faint chill of the underground. Flickering torches lined the walls, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated a sprawling network of tunnels, revealing a treasure trove of supplies neatly organized in wooden crates and large jars.

The expansive chamber echoed with their footsteps as they approached a realm filled with an astonishing variety of goods—dried fruits, sparkling herbs, and vibrantly colored potions that shimmered like gemstones.

"As you can see, I have a stock that will sustain me for about sixty winters—ninety if I was willing to drink my own sweat, which I am," Widow explained, her voice ringing with pride and determination as she gestured toward the big jars filled to the brim with a cloudy liquid. “I know what you’re thinking; you all must think I’m crazy, and well... I am,” she added, her tone dancing between defiance and humor.

Upon reaching the ground, they found themselves in a vast underground room adorned with bookshelves that towered like ancient sentinels, filled with mystical tomes and scrolls of forbidden knowledge.

The walls, lined with crumbling parchment and peculiar artifacts, created an air of mystery around them. Widow paused to allow her guests to absorb their surroundings, her keen eyes scanning their reactions.

“By the way... My name is Widow, Widow Parker Borealis,” she introduced herself, her voice a blend of caution and curiosity that hinted at her introspective nature.

Bendy reciprocated her introduction with an inviting smile, eager to form a bond amidst the uncertainty. “I’m Bendy, Bendy Morales, and these are my parents, Omega and Beta,” he said, gesturing toward his parents, whose warm nods conveyed their acceptance. “This is my brother, Bucky, and my sister, Lyris, and this guy here is my best friend, Atreus,” he continued, pointing to each member of the group with enthusiasm before concluding with a chuckle, “The muscle guy over there is my uncle and Atreus’s father, Kratos.”

At the mention of Kratos, a palpable wave of unease washed over Widow, evident in her tense posture and wide eyes as she stole a glance at the imposing figure.

“Is he really your uncle?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, colored with uncertainty.

Bendy nodded, amusement dancing in his tone. “Yup. Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” he quipped, but Widow’s bewilderment deepened as the reality of this revelation sunk in.

"Okay... Well, you can stay here for today; you all seem a bit tired," Widow offered, her voice softening sympathetically as she gestured for them to settle down in the makeshift refuge.

The group gratefully accepted the invitation, their exhaustion surfacing as they sank into the underground sanctuary. However, a lingering curiosity gnawed at them—why was a lone cub residing in such an elaborate, isolated hideout? 

“Where are your parents?” Beta asked gently, the concern in his voice clear as he looked at Widow.

For a moment, silence hung between them, the air thick with unspoken emotions as Widow met Beta’s gaze. “My mother died before I was born, and my mom... She left, but she’ll be back soon,” Widow responded quietly, a hint of sorrow weaving through her words.

Atreus, captivated by Widow's revelation, could not restrain his curiosity. “Wait, you had two mothers?” he asked, awe lacing his voice at the thought of such a unique family dynamic.

“Boy!” Kratos interjected sternly, a low growl in his voice that reminded Atreus to tread carefully around sensitive subjects.

Bendy approached Widow, his expression earnest and empathetic. “Why did the dark elves want to capture you anyway?” he inquired softly, genuinely concerned for her well-being.

Widow hesitated, weighing the gravity of her response before deciding to share her truth. “Because of this,” she replied cryptically, her eyes narrowing as she focused intently.

With intent focus, Widow closed her eyes and summoned a mysterious energy. A brilliant orb of violet and blue aura coalesced in the palm of her hand, shimmering like a star against the darkness of the cavern. The entire group stood in awe, their expressions a mix of astonishment and curiosity as they beheld the vivid display.

“It’s... Magic! But I thought dragons couldn’t use it,” Atreus exclaimed, his voice tinged with wonder, as the luminous glow illuminated Widow's face, reflecting the swirling emotions within her.

Widow nodded solemnly, her eyes glistening with pride and a touch of sadness as she let the aura pulse gently. “And they can’t. My species is the only one in the world capable of using magic,” she explained, her voice imbued with a sense of melancholy that hinted at a burden far heavier than her small frame suggested.

As the magic faded away with a soft flicker, leaving only silence in its wake, Widow turned the conversation back to them.

“Well enough talking about me; now why do you want to go to the Temple of Light so much?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Atreus stepped forward, bolstered by the importance of their mission. “We need light to power our Bifrost; we need to—” he started, his voice filled with determination, but he was abruptly interrupted by Kratos’s commanding tone.

“Boy! That’s enough. Do you know the way to the temple or not?” Kratos cut in, his voice leaving no room for more discussion.

Taken aback by his imposing presence, Widow hesitated for a brief moment before answering.

“Yes, I know a way, but it won’t be easy to get in there. The place is completely protected by dark elves. And like I said, I’m not going with you, but I can lend you a map if you want. Now, follow me, and I’ll show you where you can sleep,” she replied, her voice a mix of caution and resignation as she started to guide them through the underground chamber.

Passing rows of ancient tomes, each one a gateway to realms uncharted, Widow glanced back at her guests, pleased to see their wonderment.

“Wow, look at all these books,” Atreus exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of discovery.

Widow smiled proudly, a flicker of joy illuminating her demeanor. “Impressive, right? I have almost all the knowledge of the realms in these books. And I don’t want to brag... But who am I kidding, I’m a great reader,” she said with a touch of playful humor, lightening the mood.

Finally, they arrived at their resting place—an expansive nest woven with soft leaves, fragrant twigs, and other natural materials that whispered of comfort. It wasn’t luxurious, but it promised a cocoon of warmth amid the chill of their surroundings.

“That’s a big nest,” Bendy observed as they entered the cozy sanctuary.

“It’s mine, but I already have another one. This one is yours,” Widow explained, gesturing to the inviting nest she had prepared for them.

As the group settled into the nest, its surprising comfort enveloped them. The leaves and twigs molded perfectly to their shapes, creating a serene cocoon that promised restful sleep. 

“Wow! This nest is SO comfortable! Thanks, Widow,” Bendy exclaimed, his voice radiating gratitude as he nestled into the soft bedding.

“You're welcome. Well, I better get going. Good night,” Widow replied softly, but before she departed, she cast one last lingering look at Bendy. “...And thank you. For saving my life,” she said, her tone sincere, underscoring the depth of her appreciation.

“It was nothing. It was the right thing,” Bendy replied modestly, brushing off her sentiment.

Widow smiled warmly at him, her skin shifting to a radiant yellow—an unmistakable sign of her happiness. Their eyes met, a silent exchange of gratitude and understanding passing between them like a gentle breeze.

With a nod of farewell, Widow turned to retreat to her own nest, leaving Bendy and the others to settle down for the night.

As Bendy closed his eyes, a comforting weight of newfound connection weighed heavily on his heart, the enigmatic Drekinian cub who had unexpectedly crossed their path weaving herself into the fabric of their journey.

A few minutes later.

 Beta, Kratos, and Omega sat around the nest, their children lay sleeping peacefully—Atreus's breaths deep and rhythmic, while Bendy’s face bore a contented smile even in dreams.

Beta’s gaze drifted lovingly toward her children, her heart swelling with an immeasurable blend of affection and protectiveness. 

"Looks like they're sleeping well," she remarked softly, her voice a sweet whisper infused with maternal warmth, as if she were afraid to disturb the tranquility enveloping them.

"Indeed," Kratos replied, the heaviness of his voice threaded with a hint of tenderness that surprised even him. The gruff warrior, usually wrapped in stoicism, felt a warmth unraveling within him as he observed the peace of his family.

Omega, ever the keen observer, shifted slightly in his seat, diverting his attention from the fire to another flickering light—a potential spark of something new between Bendy and Widow.

“Is it just me, or did you guys notice something between Bendy and that Widow?” he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Beta nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly as she reflected on the interactions she had witnessed. "I noticed it too. It reminds me of someone who once had a similar connection with Faye," she mused, her thoughts drifting to cherished memories of her past.

Kratos grunted in response, his expression indecipherable as he mulled over the growing bond between the two younger beings. A moment of silence stretched between them, laden with unspoken thoughts.

As Beta glanced back at Bendy, who was sleeping soundly beside Atreus, a pang of worry gripped her heart, threading through the warmth of motherly affection like a cold wave. The realization of her son's unique nature always set him apart as special, but this new revelation of him potentially being a Shadow-Wing sent ripples of anxiety coursing through her mind. 

"I can't believe Bendy can become something like that," she finally voiced her concerns, her tone quivering with fraught emotions. “I knew when we found him he was different, but this... What if it’s true?” Her words, infused with worry, lingered in the cool air, an echo of uncertainty that hung like a storm cloud overhead.

Omega reached out and gently clasped Beta’s hand, his grip firm yet reassuring. "Beta, look... I know you’re scared," he said, his voice steady and calming. “But Bendy is our son, and we are his parents. No matter what happens, he will always be ours.”

From his stone-like posture, Kratos offered his wisdom with unexpected softness.

“Omega is right. You should not listen to what a witch says. And even if it were true, it does not change the fact that he's still your son." His words held a weight that bolstered the dim light of hope nestled within Beta’s heart.

"But she knew about you, Kratos," Beta pressed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and the gravity of the situation. “And if she was right about Bendy, and if he really is a…” She faltered, her courage fading as she hesitated to utter the last word.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you tell him, for the good of this family,” Kratos said affirmatively, his gaze unwavering and resolution resilient.

“Ironic coming from someone who doesn’t want to tell his own son that he’s a god,” Omega interjected with a teasing snark, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

Kratos fell silent at this, choosing to ignore the comment, his steadfast demeanor unbroken.

“You better go to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll leave early,” he finally instructed, a gentle yet firm command laced in his serious tone.

With that, a blanket of quiet settled over their small circle, wrapping them in the comfort of shared understanding and the knowledge that they would need their strength for the journey ahead.

The fire crackled softly, sparking a glow that mingled with the constellations above, reflecting the complex tapestry of their lives, woven with love, fear, and the unbreakable bond of family.

Meanwhile, in the dim glow of her underground nest, Widow's thoughts spiraled around one singular, aching yearning: her mother. As she lay awake, the weight of the past pressing heavily upon her chest, she stared blankly at the ceiling, its dark expanse amplifying her feeling of loss.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, echoing around the quiet chamber like a distant wail.

“I miss you, Mom…” she whispered softly, the words barely audible, filled with a longing that twisted in her heart like a thorn. The emptiness of the space around her seemed to echo her sentiment, wrapping her in a shroud of sorrow as memories of warmth and laughter ghosted through her mind.

Suddenly, a strange noise jolted her from her reverie, sharp and unexpected in the stillness of the night. Rolling over, she instinctively summoned her magic, a soft luminescence illuminating the darkness, casting a gentle glow across the modest chamber.

To her surprise, she found Bendy aproaching, his wide eyes reflecting the soft light.

“Whoa, easy there! Don’t wanna get punched in the face again,” he joked, his playful tone drawing a half-smile from Widow, his presence both unexpected and warmly welcome.

“What are you—” Widow began, but Bendy cut her off gently, piquing her curiosity.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he explained, empathy glittering in his expressive purple eyes. “And it looks like you can’t either.” 

Widow hesitated, caught in a moment of vulnerability and uncertainty, unsure about opening up to him. However, the genuine concern radiating from Bendy made her realize she no longer had to carry her burdens alone.

“Yeah,” she admitted softly, a mix of relief and vulnerability coloring her voice, as if admitting her struggle lightened a weight she had come to accept as permanent.

Bendy offered her a warm smile, a bright beacon in the enveloping night. “Do you want company?” 

The moment he offered, Widow felt something shift—her heart felt lighter, a delicate flutter spreading through her being. Unable to restrain a shy smile in return, she replied, “Of course.” As her skin turned a luminous yellow, the color of happiness, she realized how desperately she craved connection.

Making space in her cozy nest, Widow welcomed him beside her, her heart swelling with gratitude for his comforting presence amidst her swirling worries.

“You know… this might be the first time I’ve talked with other people,” Widow admitted, her voice tinged with newfound sadness at the realization, as if the truth of her loneliness had surfaced.

Bendy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression morphing into one of genuine concern. “Really?” he asked, the weight of her solitude sinking in.

Widow nodded, her vulnerability shining through her eyes. “Yeah... My mother didn’t let me go out much because of the elves. It was very lonely, without any friends.” 

Understanding dawned on Bendy’s face, and he listened attentively, empathetic to her plight, the shared weight of isolation knitting an invisible bond between them.

“I get that, actually... For a long time I didn’t have many friends either, but that changed over the years, so don't worry, it's normal to feel this way.” 

Gratitude swelled within Widow as she absorbed this understanding. “Cool... Look, I know this sounds a little boring, but can you… tell me what it’s like there in Midgard?”

Bendy’s surprise melted away, replaced by a warm smile as he realized she was interested.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice brightening with enthusiasm. “I mean, the underdogs have to know each other better, right?” He added with a playful grin, an external spark igniting the spark within.

“The Underdogs?” Widow echoed, her curiosity piqued by the term.

“Yeah, people who don’t fit in,” Bendy explained gently, his eyes glowing with shared understanding. “And those who are… different.” 

The name resonated deeply with Widow, striking a chord in the quiet chambers of her heart. “The Underdogs… I like it,” she said, her smile widening, warmth blossoming within her.

Encouraged by Widow’s newfound interest, Bendy launched into a humorous account of his experiences in Midgard, embellishing his tales with animated gestures and vibrant sound effects.

Each story flowed easily from his lips, filled with funny mishaps and thrilling escapades that danced in vivid hues across Widow’s mind. Their laughter echoed through the underground chamber, bouncing off the stone walls and filling the air with a sense of joy that Widow had never encountered before. 

As she listened to him, shared in his laughter, and reveled in his infectious enthusiasm, something new stirred within her—a glimmer of hope and excitement for the adventures that lay ahead with her newfound friend. 

To be continued...

Voice actors for theses chapter's characters

-

Widow- Lana Condor ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57TSL1lEhxw )

Chapter Text

Darkness...

It enveloped Bendy like a thick blanket, a suffocating void that felt as if it stretched infinitely in all directions. It was all he could see—an unsettling expanse devoid of light or life, save for the singular figure of himself, a little drekinian cub, peering into the obsidian abyss.

“Hello?” he called out, his small voice echoing, swallowed by the encroaching silence that lay thick and heavy around him. The absence of a reply only heightened his unease, leaving him with a strange sense of isolation. 

With no other choice, Bendy mustered his courage and began to wander, cautiously stepping forward. As his feet met the ground, an unsettling squelch echoed beneath him, and he quickly realized he was stepping into a black, sticky liquid that oozed between his claws.

The texture clung to him like a gross reminder of his uninvited surroundings, nearly causing his stomach to lurch.

“Ugh! Gross...” he exclaimed, scrunching his face in disgust as he lifted one theropod foot after another, attempting in vain to wipe off the sticky substance. “Where the heck am i?” The question floated into the air, unanswered, as he continued his trek through the murky darkness.

With each step, the thick ground made movement a laborious task, as if the very earth itself sought to keep him trapped in its suffocating grasp. Yet, Bendy pressed on, his determination lighting a flame within him. His heart raced, filling him with anticipation and trepidation alike. 

After what felt like an eternity of struggle, he spotted a subtle shift in the monochromatic scenery ahead—a small black hill emerged from the void, its silhouette an almost welcoming sight amid the oppressive dark. The sight momentarily filled him with relief, hope flickering inside him like a candle in a tempest. 

But just as Bendy approached the hill.

“GROWL.”

A low, ominous noise rumbled through the void, reverberating against the walls of his mind.

The sound sent a chill racing down his spine, a primal instinct urging him to freeze as fear gripped him tightly.

Instinctively, he turned around slowly, dread coiling around his stomach like a snake, eager to discover the source of the terrifying growl.

As he spun, expecting to encounter something monstrous rising from the blackness, he was met once more with the impenetrable void, appearing just as empty and foreboding as before.

“Phew!” he exhaled, relief flooding his senses as he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin to slow. “For a second, I thought it was something scary.” 

But when he turned around, Bendy's heart dropped into his stomach, terror filling every corner of his mind.

Before him loomed a towering figure, its silhouette carved from the same viscous black liquid that now clung stubbornly to his body.

The being was grotesque and imposing, sporting an undeniable alien quality, with eyes that burned bright white like twin stars glaring through an abyss. There was no mouth, no nose—just an unsettling void that seemed to absorb the darkness around it.

“HOLY SHIT!!” Bendy exclaimed, his voice cracking with fear as he instinctively stumbled backward, losing his footing on the hill and tumbling into the slick liquid below.

He splashed down with a horrid splat, the cold tar draining what little warmth he felt instantaneously as it enveloped him.

The heavy figure remained motionless, piercing through Bendy with a gaze devoid of emotion, unnervingly reminiscent of a soulless spirit.

Bendy’s pulse raced in his ears, each heartbeat echoing in the deafening silence that surrounded them.

Struggling to muster his courage, he managed a trembling, “Who… who are you?” 

But the figure remained unyielding, its focus fixed on him as if it were a statue come to life—a harbinger of dread. The silence stretched like a taut string, tightening around his chest as Bendy's fear intensified.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Bendy attempted to get back on his feet. To his horror, he discovered that the liquid entangled him like a sinister veil, pulling him down like quicksand.

“What? No, no! Help me!” he screamed, panic lacing his voice as he looked desperately at the figure, but it held its ground, an unfeeling observer to his plight.

The sticky substance clung to him with an insidious grip, wrapping around his legs, tail, and waist as he fought to break free.

“Let me go!” he shouted, thrashing wildly, but the liquid consumed his energy, its slippery texture thwarting his every attempt to escape.

Desperation surged through his tiny frame as the tar-like substance rose higher, slowly swallowing his legs, then wrapping around his tail, creeping steadily toward his waist.

“No! No!” Bendy cried, his breath quickening in panic as he felt the encroaching doom tightening around him.

He grasped for something—anything—his small hands flailing in futility against the liquid's unyielding grasp. But the more he fought, the more it claimed him; despair began to seep into his bones, coiling around his heart like a cold serpent.

Soon, his hands were engulfed, the inky liquid slippery and suffocating, and Bendy's shoulders followed, leaving only his head exposed. He felt his throat constricting as he trembled in helpless horror, his purple eyes wide with helplessness and dread. 

Then, the figure began moving toward him with an unearthly grace, kneeling down to meet Bendy’s terrified gaze.

The black liquid sloshed around, the weight of it pressing down on him, making it all the more difficult to breathe as he looked into those alien eyes. His heart raced with a melding of fear and confusion as he awaited the figure's next move—the creature was an embodiment of anguish he couldn’t comprehend.

With an unsettling intimacy, the figure leaned closer, its existence overshadowing Bendy as it descended to where his auditory receptors lay.

In a voice that slithered into Bendy’s ears like ice, it whispered, “The time is coming for you and him... Last Prime.”

And so, without knowing exactly how to react, Bendy felt the liquid pull him under, the dark abyss enveloping him like a living entity, its suffocating grip tightening around him as he descended deeper into its depths.

Panic surged through him; he thrashed against the consuming tide, heart racing in a futile attempt to escape the grasp of despair that threatened to drown him.

Flashes of the towering figure's bright, white eyes haunted his thoughts, and a choking dread filled his lungs. In that harrowing moment, he felt as if he could no longer fight it, resigned to the sensation of weightlessness giving way to overwhelming darkness.

But just when he thought all hope was lost, a voice pierced through the suffocating void.

“Bendy, wake up!”

Startled awake, Bendy opened his eyes, confusion flooding his senses.

He blinked against the soft glow of reality, struggling to adjust his vision as he focused on a familiar face—Atreus, his best friend, concern etched across his features like a lifeline. 

“Atreus?” Bendy murmured, his voice still thick with remnants of sleep and the remains of lingering nightmares.

His heart finally beginning to settle, he grasped for the present as he took in the gentle warmth of their surroundings, the comforting details illuminating the once ominous shadows of his dream.

“Are you okay? You looked like you were having a nightmare,” Atreus replied, his brow furrowing as he assessed Bendy's condition with genuine worry. 

Bendy remained silent for a moment, his mind swirling with vivid fragments of his dream—the encroaching darkness, the overpowering liquid, the haunting figure.

It was the fourth time this month he had suffered through these nightmares, each scenario laced with the same chilling theme of being consumed and drowned, yet somehow he couldn’t shake the fear that gripped him. But as he gazed at Atreus's concerned expression, a silent promise settled in his heart. 

“I... I’m fine. I think I just had a bad dream,” he finally spoke, stretching his limbs in an attempt to shake off the remnants of sleep and fear. 

Atreus, however, remained unconvinced, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pressed on. “Are you sure?” His tone dripped with an earnestness that made Bendy's resolve feel even more fragile, amplifying the weight of his unspoken fears.

Truthfully, Bendy wasn’t entirely sure himself; the shadows of his nightmares still lurked in his mind like unwelcome guests. But in that moment, he knew one thing above all else: his own nightmares were insignificant.

What truly mattered was being present for Atreus. 

“I am...” he affirmed, his voice steady and imbued with a newfound conviction, though the trembling uncertainty lingered beneath the surface. 

As Bendy began to fully awaken, his surroundings came clearly into focus, and he realized with a jolt that they were still in Widow’s Refuge, the Mystical-Wing they had saved.

The air held a chilling, dreamy quality, and he noticed the softly woven nest beneath him.

'Did I sleep here?' With... Widow?'

The thought flickered through his mind, a combination of confusion and embarrassment, but he shook it off to focus on the present reality. 

“Well then, you better get up. We’re leaving now,” Atreus said decisively, gesturing towards the others who were busily packing their belongings amid the hideout, their movements rhythmically synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

As Bendy got up from the nest, he and Atreus approached the rest of their group.

Kratos, the formidable Spartan, caught sight of them, his gaze sharp yet fatherly as he assessed their state.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, filled with a weight that seemed to settle upon them. 

“Yes,” Atreus replied, offering an affirming nod, determination shining in his eyes, as he stood tall beside Bendy.

But before they could move further, a voice broke through the morning air, drawing their attention back.

“You’re leaving already?”

It was Widow, graceful yet innocent, her presence amplified by the colorful map shimmering in her hands. 

“Yeah… we have to,” Bendy said, disappointment weighing heavily on his words. He hadn’t anticipated the bittersweet feeling that arose at the thought of leaving. 

Widow’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across her features.

She hadn’t expected them to depart so soon, though part of her understood this would be inevitable.

“Oh… Of course,” she murmured, a hint of sadness lacing her tone.

Bendy noticed the shift in her colors as well; her vibrant white scales began to dim, casting her in shades of blue that hinted at her sorrow. His heart ached at the sight, and he felt a surge of determination to uplift her spirits.

“But you know… after we finish our thing, I could visit you,” he offered, a bright smile in his face.

Widow’s eyes widened in surprise, her skin gradually transitioning to its natural white hue, radiating a gentle warmth. “Really?” she asked, hope blooming within her at Bendy’s words.

“Of course!” Bendy exclaimed, his grin growing wider as he stepped closer. “Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily? After we finish our thing, I will steal—I mean, I will 'borrow' the Bifrost and come here,” he corrected himself swiftly after casting a wary glance at Kratos, who regarded him with a pointed glare.

At that moment, a genuine smile blossomed across Widow’s face, her skin glowing a bright yellow—a clear testament to her happiness.

“I... I’d love that,” she replied, her voice soft, an instinctual blush creeping into her cheeks as she shyly averted her gaze, handing the map to Bendy. “H-here, take it. This will lead you all to the temple.”

“Thanks,” he said, returning her smile, the gesture filling the space between them with warmth. 

Suddenly remembering something important, Bendy’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Almost forgot!” He rummaged through his pocket, excitement bubbling within him. Out he pulled a folded piece of paper and extended it toward her. “I want to give you something so you don’t forget about us.”

Taking the sheet, Widow unfolded it carefully, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw the drawing—an adorable rendition of herself alongside Bendy and Atreus, their grins wide and joyful.

Her skin flared crimson, turning a bright shade of pink as she struggled to contain her excitement.

“Wow... Bendy, I-I don’t know what to say… Thank you,” she stammered, awe etched across her delicate features.

“It’s nothing; I had to give something to say thanks, right?” he replied, a shy blush dusting his cheeks, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he watched her delight.

As Widow gazed at him, a fluttery sensation began to rise again within her—almost like magic weaving through her veins.

“It was really nice meeting you all… especially you, Bendy Morales,” she said, her voice laced with gratitude, eyes sparkling.

“It was nice meeting you too, Widow Parker Borealis,” he returned, his smile broadening as their eyes locked, both feeling an unspoken connection they couldn’t quite name.

For a fleeting moment, the world around them faded, leaving just the two cubs caught in an innocent but profound moment, blissful yet tinged with the weight of impending separation.

But their heartfelt exchange was cut short when Kratos, ever steadfast and focused, beckoned them with an urgency that drew them back to reality. “We must leave.” 

With a sense of purpose, the group made their way towards the elevator, the metal frame reflecting the soft glow of the sunlight filtering through the leaves above. Yet, amidst the collective anticipation, Atreus suddenly halted, a look of realization washing over his face. 

“Wait! I think I left my journal; I’ll be right back!” he exclaimed, urgency propelling him back toward the nest where he had rested, his fingers itching for the worn leather cover that held countless memories and thoughts. 

He sprinted back, his heart pounding as he dashed across the soft, mossy earth.

When he arrived at the nest, he quickly spotted his journal nestled amid the vibrant feathers. Just as he grasped it, something peculiar caught his eye: a strange white scribble peeking from behind a giant curtain that swayed slightly in the breeze. Curiosity piqued, Atreus felt an irresistible pull to investigate further. 

“Hey, Widow, I think there’s something on your wall,” he called out, reaching for the curtain with both anticipation and trepidation.

Upon hearing him, Widow’s eyes widened in horror as she sensed the potential unraveling of her most guarded secret.

“WAIT, NO! STOP!!” she cried, but her warning came too late. Atreus had already pulled the curtain aside, revealing an entire wall lined with counting marks, countless vertical lines scratched into the surface—a manifestation of time itself. 

Shock rippled through the group at the sight.

The marks were unmistakable; everyone recognized their purpose—they counted the passage of days.

But the questions that hung heavy in the air were laden with concern: What was Widow counting?

“Widow… What is this?” Atreus asked, his voice trembling as he gestured to the wall, confusion lining his brow.

In that moment, Widow felt a wave of panic wash over her, the colors of her skin pulsating in a chaotic dance of purple and orange. She began to breathe rapidly, a sense of dread and anxiety enveloping her as all eyes turned toward her, demanding answers.

Bendy, noticing her distress, moved closer, concern etched on his face as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Widow… What do those marks mean?” he softly prompted, his voice filled with empathy.

Locking eyes with Bendy, Widow felt an unbearable weight settle around her heart; she could no longer conceal her truth. “I… I started to mark them… when my mother didn’t come back,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with deep regret.

Atreus’s brow furrowed in confusion, struggling to reconcile the information. “But you said that—”

“I lied…” she interrupted, her eyes shutting tightly as she fought to suppress the tears welling within her.

The memories surged forth with relentless clarity, and she fought to hold herself together, recalling the worst day of her life.

“...It was just a normal day. My mother and I were looking for food when the dark elves found us. She told me to run away, said she would catch up to me later. And from that day... I started marking.”

A profound silence enveloped the group as they absorbed her words, each syllable heavy with heartache, especially for Bendy, whose gut twisted with sorrow as he listened.

“How long did you wait?” he asked gently, already fearing the impending answer.

Widow met his gaze, tears brimming in her eyes, her body shadowed entirely in blue, a hue representing her grief.

“Four winters…” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her confession. Tear drops escaped her lashes and fell against the ground like heavy rain as she continued, “I-I just thought that if I waited she would come back… And I didn’t have to 'sniff' think that she wouldn’t… I thought she would c-come back... 'hic' I thought…”

But before she could finish, emotions overwhelmed her. With a sudden burst, she turned and sprinted away, tears streaming down her cheeks, the sheet of paper—the precious drawing Bendy had made—falling unceremoniously to the ground.

“Widow!” Bendy called out in alarm, his heart racing with concern.

In a flash, Bendy grabbed the fallen paper and dashed after her, determination fuelling each step.

The others stood speechless, the gravity of the revelation hanging in the air like a thick fog. Atreus was left with a profound sense of regret, wishing he had never pried open the curtain to reveal Widow's painful truth. 

Bendy dashed through the labyrinth of bookshelves, his heart pounding with urgency as he called out for Widow.

"Widow?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the shadowy space, interspersed with the faint rustling of pages and the crunch of leaves beneath his feet.

Doubt and anxiety twisted together in his gut as he scanned every nook and cranny, the anticipation of finding her growing heavier with each passing moment. Just then, a faint sound reached his ears—soft, muffled sobs that reverberated like a haunting melody.

Following the sorrowful cries, he hurried toward their source.

Soon, he arrived at a secluded corner, where he found Widow huddled beneath a cascade of her delicate, four-winged limbs.

She was curled tightly into herself, her wings shrouding her face like a protective barrier against the world.

The sight tore at Bendy’s heart; he could feel the palpable weight of her sadness. Approaching cautiously, he knelt beside her, his voice filled with compassion.

“Widow?” he asked softly, hoping his words would penetrate the veil of her anguish.

“Go away…” came her muffled reply, thick with pain and defiance, her wings quivering with the intensity of her emotions.

Bendy’s heart ached at the sound of her despair, and he settled down next to her, wanting to offer comfort even in silence.

“Widow… I’m so sorry, I—” he began, but she interrupted him, her voice rising in a pleading yell.

“I get it, okay!” she shouted, her luminous blue eyes now a striking crimson from the tears. “You didn’t know! Now go away! I’m already used to being alone…!”

Her words silenced him, leaving Bendy grappling with a sense of helplessness.

He had no immediate response, yet deep down, he felt an urgent need to bridge the chasm between them. “Look… I know how—” 

But before he could finish, Widow silenced him once again, her emotions surging like a storm as her face contorted with anger. Her magic flared, her skin shifting from blue to a furious red, and her eyes shimmered with a violent glow.

“No...! Don’t you dare tell me you understand how I feel!” she retorted, jabbing a finger harshly against his chest. “ You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about my life, and much less do you know how I FEEL!!”

Bendy stood momentarily frozen, absorbing her words as she panted with anger, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

Now he could only watch as she slowly sank down, allowing grief to reclaim her as sorrow enveloped her once again. The overwhelming turmoil made him feel helpless, but even amidst that despair, a spark ignited in his mind—he needed to help her.

Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, which drew Widow’s attention away from her turmoil.

“Widow… do you know why we’re doing all this? Going to the temple? To get the light?” 

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, she glanced at him, confusion clouding her gaze.

“No...” she replied, her voice small and unsure.

With a deep breath, Bendy decided it was time to unveil his truth. “My aunt… Atreus’ mother, she... died,” he admitted, the weight of the confession hanging between them like a heavy shroud.

In shock, Widow’s eyes widened as she processed his words.

"She got sick, and no matter how hard we tried, she never got better... A few days ago, she never woke up.” Bendy continued, his voice faltering under the emotional load. 

Quiet fell over them as Widow absorbed his pain, guilt beginning to creep into her heart.

“I… I’m sorry. I had no idea,” she murmured, regret washing over her. 

“It’s okay…” Bendy reassured her, a faint smile breaking through the heaviness. “At least we had a lot of good memories with her.” 

“...What was she like? Your aunt?” Widow asked, her curiosity unearthing a glimmer of hope nestled within her heartache.

For a moment, Bendy was silent, drifting in a sea of memories—every laugh shared, every lesson learned alongside his siblings and Atreus.

“She was someone who deeply cared about others,” he replied, a wistful smile creeping onto his face. “She saw beauty in all living beings, even in spiders. She would always tell us incredible stories about dragons, gods, and giants. She was the one who taught Atreus how to use a bow; she even made his bow herself. Sometimes, I feel like she’s still here... taking care of him and us.”

Widow listened intently, struck by the depth of his words and the fondness with which he described her.

Could it be that Bendy understood more about her pain than she had thought?

“She must have been pretty amazing…” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the sorrow.

With a tender smile, Bendy met her gaze. “She was…” he affirmed, sincerity lacing his words.

As Widow began to calm, Bendy's mind formulated an idea—an idea that could possibly help them both.

Although it felt daring and risky, he considered whether Widow would accept this notion of finding connection in shared grief. He glanced at her, the spark of hope igniting within him as he thought about the journey ahead—perhaps they could heal together.

“Widow, look, you're right… I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I understand that no one should be alone. So here’s something I’m going to suggest… Come with us.” Bendy’s words hung in the air, a bold invitation that shimmered with hope.

For a brief moment, Widow was taken aback, her mind swirling in a haze of confusion as if Bendy had just dropped a pebble into a still pond, ripples of uncertainty spreading across her thoughts.

“What?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, as disbelief seeped into her very being.

“After we get the Light of Alfheim, come with us to Midgard,” Bendy replied, a bright smile illuminating his face, radiating genuine warmth and unwavering enthusiasm.

The suggestion hovered between them, and Widow fell silent, grappling with the gravity of his words.

Should she really consider this? Tentatively, her mind raced through a multitude of worst-case scenarios, each one darker than the last.

“But I… I’ve never been to another realm,” she admitted softly, doubt creeping into her voice. “And even if I said yes, what would I gain from this?”

Bendy’s smile widened, and he became animated, envisioning all the possibilities ahead.

“Well… you would have adventure, experience, knowledge, and... a friend,” he replied, his voice lilting with excitement as he extended his paw toward her.

In his outstretched hand lay the drawing he had made, a sketch that captured the essence of their fleeting connection. Gently, Widow accepted the paper, her fingers brushing against his, and as her gaze swept across the intricate lines of the drawing, her heart fluttered.

Yet, it was the words he had just spoken that stirred something deeper within her.

“I—wait… You really consider me a friend?” she asked, her voice tentative, as if the very concept was foreign to her.

“Of course! I mean, you’re amazing!” Bendy exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration as he looked at her, the earnestness in his gaze evident.

“What? I’m not that amazing,” Widow replied, a hint of incredulity coloring her tone.

“Are you kidding? You ARE amazing! You’ve managed to survive completely on your own! You possess so much knowledge, and you even know how to do magic!” Bendy's voice rose with fervor as he spoke, the admiration seeping into every word he uttered. “And besides… the Underdogs have to stick together, right?”

As she heard thoses inspiring and conforting words, Widow wiped away her tears, the warmth of Bendy's encouragement wrapped around her like a soft cocoon.

She gazed at him, pondering how this unexpected stranger, now her newfound friend, genuinely cared.

Could this truly be the moment she had longed for? The chance to break free from her self-imposed solitude and explore the vast world beyond the borders of Alfheim? With newfound determination swelling in her chest, she stood up, her smile radiant.

“You know what?” she exclaimed, a spark igniting in her eyes. “Maybe you’re right; maybe it’s time to see the world outside!”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us?” Bendy asked, his voice laced with hope as he beamed at her.

“Yes! I will!” she affirmed, a sense of joy spreading through her like warm sunlight.

Overjoyed, Bendy rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace, his heart soaring with excitement. “You won’t regret it!” he proclaimed, releasing her from his grasp but holding her gaze, all the happiness shining through his expression.

In a moment of enthusiasm, he grabbed her hand, his grip unwavering as he tugged her along.

“So what are we waiting for?! Let’s tell everyone the news!” he said fervently, dragging her along with unexpected zeal. Widow felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks, warmth spreading through her as she followed him, excitement bubbling within her. Perhaps this journey would be the fresh start she had been waiting for all along.

As Bendy, Widow, and their companions returned from their journey, the air around them buzzed with an eager anticipation.

They stepped into the clearing, and there, under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, stood Kratos, Atreus, Bendy's parents, and his siblings.

“You’re back!” Lyris, with her bright eyes wide in surprise, exclaimed,

Atreus, unable to contain his relief, sprinted toward them, his expression a mixture of worry and eagerness. “Widow, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—”

Widow quickly shifted the atmosphere with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Atreus. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. In fact, I feel like this is more my fault. I should have erased that long ago.” The softness of her voice soothed Atreus, who still bore the weight of guilt on his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asked, a trace of uncertainty lingering in his tone.

“I am.” The genuine warmth in her eyes made Atreus relax, his spirits lifted.

With his heart swelling with excitement, Bendy decided it was time to reveal the news that could change everything.

“Well, I think it’s time to tell everyone the news. Widow is coming with us.” His tone was casual, as if it were merely a minor detail, not registering the wide-eyed shock that immediately spread across the faces of those gathered.

“What?” Lyris exclaimed, tilting her head slightly, confusion etched across her features as she exchanged glances with Bucky.

“Widow will take us to the temple, and then she will come with us to Midgard,” Bendy said, a broad grin stretching across his face, slipping his arm around Widow's shoulders, who looked equally elated by the support.

As the statement hung in the air, an array of reactions bloomed among the group. Atreus, Lyris, and Bucky shared gleeful smiles, excitement bubbling within them at the prospect of a new friend joining their adventures.

Omega and Beta exchanged proud looks, beaming with approval for their son's generous choice, while Kratos’s expression darkened with disappointment, lines of concern etching into his furrowed brow as he frowned upon the reckless decision.

A protective instinct rattled within him; he did not know if they could really trust her.

“Cub, that’s—” Kratos started, but his words were abruptly cut off.

“A great idea, son!” Beta interjected, her exuberance drowning out the cautionary note in Kratos’s voice.

Bendy and Widow blinked in surprise, their eyes wide. “Really?” Bendy asked, trying to gauge the sincerity behind Beta's response.

“Of course!” Omega chimed in as he approached the two. “After all, what kind of people would we be, leaving a child here alone?” His stern gaze flicked to Kratos, a silent reprimand flowing between them.

Widow, touched by the unexpected support, felt a rush of gratitude swelling within her.

“I—I don’t know what to say… Thank you,” she stammered, emotion thick in her voice.

“There’s no need to thank us, kid, just know that we’re here for you,” Omega said gently, placing his prosthetic metal arm on her shoulder in an affirming gesture. The reassurance filled her with a sense of belonging, and she grinned widely, her heart swelling with hope. 

“Thank you so much again! I’m going to get my things!” Widow announced, her determination palpable as she hurried away toward her nest.

Moments later, she returned with a well-worn shoulder bag slung across her, filled with essential items that hinted at her resourcefulness.

“I’m ready!” she declared confidently, her voice ringing with newfound purpose. “But before we go, I want to give this to all of you as a way of saying thank you.”

With that, she opened her bag, revealing two little books—one fiery red and one icy blue—whose weathered covers told tales of history despite their ragged condition. 

“What are these?” Atreus asked curiously, reaching out to take the books as she handed them over.

“They’re old travel guides that some of Týr made for Muspelheim and Niflheim,” Widow explained, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of shared knowledge. “They were one of Týr's great projects to help the realms get along. Here!” She flipped to the back of one book and pointed to a section, eagerness lacing her tone. “These are some basic phrases from Eimyrja and Breði to Midgard.”

“What is Eimyrja and Breði?” Bendy asked, his curiosity piqued.

“They're the languages of the Fire Giants and the Frost Giants,” she explained, her enthusiasm infectious. “You mentioned yesterday that you like languages, so if you want to start learning about the Fire and Frost Giants, there it is!”

“Wow! Thank you, Widow,” Atreus exclaimed, his voice bubbling with gratitude.

“You're welcome,” she replied, her gaze shifting to Kratos. “Mr. Kratos? I think you might want this.” 

She produced a small cluster of eight glowing green apples, holding them out to him. 

“What are these?” he asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

“These are Iðunn apples,” Widow said, a hint of pride illuminating her expression.

“Iðunn? Like the goddess of spring and eternal youth, Iðunn?” Atreus chimed in, surprise coloring his voice.

“That’s right!” Widow exclaimed. “A long time ago, Iðunn visited several realms to see if she could plant her apples there. Unfortunately, the Allfather didn’t approve of the idea and forbade it, but not before Iðunn could hide some. I found these in some ruins in the forest and have kept them for emergencies ever since.”

“And how will they help us?” Kratos asked, still skeptical and wanting to grasp the usefulness behind her story.

“Well…” she began, excitement infusing her voice, “although apples don’t provide immortality, they boost health benefits. So if you’re seriously injured, just take a bite, and you’ll be completely healed.” She looked up at Kratos, waiting for his reaction as he seemed to consider the practicality of her gift.

“Hmm... That might do,” he conceded, the hint of satisfaction creeping into his demeanor.

“That’s just his way of saying thank you,” Atreus remarked teasingly, nudging Widow with a smirk.

With a flourish, Widow produced a mead horn marked with a mysterious symbol.

“And this is Blood Mead, a berserker drink. It leaves whoever drinks it extremely powerful. But drink too much, and your heart might stop beating.”

“Oohh, mommy likey! Can I drink it?” Lyris exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with excitement, nearly reaching for the horn.

But before Lyris could snatch it, however, Omega gently took it from her hands. “Nope,” he said, his tone firm, knowing all too well the mischief a berserker Lyris would unleash.

Kratos grunted, understanding Omega’s reasoning as he accepted the horn, stowing it in his bag for potential future utility.

With Widow’s contributions securing her place within their ranks and determination striding, the group made their way toward the elevator.

As they stepped out of the hideout and into the vibrant landscape of Alfheim, the ethereal beauty of the realm unfolded before them, causing even the most stoic among them to pause in awe. Sunlight danced through the lush foliage, casting intricate patterns on the ground, while the air hummed with the melodies of exotic birds and whispering leaves.

"I have to say, Widow, your realm is very impressive. The plants here are quite beautiful," Atreus remarked, his voice laced with genuine admiration as he bent down to examine a radiant flower bursting with color.

"Thanks, but if you think the plants are amazing, just wait until you see the animals. In fact, there must be a herd nearby; follow me!" she said, excitement knitting her brows in glee as she led the group deeper into the wonders of her homeland.

“We do not have time to—” Kratos began to protest, but his words fell on deaf ears as his companions were already swept up in the thrill of exploration.

“Oh come on, Kratos! Have a little fun!” Beta urged, her tone light and playful, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she coaxed her friend forward.

With an exasperated grunt, Kratos resigned himself to the moment, forcing himself to keep pace as they followed Widow.

The party soon arrived at a vast pasture where a kaleidoscope of flora dotted the landscape, their vibrant petals swaying in a gentle breeze, creating a lively tapestry of colors and scents.

“Right there!” Widow announced, pointing excitedly toward a distant grove.

Atreus squinted, captivated by the sight that stretched before him—a bizarre yet enchanting world where the very fabric of nature seemed woven with magic. He gasped, witnessing creatures unlike anything he had ever seen.

A group grazed nearby, a peculiar mix of beetles and large deer, with bizarre bulges adorning their backsides. He noted that they sported six limbs rather than the expected four, two long arms extending gracefully from the hind legs. Their proboscises curled towards the plants, delicately sipping nectar.

On the other side of the pasture fluttered a herd that resembled a fantastical blend of butterflies and horses, their iridescent wings shimmering in the sunlight. He observed a soft glow emanating from certain parts of their bodies, accentuating their surreal beauty.

“What are those things?” Atreus asked, his curiosity piqued, jaw slightly agape as he struggled to process the sight.

“The ones with the horns are called Horn-Rambles, and the others are Wing-Lighters. They’re insects,” Widow explained, her excitement palpable as she gestured toward the creatures.

Atreus looked at her, brow furrowed in disbelief. “Okay… I think you’re confused,” he replied, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah! Insects are supposed to be small and don’t look like that,” Bendy chimed in, pointing an incredulous finger at the bizarre creatures.

“In your realm, perhaps, but here in Alfheim, that’s how they look,” Widow replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice, accompanied by a playful smile.

“But… how?” Atreus persisted, still struggling to reconcile the concept of insects being so grand.

“It’s because of the light,” Widow explained, the wonder spilling from her voice. “It has a huge effect on the plants, allowing them to produce large amounts of air, which helps the insects to grow bigger.”

Despite her fascinating explanation, Kratos, ever the pragmatist, interjected, his voice low and firm.

“We need to move forward; enough of these distractions.”

“Yes, sir,” Atreus muttered, a touch of annoyance creeping into his tone as he complied reluctantly.

Widow turned to Bendy, curiosity in her eyes.

“Is he always like this?” she asked, glancing back at Kratos, who was scanning the surroundings like a hawk, ever watchful.

“You get used to it,” Bendy replied nonchalantly, a grin playing on his lips.

“Really?” Widow asked, intrigued by the idea.

“No,” Bendy smirked, a youthful mischief dancing in his eyes, and the air filled with a light laughter that briefly lightened the weight of their quest. 

With that, the group pressed onward, the path stretching long before them, each step echoing the weariness of their journey. The air began to hum with an almost monotonous stillness, which even the ever-curious Atreus and the playful cubs found a bit tedious.

However, that changed abruptly when Bendy spotted something unusual—a colossal flower, vibrant pink and reflective blue, resembling an oversized sunflower swaying gently in the breeze. Intrigued and always inquisitive, he approached the plant with a lopsided grin and reached out, giving it a gentle poke.

To his astonishment, the entire plant shrank instantly by his touch, folding itself into its stem with a comical "pop."

The cub erupted into laughter, his small voice carrying a sense of unforgettable joy. “Atreus! Look!” he called, his eyes wide with excitement.

Atreus turned, his gaze fixed on his friend’s antics, and couldn't help but beam. “Wow! Do it again!” he encouraged, his own curiosity ignited like a spark catching fire.

With renewed enthusiasm, Bendy began to poke at various plants along the path, each one responding with a similar enchanting reaction, collapsing into itself in a flurry of colors and sounds. Laughter erupted around them, the cub clapping his paws in delight, until that joyous moment was shattered. 

Suddenly, a looming shadow cast over Bendy; he froze, feeling a monstrous presence nearby. Tall and imposing, a gigantic insect the size of a rhinoceros emerged from the underbrush, its two formidable horns glinting like weapons in the light. Its rich blue exoskeleton gleamed ominously, fortified by robust legs meant for obliteration.

“Bendy!!” Atreus shouted, a tremor in his voice as panic gripped his heart.

Recognizing the danger, the group’s demeanor shifted into high alert. Kratos instinctively pulled his axe from its sheath, a protective instinct surging within him, but Widow’s hand shot out to stop him.

“No!! That’s a Thunder-Stag! Its exoskeleton is too strong; your axe won’t work,” she cautioned, eyes darting toward Bendy, who stood paralyzed in fear.

The enormous insect raised its massive body, knocking down two towering trees with sheer strength as it displayed its power.

“Bendy!! Listen to me, do not move a muscle!” Widow commanded, her voice steady despite the chaos.

Complying, Bendy remained a statue amidst the wild flora, the bright blue lines glimmering on the insect’s body catching his eye. 

“You see those lines? It’s an intimidation display. You’re in its territory, and you have to show you’re not a threat,” she quickly explained, her tone both serious and caring.

“And what do I do? Dance?” he replied nervously, uncertainty flooding his young heart.

“Just stay still!!” Widow insisted sharply, her eyes trained on the Thunder-Stag.

With adrenaline coursing through him, Bendy transformed from a fearless cub to a cautious observer, his heart racing as he waited for the standoff. But to his relief, the insect slowly began to retreat, inching backward as if it recognized Bendy’s lack of threat.

Elation bubbled up inside him. “Ha! Yeah, that’s it, go back to mommy, you wussy bug!” he crowed, masking his earlier fear with bravado.

However, as he watched the tiny creature scuttle back to its herd, Bendy noticed its diminutive size compared to the behemoths surrounding it, but something piqued his curiosity. The larger insects, known for their impressive horns and majestic stature, appeared unnerved, their antennae twitching uneasily.

What could they possibly be afraid of?

The answer materialized swiftly; the air filled with a strange clicking noise. Bendy spun around and gasped as a massive green creature leapt out of the forest, poised to attack—an enormous Praying Mantis, dwarfing even the huge Thunder-Stag. 

“What the...?” he stammered, panic seizing him.

Widow, standing by his side, whispered in horror, "A Kamacura..."

Suddenly, the Kamacura, exposed its formidable raptorial limbs, ready to pounce on the Thunder-Stags.

It tested its strength against the Thunder-Stags, vainly attempting to seize one of the massive creatures, but as it realized their size, it shifted its ravenous hunger toward the smaller, more defiant target—Bendy.

“What about this one? I run? Stay still? Dance?!” he blurted frantically, absolute desperation sprouting in his chest.

“Run Bendy!! YOU RUN LIKE HEL!!” Widow screamed, terror igniting within her as she recognized the imminent danger.

In a split second, Bendy took off, adrenaline flooding through his veins, his footfalls pounding the earth as he darted away from the imminent threat. He zigzagged through the trees, narrowly dodging a swift blow of the Kamacura’s claws, which sliced through the air with a menacing hiss. The surrounding forest blurred by him as he dove between the roots of a colossal tree, desperately trying to escape the predator’s clutches.

But the creature was relentless. Its colossal claws scraped against the bark, snapping at him as he rolled to avoid its lethal grasp.

Bendy climbed another tree with an urgency that rendered his limbs almost weightless, but he glanced down and saw, to his horror, that the monstrous mantis was scaling the trunk in pursuit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaimed, his heart pounding as he felt its presence looming dangerously close.

With no time to think, he leapt from the branches, narrowly averting capture, and hit the ground hard. Bendy sprang back to his feet, but the Kamacura was undeterred, hot on his heels.

He pushed himself to run faster, branches slapping at his face and legs as he stumbled over treacherous roots, his heart dropping when he tripped and tumbled, crashing down to the earth.

At that moment, everything rushed through Bendy's mind, fear and survival converging until one thought crystallized: he had no other choice.

It was time to unleash 'V'.

Gathering his courage as got up, he prepared to confront the creature, determination setting his jaw, but before he could, a sudden, sharp crack echoed through the air as a stone collided with the Kamacura’s eye.

The creature’s screech of pain reverberated through the forest, startling nearby wildlife into flight. Shaken with rage, it swung its massive head around, scanning for the source of the offense—and found Widow, standing tall, determination etched on her face.

"Hey!" Widow called, fear etched in her features, but her voice contained a fierce resolve, for she was ready to defend her friend. “You want me? Then come and get me!!”

With that bold declaration, she became the focus of the Kamacura's wrath, which lunged at her with ferocity.

Bendy terrified face soon becomes a frown, and so he instinctively decides to act, releasing 'V' with all his might.

In an astonishing display of power, black tendrils broke through his skin, black and sinuous, snaking out to entwine the Kamacura, wrapping tightly around its legs, torso, and raptorial limbs, effectively restraining the giant predator.

Widow stood frozen in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief as the tendrils constricted around the Kamacura, rendering it helpless.

Soon, Bendy's face changed for a second, his eyes turning into distinct, alien-like white curved eyes and his teeths turned into rows of long and sharp fangs.

As he extended his arms further, channels of black tendrils spilled from his back, anchoring him to the ground to prevent slipping away.

But despite the sparks of fear igniting within him, he focused on the task at hand, for his will was strong, fortified by the connection he felt with Widow and his need to protect her.

In a moment of sheer concentration, he locked eyes with her, and though panic threatened to eclipse him, he focused deeply on the task at hand.

In a fierce cry that seemed to resonate with the very trees around him, Bendy heaved with all his might, “GraaaaaAAAAAHHHH!!!”.

With a titanic effort, he hurled the Kamacura through the air, sending it screeching into the depths of the forest, far from where they stood, landing far from them like a broken toy.

With the threat dissipated from sight, and exhaustion crashed over him like a wave, Bendy fell to his knees, energy spent and panting heavily as he reclaimed his breath. The black tendrils slowly receded, returning to his body as he processed what had just transpired.

As he regained his breath, he turned to find Widow’s gaze fixed on him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her eyes. Neither could find the words to break the heavy silence, each caught in the weight of what had just unfolded. For Bendy, the revelation of his powers felt both liberating and terrifying, while Widow grappled with the shock of witnessing a side of him she had never known.

In that hushed moment, two souls stood on the precipice of understanding, silently processing the chaos that had just erupted around them.

“Bendy!!” 

The anguished call echoed through the tangled underbrush, and Bendy's heart leaped at the sound of familiar voices.

Out of the dense greenery emerged his family, bounding toward him with relief etched on their faces. His mother reached him first, enveloping him in a fierce embrace that was both comforting and constricting.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay! I thought I was going to lose you…” Her voice trembled as she squeezed him tightly, her warmth a balm against the cold panic of the last few moments. Bendy felt the edges of his vision darken, and his face began to tinge blue under the pressure.

“Mom... you’re... choking me,” he wheezed, squirming in her affectionate grip.

“Great, because you’re in so much trouble now!” Beta interjected with a mix of relief and irritation, finally prying her son away from the suffocating embrace. “You’re not leaving my sight until we get out of this realm of giant man-eating insects.” Her tone was stern, but the underlying worry was unmistakable.

Yet, amidst the familial chaos, Kratos, his usual stoic demeanor unchanged, surveyed their surroundings, his gaze sharp and penetrating as he looked for any sign of the creature they had just escaped.

“What happened to the creature?” he asked, his voice low and authoritative.

Panic surged through Bendy; he was caught off guard. His heart raced as he grappled with the truth of what had transpired.

The secret of ‘V’ loomed heavy in his mind, but he knew that revealing it was fraught with risks. As the intensity of their collective glances bore down on him, his throat tightened.

But before he could formulate a response, Widow stepped forward, her voice calm yet assertive. “It left.” 

Bendy whipped his head toward her in surprise. He could see the calculated resolve in her eyes as she continued, “I distracted it, buying time for Bendy and i to hide until it left.” Each word felt like a crafted lie, and Bendy’s chest constricted further; he knew the truth was far murkier than her portrayal.

“You should’ve warned us about the creature,” Kratos said, his tone betraying disappointment directed at Widow. 

“I’m really sorry about that! Kamacuras usually stay in the deeper areas of the forest. I never thought one would be near this area.” Widow’s voice rose defensively, but the way she wrung her hands indicated her own turmoil.

“Any information that you possess MIGHT be useful to get us into the temple, so if you have something we should know, you WILL tell us,” Kratos commanded, his voice brokering no arguments. 

With the order given, he took charge as their leader, gesturing for the family to follow.

But Bendy felt the urge to address Widow, to let her know how much her actions had meant to him.

He stepped slightly away from the group, the sounds of nature muffled behind the bubble of anxiety surrounding him.

“Widow…” he began, taking a breath to calm his racing heart. “Thank you.” His voice was soft, filled with genuine gratitude amidst the chaos, but the weight of his unspoken truth hung between them.

Widow’s expression shifted from fierce determination to something softer as she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Don’t thank me… But you do owe me an explanation.” Her gaze bore into him, serious and unwavering, demanding clarity he had yet to provide.

She was right, and he knew it.

He had so much to explain, especially about ‘V’ and the powers he wielded.

His mind soon drifted to Cletus, who would likely fume over Bendy’s reckless action and impulsiveness.

Man, Cletus sure was going to kill him after this.

As they walked forward, they approached a vast entrance that unexpectedly opened to a serene beach, the sound of waves lapping against the shore filling the air. The golden sand sparkled in the sunlight, and the salty breeze brushed against their faces.

Atreus’s eyes widened in exhilaration at the sight; he couldn't contain his excitement and took a few eager steps forward.

But as his foot sank into the warm sand, a whisper ghosted through the air, chilling him to the bone.

“Did you say something?” he turned, directing the question at Bendy, who looked back at him, confusion etching his features.

“What?” Bendy replied, genuinely perplexed.

“I thought I heard you say something to me,” Atreus insisted, the uncertainty creeping into his voice as he scanned the faces of his companions.

“But I didn’t,” Bendy reiterated, his brow furrowing deeper.

“None of us said anything, boy,” Kratos interjected firmly, his voice steady and authoritative as they proceeded toward a weathered boat drawn up close to the shore.

Still puzzled, Atreus shook off the eerie feeling, wanting to shake loose the illusion.

If it wasn’t anyone from the group, then who could it have been? He pushed the thought aside, joining the others as they continued along the beach. That’s when he spotted a familiar figure—someone nestled near the water’s edge.

“Sindri?” Bendy exclaimed in astonishment, recognizing the gemophobic dwarf they had met in the snowy peaks of Midgard.

“You know him?” Widow asked, suddenly intrigued as they approached the dwarf, who was meticulously cleaning his forge.

Sindri’s brow was furrowed as he worked, the meticulous minutiae of his craft demanding his full attention.

“We met him on Midgard,” Bendy explained, a smile creeping onto his face as they closed the distance. “He’s nice, but a little weird when it comes to touching stuff and all.”

Sindri turned at the sound of his name, surprise flickering through his eyes when he spotted the group. “Why hello there! Didn’t expect you all here!” His gaze quickly shifted to Widow, a fresh curiosity evident in his demeanor. “And who is this?”

“Sindri, this is Widow. Widow, this is Sindri,” Bendy introduced, his voice carrying a note of pride. “We met her when we arrived in this realm.”

“Hi,” she said, extending her hand in greeting, her demeanor warm and inviting.

But as Sindri’s gaze fell upon her open palm, he flinched back, wide-eyed with alarm.

“Uh... I don’t do... that...” He communicated distastefully, involuntarily stepping back, his voice laden with anxiety as he pointed a trembling finger toward her hand.

Widow’s brow furrowed in confusion at his odd behavior, unsure of what had caused such a reaction.

She glanced between her palm and Sindri’s frightened expression, recognition sparking in her mind. Drawing on the years of study and magic, she quickly decided to demonstrate her abilities. With a graceful wave of her hand, shimmering violet energy flowed from her fingers.

As her eyes glowed with a soft pink hue, the magic manifested into a transparent blue hand, materializing in the air to delicately grasp Sindri’s palm.

Everyone watched in awe, the vibrant display of Widow’s magic captivating them. Although Kratos stood unflappable, watching with his usual stoicism, a glimmer of curiosity flickered in Bendy’s gaze.

Sindri's initial alarm melted into fascination as he analyzed the ethereal hand, carefully examining its properties.

“Solid but transparent... Light but firm... Manufactured but natural-looking... And no beast could corrode it...” A radiant smile spread across Sindri’s beard as he turned to Bendy, his enthusiasm palpable. “I like her!”

“I knew you would,” Bendy responded, a grin plastered across his face in agreement.

Suddenly, a thought struck Sindri, and he hurried back to his forge, excitement radiating from him. “Speaking of which, I’m also glad you’re here! I want to show you something.” 

He rummaged through a sturdy chest, his brow furrowed in concentration. With a flourish, Sindri unveiled three pairs of striking green nunchaku, the silver chains glinting in the sunlight as they swayed gently in his grasp. The nunchaku appeared intricately crafted, the craftsmanship unmistakable.

“What are those?” Atreus asked, eyes wide with intrigue as he leaned closer to inspect the weaponry.

“These are nunchaku, a weapon from the east, and they are for Bucky,” Sindri explained, his enthusiasm infectious as he brandished the nunchaku like a prize, clearly proud of his creation.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and surprise as Sindri’s proclamation sunk in, especially for Bucky, who stood there momentarily taken aback. “Me?” he asked, incredulity lacing his tone with disbelief.

“Why yes!” Sindri replied, his eyes alight with mischief. “When I first laid eyes on you all, it hit me like a bolt of lightning—those gauntlets Lyris has could only be my brother’s work.” A snarky grin crept across his face as he continued, “So I decided to craft something for you, something with more elegance, something far superior to anything my brother could ever produce.” 

At those words, Lyris's expression darkened for a fraction of a moment, a spark of indignation flickering in her eyes.

“But Sindri, do you really think that's a good idea? I mean, handing it to Bucky?” she said hesitantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she shot her brother a glare that could slice through steel.

“What does that mean?” Bucky frowned, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at Lyris, confusion and annoyance written across his face.

“No offense, but… you’re not exactly a good fighter,” she replied, her tone almost apologetic but carrying undeniable weight.

At that comment, Bucky’s mouth fell agape, his face a mix of disbelief and anger.

With a scoff, he retorted, “Oh yeah? Well, get ready, because you’re about to eat your words.” 

Without another moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the three nunchaku, the last one gripped securely in its long, prehensile tail like a striking serpent ready to attack. He struck several fierce poses, spinning the nunchaku with zeal, his expression shifting from grim determination to gleeful bravado.

“Haha, what’s up? Who’s facing me now?” he shouted, gesturing playfully at Lyris. “Because this big boy here is going to give you a nice—”

“Is that a pie?” Lyris interjected, cutting through his bravado with a teasing tone.

“Where?!” Bucky nearly yelped, momentarily forgetting his bravado as the pangs of hunger clawed at him, completely unaware that Lyris was trying to distract him with a cleverly orchestrated diversion.

In a comical twist of fate, just as his distraction pulled him in, he swung the nunchaku in an eager flourish, only to inadvertently smack himself in the face with one, then the other, and finally the last one—delivered with a swift blow from behind by its tail—sending him sprawling to the ground, face-first into the sand.

A grunt escaped him as he landed, followed by a faint murmur of realization.

“Okay… maybe I need more practice,” he muttered while pushing himself back up, brushing the sand off his clothes but still bearing an appreciative grin. “Thanks, Sindri!” 

“Pleasure to help,” Sindri replied, a smirk dancing on his lips, clearly entertained by Bucky’s antics.

However, the moment of levity was interrupted when Kratos, towering over the group with his imposing presence, demanded an answer in his no-nonsense manner.

“How are you here before us, dwarf? We were told that our path was the only one among the realms.” His voice resonated with authority, cutting through the jovial atmosphere like a knife.

“Ah, well, maybe it’s the only way for you to travel, but we dwarves are full of surprises!” Sindri replied, flashing a wide grin, the glimmer in his eyes hinting at some hidden knowledge.

“That is no answer,” Kratos replied flatly, his brow furrowing.

“Do you use magic?” Widow interjected, her curiosity piqued.

“Ah, persist in that insatiable desire to know more!” Sindri exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands into the air as if entranced. “There’s so little mystery once you’ve accumulated the wealth of arcane knowledge that I possess. I’ve explored realms in search of exotic resources, transforming them into creations that challenge the imagination… For the newbies, I’m sure it all seems like magic, but—” Suddenly, he halted, his eyes widening as the realization hit him that he was spiraling into nonsense. “Okay, fine, it’s ‘magic,’ are you happy now?”

At that, the whole group struggled to hold back their laughter, the tension dissipating as they shared knowing smiles. Even Lyris chuckled at the light-hearted absurdity of it all, save for Kratos, whose stoic face remained unyielding, betraying none of the amusement that danced just beneath the surface.

“So how come Brok is blue and you're not?” Atreus blurted out, his youthful curiosity shining through as he tilted his head at Sindri with wide eyes.

“Boy!” Kratos exclaimed sharply, his voice stern and resonant, breaking the moment with a warning tone that warned Atreus to tread lightly.

“Dude! You can’t just ask that!” Bendy chimed in, scolding his friend with an incredulous expression, knowing full well the boundaries of erstwhile decorum.

“Oh no, it’s okay! Good question, actually,” Sindri responded, a light chuckle escaping his lips. He straightened up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he prepared to enlighten the gathered group. “You see, my brother isn’t as careful as I am. In fact, he prefers to work with metal using his bare hands.”

A shudder ran through him as he choked back an involuntary grimace, remembering some unsavory experiences.

“No gloves. Says it’s the only way he can ‘hear what it wants to be.’” He rolled his eyes, a mix of annoyance and exasperation coloring his voice. “Touching enough raw silver can change your skin permanently—” he added, emphasizing “permanently” with a grave nod, “(that means forever!). I wouldn’t bring it up to him, though; you know how sensitive he can be.” 

“Yeah… sensitive.” Omega murmured to himself, recalling the times Brok’s irritable outbursts and colorful vulgarities had turned conversations into verbal sparring matches.

“I guess that makes sense,” said Atreus, looking thoughtful as he processed Sindri’s explanation, his brow furrowing slightly in consideration.

After a few moments of light banter and farewells, they turned to leave Sindri’s attention behind, making their way to the boat that lay anchored close to the shore. Kratos, with his typical efficiency, pushed the sturdy vessel into the water, the wood creaking softly as it slid into the gentle lapping waves. But just as the group settled into the boat, Atreus felt the familiar prickling sensation dance up his spine; that same haunting voice echoed within his mind once more.

“What did you say?” he asked his father, scanning Kratos’s stoic face for any trace of words unspoken.

“I did not say anything,” Kratos replied, his tone steady and devoid of emotion.

Atreus fell silent, a knot of confusion twisting in his gut. He could have sworn it had been Kratos’s voice, as clear as day.

“Really?” he asked, a hint of nervousness threading through his words, anticipation mounting within him.

“Atreus… are you okay?” Bendy’s voice broke through the air, laden with concern, as he glanced at Atreus, his eyes narrowing slightly with worry.

In that poignant moment, Atreus wasn’t sure of anything anymore; doubt began to flower in his mind.

“I... I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Uncertainty washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him to wrestle with the creeping fear that maybe he was losing his grip on reality. As the boat bobbed gently in the water, he felt an unsettling mixture of dread and bewilderment, threading through the camaraderie they shared, a tension that would linger in the air like an uninvited shadow.

Focusing intently on their mission, Atreus climbed into the boat alongside the rest of the group, the vessel creaking softly under their weight.

Kratos settled into the boat, his strong hands grasping the paddle while Omega positioned himself to assist, both their figures blending into the tapestry of the shimmering waters as they began to navigate the current. The air was thick with anticipation and the hints of mystery surrounding this realm.

“Has your mother ever told you about this realm?” Kratos inquired, breaking the silence that hung over the group like a heavy blanket as he paddled with the steady rhythm seasoned by years of experience.

“Not much,” Atreus admitted, furrowing his brow. “She would say that since the elves were always fighting for the light... They had isolate themselves.” He turned his gaze to Widow, curiosity sparking his eyes. “What about you, Widow? Is there anything we should know?”

Widow’s expression sobered as she replied, “Well, from what my mother said… the war started long before I was even born. No one knows even why they’re fighting; even my kind didn’t know, despite being native to Alfheim for thousands of years.” Her voice carried a weight that resonated deeply, making the group more aware of the grim history they were drifting into.

“What happened to your kind?” Bendy asked, concern etching his features as he leaned forward, genuinely interested.

“My mother said that due to our potent magic, the elves on both sides began to use us as war animals. They kidnapped, invaded and burned our tribes, and deforested our homes. So in a way…” Her voice trailed off, a deep sadness overshadowing her eyes. “I’m the last of my kind.”

“Jeez…” Bendy remarked somberly, the flare of anger simmering just beneath his calm surface as he absorbed the weight of Widow’s story.

“Yeah,” Widow replied, her voice thick with emotion as she glanced over her shoulder, struggling to distract herself from the pain of her past. But as she did, her eyes widened in surprise, her mood shifting unexpectedly. “’Gasp’ Take us under that glowing branch!” 

“What is it?” Atreus asked, his curiosity now piqued once more.

While the others followed her gaze, Kratos instinctively obeyed her command, maneuvering the boat beneath the ethereal branch that shimmered like a beacon amidst the murky waters.

“This is a branch of the World Tree, and this glowing lamp is the Dew of Yggdrasil,” Widow explained excitedly, her earlier melancholy vanishing like mist in the sunlight. “It’s amazing; it can help you heal, give you more magic, stamina—anything!”

With an eagerness that radiated from her, Widow stood up and gently plucked the incandescent bulb from the branch, sitting back down carefully as if cradling a precious gem. She inspected it with a blend of reverence and awe, her claws piercing the thin outer shell to create a small opening.

As she took a sip, a radiant transformation unfolded before their eyes: her skin swirled with vibrant colors, illuminating the boat around her and filling the air with an undeniable warmth.

“Drink!” she urged Atreus and Bendy, her excitement infectious.

The two friends exchanged glances before mimicking Widow’s earlier actions, holding the bulb as they would a waterskin and squeezing it into their mouths. The moment the Dew entered them, they felt a wave of delicate sweetness cascade through their bodies, soothing their sore muscles from the day’s relentless travel. It was as though they had just awakened from a revitalizing slumber, their spirits lifting.

Striking a chord of camaraderie, they paused, not wanting to finish it alone, and turned to share it with Kratos and the others. “Here,” they said in unison, offering the remaining liquid.

One by one, the members of their group took a turn tasting the Dew, each gulp sending more ripples of rejuvenation through them until only the faintest trace of liquid remained.

“Keep the shell; we can eat it later,” Widow advised, glancing at the discarded remnants that held so much potential. 

Kratos nodded, carefully passing the shell to Beta, who wrapped it in a cloth and tucked it securely in her bag. The air around them settled into a reflective silence, punctuated only by the soft lapping of water against the hull. Kratos rolled his neck, the sound echoing like distant thunder, drawing attention back to their surroundings.

But as the weight of calm descended, Atreus began to hear the same disembodied voice infiltrating his thoughts once again.

“Huh?” he said, brow knitted in confusion.

“Again… we didn’t say anything,” Kratos replied, the tone steady but with an undercurrent of concern for his son.

“Strange… I could have sworn you—” Atreus began, but before he could finish his thought, a cacophony erupted in his mind—thousands of voices rose in a frenzied scream, stabbing through the tranquility like a jagged shard. The pain was immense; it felt as if his head would implode from the sheer force of anguish reverberating within.

“AAARGH!!! AAAARGH!!!” he cried out, clutching desperately at his skull, the piercing sound drowning the world around him.

“Atreus!?” Bendy exclaimed, springing up from his seat and rushing to his friend’s side.

“Is he okay!?” Widow’s voice was edged with worry as she peered at Atreus, her earlier exuberance faded into alarm.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Kratos knelt beside him, his gaze sharp and concerned, a fierce protectiveness igniting within him as he sought to understand what torment his son was experiencing.

“AARGH!! Voices… can’t you hear?” Atreus gasped, his eyes wild with fear as he struggled to articulate the chaos swelling in his mind.

“We didn’t hear anything,” Kratos stated firmly, his worry now intermingled with a cautious seriousness.

As the cacophony began to fade, Atreus fought to analyze the manifestation of his torment, grappling with the dissonance of the disembodied screams and the shadows lurking behind their meaning.

“...I heard screams and so many voices. They were… Angry. Didn’t you really hear?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation as he sought any validation, any trace of solidarity in his experience.

“No,” Kratos affirmed, the finality of his tone sending a chill through Atreus.

With everyone still glancing at him in concern, Atreus fell quiet, his focus drawn to the glimmering water beneath the boat, as if the fluid surface might hold the answers he craved.

“It sounded… evil,” he murmured darkly, his voice low and filled with an ominous weight, as if he sensed something unnatural lurking beneath the surface of their world.

Despite the heavy uncertainty and silence that enveloped them, Atreus reluctantly settled back into his seat within the boat, grappling with sleepless thoughts that churned in his mind. What had he heard? Whose voices had called out in fury, and what sinister purpose did they serve as they resided hidden in the depths of this enchanting yet fearsome realm?

As they continued to paddle down the winding current, the atmosphere shifted, thick with anticipation and a sense of creeping danger, until Atreus’s eyes caught a glimmer of movement on a distant hill.

"Look! Should we talk to them?" he suggested, observing two light elves draped in their typical elegant white garments. The light elves stood motionless, their features stoic, only their luminous white eyes visible behind silk masks that obscured their mouths—a stark contrast to the vibrancy of their surroundings.

“No,” Kratos replied sharply, dismissing the notion.

“But maybe they need help,” Atreus insisted, the concern evident in his voice.

“They are of NO concern to us,” Kratos stated with resolute finality, his face set like stone as he turned his gaze to Widow. “Cub, are we getting close or not?”

“Just a little more and we’ll get there,” Widow assured, her friend’s well-being infusing their mission with a shared urgency.

Resuming their paddling, Atreus took the moment to shift the conversation.

“Widow, I’ve been meaning to ask—about your magic, is it something you’re born with or do you learn it?”

“My magic is a natural part of me since I was born,” she replied, her voice softening. “But my mom taught me how to harness it. I learned a lot more from this.”

She pulled a weathered, leather-bound book from her bag, cradling it like a relic.

“It was hers. I read it all the time; there’s so much information about my people’s spells in here.” The fondness in her eyes spoke volumes about the last tangible connection she held to her mother.

“Can we read it too?” Bendy asked, leaning in with genuine enthusiasm.

“I... I don’t see why not,” she replied, a touch of hesitation lacing her words but ultimately agreeing, feeling the camaraderie of their shared journey.

“That’s quite sweet and all, but how does your magic work?” Lyris interjected, a hint of boredom in her tone causing the tension to ebb momentarily.

“Well first, we need a question—Where do you think my magic comes from?” Widow prompted, her expression playfully inquisitive.

The group fell into a contemplative silence as Atreus and the cubs began to mull over her question.

Soon enough, Bucky spoke up. “The heart?”

A moment of stunned silence hung in the air before Widow’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow... You actually got it right,” she said, genuine awe coloring her voice.

“What?!” Lyris exclaimed in disbelief.

“Really?” Bendy says, tilting his head, incredulous. 

“I did?” Bucky asked, equally shocked, as if grappling with the unexpected recognition of his insight.

“Yup! My kind and I have a bile sac attached to our hearts that pulses magic through our bloodstream,” she explained, her pride evident. “That’s how we can perform even the simplest spells.”

With a delicate gesture, she moved her finger, conjuring a violet circle in the air; they all watched in fascination as her book levitated and obediently returned to her bag. 

“Wow…” Atreus marveled, completely captivated by her demonstration, followed by a hesitant chuckle. “But also, gross,” he added, the image of a bile sac pulsing in her heart failing to sit well with him.

Finally, they arrived at the great lake, where the iconic temple of light stood, but there was something amiss.

A sprawling mass of pink and red organic matter engulfed almost the entirety of the structure, dark elves flitting in and out, their shadows against the temple’s luminosity forming grotesque shapes. Above them, the light of Alfheim shone weakly, as if it were being siphoned of its very essence. 

“Look…” Atreus pointed, disbelief etching into his features.

“There it is, the temple of the light…” Widow said, her voice tinged with sorrow and rage. The sight of this ‘abomination’ stirred memories of loss—reminders of her mother’s absence and everything her people had endured. It was the reason her family was shattered, driving her toward a singular resolve. If she was to help her friends, courage was required.

As they made landfall at a nearby pier and exited the boat, the entrance loomed before them, marked by a gargantuan bridge of light arching across the void, inviting yet foreboding. 

“The blue door. It must be the entrance! Let’s go!” Atreus exclaimed, dashing toward it, his youthful excitement momentarily erasing the tension in the air.

But Kratos’s instinct urged caution, and he called out, “WAIT.” His voice commanded authority, halting everyone in their tracks as they glanced back at him, unsure of what lay ahead.

In that moment, the calm was shattered as thousands of dark elves took to the skies above the light bridge, their wings beating like a storm. The group watched, spellbound and horrified, as enormous, red-veined roots snaked from the temple, weaving over the dazzling crystal, effectively blocking their path and extinguishing the bridge’s illumination.

“The bridge is gone…” Atreus murmured, his heart sinking.

“They covered the crystal with blood roots,” Widow said coolly, recalling the fearsome sight of those same twisted tendrils.

“Why?” Bendy asked, bewildered, his voice tinged with incredulity.

“To prevent reinforcements,” Kratos answered, his military knowledge surfacing in an instant; he recognized the tactic all too well from the entropy of his past battles.

“Widow, do you have any spells that can help us go across?” Bendy pressed, desperation seeping into the question.

“Maybe… let me see what I can try.” She opened her book, her fingers dancing over the pages until she identified what she sought—a teleportation spell. 

With determination etched onto her face, she closed her eyes, hands weaving through the air as she began to invoke her magic. A giant violet circle materialized around them, shimmering with latent power. 

“Fjarskipti…” she recited, the word reverberating with hope.

But as she opened her eyes, confusion creased her brow; nothing had changed.

“What…?” she gasped, disappointment flooding her as she flipped through the pages, retracing her earlier incantation. 

“What happened?” Bendy asked, concern tightening his features.

“I... I don’t understand… I—it should have worked,” Widow stammered, her frustration mounting. 

“But it didn’t work,” Kratos pointed out, his voice steady but unyielding. “Come! Let us find another way.” 

Before the group could set off in search of another way across the lake, Bendy noticed the flicker of disappointment in Widow’s eyes, her earlier resolve now dimmed by the failure of her spell.

“Hey, don’t worry, you’ll make it,” he assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his touch breaking through the chill of her self-doubt.

At the sound of Bendy’s encouraging words, a genuine smile began to blossom on Widow’s face, her heart swelling with gratitude for his kindness.

“Thanks…” she replied softly, a hint of newfound determination sparking within her.

Yet shadows of concern still loomed over them, and the group quickly shifted their focus to finding a solution.

“We need to find some way to repair the bridge,” Atreus declared, scanning their surroundings with urgency in his eyes.

His gaze landed on one of the massive gears used for moving heavy objects, its surface weathered but sturdy. He loped towards it, excitement mingling with hope.

“Father, Uncle, pull these two gears, please,” he instructed, pointing eagerly toward them.

Without hesitation, Kratos strode to the right gear while Omega took his place at the left, their combined strength pulling the gears with a satisfying grind.

Soon, the ground beneath their feet trembled as enormous structures began to rise from the depths of the lake, jutting out of the water like ancient stone sentinels. 

“Wait. These structures all combined look like a rune,” Atreus exclaimed, his eyes wide with realization as he traced the shape in the air.

“But the rune doesn’t make sense,” Widow countered, her brow furrowing as she studied the emerging formations, trying to decipher their purpose amidst the chaos.

Just then, a flash of memory ignited within Kratos; he recalled glimpsing a vessel made of sand glimmering in the water earlier.

“Let’s go back to the boat,” he ordered, steely resolve returning to his demeanor.

The group quickly left the nascent structures behind and re-entered the boat, their hearts pounding with urgency.

They navigated towards where the ancient shapes led, the air filled with tension and anticipation.

“I have to admit, Alfheim is so beautiful, but… it gets so bad with war,” Atreus said, his voice tinged with melancholy as he stared out at the enchanting landscape that juxtaposed the horrors of conflict.

Kratos observed the nature of his son's musings and replied, “You have the eyes of children,” the statement tinged with both admiration and sorrow.

The group turned to him, confusion knitting their brows.

“What do you mean?” Atreus asked, seeking clarity.

“In war, a soldier sees only beauty in the enemy’s blood. Everything else is lost… and sometimes it never comes back,” Kratos replied, his voice somber and heavy with the memories of battles fought and lives lost.

Atreus felt a chill run down his spine—a realization washed over him; his father bore the weight of knowing far too much about the true nature of war.

“You… Understand war… Don't you?” Atreus queried, his voice tentative, sensing the depth of Kratos’s experience.

“Wars exist for only two reasons... survival or advantage,” Kratos said slowly, the wisdom of a seasoned warrior echoing in his words. “Battles can be won by the best soldier. Wars are only won by those who are willing to sacrifice everything for victory.”

As Kratos’s words hung in the air like a dark storm cloud, Atreus and the cubs exchanged glances, expressions etched with confusion and unease.

How could someone so strong feel the piercing grief of countless battles? The complexity of war loomed large in their young minds, leaving them perplexed at how deeply Kratos understood its brutal truth, reminding them of the fragility of life and the cost of survival.

As the group arrived at the site of the massive structures, they noticed a dilapidated dock jutting out over the shimmering surface of the lake, a singular pot of sand resting precariously at its edge. The air was thick with anticipation as Atreus and Widow stepped out of the boat, drawn by the strange combination of curiosity and urgency.

The intricate designs of the runes etched into the vase and extending along the pillars captured their attention, demanding closer inspection.

“The pillars form an elven rune,” Widow declared, her eyes brightening with the realization as she traced the lines with a delicate finger.

“What does it say on the vase?” Kratos inquired, his voice steady as he watched Atreus carefully tilt the vase to read the faded inscription.

“Without me or in me, death is guaranteed; within you, I am life's purest gold,” Atreus recited aloud, the rhythm of the words echoing ominously. 

As he glanced back towards the towering structures formed by the delicate pillars, their significance struck him abruptly.

“The rune means... Water! It makes perfect sense why—”

“Because water is the purest gold of life!” Bendy interjected, his eyes widening with enlightenment as the riddle's meaning unfolded before him.

With newfound purpose, Atreus unsheathed his knife, determination etched into his features as he prepared to carve the rune into the sand in the vase.

But before he could proceed, an unexpected cacophony erupted around him. The same anguished voices from before surged forth, but this time they brimmed with a torrent of plead, their request for help palpable and overwhelming.

“AAAH!!” The sheer force of their cries drove the boy to his knees, pain radiating through his very being like splintering glass.

“Boy!” Kratos exclaimed, panic threading through his normally stoic expression as he moved toward Atreus.

“Atreus!!” Bendy shouted, instinctively kneeling beside him, his hands outstretched, ready to help.

“It was the voices again...” Atreus gasped, struggling to speak through the haze of agony. “But they were less angry. They were asking for help.”

“We are here for the light. I do not care who they are or what they want,” Kratos replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for disagreement, like a captain steering his ship through a storm.

"You never care about anything..." Atreus murmured defiantly, anger lacing his voice as he met his father's gaze, the weight of unresolved frustration hanging heavy in the air.

“Do you have something to say?” Kratos questioned, his eyes narrowing in focus.

“...No,” Atreus relented, the moment of confrontation dissipating into awkward silence.

As the tension settled, the group watched in quiet anticipation as Atreus resumed his task, carefully drawing the rune on the wall. The air crackled with expectation, and when he finished, a low rumble reverberated through the ground. Suddenly, the lake stirred disruptively, revealing a hidden mechanism beneath their feet as a secret entrance began to part like the petals of a blooming flower, revealing depths that had long been concealed.

The group gasped collectively, astonishment washing over their faces as they realized that the very ground they had been standing on was an elevating machine.

It began to lower them into the depths below the lake, the pitch-black water rippling around them as they descended. The darkness swallowed them, but as their surroundings shifted, the air grew cool and damp, and the faint flicker of light illuminated their path, revealing a secret area far beneath the surface—a hidden passage, that would lead then to the Light

As the elevating machine slowly brought the group down into the depths of the lake, the atmosphere thickened with an unspoken tension.

Atreus, his heart pounding in his chest, broke the silence with a hesitant voice, “Father?”

Kratos turned his gaze, his expression steady but intrigued. “Yes?”

“The voices I heard, umm… it was kind of hard to understand, but… deep down, I think I could hear… Mother.” These words slipped from Atreus’s lips, trembling yet resolute, echoing in the enclosed space. 

A palpable shock reverberated among the group, their expressions shifting into a mixture of surprise and disbelief—Kratos's hardened facade cracking momentarily.

“That is impossible,” he replied, a definitive statement that brooked no argument.

“But I know what I heard—” Atreus protested, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Enough,” Kratos interjected sharply, his voice low and heavy, silencing his son with an unyielding finality. For as much as he longed to believe in the impossible, deep within, he understood the cruel truth: Faye, the love that had shaped his world, was gone.

The silence that enveloped them became thick and suffocating until it was shattered by the sudden arrival of a dark elf—one distinct from the others they had faced before.

This creature was imposing, with vibrant red insect wings that buzzed ominously as it landed, yellow glowing eyes framed by black sclera that glared at the intruders. Blood-red markings snaked across its dark skin, and its fingers ended in long, sharp claws. The armor it wore was a gleaming gold, intricate yet intimidating. But the most striking feature was the large, regal horns protruding from its helmet, resembling a crown that signified its superior status among the dark elves.

As soon as Widow caught sight of the elf king, her skin paled, transforming into an unsettling shade of purple as fear gripped her heart. The elf regarded the group with a scowl deep enough to carve stone, then spoke in a harsh, lilting tongue, words dripping with menace.

“That one looks different. Look at the horns,” Atreus whispered, unease threading his voice as he eyed the king with apprehension.

“It’s because he is Svartáljǫfurr, the king of the dark elves,” Widow replied dreadfully, her eyes widening in horror as the truth settled like a weight in the pit of her stomach. The fear she felt was palpable, mirroring the dread rippling through the group.

Before further questions could form, Svartáljǫfurr snarled in his native language, his authoritative voice booming as he pointed a spear at them.

“Innbrotsmenn!! Afhenda dularfulla vænginn eða þjást fyrir að fara inn í musterið okkar!!” 

“What did he say?” Kratos asked sharply, his brow furrowed as he observed the elf's menacing posture, noticing the tension in Atreus’s clenched jaw.

“He wants us to hand over Widow,” Atreus replied, anger coursing through him like flame.

“Only over our dead bodies!” Bendy declared fiercely, gripping his purple rectangular knife tightly. He stepped protectively in front of Widow, a fire igniting in his eyes, ready to defend her at all costs.

The dark elf king’s expression morphed into a scornful glare, his voice dripping with contempt as he uttered, “…Þá farast.”

With that, he unleashed a terrifying roar that echoed through the caverns, reverberating off the stone walls. Almost immediately, a swarm of dark elves emerged, spears glinting menacingly in their hands as they formed ranks, poised to attack.

“Prepare yourselves!” Kratos commanded, instinctively positioning himself at the front, with Omega and Beta flanking him while the children huddled close behind.

As the echo of Svartáljǫfurr’s menacing roar faded, the air thickened with tension as the battle ignited.

The skirmish began with a dark elf launching himself toward Kratos, spear poised to strike. It soared through the air with deadly precision, but Kratos reacted with powerful reflexes, raising his shield at the last moment.

The impact reverberated through him as the spear clanged against the shield, and, with a forceful grunt, he pivoted. Gripping his Leviathan axe, he swung it with practiced might, landing a devastating blow to the elf's torso. The elf's body crumpled as white blood spurted from the wound, pooling on the ground beneath him, the life leaving his eyes as he fell.

Meanwhile, Omega and Beta turned their attention to four more elf soldiers that had approached, two of which hovered ominously in the air. The Inferno-Wings sprang into action, their instincts finely honed for combat. Omega unleashed a torrent of fire breath, engulfing one of the airborne elves in searing flames.

The creature let out a horrific shriek as it was consumed by the flames, its charred body plummeting to the earth below in a heap. 

Beta, ever agile, deftly avoided a strike from another elf, his spear narrowly missing her when she darted to the side. Seizing her opportunity, she lunged forward, grabbing the attacking elf by the arm with her powerful jaws—using her spear as leverage. With a swift, brutal motion, she trapped the soldier against her body, snapping his neck with a sickening crack that echoed through the fray, leaving him lifeless in her grasp.

However, the tides of battle were about to change. An elf soldier hovering just above them launched a projectile of blinding light from his spear, the brilliant explosion temporarily blinding Omega and Beta as they shielded their eyes. Despite the momentary confusion, their instincts took over—they could still rely on their other senses.

With a low growl, Beta caught the scent of the nearest elf, swiftly lunging in its direction. In one deft movement, she sank her teeth into the creature's throat, a brutal determination driving her as she tore flesh with ferocity.

Simultaneously, Omega targeted the last airborne elf, his massive claws closing around the creature with surprising speed. Using his raw strength, he pinned the elf down, releasing a tongue of flame that engulfed its head. The horrified screams of the elf echoed in his ears, quickly extinguished by the flames that reduced it to nothing more than ashes.

On the ground, Atreus and the cubs found themselves in a defensive position, surrounded by enemies but ready to fight back.

Atreus nocked an arrow, his hand steady, and let it fly, hitting one of the elves hovering perilously close to the ground. The elf twisted in surprise and pain, but Atreus was relentless, drawing another arrow just as Lyris charged forward. She aimed to strike one of the airborne miscreants with her gauntlets, but its deft blocks thwarted her attempts.

Noticing her struggle, Bucky leapt into action, spinning his nunchakus with expert speed. He struck true, landing a blow right at the elf's knees, causing it to stagger. In that instant, Lyris seized her opportunity and delivered a powerful blow to the elf's head, the force of the impact echoing in the chaos until the soldier crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.

As the battle raged on, Bendy found himself face-to-face with a furious elf, who swung his spear with deadly intent.

In a moment of desperation, Bendy dodged, until out of nowhere, a ball of blue energy is launched right above his head.

The flash of light caught the elf’s gaze, momentarily blinding him. Bendy seized the advantage, climbing onto the elf’s back and lunging his knife at its throat. The creature gasped, the shock evident as it fell to the ground, lifeless.

Bendy turned to see that Widow had cast the blinding spell, a grateful smile spreading across his face. Widow met his gaze, a soft smile of her own forming in response—a silent bond forged in the heat of battle.

Amidst the chaos and carnage, the final confrontation saw Kratos face the last standing elf. With a fierce roar, he charged forward, landing a demoralizing punch to the elf’s face that sent it staggering.

Kratos seized the elf’s spear, yanking it away before it could defend itself. In one fluid motion, he hurled the elf to the ground, pinning it beneath him. The spear found its target as he plunged it into the elf's chest, twisting the weapon with unyielding strength. A final, agonized gasp escaped the elf’s lips as Kratos broke its spine, the echoing crack merging with the sounds of distant battle that suddenly fell silent. 

As the echoes of battle faded into the deeper recesses of the dark elven chamber, the group took a moment to gather themselves, breathing heavily but resolute.

Kratos led the way with his commanding presence, his eyes sharp and vigilant as he scanned the chamber for further threats. The ancient stone walls towered around them, inscribed with faded, ethereal runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by flickering torches set into the stone, casting eerie shadows that played across the floor like restless spirits.

Kratos’s gaze fell upon another one of those intricate, mechanical gears embedded within the wall—a latch or lever that seemed to promise passage to something hidden. He stepped up to it, muscles coiled tightly as he pulled it with resolute determination. There was a grinding sound as the stone shifted, revealing a narrow passageway cloaked in darkness. The air shifted, cool and stale, and a faint scent of damp earth wafted through the opening, hinting at what lay beyond.

As they moved into the newly revealed passage, a burden weighed heavily on Atreus’s heart, his brow furrowing in thought. The recent confrontation’s emotional turmoil played over in his mind like a storm, clouding his focus and so without hesitation, he broke the silence, his voice earnest yet tinged with urgency.

“You were wrong just now.”

Kratos, striding forward, paused momentarily, curiosity piercing through his stoic demeanor.

“What…?”

“I know Mother’s voice better than anyone. It was her,” Atreus asserted, the conviction in his tone strong enough to rival the crackling energy that lingered in the air after their skirmish. Yet he sensed his father’s dismissive stance looming, an instinct that urged him to deny the truth his heart held.

“She's gone, boy. Do not speak of this anymore.” Kratos’s voice was firm, each word a stone, heavily dropped into a tranquil pond, rippling outward into a silence that seemed to echo the finality of grief.

He pressed forward into the passage, determined to leave the emotional turmoil behind, but Atreus trailed, swallowed by self-doubt and the weight of unspoken words.

Despite his father’s dismissal, Atreus clung to the belief that flickered within him—an ember of hope against the cold darkness.

“Fine…” he muttered, frustration lacing his voice, yet he understood the gravity of their circumstances; all he wanted was to share the truth.

But, Bendy, noticing the conflicted expression painted across Atreus's face, felt a stab of empathy. He had quietly observed the exchange between father and son, sensing the turmoil beneath Atreus’s brave facade and so, he decides to act.

“Hey… just so you know, I believe it,” he offered, his tone gentle yet genuine as he moved to walk beside him.

Atreus turned, surprise flickering in his eyes like a candle flame. “Really?”

Bendy nodded, a confident smile breaking across his face. 

“Well... Yeah, i mean, we’ve seen some pretty weird stuff since we arrived in this realm. If you heard your mother’s voice, then I believe it,” his voice was bright, a beacon of support illuminating the shadows that threatened to engulf Atreus.

A rush of warmth flooded through Atreus at Bendy’s words, gratitude washing over the doubts that had begun to feel insurmountable.

“Thanks, Bendy,” he replied softly, and the sincerity in his voice bore the weight of relief—knowing at least that one person stood with him.

“Anytime,” Bendy replied, a reassuring pat on Atreus's shoulder solidifying their bond.

Continuing their journey through the darkened corridors of the temple, the group eventually stumbled upon another expansive chamber, the air humming with an otherworldly energy.

The walls, adorned with ancient carvings depicting battles between Light and Dark Elves, glimmered with a dim, bluish hue cast by unseen light sources.

High above, an exit beckoned through an arched opening, its silhouette framed by soft luminescence that contrasted with the surrounding shadows.

“Hm, I think it’s a way out,” Widow mused, her voice echoing with cautious curiosity as she studied the entrance with narrowed eyes. The promise of freedom seemed tantalizingly close, urging them onward.

With a deftness born from her unique abilities, Widow unfurled her elegant, four wings as she took flight.

She soared upward, gliding gracefully toward the opening. When she turned back to the group, a hint of surprise mixed with humor danced in her eyes, noticing the impressed expressions painted across their faces. 

“What’s with those faces?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly in bemusement.

“Nothing, is just that... you fly pretty well,” Bendy replied, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as admiration for her skills warmed his heart.

“I thought dragonlings couldn’t fly until they were teenagers,” Atreus remarked skeptically, crossing his arms, his youthful curiosity piqued.

“Some species, but mine develops faster due to our four wings,” Widow explained, moving closer as she examined the opening, her wings folding elegantly against her back.

“And what’s it like to have four wings?” Atreus asked, his interest growing.

“It’s okay, I guess. Sometimes it can be a little difficult, especially when it comes to wearing clothes,” she chuckled, recalling the awkwardness of fabric tangled in her wings.

Glancing up once more, she declared, “Okay, coast is clear. You guys can climb up.”

With a nod, Kratos bent down and extended his massive hands to Atreus, helping him ascend toward freedom. As Omega and Beta assisted Bendy, Bucky, and Lyris, a sense of hope filled the air until, in an instant, that hope twisted into dread.

Svartáljǫfurr materialized from the shadows, his presence imposing and malevolent. With a swift motion, he seized Atreus and Widow, their shocked cries piercing the tension of the moment.

“AAH!” Widow shrieked in a panic, her heart racing.

“Father!” Atreus shouted, terror lacing his voice as his eyes widened in realization.

“Atreus!” Kratos yelled, desperation igniting his instincts, while Bendy's eyes widened in horror at the scene unfolding before him.

“Widow!” he exclaimed, rushing into action without a second thought, propelled by a surge of determination.

In a moment of sheer audacity, Bendy leaped up and clung to the dark elf king’s leg, his small frame dwarfed by the looming threat. Bucky and Lyris rallied beside him, Bucky wrapping his arms tightly around Bendy’s waist and Lyris grasping onto Bucky’s tail for stability, forming a precarious chain of courage hanging from the king.

“Kids!!” cried Omega and Beta in unison, their voices a blend of panic and authority as they watched their children being captured.

But before Kratos and the others could intervene, dark elf soldiers surged forward, seizing the adults and pinning them back. Kratos felt rage boiling inside him, a primal fury fueled by the fear for his son's safety. In a swift and explosive movement, he unleashed his Spartan fury, fiery energy enveloping his fists as he broke free from the grip of the soldiers, delivering powerful punches that sent the elves crashing to the ground.

As the fray intensified, Kratos’es eyes locked on Svartáljǫfurr, who struggled against the weight of the cubs hanging from his leg. The scene was chaos, but Kratos narrowed his focus—he needed to stop the dark elf king from making his escape.

“BENDY! WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET GO!!” Atreus yelled, a mix of fear and determination dancing in his voice as he watched his friend cling tightly.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING?!” Bendy shouted back, the strain evident in his grip, his hands sweaty and trembling as he fought against the anxiety surging through him.

“LYRIS! WOULD YOU MIND NOT PULL MY TAIL OFF?!” Bucky yelped, his annoyance breaking through the tension as he felt Lyris tugging fiercely.

“SHUT UP, BUCKY!!” Lyris snapped back, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and adrenaline, the height and danger pressing against her resolve.

In that moment, Kratos summoned all his might and hurled his Leviathan axe at Svartáljǫfurr.

The axe struck hard, knocking the dark elf king off balance, and with that jolt, the grip on Atreus and Widow loosened, freeing them momentarily. But as they began to fall, the depths of the temple yawning beneath them, dread clawed at their hearts.

In a rush of determination, Widow thrust her hands forward, invoking her magic with fervor, her voice ringing with urgency.

“Fjarskipti!!” she exclaimed, conjuring a vibrant spell, the air crackling with energy around her.

Suddenly, a swirling blue and violet portal materialized in front of them, the shimmering doorway to salvation. One by one, they plunged through the magical gateway, landing safely on solid ground, their breaths escaping like a long-held sigh of relief.

“Widow…” Bendy gasped, disbelief coloring his words as he turned to her, admiration flooding his voice. “You did it!”

Widow stood in shock, the reality of her magic washing over her like a tidal wave. “Yeah… I guess I did!” she replied, awe and pride mingling in her tone, her heart still racing from the adrenaline.

But their moment of triumph was short-lived. Dark elf soldiers re-emerged from the shadows, encircling them with weapons raised, hostility emanating from their every movement. Across the chaos, Kratos, Omega, and Beta recognized the impending danger, a flicker of alarm igniting within them.

Kratos’s eyes landed on a massive pillar jutting from the side of the chamber, ancient and sturdy. Seizing the opportunity, he drew upon all of his strength, crashing into it with Omega and Beta at his sides. The pillar shuddered under their combined might, cracks spiraling across its surface as they pushed with all their force.

“Run!!” Kratos bellowed, the urgency in his voice imploring the children to flee as the pillar began to buckle.

With adrenaline propelling them forward, Atreus and the cubs took off as massive chunks of marble splintered and fell, crashing down upon the dark elves and sending them tumbling to the ground.

As the dust rose in their wake, Kratos witnessed the dark elf king, a furious glint in his eyes, raising his axe to attack. In a frantic moment, he surged forward, ready to strike, but Svartáljǫfurr beat him to the punch, flapping his powerful wings to retreat into the air, cursing the group in his native tongue, venom dripping from his words like poison.

Atreus reached out, desperation shifting his voice into a shout as he tried to shoot the elve, many times, but missed the shots.

“No!!” he cried, but it was a futile effort. The dark elf king slipped away into the shadows, his ruthless laughter echoing through the chamber, promising that this would not be their last encounter.

With the last echoes of battle fading into the dimness of the chamber, a palpable tension hung in the air, replaced only by the thudding of heavy hearts and the dust settling around them.

Omega rushed toward the children, his face a mask of concern. “Are you kids okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry, while Beta followed closely behind, checking for any signs of injuries. 

“I think so,” Bendy replied, gingerly rising to his feet, dusting off the remnants of the fight from his worn clothes. He looked around at the others, noticing the shadows of anxiety etched on their faces. “But that elf really seemed obsessed with taking Widow,” he added, a note of fear creeping into his voice, as memories of the dark elf king’s fierce grip flooded back.

“Then he will return,” Kratos said, his voice a low rumble filled with that familiar intensity. He swept his gaze over the group, determination gleaming in his piercing eyes. “We must go; the light is close.” His command set the group in motion, the urgency of their quest thrumming like a living thing.

The children followed closely as they approached a towering gate adorned with swirling blue lines and ancient runes that glimmered with an otherworldly light. It looked alive, pulsing with energy, beckoning them forward.

But even amidst the thrill, Atreus found himself trapped in contemplation, unable to shake a growing worry that tethered him to thoughts of a certain person.

“Do you think the witch is okay?” he voiced, the concern frothing just beneath the surface. His mind replayed the image of her being sucked back to Midgard, a shiver of dread creeping up his spine. “I didn’t want her to die helping us.”

“The witch?” Widow echoed, curiosity lighting her expression.

“A friend of ours,” Bendy explained, glancing at Atreus with a mix of admiration and concern. “It was only because of her that we were able to come to Alfheim. You probably will like her; she’s very good with magic. She even knows how to use Vanir magic.” He spoke with pride, the depths of their bond wrapped in every word.

“Really? She sounds impressive,” Widow remarked, her enthusiasm bubbling just a little at the idea of meeting someone with such skill.

“Yeah, I just hope she’s okay.” Atreus’s voice was softer now—a flicker of worry dimming his usual bravado. 

“She knew what she was doing,” Kratos reassured, his voice steady and firm, leading them purposefully through the chaos. 

“If that calms you, Atreus, we can check to see if she’s well after we reach the mountain.” Beta assured, her hand resting gently on Atreus’s shoulder, grounding him in the present.

“Okay,” Atreus agreed, a hint of resolve returning to his voice as he took a deep breath, willing himself to focus.

As they continued their trek, they entered an area heavy with the scent of decay, the ground littered with thick, blood-colored roots that pulsated ominously like veins. These roots spiraled toward a massive crystal, intricately carved and sparkling with the light of the bridge above them, yet foreshadowing the darkness below. 

“Ew, there’s more of that stuff,” Atreus remarked, scrunching his nose in disgust, the vibrant hue of the roots both fascinating and revolting.

Kratos, his keen eye catching the center of the pulsating root mass, raised his axe with purpose, surveying the grotesque heart of the plant.

With a powerful thrust, he hurled the axe, and it sank deep into the core, unleashing a shuddering explosion that sent bits of the root disintegrating into the air like ash. A cascade of splinters showered around them, leaving a void where the heart once beat.

“If we cut enough, the bridge of light will reappear,” Kratos declared, tightening his grip on his axe, the weapon seemingly powered by the resolve radiating from him. “Expect resistance.” Each word was a command, etched with the promise of battle yet to come.

“Yes, sir,” Atreus responded, a sense of determination rekindling within him as he observed his father’s unwavering strength, ready to stand against whatever darkness awaited them. The air buzzed with tension and expectation, an electric charge threading through the group as they prepared to reclaim their path forward.

As they ascended through the cavern, the atmosphere grew heavier, charged with a palpable energy.

Atreus squinted against the dim light, spotting a massive section of thick, gnarled roots pulsing menacingly right above the shimmering light crystal that bathed the chamber in ethereal hues. It was an ominous sight, but the air was thick with anticipation; the tranquility was a mere facade. The ground was littered with debris, a pile of stones haphazardly heaped together as if abandoned in haste.

“You and the cubs keep an eye out; we’ll cut the roots,” Kratos instructed with a tone of unwavering authority, his words resonating through the cavern like a battle cry. Omega and Beta, readying their weapons, nodded in unison. 

“Yes, sir,” Atreus replied, determination flaring in his eyes as he turned to the cubs, rallying them with a glance.

While the adults engaged with the pulsating roots, which throbbed like a heartbeat beneath the surface, Atreus and the cubs drifted over to the pile of rocks.

They were rough-hewn and jagged, the air around them imbued with an unsettling stillness. As they settled down, Widow’s curiosity bubbled up, her brow furrowed in thought. 

“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Bendy looked up from his spot, slightly taken aback.

“Huh?” he replied, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Jump and grab the elf king’s leg? Why risk your life like that?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering as she sought to understand his reckless bravery.

Bendy’s expression shifted, realization washing over him. “Well… I couldn’t let my two best friends be taken. I had to do something. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you be taken?” His earnestness rang clear in the air, and Widow felt a warmth unfurl within her, touched by his selflessness.

The sincerity of his words struck her like a thunderbolt, leaving her momentarily speechless. Bendy had been willing to sacrifice everything for them—his thoughts raced toward the implications. What made him so compelling was his unwavering commitment to their safety, despite the potential for death lurking in the shadows.

“I guess…” she finally muttered, the weight of her admiration tangled in her utterance as they settled in shared silence.

Meanwhile, Bucky, ever the curious one, began to utilize his long prehensile tongue to pick at his nose for boogers, but something unusual caught his eye.

“Hey, is it just me, or does that rock look kind of like a face?” he said, his voice drawing the others’ attention away from their thoughts.

Atreus and the other cubs turned to face the rock pile, intently observing it as Bucky prodded it with his tail. Just as they were registering the absurdity of it, an unexpected sensation rippled through the fabric of the moment—the rock shifted to the side, revealing itself to be far more than a simple pile. 

“What the what?” Bendy exclaimed, disbelief coloring his voice as his eyes widened; the shock refocused their attention.

Suddenly, the entire mountain of stones lifted and reassembled, taking on the shape of a massive creature wholly formed from ancient rock. The adults, alerted by the commotion, spun around to face the spectacle. 

Atreus's breath hitched as memories of his mother’s stories rushed back, tales of mighty beings born from the earth itself—the remnants of Ymir, the primordial giant, who had walked the world in ages long past. 

“Ancient!!” Atreus shouted, his voice breaking through the fear that clutched at his heart.

“Run!!” Widow screamed, an instinctive command as she and the cubs darted away, narrowly evading the stone being's massive fists as they swung down toward them, crashing into the ground with monumental force that shook the very earth beneath their feet.

It had no face, but the terrifying blank gaze of the creature reverberated through the cavern.

Omega's determination surged as he prepared to launch his naginata at the colossal stone ancestor looming before them.

He planted his feet firmly, muscles coiled like a spring, and hurled the weapon with all his might. However, the naginata ricocheted off the creature’s stony exterior as if it were a child's toy, bouncing harmlessly like a ball.

“There’s no way to hurt him!” he shouted to the others, frustration ringing in his voice as he watched the weapon tumble uselessly to the ground.

With a guttural rumble, the ancestor’s torso unfurled like a grotesque blossom, revealing a cavity glowing with intricate orange runes pulsing with power.

Suddenly, a beam of fiery energy erupted from within, illuminating the chamber in a fiery blaze. The searing heat clawed at their skin as everyone scrambled to evade the destructive blast, their instincts kicking in as they ducked and rolled to safety. The blast scorched the walls, sending sparks and debris flying like a rain of molten stone.

Kratos, undeterred by the chaos around him, seized an opportunity as the creature staggered momentarily after unleashing its attack. He raised his axe with fierce resolve, aimed at the gaping maw of the ancestor’s opened torso.

With a powerful throw, the axe flew through the air, slicing through the atmosphere before it struck true, embedding itself deep within the creature’s weak point. Shiny shards of rock exploded from the impact, cascading like confetti as the ancient being let out a deafening groan.

Atreus, witnessing the gleaming fragments scatter across the ground, felt a spark ignite in his mind.

“Bendy, Widow! Pick up those rocks!” he exclaimed, urgency underpinning his voice as he pointed toward the scattered luminescent pieces that glimmered in the dwindling light.

With determination, Bendy and Widow dashed toward the shining debris, narrowly dodging the ancient’s massive fists that smashed down with the force of a mountain. The ground shook under the impact, but the two agile cubs managed to gather the glowing stones, their hearts racing with adrenaline. 

“We got it! Now what?” Bendy panted, confusion lining his brow as he clutched the rocks tightly.

“Throw the stones at the Ancients when it opens its chest!” Atreus cried, his voice ringing clear through the cacophony of battle, eyes sharp with focused intent.

In a moment of tactical precision, the ancestor raised its stone hands, attempting to crush Omega and Beta beneath its weight.

The two dragons deftly evaded the attack, weaving through the air with a grace born from instinct. As the being opened its torso yet again, revealing that ominous, glowing heart, Atreus seized the moment.

“NOW!” he shouted.

With synchronized precision, Bendy and Widow hurled the glowing stones toward the exposed chest of the ancient. Upon contact, the stones erupted in brilliant explosions, radiating light and sending shockwaves through the air.

Each impact left cracking fissures across the creature’s body as it staggered from the onslaught. Seizing the opportunity, Kratos called back his axe, thrusting it into the open chest once more, the sound of clashing stone echoing heavily in the chamber as he launched a relentless assault, this time hitting with repetitive precision.

Finally, the ancient lost its balance, teetering dangerously at the edge of the chamber. With a thunderous roar, it began to plummet into the deep abyss below, its massive form disappearing into the darkness. Everyone stood frozen for a moment, the sounds of crashing stones reverberating as the ancient shattered upon impact.

“Wow... That must be a pretty bad fall,” Bendy remarked, cringing at the thought, his wide eyes reflecting the remnants of their perilous encounter.

“Yeah...” Widow agreed, her voice trailing off, both cubs staring into the void where the ancient had once stood. 

With the threat of the stone being neutralized, the group refocused their efforts on the pulsating roots that had once threatened their progress. Kratos stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he spotted a strange organic structure nestled at the center of the tangled mass.

The structure was unlike anything they had seen before, pulsating softly in rhythm with the light from the giant crystal above. With calculated determination, Kratos swung his axe against the sides of the alien formation, each powerful blow sending echoes throughout the cavern. 

As the last strike reverberated through the air, Kratos thrust the blade with immense force into the core of the structure, the edge of the axe sinking deep into the mass.

He unleashed the frosty magic imbued in his weapon, and a wave of icy energy spread from the blade, enveloping the organic structure. It cracked and splintered like fragile glass, the heart of the roots shattering and rendering the once-imposing barriers ineffective.

The moment the core exploded into shards, the tangled roots disintegrated, and the giant blue crystal above shimmered brilliantly with newfound freedom. 

"The main bridge is back!" Atreus exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement as the ethereal light bridge materialized, connecting them to the temple that loomed just beyond their path.

"We have to find a way to climb," Kratos noted pragmatically, his gaze sweeping across the expansive chamber before leading the group forward.

As they walked back toward the bridge, the light from the colossal crystal showered the surrounding area in a dazzling glow, each reflective surface shimmering as the light danced across the other crystals lining the pathways. This illumination made their way back feel less daunting, awakening a sense of hope within them.

They stumbled upon another curious structure along the way, a strange contraption with a crystal integrated into its design.

"What do you guys think it does?" Atreus asked, curiosity bubbling in his voice as he examined the machine.

"Well, it kinda looks just like the elevator in my hideout, so maybe..." Widow speculated, her eyes lighting up as she spotted a lever nestled within the machinery.

With determination, she approached the lever, gripping it and activating the mechanism. A low rumble resonated as the structure whirred to life, gently lifting them upward into the unknown.

"Father?" Atreus asked, the rising sensation invigorating yet familiar. "Do you think we have time for a 'brief and purposeful' story?"

Kratos pondered for a moment, considering the scattered memories he held of shared tales.

"Hmm... one that is short. There was a tale about a frog and his child. Their pond had dried up, so the frog and his son set out to find a new home. They found a well. The son saw the water and tried to jump in, but his father stopped him. He saw that the well was deep, and once inside, they would not be able to escape if the water dried up again. Wisely, they moved on." Kratos concluded, his tone steady and calm.

Atreus and the cubs exchanged confused glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and slight disappointment echoing through the small space.

"That's it?" they chorused, laughing nervously at the unusually somber tale.

"Yes," Kratos replied, a hint of confusion flickering in his stoic demeanor.

“Jeez, Uncle K, what kind of story is that?” Bendy asked, shaking his head as he tried to grasp the lesson, but found it elusive.

“This story stinks!” Lyris added, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Yeah!" Bucky chimed in, mimicking Lyris’s stance as he frowned deeply, clearly unimpressed.

"I have to agree with everyone, Father. It's too short! I mean, if the son got in the well, then it would be a story," Atreus pressed, his youthful enthusiasm for storytelling shining through as he sought something deeper.

"And then he would be trapped and starved to death while his father watched helplessly," Kratos replied sternly, his eyes narrowing slightly, emphasizing the harsh truth of caution over adventure.

“See? That’s a story.” Atreus says with a smirk.

"But not a happy one," Widow interjected gently, her tone soothing as she turned to Atreus. "Drama can add spice to a narrative, but that doesn't necessarily make it good to include in every story."

"I guess..." Atreus responded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting as he considered the interpretations offered. Just then, they felt the unmistakable motion of the elevator slowing, the ascent drawing to a close.

As the group emerged onto the shimmering bridge of light, they were greeted by a breathtaking sight—the radiant blue door standing majestically at the far end, glowing with an ethereal aura.

Atreus's excitement bubbled over, his eyes twinkling with joy.

"Look! The blue door! We did it!" he exclaimed, sprinting ahead, his feet leaving luminous footprints that flickered like stars in the night sky with each step.

Walking across the solid expanse of light felt surreal, as if the very essence of Alfheim pulsed beneath them.

The brilliance enveloped them, illuminating their features and hearts alike, creating a sense of hope and wonder.

"You know... I'll never get used to walking in solid light," Atreus remarked, marveling at the way the radiant path seemed to stretch endlessly before them, the soft glow caressing his skin.

"How does this work, Widow?" Bendy asked, his curiosity piqued as he gazed around, captivated by the twinkling light that surrounded them.

"The crystals are made of magic," Widow explained, her voice steady and knowledgeable. She gestured toward the glowing structures on either side of their path. "When light passes through them, the crystals affect the light, making it solid. It's like they have a will of their own."

However, as they approached the majestic door, Kratos spoke up, his tone firm and resolute, cutting through the marvel like a blade.

"The door. There's no way to open it."

His statement hung in the air, heavy and confusing, and the group's expressions shifted from excitement to bewilderment.

As they drew closer, the truth of his words became painfully clear—the door stood imposing and unyielding, a smooth surface devoid of any visible mechanisms or handles.

"What?" Bendy blurted out, his brow furrowing in confusion as he scrutinized the barrier. 

"Then we have a problem," Omega chimed in, alongside Beta, both of whom studied the door curiously, their feline eyes scanning every inch for a hint of a way through.

Atreus stepped forward, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I don't understand. What's the gate for then? Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing against the luminescent walls, but the door remained stubbornly silent.

"You don't really expect anyone to open it, do you?" Bendy quipped sarcastically, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Atreus shot him an annoyed look, his impatience palpable. "Do you have a better idea?" he challenged, crossing his arms defiantly. 

Kratos, sensing the rising tension amidst confusion and disappointment, decided that action was necessary.

"Come. We will find another way," he asserted, his voice a calm anchor amidst the turmoil, instilling them with a renewed sense of purpose.

As they turned away from the enigmatic blue door, walking the group try to find an entrance into the temple, turning to the right they look, but out of nowhere they notice something in front.

It was Sindri again!

"The Dwarf again," Kratos muttered, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice as he recognized the familiar figure up ahead, its unmistakable stature framed by the glow of the forge.

Atreus and the cubs surged forward, their faces lighting up with surprise as they shouted in unison, "Sindri?!"

The dwarf looked up from his workbench, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Hey! Good to see you! Hey, Bucky! Did you like the nunchakus I gave you?" he asked, his voice infused with an eager hope.

"You bet I did!!" Bucky replied enthusiastically, spinning the three nunchakus expertly around his fingers, the metal glinting in the dim light as he demonstrated his newfound skill.

"That's great!" Sindri exclaimed, though his expression faltered when he caught sight of the white stains marking the nunchakus. His face twisted in distaste. "And I'm realizing there's... a little bit of... elf blood," he said slowly, struggling with the repulsion of it all.

Atreus couldn’t help but be intrigued by Sindri’s reaction. "Okay, I guess I have to ask, Sindri, have you always been—"

"Clean?" Sindri interjected, a playful smirk on his lips as he completed Atreus’s thought. "Oh no, nonono, NO! I was as unhygienic as any dwarf. That is... until the day a Vanir witch, or at least I thought she was a Vanir witch. I mean, I've never seen a witch with pointed ears and a staff topped with a wooden bird!" He waved his hands animatedly, the memory clearly vivid in his mind. "Anyway, she corrected me. She showed me with her magic that there are hundreds of thousands of tiny... beasties everywhere around us... so tiny you can't even see them!"

"No..." Atreus said, disbelief lacing his tone.

"Really?" Bendy chimed in, a skeptical expression crossing his face.

Yet in truth, he recalled Cletus’s explanation about bacteria and germs, allowing a tinge of understanding to surface.

"It’s true! And if they get inside you, they make you sick," Sindri continued earnestly, his passion igniting the air around them. "But the witch said there’s a wood... oak, which is a natural deterrent, prevents them from spreading. So now... I make all my handles with oak. See, I think about these things!” The dwarf finished with a note of pride, his chest puffed out slightly.

"That's really impressive," Atreus acknowledged, his admiration evident. However, one lingering question danced on his mind. "But I just don’t understand one thing... You and Brok. Why don’t you make up with your brother?"

At the mention of his estranged sibling, Sindri's demeanor shifted.

He scoffed, then looked at them with an intensity that made the air around them feel denser.

"Me? Make up with him? Because he's an obstinate pighead, incapable of change!" he spat, frustration evident in his voice. "Because he says the most terrible things about me, just because he's insecure about his job... which, let me tell you, sucks. He blames me for... for what is not my fault!"

"Like what?" Widow asked, her curiosity piqued.

As the words left her lips, an uneasy silence enveloped them. Sindri’s expression darkened, his anger momentarily shifting to a tangled knot of unsaid words, huffing in indignation. However, as he glanced at the innocent, questioning faces of the children, the fire in his eyes began to cool.

With a resigned sigh, he finally managed, "Could you please excuse me? I have to work…" His tone now calmer and more somber, he turned back to the forge, busily organizing tools and materials, the earlier spark of enthusiasm extinguished.

The group stood quietly, exchanging worried glances filled with concern for Sindri's emotional state. Understanding that they had stirred up a delicate subject, they nodded in silent agreement to shift their focus back to their mission, leaving the dwarf to his work.

But before they could turn away, Sindri abruptly pivoted, a flicker of realization dawning on his face.

"Wait!" he called out, beckoning the eager cubs closer, his voice urgent yet tinged with the warmth of redemption. “Before you go, I should probably tell you four about this 'abandoned temple' in Midgard that a fellow dwarf converted into his personal storeroom—filled with all sorts of treasures he collected during his travels through the Nine Realms.”

“Really?” Lyris asked, her golden scales shimmering with curiosity as she leaned in, her eyes wide with wonder. “And what, pray tell, did this colleague of yours like to hide in his treasure trove?” Her voice was laced with enthusiasm, a delightful flicker of greed dancing in her gaze.

Sindri adjusted his stance, his demeanor shifting as he prepared to recount the tale.

“Fafnir was... let’s say, an aggressive collector of magical artifacts. The more he acquired, the more he desired.” He held up a hand as if weighing his words carefully. “There was no realm so extreme, no relic so dangerous—he once ventured deep into the Pale Meadows in Niflheim to get a whetstone of all things!” He punctuated his statement with a thoughtful stroke of his beard, a glimmer of nostalgia dancing in his eyes. “Hmm, I bet that was a good sharpening stone…”

“Mhmm, yes, nice story, but why are you telling us all this? And make it fast; I think our uncle is getting impatient.” Lyris interjected, a bored yet urgent tone coloring her voice as she gestured exaggeratedly to the towering figure of Kratos, whose patience was wearing thin.

“And by that, she means very impatient,” Bucky added, his voice innocent yet knowing, glancing up at Kratos, who stood with arms crossed, an aura of sternness enveloping him.

“Oh yes, of course!” Sindri nodded rapidly, flipping open his pouch and retrieving a peculiar stone, its surface glinting oddly in the workshop’s light.

He placed it delicately on the wooden workstation, its edges worn but its significance clear.

“This entrance stone will take you inside. I'm sure you'll find something useful there! You’ll know you’re close when you see a large stone in the forest with the markings of the Norns.” He pushed the stone toward them, his demeanor transitioning to one of hopeful anticipation.

“Oh, well... thanks,” Widow said, her voice softer with gratitude as she accepted the stone, a hint of concern in her eyes. “But won't your friend be upset if he finds out someone stole his hard-earned winnings?”

Sindri let out a light-hearted chuckle, waving dismissively. “Oh no, heh heh, no way. He’s dead… I think.” His casual mention of the dwarf's fate hung in the air, creating an awkward tension among the group.

“Ooh, oh my... I’m sorry to bring this up...” Widow murmured, the regret evident in her tone.

“Oh no, there’s no need to apologize!” Sindri quickly reassured them, his expression shifting to one of camaraderie. “This often happens when you travel from realm to realm, collecting priceless artifacts that don’t belong to you. Oh, and if you happen to find that whetstone… well, it sure would be nice of you to bring it to me!”

“Of course, I figured you’d like to get something out of thiiisss!” Bendy piped up, his words trailing off into surprised yelps as Kratos, tired of waiting, bent down to scoop up the cubs one by one, adjusting their positions in his grip with an air of resignation.

“Okay, this is happening now, byeeee!!!” Lyris exclaimed as she was lifted, her voice trailing off in surprise as Kratos carried them away.

“What did the dwarf give you?” Kratos demanded, his tone transitioning from impatient to curious once he set the cubs down firmly.

“Just a key to some long-dead dwarf’s treasure,” Bendy explained, puffing out his chest in a display of importance. “Apparently, Sindri wanted us to get him a whetstone.”

“That actually might be useful! Did he say where it is?” Atreus asked, his brows furrowing in concentration.

“He said it’s in a forest in Midgard, somewhere near a large rock marked by something called Norns,” Widow recalled, her mind racing with possibilities.

“Norns?” Kratos probed, his interest piqued yet cautious.

“The women who oversee everyone’s fate,” Atreus said, a note of apprehension creeping into his voice.

“Fate...” Kratos rumbled darkly, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. “Nothing good comes from them; if it’s not in our path, it doesn’t matter.”

“But don’t you want to help him?” Atreus pressed, a genuine concern in his youthful tone.

“No. I do not do tasks for dwarves,” Kratos replied, his voice firm, cutting through the conversation like a blade.

“But you like resources, right? And any resources we find improve our chances of survival, right?” Bendy interjected, beaming up at Kratos with infectious enthusiasm, attempting to persuade his uncle with the logic that often seemed to bounce off the warrior's stoic demeanor.

Kratos remained silent, the intensity of his gaze settled on Bendy, who had inadvertently turned his own reasoning back against him.

But soon, Widow caught their attention with an eager tone. "Hey guys! I found an entrance!" 

As they turned to follow her, the group was met with the sight of a shadowy opening nestled between two ancient branches, a faint glow emanating from within, promising secrets hidden in the depths of the temple.

With hearts racing at the prospect of exploration and adventure, they crouched low, one by one slipping through the opening—every sound amplified in the tense silence that enveloped them as they entered the dimly lit chamber.

“We're in,” Atreus said triumphantly, his voice echoing softly against the stone walls, as uncertainty slowly transformed into eagerness.

Suddenly, a towering figure materialized before them, the dark elf king, his presence commanding and foreboding.

He began to speak in his native tongue, his voice reverberating with an eerie melody. Instead of lunging into battle, the king ascended gracefully into the air, his dark wings casting ominous shadows across the stone floor.

“Him again,” Bendy muttered with exasperation, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at the spectacle.

Ignoring the dark elf king for the moment, the group moved toward a gigantic elven structure that glimmered faintly, its intricate designs telling tales of a lost civilization. Sunlight peeked through cracks in the stone ceiling, illuminating ornate carvings that depicted celestial battles and the beauty of the elven realm.

“Wow! That’s impressive,” Atreus exclaimed, his youthful enthusiasm contagious as he stepped closer to appreciate the artistry.

“I’ve seen better,” Widow replied, attempting to maintain her bravado but failing to hide the flicker of admiration in her voice as she gazed at the grandeur of the ancient architecture.

With renewed determination, the group began to ascend toward the heart of the temple. Atreus climbed onto Kratos’s back, his small hands gripping tightly to the warrior’s shoulders, while Widow and Bendy scrambled onto the back of Omega, while Bucky and Lyris perched on Beta.

As they began their climb, echoes of the dark elf king's voice trailed behind them, a haunting reminder of his presence. Yet Kratos, ever vigilant, suddenly pointed.

"There is the light," he announced, gesturing with a steady hand toward a beacon piercing the dimness ahead.

Atreus and the cubs squinted in amazement as they noticed that the light was ensnared within a massive crimson organic mass, pulsating grotesquely.

"They covered it with that thing..." Atreus said, revulsion creeping into his voice as he turned to face the others.

"That's the hive. They live in there," replied Widow, her brow furrowed, the implications weaving dread through their thoughts.

“Why would they do that...?” Atreus asked, confusion lacing his tone.

“To keep the light for themselves,” Widow answered, her heart heavy with an understanding of the dark motivations that drove the elves to such cruelty.

Just then, Atreus spotted a startling vision: a luminous elf, desperately fleeing through the shadows.

"Look. Another light elf!" he shouted, pointing as the group continued their ascent.

“What is he doing?” Lyris asked, her wide eyes flickering with concern as she and the others watched the chaos unfold below.

As they climbed higher, the scene revealed itself in horrifying clarity; the luminous elf was surrounded by dark elves, a circle of malice tightening around him.

The tension in the air escalated abruptly as one of the dark elf soldiers thrust a spear into the light elf’s chest, the act brutal and swift, effectively extinguishing the pure light.

A wave of shock rippled through the group, their senses reeling at the sudden violence—everyone in disbelief, save for Kratos, Omega, and Beta, who remained stoically unmoved by the chaos.

“No! Why are they killing him?” Atreus exclaimed in shock, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. “He didn’t do anything!”

“Do not make assumptions,” Kratos replied sternly, his voice a low rumble filled with the wisdom of countless battles. “We are only seeing the end of the war. We don’t know what led to this.”

“But he didn’t even defend himself,” Atreus protested, his youthful sense of justice ignited in the face of cruelty.

“It was his choice,” Kratos said, firmly yet with an undercurrent of understanding. “We make ours.” 

His words hung in the air, a reminder of the choices they all faced and the paths they were destined to carve through the tapestry of war. The group continued their ascent, each step resonating with the weight of their evolving destinies amidst the swirling shadows of an ancient conflict long before their time.

Continuing to climb, the group moved with utmost caution, every step meticulously taken to avoid drawing the attention of any lurking elves.

Shadows danced along the hive's pulsing surface, and as they navigated the grotesque structures draped in organic tendrils, a palpable sense of dread settled over them. Kratos’ sharp gaze caught sight of an entrance veiled by the larger mass of the hive. 

“There,” he said, pointing toward the narrow passage that snaked into the darkness, beckoning them to venture further inside.

“I don’t think we should be here,” Atreus replied, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and fear, the risks flashing vividly in his mind as he surveyed their precarious situation. 

“Quiet,” Kratos instructed firmly, his voice a mere whisper. He understood the urgency of remaining silent; entering the hive meant they needed to move like shadows within the night.

As they slipped through the entrance, the tunnel felt suffocating, the walls smooth yet grotesque with the texture of the hive’s flesh-like tissue. The buzzing noises surrounded them, an unsettling symphony that mimicked the sounds of human-sized bees, echoing ominously throughout the cavernous expanse. Atreus’ eyes darted around, tension coiling in his gut as he spotted something skittering along the walls. 

“What was that?” he asked in a fearful whisper, turning to his father, his heart racing as he recognized the escalating danger of their surroundings.

“Stay alert and do not leave my sight,” Kratos commanded, his voice low yet commanding, aware that everything about this place screamed peril.

Reaching another wall, they began to climb again, the group united in their determination, but questions churned in Atreus’ mind.

“Hey… when we find the light, how will the Bifrost absorb it?” he wondered, his voice echoing faintly against the hive’s grotesque interior.

“The witch said you just need to enter it,” Kratos replied simply, his focus unwavering.

Atreus furrowed his brow in confusion, surprise lighting up his features.

“She did? When?”

“When she was ripped from this realm,” Kratos answered, brushing aside the weight of the memory, though it lingered in the air, heavy with implications.

“Oh... How did I not hear that?” Atreus was incredulous, the insight stabbing at his conscience.

“You were more concerned about her safety than our objective,” Kratos stated matter-of-factly, his gaze fixed ahead, honing in on the path.

But before Atreus could voice his protest, a dark elf suddenly appeared out of nowhere, lunging at Kratos with malicious intent. The others, who had remained close to Kratos, could do nothing as the tension exploded into action.

Kratos, however, was faster; his hand shot out, grappling the elf by the face and slamming him against the wall with a force that echoed through the hive.

“Quiet! I caught him. The knife, boy!” Kratos instructed, his voice barely above a whisper, his grip unwavering as he restrained the thrashing elf.

Atreus didn’t hesitate; with swift precision, he drew his knife and plunged it into the elf's skull, an act of desperate survival that silenced the threat in an instant. As Kratos quickly concealed the lifeless body, they prepared to continue their ascent, the air thick with the tension of their encounter.

“That was close,” Atreus breathed out with relief, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

“Yeah, you tell me—” Bendy began to reply, but before he could finish, another dark elf emerged, ready to attack him, Widow, and Beta.

However, just as the elf was mere centimeters away, something inexplicable happened; the elf halted abruptly, his eyes bulging in shock, as spasms wracked his body, muscles seemingly locked in place. Bendy’s gaze shifted to Widow, who had extended her tail with a fluid motion.

To his amazement, he noticed the tip of her tail had pierced the elf’s belly, blood running down like a morbid fountain.

Without hesitation, she retracted her tail, and the elf crumpled to the ground, falling into the abyss below with a muted thud.

The group stared in shock, their minds racing to process what had just occurred, while Widow immediately looked down, embarrassment flooding her features. 

“How did you...?” Atreus managed to stutter, his astonishment palpable.

“Poisonous stinger,” Widow explained, her voice steady despite her embarrassment as she displayed the elongated, thin appendage now coated in elf blood, retreating back into her tail. “My species developed it as a last defense mechanism, but only in emergency cases.”

“…The more I learn about you, the more impressed I am,” Bendy said with a playful smirk, admiration softening his features as he regarded her. 

“And I can say the same,” Widow shot back, a smile breaking through her initial embarrassment, a spark of camaraderie igniting in the moment.

Reaching the top of the climb, the group pressed forward with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Atreus and the cubs exchanged glances, their faces twisted in mild disgust as they examined the grotesque structures that surrounded them, the hive pulsing disturbingly with an almost organic life.

“I think it’s better not to move away,” Omega declared, his keen senses on high alert as he scanned the hive walls for potential threats, his nostrils flaring as he detected the lingering scents of more dark elves nearby.

“You don’t even need to say it twice, Uncle Omega,” Atreus replied earnestly, his voice tinged with both apprehension and an eagerness to avoid further peril. 

As they continued their trek, they approached a narrow passage. In unison, the group crouched down, a hush settling among them as they cautiously navigated the dim space.

“Ew… It’s so sticky. What even is this stuff?” Atreus asked, his tone laced with revulsion as he felt the viscous residue clinging to his hands, the texture foreign and unsettling.

“It’s better you don’t know,” Widow replied matter-of-factly, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the unsettling nature of the hive’s substance—something too vile to describe to the young ones.

However, before anyone could respond further, a dark elf suddenly emerged, crawling nimbly along the walls, its eyes glistening with malice. 

“Another one!!” Atreus shouted, instinctively drawing his bow, the tension crackling in the air around them.

“Stay back!” Kratos barked, swiftly placing his muscular arm between Atreus and the looming threat of the elf.

The dark elf lunged with ferocity, a desperate attack meant to catch them off guard, but Kratos was quicker. With practiced ease, he caught the elf by its ragged tunic, throwing it forcefully to the ground.

Yet, the moment became their undoing; the ground beneath them cracked ominously, the weak earth giving way beneath their feet. 

With a jarring crumbling noise, everyone slipped uncontrollably, hurtling towards the yawning abyss below. Kratos and the dragons managed to cling onto the crumbling edge, muscles taut with exertion, but Atreus found himself dangling precariously, his heart racing in sheer panic as gravity threatened to swallow him whole.

In a split second, Kratos acted on instinct, shooting out his powerful arm just in time to grasp Atreus’ wrist, hoisting him back from the brink.

The boy gasped as he was pulled up, his breath rattled, and, as he caught his footing, he looked up and gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief at the legendary light of Alfheim shimmering tantalizingly in the distance.

“The light!” he cried out in excitement, his voice teetering on the edge of exhilaration, but the joy was short-lived.

Kratos' large hand swiftly covered his mouth, silencing him. “Shhh!!” he admonished, urgency lacing his tone as he gestured for quiet, keenly aware of their precarious situation and the attention it could draw. 

As they peered ahead, the group was met with a chilling sight; countless dark elves were crawling on the walls of the hive like a swarm of malevolent bees, their dark forms blending eerily into the grotesque backdrop of sticky organic matter.

“We're close,” Kratos warned, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with authority, “but be careful. Understand?”

“Yes,” Atreus nodded fervently, determination settling in his gaze, mirrored by the resolve of the others around him. The weight of their mission pressed heavily upon them, yet with the gleaming light just ahead, hope flickered even in the darkest of places.

As they navigated deeper into the hive's grotesque interior, Kratos' keen eyes caught sight of the heart-like roots pulsating ominously from the walls, glimmers of hope igniting his strategic mind. The stench of decay filled the air, but it was the thumping of those roots that drew his attention, giving birth to a plan. 

“There, be ready when it falls!” he commanded, pointing decisively at the pulsating hearts throbbing with a sinister rhythm.

“Yes, sir,” Atreus replied, the tension evident in his voice as he and the others quickly prepared themselves for the impending chaos.

With a determined grip on his axe, Kratos approached the nearest heart, its texture grotesquely organic yet mesmerizing. He swung his weapon, imbued with the icy magic gifted to him, and as the blade struck true, the heart froze instantly, the surface glistening with frost. Summoning all his strength, he brought the axe down with a mighty cleave; the heart ruptured and split in half. 

In an instant, the hive responded dramatically, a chain reaction igniting as cracks spider-webbed through the walls, the very structure beginning to tremble and collapse.

“Jump!” Kratos bellowed, his voice echoing ominously through the chaotic air.

Without hesitation, the group leaped, the ground shuddering beneath them as they landed amid the swirling debris. No sooner had they touched down than a horde of dark elves emerged from the dissipating shadows, eyes gleaming menacingly. Kratos saw the danger escalating and called to the two adult dragons at his side.

“Omega, Beta!” he commanded, and the dragons, sensing the urgency, instinctively turned their heads toward him, ready for action.

“Fire!”

In response, both dragons unfurled their massive wings, a sweeping sound reverberating like thunder in the confined space. From the scales along their bodies, tiny, glimmering particles began to detach, floating through the air like a deadly rain of explosives.

With a synchronized beat of their calamitous wings, they fanned the fiery powders into a well-distributed cloud, each scale glimmering with potential destruction. 

Then, with a fierce snap of their jaws, they generated a spark bright enough to pierce the gloom, igniting the floating particles. 

“KABOOM!!!”

The resulting explosion erupted in a stunning display of blue and orange flames, illuminating the darkness and engulfing the swarm of elves before them. The fire roared, sentient in its hunger, consuming everything in its path.

Atreus, Kratos, and the cubs shielded themselves against the ferocity of the blast, watching in awe as the dragons painted the space with vibrant flames that turned the elves to ash, while chunks of the hive disintegrated around them. 

“Go!” Kratos ordered, urgency fueling his command.

With adrenaline surging through their veins, the group sprinted towards the beckoning light ahead, their hearts racing in sync with their steps. But as they pressed on, Kratos spotted yet another pulsating heart.

“There!” he yelled, pointing towards it.

However, upon reaching the next chamber, they were faced with a daunting sight—thousands of dark elves amassed, preparing to launch a vicious onslaught.

“Shoot faster, boy!” Kratos urged, his eyes narrowing as he clenched his axe, ready for the battle that loomed.

“What happened to ‘accuracy over speed!?’” Atreus shot back, his voice rising with panic.

“When the enemy is in greater numbers, there will be no way to miss,” Kratos replied with cold practicality, swinging his axe with lethal precision, severing foes before they could close in.

As they pushed closer to the heart, Kratos channeled his ice magic once more, freezing the heart before slicing it away, the destruction echoing as a considerable portion of the hive crumbled beneath their feet. 

Feeling the ground tremble ominously, Kratos turned sharply.

“Atreus!” he shouted, lunging forward to grab his son. Omega and Beta swiftly snatched up the cubs, all of them scrambling for safety.

In an instant, the ground gave way entirely, collapsing into a cacophony of chaos as the awe-inspiring collapse of the hive propelled them downwards.

The descent felt like an eternity, but they crashed onto a magnificent platform made of shimmering gold, the contrast blinding after the darkness they had just escaped. The air was rich and heady with the scent of power, enveloping them as they struggled to catch their breath, the remnants of their perilous journey echoing around them.

As Kratos rose to his full height, the remnants of the hive's collapse spilling away like dust from his shoulders, he surveyed his companions, his gaze sharp and assessing.

“Are you injured?” he asked, his voice low and steady, attention zeroing in on Atreus, who was brushing off the debris clinging to his tunic.

“No, everyone is fine, but...” Atreus trailed off, his eyes widening as they became transfixed on something nearby. “Look.”

Following the gaze of the boy, the rest of the group turned, breaths catching in their throats as they beheld the breathtaking sight before them—the legendary light of Alfheim. A powerful beam of pure white radiance shot forth into the sky, illuminating the cavernous space around them with a divine glow.

“The light...” Widow whispered in surprise, her ever-composed demeanor faltering for a moment as she stared in awe.

“It’s so...” Atreus stammered, struggling to find the right words to encapsulate the wonder and magic radiating from the luminescent source.

“Beautiful,” Bendy concluded, sentiment echoing through the air as they stood mesmerized by the light's ethereal beauty. 

As they took cautious steps forward, they noted how the light seemed to breathe life back into the ancient temple, revealing the intricate details hidden beneath layers of dust and darkness.

The once-bleak stones glimmered back to life, transforming from a dull color to pure white flecked with hints of gold that sparkled like the stars above.

“The light... it's making the entire temple resurface,” Atreus noted, his voice almost reverent, excitement swelling within him as the once-forgotten glory of their surroundings emerged from the shadow.

“It’s because she is the source of everything; she’s the reason the entire temple works,” Widow explained, her gaze still fixated on the radiance illuminating their path.

Suddenly, Atreus paused, a perplexed expression crossing his face as he strained to listen. “Wait... You’re hearing it too? It sounds like... singing!” he exclaimed, impulsively stepping closer to the cascading light, enchanted by the melody that danced in the air.

As he strained to discern the haunting notes, disbelief shot through him—he recognized that voice!

“It’s her voice! It’s mother! I told you I heard her! Do you think she’s in there?” Atreus asked, hope fluttering in his chest as he dared to entertain the possibility that his mother was close.

But as he reached out to touch the radiant light, a surge of searing pain shot through his hand, causing him to recoil in anguish.

“Ahhgh! Aah...” Atreus screamed, clutching his hand tightly, desperation and confusion flooding his expression.

“Are you okay?” Bendy asked, concern etched on his face as Widow rushed to Atreus' side. Drawing on her magic, she summoned a healing spell, the soothing blue glow enveloping Atreus’s hand, easing the pain as wisps of light danced over his skin.

“It hurts! It felt like my hand was on fire,” Atreus gasped, a hint of relief washing over him as the heat began to dissipate under Widow’s gentle care.

Kratos stood firm, his stoic expression unreadable as he observed the brilliant light, his instincts stirring deep within him.

He knew that, as a deity, he would be the only one among them able to withstand the light’s grasp.

“Stay here,” he ordered firmly, locking eyes with each of them to ensure they understood the gravity of his directive.

“Are you sure?” Omega asked, the red Inferno-Wing filled with uncertainty regarding the god's intent, while Beta shifted uneasily, her wings rustling nervously at her sides.

“Yes,” Kratos affirmed with steely resolve, his attention shifting to Atreus, who was still shaken. He extended the famed Leviathan axe towards him, his grip steady.

“Take it,” he instructed, an unusual weight to his command. Atreus looked startled, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden gift.

“You’re giving me the axe?” he asked incredulously, anticipation mingling with confusion.

“You’re just gonna hold it; it's not a gift,” Kratos warned, a glimmer of a grin barely breaking through his typically stern facade.

“Pff, still,” Atreus chuckled, a smirk creeping across his face despite the tension hanging in the air.

Kratos shifted his gaze to Omega and Beta, his expression turning serious once more.

“...Be careful,” he warned, his voice a low rumble filled with the weight of a father's concern.

“We will,” Beta promised, her voice reassuring despite the gravity of the moment.

With a resolute breath, Kratos steeled himself, centering his focus as he approached the pillar of light. Drawing his fist back, he struck the luminous surface with the Bifröst in hand.

The moment his fist connected, it was as if Hades’ fire had latched onto him. Pain seared through his arm, radiating like molten lava, and instinctively, a horrifying scream clawed at his throat, but he gritted his teeth, determined to maintain his silence.

Overwhelmed with agony, he pushed forward into the Light, his muscles coiling in resistance. The pain mounted, crescendoing until it threatened to burst free, a cacophony of voices clambering for release, enveloping him entirely in a tumult of sensations so powerful that everything around him seemed to tremble.

For a brief moment, his companions remained transfixed, the raw intensity of the Light captivating them. Yet as Kratos continued to disappear into the brilliance, the realization of their situation began to settle upon them, a mix of awe and fear cascading through the air.

“So... what do we do now?” Bendy finally broke the silence, glancing around at the others, unsure of their next step in the waiting game that stretched before them.

“I guess we wait,” Widow suggested, her brow furrowing with concern as she shifted her focus back to the intensity of the Light.

Atreus, however, felt an unease brew in his chest as the weight of the moment settled on him, uncertainty coloring his thoughts.

He looked up, concern painted across his features.

“Yeah... we wait...” he echoed, the word carrying a bittersweet note.

It was a familiar refrain, one that tugged at old memories—waiting for his father to return from hunts, left with only the echoes of his mother’s voice.

And now, it was a waiting game once more, enveloped in light and shadows, hope and trepidation.

And that's what he was going to do.

Wait.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

Four years ago, in the realm of Midgard

The sun hung high in the sky, a welcome beacon of warmth after the bitter grip of winter.

Snow still clung stubbornly to the shadows of rocks and trees, but the thaw of spring was unmistakable. Birds sang their jubilant songs, and the crisp air carried the faint scent of blooming wildflowers. For most, it was a day of renewal and calm. For Bendy Morales, it was the perfect day to train.

Nestled within the cool, dim interior of a cave, hidden far enough from his family’s cabin to remain undetected, the ten-year-old Shadow-Wing stood poised, his small yet determined frame taut with focus. This was his secret hideout, a sanctuary where he could test his abilities—and more importantly...

Train with ‘V’.

His target stood a few feet away: a crude wooden doll cobbled together with twigs, rope, and scraps of fabric. It wobbled slightly in the faint breeze that crept into the cave.

“Okay... you can do this. Just focus and let go,” Bendy muttered to himself, his purple eyes narrowing in concentration.

He clenched his right hand into a fist, his claws barely visible beneath his gloves, and extended it forward with all the confidence he could muster. He waited. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

Nothing happened.

The wooden doll remained untouched, standing stubbornly upright, as if mocking his effort.

“Seriously?” Bendy groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Come on, V! You know, if you really want to help me, you could actually do something when I ask.”

A faint voice echoed in his mind, a whisper laced with sarcasm and irritation. It was V, the symbiote that had bonded with him since birth, but whose cooperation often felt... selective.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Bendy snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at the empty air. “I might not be some big warrior or whatever you’re used to, but I’m what you’ve got, remember? You’re stuck with me, so maybe you could stop acting like I’m a waste of your time!”

The whisper returned, sharper now, a barbed reply that made Bendy’s face flatten in annoyance.

“Look,” he sighed, his frustration ebbing into exasperation. “If you’re gonna live in my body, we need to be a team. You’re supposed to help me defend myself, right? So how about actually listening to me for once?”

The response was swift, low, and dismissive—a mental shrug.

Bendy let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You know what? Forget it. If you’re not going to work with me, the least we can do is something useful. Let’s go to the creek. I need to catch some fish for dinner anyway.”

Grumbling under his breath, Bendy grabbed his makeshift satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He cast a final glare at the unresponsive wooden doll before heading for the cave’s mouth, the sunlight spilling in to greet him.

Outside, the world felt alive. The distant sound of rushing water guided his steps as he trudged through the forest, the symbiote’s occasional mutterings lingering in the back of his mind. 

As Bendy made his way to the creek, the forest seemed to hold its breath, watching and waiting, as if it too sensed that the boy’s journey was only just beginning.

A few minutes later

The sound of rushing water grew louder, reverberating through the trees as Bendy and V made their way to their destination. The faint, bubbling murmur of the stream had transformed into the deep, powerful roar of the river ahead. The air was cooler here, thick with the mist of churning rapids.

Emerging from the underbrush, Bendy paused to take in the sight of the river—a broad, glistening expanse of water, its currents wild and unpredictable. Sunlight danced on its surface, illuminating swirls of foam and the occasional glint of fish darting below. It was a beautiful, if slightly intimidating, scene.

He set down his satchel, ready to begin fishing, when V’s voice whispered sharply in his mind, pulling his focus away from his preparations.

“What now?” Bendy groaned, clearly annoyed. “I’m fishing, can’t you see?”

The whisper came again, more insistent this time. It wasn’t just idle chatter; there was a warning in its tone.

Bendy frowned but followed V’s instructions, turning his gaze toward the river. At first, he didn’t see anything unusual—just the usual rush of water and floating debris. But then, something red caught his eye, bobbing amidst the rapids. It clung to a massive log, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

Bendy squinted, his confusion quickly morphing into shock as he realized what it was.

A Drekinian cub—just like him—but with crimson scales instead of his black ones. The other cub appeared lifeless, his body limp as the current carried him downstream.

“Hey!!” Bendy shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. The urgency in his tone echoed across the water.

The red cub stirred slightly, letting out a weak grunt. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, as if he were struggling to remember where he was. Slowly, his gaze turned toward the sound of Bendy’s voice, his movements sluggish and disoriented.

“Are you okay?” Bendy called again, his voice laced with genuine concern.

The crimson cub narrowed his eyes, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Just drifting down a river on a log—living the dream, really.”

Bendy blinked, caught off guard by the cub’s attitude. “Fine? You're drifting in a river!” he exclaimed, incredulity mixing with concern. “What are you doing out here?”

The red cub gave a lazy shrug, finally pulling himself upright on the log. Water cascaded off his scales, glinting like liquid rubies in the sunlight.

“Took a little swim, got tired. No big deal,” he said nonchalantly, tossing his head as if this were a regular occurrence.

Bendy stared, his mouth slightly open.

Before he could respond, the red cub’s expression darkened, irritation flashing across his face. “What does it look like? I fell off a waterfall and ended up in this stupid river!” he snapped, his voice laced with frustration.

Bendy tilted his head, his confusion deepening. “But... the nearest waterfall is to the west. Does that mean... you came from outside the Wildwoods?”

“Yeah, genius. What tipped you off?” the red cub retorted, rolling his eyes. He then gestured impatiently toward the riverbank. “Now are you going to help me out, or do I have to do this myself?”

“R-right, give me a second!” Bendy stammered, scrambling to find something to assist. His gaze darted around the riverbank, searching for a sturdy branch or rope to extend to the stranded cub.

As Bendy worked, the red cub’s annoyance momentarily faded, replaced by a flicker of unease. He stiffened slightly, something wasn’t right.

A strange, almost imperceptible ripple moved through the water near the log, the current shifting unnaturally.

It was then, through the shimmering surface of the water, that a shadow emerged. From the depths, slowly and silently, came a massive carnivorous salamander, its sleek body gliding effortlessly through the current. Its smooth, blue skin glistened like wet stone, perfectly camouflaged against the river’s depths. Only its piercing green eyes betrayed its presence, glowing faintly as they locked onto its prey.

It was hungry.

The red cub, perched precariously on the log, hadn’t noticed at first. But as the creature drew closer, the faint ripple of water caught his attention. He turned his head just in time to see it—those glowing green eyes and the sharp, toothy maw opening slightly as it approached.

His eyes widened in sheer terror. “Hey! You might want to speed it up! I’m about to become food!” he shouted, panic breaking through his sarcastic demeanor.

Bendy spun around at the cub’s frantic cry, and his heart dropped at the sight of the enormous predator closing in. “Shit!!” he hissed under his breath.

His mind raced.

They were out of time.

“Okay, listen! Swim to me! Now!” Bendy shouted, motioning frantically toward the shore.

The red cub’s eyes darted from the salamander to the distant riverbank, his claws gripping the log tighter.

“But I don’t know how!” he yelled back, his voice cracking with desperation.

“Just try! FOR YOUR LIFE!” Bendy bellowed.

The cub didn’t need to be told twice. Fear took over, and he plunged into the water, flapping his arms, legs, tail, and wings wildly in an uncoordinated attempt to swim. Behind him, the salamander surged forward, its long, muscular tail propelling it with frightening speed. Its jaws snapped shut just inches behind the cub, missing him by a hair.

The cub thrashed and kicked, his movements erratic but driven by sheer survival instinct. Somehow, he managed to close the gap to the riverbank, but as he reached it, his stomach dropped. The shore wasn’t level—it was a steep embankment, a wall of dirt and roots rising above him.

“Help me!!” he screamed, claws scrabbling desperately at the dirt, his wings folding awkwardly against his back. The slick mud offered no grip, and the salamander was closing in fast.

Bendy was already there, leaning over the edge with one arm outstretched. “Give me your hand!” he shouted, urgency thick in his voice.

The cub didn’t hesitate, reaching up with trembling claws and latching onto Bendy’s hand with a death grip. The salamander was mere feet away now, its gaping maw surging out of the water, rows of razor-sharp teeth glinting in the light.

“Quick!!” the red cub cried, his voice rising in panic as he felt the predator’s hot breath at his heels.

Bendy gritted his teeth, digging his heels into the dirt for leverage. The cub’s weight, combined with the slick mud, made the task nearly impossible. His arms strained, muscles burning as he pulled with everything he had. The salamander lunged, snapping at the cub’s tail and missing by mere inches.

“Come on, come on!” Bendy muttered through clenched teeth, his heart pounding like a drum.

Summoning every ounce of strength, he gave one final, desperate pull. With a grunt of effort, he yanked the red cub out of the water and onto the safety of the shore, both of them collapsing in a heap.

The salamander let out a guttural roar of frustration, its jaws snapping at the empty air before it retreated back into the water, disappearing beneath the surface as silently as it had appeared.

Both cubs lay there for a moment, panting heavily. The red cub’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, water dripping from his crimson scales.

“You okay?” Bendy asked, sitting up and brushing the dirt off his hands.

The red cub glared at him, his usual sarcasm quickly returning. “Define okay! I almost got eaten, I’m soaked and now i'm covered in mud!”

Bendy rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the tension. “Well, at least you’re alive.”

The red cub huffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched as if he couldn’t quite suppress a smirk. “Yeah... thanks, I guess.”

With a deep breath, Bendy pushed himself off the damp ground, shaking off the lingering adrenaline from their near escape. He glanced down at the red Drekinian, who was still sitting in the dirt, water dripping from his scales.

Bendy soon extended a clawed hand toward him.  

“Want a hand?” he offered.

The red cub hesitated, eyeing Bendy’s outstretched hand with uncertainty. His body was tense, and for a moment, he looked like he might refuse. Trust was a rare commodity, especially when you were stranded in an unfamiliar place.  

But then, his gaze flickered to Bendy’s face—those striking purple eyes that seemed to glow faintly, filled not with hostility but with curiosity and an odd sense of warmth. His confident yet relaxed smile wasn’t one of arrogance, but rather, genuine ease.  

Slowly, the red cub reached out, gripping Bendy’s hand. His claws were sharp, his scales rough from exposure, but his grip was firm. With a tug, Bendy hoisted him to his feet.  

The cub muttered a quiet “thanks” under his breath before dusting off the clumps of dirt and mud sticking to his clothes. That’s when Bendy finally took a good look at what he was wearing—and frowned.  

The fabric of the red cub’s clothes was thick and worn, layered with dust and grime, but the stitching and material were... different. Unlike anything Bendy had ever seen in Midgard. The orange shirt and loose green pants didn’t resemble the tunics or hunting garb that most Drekinian cubs wore in this realm. They looked sturdier, more practical—built for endurance.  

His curiosity flared. Stepping closer, Bendy reached out, his nose twitching slightly. He leaned in and sniffed the fabric of the cub’s sleeve, taking in its scent. It was faintly metallic, mixed with traces of smoke, earth, and something else unfamiliar.  

The red cub stiffened. “Uh—what are you doing?” he asked, his voice edged with suspicion.  

“Smelling you,” Bendy answered simply, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.  

The red cub’s expression twisted in disbelief. “...And why?”  

“To figure out where you’re from.” Bendy pulled back slightly, tilting his head in thought. “But honestly...” His eyes narrowed with intrigue. “You don’t smell like you’re from Midgard.”  

The red cub tensed, his tail flicking behind him.  

“That’s because I’m not,” he said bluntly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  

Bendy froze. His horns perked up, and his pupils dilated slightly in suprise. Of all the answers he expected, 'that' wasn’t one of them.

“Wait...” His voice was quiet at first, but then he leaned in, staring deep into the red cub’s gleaming crimson eyes. “What did you just say?”  

The red cub shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling exposed under Bendy’s intense gaze.

“I’m not from here,” he repeated, slower this time. His tone held a hint of unease, as if he had just realized he might’ve said too much.

Silence hung between them for a moment. Bendy could feel his heart pounding—not with fear, but with the spark of something new. Something exciting.  

An outsider.

A Drekinian not from Midgard.  

His mind raced with a thousand questions, but in the end, he settled on one. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he relaxed his stance.  

“...Wanna go fishing?” he asked casually.  

The red cub blinked. Of all the possible responses, 'that' was what this cub went with? He stared at him for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, before exhaling sharply.  

“Seriously?”  

Bendy shrugged. “Hey, you look like you could use a break.”  

The red cub gave him a long, skeptical look. But then, against all odds, the corners of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close enough.  

“...Fine,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “But if I catch more fish than you, I’m rubbing it in your face.”  

Bendy grinned. “We’ll see about that.”  

With that, the tension eased, and for the first time since they met, it almost felt... normal. Well, as normal as things could be when you’d just escaped being eaten and met someone from beyond your world.

After what had just happened, neither of them was eager to cast a line anywhere near the spot where the massive salamander had nearly made a meal out of one of them. Instead, they wandered further upstream, searching for a calmer stretch of the river, where the water was less turbulent and the threat of giant carnivorous creatures seemed lower.  

Eventually, they found a quiet bend where the current was gentler, the water lapping softly against the moss-covered rocks. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the river’s surface.  

Bendy plopped down on the riverbank, setting his satchel beside him. The red cub followed, though his wary eyes kept flicking toward the water, as if expecting another monster to lunge out at any moment.  

As Bendy rummaged through his bag, the red cub noticed something strange.

“Uh… where’s your fishing rod?” he asked, tilting his head.  

Bendy pulled out a handful of something wet and slimy—fish chum. He held it up like it was a prized treasure. “Oh, I don’t have one,” he replied casually.  

The red cub frowned. “Then how are we supposed to fish?”  

Bendy smirked. “My parents taught me this trick.”  

He held up the handful of bait and, without hesitation, rubbed it along the tip of his tail. The red cub watched in confusion as Bendy shifted his position, dipping his tail into the river as if it were a fishing line.  

The transformation was subtle but fascinating. His tail stiffened slightly, the muscles adjusting instinctively as it hovered just above the water’s surface before dipping in, swaying gently with the current. It was almost mesmerizing—like watching a real fishing rod being cast.

The red cub blinked, staring at him. “Wait... What?”  

Bendy grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “Want to try?”  

For a moment, the red cub hesitated, glancing down at his own tail. It wasn’t as long or as flexible as Bendy’s, but it could probably work. Still, something about dipping it into the same water where a giant predator had been lurking not long ago made his scales prickle.  

Bendy noticed his hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared?”  

The red cub stiffened. His wings twitched, and his tail flicked in irritation. “Scared?” he repeated, scoffing. “I’m not afraid of anything.”  

Determined to prove his point, he grabbed a piece of chum, hesitated only for a split second, and then smeared it over the tip of his tail. The slimy, fishy scent made his nose wrinkle, but he wasn’t about to back down now.  

With a defiant look, he sat at the water’s edge, lifted his tail, and cautiously dipped it into the river, mimicking Bendy’s movements.  

Bendy chuckled. “See? Easy.”  

The red cub didn’t respond, focusing instead on keeping his tail steady in the water.  

And so, the two of them sat in companionable silence, tails swaying with the current, waiting.

Even as they sat quietly by the river, tails swaying in the current, Bendy couldn’t shake the thought gnawing at the back of his mind—the red cub sitting beside him wasn’t from Midgard. The revelation stuck with him, an itch that wouldn’t go away.

If he’s not from here, then where is he from?  

With the fish taking their time, Bendy decided now was as good a moment as any to find out.  

“So…” He glanced at the cub beside him, whose eyes remained locked on the water. “Since you’re not from Midgard, where are you from?” His gaze drifted to the cub’s crimson scales. “With that red color, I’d say you’re from Muspelheim.”  

At that, the red cub gave him a baffled look. “Muspel-what?”  

Bendy blinked. “You know, Muspelheim—the Primordial Realm of Fire.” He waved his free hand as if that would somehow jog the cub’s memory.  

It didn’t. The red cub only frowned. “No idea what you’re talking about.”  

Bendy’s wings twitched. “C’mon, you have to know. It’s one of the Nine Realms. You are from the Nine Realms, right?”  

But the cub only shrugged, flicking his tail dismissively. “Honestly? I don’t even know what's that.” He returned his attention to the water, waiting for a bite.  

Silence stretched between them, but Bendy’s mind raced.  

'He’s not from the Nine Realms? Then does that mean... he came from somewhere else? Another land? Another realm with others like him?'

The thought made Bendy’s stomach twist in ways he didn’t fully understand.

'Like... me?'  

But before he could dwell on it any further, a sudden sharp tug yanked at the tip of his tail.  

His instincts kicked in.  

“I got one!” Bendy shouted, his whole body jerking forward as he braced himself. His tail snapped upward, launching the fish high into the air like a catapult. The silver-scaled trout twisted midair before crashing onto the grassy riverbank beside them, flopping wildly.  

The red cub gawked.  

Bendy, however, was already on his feet, fists pumping in triumph.  

“HA!!” He jabbed a finger at the red cub’s face, his grin splitting ear to ear. “IN YOUR FACE!!”  

The red cub scowled, crossing his arms.  

Bendy wasn’t done. He ran over to the trout, scooping it up like it was a hard-earned trophy. “Victory is mine!” he declared, dramatically holding the fish above his head. He even started humming a victorious tune, swinging his tail smugly.

The red cub rolled his eyes. “Big deal,” he muttered. “Mine’s gonna be bigger than yours.”  

That confidence lasted all of two seconds.  

Feeling a sudden tug, he swiftly yanked his tail up—only to be met with… a tiny, unimpressive pike dangling limply from the tip.  

His smirk evaporated.  

Bendy, meanwhile, had the smuggest look on his face, his purple eyes practically glowing with amusement.  

The red cub’s left eye twitched. His claws flexed.  

He narrowed his eyes and, in a dangerously low voice, warned, “Not. A. Word. ”  

Bendy’s grin only widened, his purple eyes gleaming with mischievous delight.  

“Relax! I’m not gonna laugh at you.” His voice carried a teasing lilt, despite the fact that his tail flicked with suppressed amusement. “That was a great catch.”  

The red cub, whose cheeks had turned a faint pink from embarrassment, shot him a glare. With a huff, he grabbed the small pike and hurled it back into the river as if trying to erase the memory of his less-than-impressive catch. Crossing his arms, he scowled at the ground, his tail flicking in irritation.  

Bendy, however, was already scheming.  

Without warning, he scooted closer to his prized trout, lifting it in both hands and bringing it right next to his face. Then, in a comically exaggerated voice, he wiggled the fish’s mouth.  

“Aww, don’t be upset, buddy! Next time, you’ll catch a fish hotter than me—Mr. Trout!”  

The red cub’s scowl soon deepened.  

“What... are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth.  

Bendy’s smirk widened. “Why, cheering you up, of course!” He bounced the fish up and down like a puppet. “No need to be grumpy, let’s let Mr. Trout give you a little kiss. That’ll make you feel better!”

The red cub’s pupils shrank. His body tensed.  

“Get that thing out of my face,” he hissed.  

But Bendy, fully in chaos mode, only grinned wider. “What’s wrong? Afraid of a little fishy affection?” Slowly, he inched the trout closer.  

The red cub’s lip curled. “If you put that thing in my fa—”  

Before he could finish, Bendy squished the fish against his mouth.  

For a moment, there was silence.  

Then—  

“AAAAAHHHH!!”  

The red cub screamed in absolute horror, his red eyes widening as he recoiled. He frantically wiped at his lips, gagging as if he’d been poisoned. “Bleh—pfft—ack!” He furiously spit out imaginary fish slime, even scooping up handfuls of river water to scrub at his mouth.  

Bendy, clutching his stomach, doubled over in laughter. His snickering quickly turned into full-blown cackling as he watched his friend panic.  

That was his mistake.  

A low, guttural growl rose from the red cub’s throat. His claws flexed. His wings twitched.  

Bendy’s laughter faltered. “...Oh boy.” He quickly held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, take it easy, it was just a joke—”  

Too late.  

With a sudden pounce, the red cub tackled Bendy to the ground.  

“GAH—!” Bendy yelped as he landed on his belly, the air momentarily knocked out of his lungs.

Before he could react, the red cub was already on top of him, straddling his chest and locking him in a tight chokehold.  

“Apologize!” the red cub demanded, tightening his grip just enough to make it uncomfortable.  

Bendy, arms flailing, wheezed out, “Never!!”

Their fight was less of a real fight and more of a chaotic tumble, filled with growls, yelps, and haphazard rolling across the dirt. The red cub tried every wrestling move he knew—headlocks, tail pins, even attempting to sit on Bendy’s back to force an apology.  

But Bendy had experience. Years of roughhousing with his siblings, Bucky and Lyris, had honed his play-fighting skills. He twisted his body at the last second, slipping from the red cub’s grip. Before his opponent could react, Bendy grabbed his wrists, braced himself—  

And flipped him.  

“WHOA—!!”

The red cub yelped as he was effortlessly lifted and tossed onto the ground with a solid thud.  

Bendy collapsed beside him, both of them sprawled on their backs, panting hard.  

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and the distant gurgling of the river.  

Then—  

A sound broke the silence.  

A soft chuckle.  

It started small, barely a breath, but then it grew into something deeper. A long, genuine, joyous laugh.  

Bendy was laughing.  

Not just any laugh, but one of pure, unfiltered happiness. The kind of laugh that bubbled up from deep within, one he had never quite felt before.  

The red cub blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, hearing Bendy’s laughter—something inside him clicked.  

Before he knew it, he was laughing too.  

At first, it was just a small, amused huff, but then it built into a full-on, belly-deep laugh. The kind that shook his whole body, made his stomach ache, and forced tears to prick at the corners of his eyes.

And together, their laughter joined into one—  

A single, harmonious sound of joy, peace, and happiness.

A few minutes passed, but the laughter was worth it. Even as it slowly faded into quiet chuckles, its warmth lingered between them like a comforting ember. The two cubs lay sprawled on the soft earth, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath. The river whispered beside them, its gentle current blending with the rustling leaves in the breeze.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace. A moment where nothing else mattered—no expectations, no worries—just the two of them and the sound of the world around them.  

The red cub exhaled deeply, the tension in his body melting away. He turned his head slightly to the side, eyeing Bendy with an amused smirk.  

"You're so weird," he muttered.  

Bendy tilted his head toward him, brows raised.  

The red cub’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “But you're funny."  

Bendy grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Thanks! My family says the same thing. My uncle finds it a little annoying, but I don’t care.”  

The red cub snorted. “Then your uncle’s the one missing out.”  

They both chuckled at that, the sound light and easy.  

After a moment, Bendy turned to him with a thoughtful hum. "Well, you're kinda funny too, dude."  

The red cub didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared up at the sky, his expression unreadable.  

Then—  

“Cletus.”  

Bendy blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”  

The red cub turned his head, meeting Bendy’s eyes. “My name,” he said simply. “It's Cletus. Cletus Kasady.”  

Bendy’s breath hitched.  

For a second, he just *looked* at the red cub—at *Cletus*. The name rolled around in his mind, settling like a new puzzle piece clicking into place. It was different, sure, but it fit.

It suited him.  

More than that, though, it meant something.  

Bendy had always believed that names weren’t just words; they were pieces of a person’s story, things you earned the right to know. And now, Cletus had given him that right.  

A slow, genuine smile spread across Bendy’s face. “Huh…” He sat up slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “Well, my name’s Bendy. Bendy Morales.”  

Cletus considered it for a moment, then nodded in approval.

“Bendy... that's a cool name.” He grinned slightly. “Do you mind if I call you Ben?"  

Bendy smirked. “Only if you don’t mind if I call you Kassy.”  

Cletus arched a brow. “Kassy?”  

Bendy shrugged. “What? Sounds cool.”  

To his surprise, Cletus let out a small chuckle. “I don’t mind.”  

With that, they both flopped back onto the ground, side by side, gazing up at the sky. The world around them felt quieter, the sounds of nature wrapping around them like a warm blanket. The sky, streaked with deep oranges and purples, stretched endlessly above, the first stars beginning to flicker into existence.  

For the first time in a long while, neither of them felt alone.  

And neither of them wanted this moment to end.

With a final stretch and a shake of their wings, the two cubs pushed themselves up from the ground. The warmth of their shared laughter still lingered between them, but Bendy had one more thing on his mind.

He turned to Cletus, his tail flicking curiously. “Hey, I’ve got a question.”  

Cletus raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”  

“If you aren't and don’t know anything about the Nine Realms... then where are you from?” Bendy asked, tilting his head.

For a moment, Cletus hesitated. His red eyes flickered with something unreadable—uncertainty, maybe even reluctance. He shifted on his feet, debating whether he should answer.  

“To be honest…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “If I told you, I don’t think you’d believe me. Just saying it wouldn’t be enough.”  

Bendy crossed his arms but gave a reassuring grin. “Hey, it’s okay. But still... It must be really far away.”  

Cletus glanced at the ground before smirking. “Actually, it’s really close.”  

Bendy’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

Instead of answering, Cletus’s expression shifted as an idea struck him. His tail gave a slight twitch of excitement.  

“I could show you,” he said, his voice carrying a note of eagerness.  

Bendy’s eyes widened, his wings perking up. “Seriously!? You mean it!?”  

Cletus chuckled. “It’s the least I can do. You saved my life... I owe you.”  

Bendy was already buzzing with anticipation, ready to say yes without a second thought. But just as the words formed in his throat, a realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.  

He hesitated.  

“I would love to... but i can't, not right now,” Bendy admitted, his excitement dimming slightly.  

Cletus expression soon shifted to confusion. “Why not?”  

Bendy sighed, rubbing his arm.

“I have to get home before sunset. And, uh…” He glanced at the sky, noticing the golden hues deepening into shades of crimson and violet. “Looks like it’s already getting close.” He sighed again, this time with regret. “Sorry.”  

For a moment, Cletus said nothing. His wings drooped ever so slightly, his expression neutral—but there was something in his eyes.

Disappointment.  

“Oh...” was all he said.  

Bendy noticed immediately. He wasn’t blind to the way Cletus’s excitement had deflated, and guilt tugged at him.  

Then, an idea sparked.  

“How about this?” Bendy grinned, his tail flicking behind him. “At midnight, right here—same spot—you show me where you came from. Deal?”  

Cletus blinked, his red eyes searching Bendy’s face, as if making sure he was serious. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a grin—a genuine, bright one.  

“Deal.”  

Their gazes locked for a second longer before Bendy stepped back, picking up the trout he had caught earlier.  

“Alright, then. Midnight it is!” he called over his shoulder, already making his way back toward the forest trail. “Don’t leave me hanging, Kassy!”  

Cletus watched him go, his grin lingering long after Bendy disappeared into the trees. The world around him was quiet again, the river continuing its soft murmuring. He glanced at the sky, watching as the last remnants of daylight faded into twilight.  

And for the first time in his life...  

Something special had happened today.  

He had made a friend.

A Few Minutes Later  

Bendy sprinted through the trees, his wings tucked close to his back to avoid getting snagged on low-hanging branches. The forest around him was bathed in the golden-orange hues of the setting sun, and shadows stretched long across the ground. His breath came in quick puffs, but it wasn’t exhaustion that pushed him forward—it was urgency.  

It wasn’t that he was afraid of his parents being upset with him for staying out so late. No, it was someone else that made him hurry. Someone far more intimidating.  

As he broke through the last line of trees, the cabin came into view—a sturdy, well-built home with thick wooden beams, smoke curling from the chimney, and the scent of roasting meat drifting through the cool evening air. But Bendy’s relief at reaching home on time was short-lived.  

Standing at the entrance, arms crossed over his massive chest, was him.  

Uncle Kratos.  

Bendy skidded to a stop so fast that dust kicked up around his claws. His uncle’s towering frame blocked the doorway like an unmovable mountain. Even in the dimming light, Bendy could make out the deep-set scowl on Kratos’s face, his red tattoo standing out sharply against his pale skin.  

Kratos’s golden eyes bore into him with an intensity that made Bendy’s stomach drop.  

“Where have you been?” Kratos asked, his voice deep and unwavering, as if he already knew the answer and was daring Bendy to lie.  

Bendy swallowed hard. His grip tightened around the trout in his hands.  

“I, uh… I went fishing?” He offered an awkward grin, holding up his catch. “Pretty big, huh? Heh…”  

Kratos’s expression didn’t change. He barely glanced at the fish before arching a thick brow.  

“Just one?” His voice carried a note of disappointment.

Bendy winced. He knew that tone. He’d heard it a hundred times before.  

“There weren’t many fish,” Bendy mumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably.  

Kratos exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t believe him. Bendy could tell.  

But then, something shifted in his uncle’s gaze. It was subtle, but there—a flicker of acknowledgment as he took in Bendy’s dirt-streaked clothes and the faint scent of river water clinging to him.  

He had worked to catch that fish.  

Kratos remained silent for a long moment, then gave the smallest of nods.  

Just this once.

“Next time,” Kratos rumbled, “catch two, or do not bother going at all.”  

Bendy bit the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Go inside. The others are waiting.”  

Bendy hesitated for half a second.  

A part of him wanted to say something—to tell Kratos that he hadn’t just been out wasting time. That he had saved a life today. That for once, maybe he deserved a little slack.  

But he didn’t say a word.  

Because he already knew how Kratos would react.  

Instead, he just let out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “...Okay.”  

He trudged past Kratos, stepping into the warm glow of the cabin.  

'Jerk', he thought bitterly.  

Inside his mind, he felt a flicker of agreement.  

‘V’ agrees.  

Bendy smirked a little at that, though it quickly faded. He shook the thoughts away and focused on what was next. His family would need his help cooking the fish, but there was something far more important on his mind.  

Midnight was coming.  

And his plan with Cletus had to be perfect.

A Few Hours Later  

Midnight had arrived, and the forest was eerily still.

The thick canopy overhead blocked most of the moonlight, allowing only slivers of silver to pierce through the leaves. A soft breeze rustled the branches, carrying the distant hoot of an owl and the occasional chirp of crickets.  

Cletus stood near the stream, shifting from foot to foot, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He had arrived on time—early, even—but there was still no sign of Bendy. His tail flicked anxiously behind him as he scanned the darkness, ears twitching at every little noise.  

“Come on... where are you, Bendy?” he muttered under his breath, pressing his back against a tree. He wanted to believe his new friend would show up, but with each passing minute, doubt crept in.  

His excitement was fading.  

His hope was slipping.  

Eventually, he sighed, lowering his gaze to the ground.  

“I knew it... Of course he wouldn’t come,” he mumbled bitterly. His claws scraped absentmindedly against the bark of the tree. “I'm such an idiot.”  

“Hey, Cletus!”  

“AAAAAHHHH!!” Cletus shrieked in pure terror, stumbling backward so fast that he lost his balance and landed flat on his back with a thud.  

Heart hammering in his chest, he frantically looked around—until his gaze snapped upward.  

There, dangling upside down from a thick branch, was Bendy. His tail was curled tightly around the wood, holding him in place like some kind of bat. His arms were crossed smugly over his chest, and a wide, teasing grin stretched across his face.  

“Wow, did you really think I wasn’t gonna show?” Bendy smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Wow, Cletus, I’m not gonna lie, i am deeply hurt.”  

Cletus, still lying on the ground, stared in disbelief for a second—then his face twisted with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.  

“Don’t scare me like that!” he snapped, scrambling to his feet. His tail bristled slightly, his ears pinned back. “I almost had a heart attack, you jerk!”  

Bendy chuckled, effortlessly uncoiling his tail from the branch and flipping down onto the ground in a graceful landing.  

“Oh, relax,” he said, still grinning. “No harm done.”  

Cletus huffed, dusting himself off. “Whatever. Were you followed?”  

“Nope,” Bendy answered, stretching his arms above his head. “And you?”  

Cletus shook his head. “No, I made sure of it.”  

Bendy’s grin widened. “Then I guess you could say I’m a master of stealth.” He struck a playful pose, puffing out his chest.  

Cletus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Master of giving people heart attacks, maybe.”  

Bendy snickered. “Same thing.”  

Cletus sighed but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Maybe Bendy was a bit of a troublemaker...

but at least he kept his promise.

The cool night air hummed with anticipation as Bendy turned to Cletus, his tail flicking with curiosity. The forest around them was still, the distant hoot of an owl the only sound breaking the silence.

"So… which way is your village?" Bendy finally asked, tilting his head.  

Cletus grinned mischievously. "Hehe, like I said before—it's closer than you think."  

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glowing object.  

Bendy's sharp eyes instantly locked onto it. The item in Cletus’ palm was a peculiar blue diamond, no larger than a coin, yet it pulsed with an otherworldly glow—like a piece of the night sky trapped within a gemstone. Streaks of light swirled inside, shifting and shimmering like a tiny galaxy.  

“Whoa…” Bendy breathed, his eyes wide with awe. “What is that?”  

Cletus smirked at his reaction. “This is a portal crystal,” he said, rolling it between his fingers. “And this is how we’re getting to my home.”  

Before Bendy could ask another question, Cletus casually tossed the crystal into the air.  

The instant it left his fingertips, the gemstone erupted with radiant blue light, spinning rapidly as a faint hum filled the air. Suddenly, with a sound like a rushing wind, the crystal expanded—unfolding into a swirling blue vortex. Energy crackled along the edges of the portal, casting eerie, shimmering reflections against the nearby trees.  

Bendy’s jaw nearly hit the ground. His purple eyes reflected the portal’s glow as he stared, completely stunned. His face in disbelief.  

Cletus, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear. “Impressive, huh?” he teased, watching Bendy’s stunned expression.  

Bendy didn’t answer—his mouth was still hanging open.  

Cletus chuckled and casually stepped toward the glowing gateway. “So... You coming or not?” He shot Bendy a playful look over his shoulder.  

Snapping out of his trance, Bendy shook his head vigorously. “Oh, heck yeah I’m coming!” he exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over.

Without another thought, the two stepped into the portal together.  

The moment they crossed the threshold, a sensation like being pulled through rushing water surrounded Bendy. He felt weightless, like he was floating through space, his body tingling as light swirled around him.  

And then—  

With a whoosh, they landed on solid ground.  

As Bendy steadied himself, his ears perked up at the unfamiliar sounds around him. The air smelled different—old, sour, crisp, and laced with something almost... electric. The sky above was unlike anything he had ever seen.  

His breath hitched as he took in his surroundings.

Cletus turned to him with a knowing smirk. “We're here.”

The moment Bendy blinked and regained his balance, he noticed their surroundings. They were standing in a narrow alleyway, dimly lit by a flickering neon sign that buzzed overhead. The walls were damp, covered in strange graffiti that glowed faintly in the dark.

Trash and discarded metal scraps littered the ground. A strong, unfamiliar scent filled the air—a mix of oil, burning wires, and something that vaguely smelled like old fruit.  

Bendy wrinkled his nose. “Nice place,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  

Cletus shot him an unimpressed look. “Haha. Very funny,” he deadpanned. Then, without warning, he grabbed Bendy’s arm and yanked him forward. “Come on.”  

As they stepped out of the alley, Bendy’s jaw dropped.  

Before him stretched an enormous underground city, glowing with neon lights and teeming with life. Skyscrapers made of metal and stone loomed above, their jagged edges giving the skyline a chaotic, mismatched look. Suspended bridges and catwalks connected the buildings, while below, streets bustled with creatures of all shapes and sizes.  

Bendy’s golden eyes darted from one bizarre sight to the next. Vendors lined the streets, selling things he hoped were food—though some items squirmed on their own, and others let off strange, glowing fumes.

Mechanical drones zipped overhead, their blue lenses scanning the crowds. In the distance, an enormous hover-train roared past, disappearing into a tunnel lined with pulsating blue lights.  

It was like stepping into another dimension.

“Impressive, huh?” Cletus said with a grin, throwing his arms out. “Welcome to Undertown! The best stop for all races on Earth.” He gave Bendy a playful nudge. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Still wide-eyed, Bendy followed as Cletus led him through the bustling streets. The cub’s head was on a constant swivel, trying to take in every bizarre and fascinating detail. He passed towering reptilian creatures draped in shimmering robes, insect-like beings clicking mandibles as they bartered, and even a floating, jellyfish-like entity that communicated by flashing different colors.  

He was so captivated that he almost didn’t notice the *massive* shadow looming over him.  

“BENDY!!”  

Cletus’ yell snapped him back just in time.  

A giant foot crashed down inches away from him, sending a shockwave through the ground.

Bendy stumbled back, staring up at the hulking creature before him—a Vaxasaurian, at least ten feet tall, covered in thick brown armor-like scales. The beast’s yellow eyes locked onto him with an irritated glare.

“Watch where you’re going, runt,” the Vaxasaurian rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice.  

Bendy swallowed hard. “Uh… yeah. My bad.”  

Cletus, unfazed, shot the massive alien a glare before quickly pulling Bendy away.  

“Look, I know this is all amazing, but pay attention,” Cletus warned. “There are a lot of big guys around here, and you don’t wanna end up as a stain on the pavement.”  

Bendy nodded quickly. “Noted.”

After weaving through a few more streets, they finally reached their destination.  

“Here it is...” Cletus said, his voice turning soft with nostalgia. “Home sweet home.”  

Bendy blinked, looking up at the building in front of them.  

It was... not what he expected.  

The structure was old—very, very, VERY old.

It looked like a mix between a junkyard shack and a run-down spaceship, its metal exterior covered in dents and patches of rust.

Various wires and pipes stuck out from the walls, some sparking faintly. A single, flickering light hung above the entrance, barely keeping the place illuminated.

The roof was uneven, and Bendy could swear the whole thing was tilting slightly to the left, as if it could collapse at any second.

He slowly pointed at it, his expression filled with doubt. “You live in this?”  

“Yep.” Cletus nodded, completely unfazed. “It’s not the prettiest or the most comfortable, but—” he smirked “—it’s home.”  

Bendy side-eyed him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”  

Cletus rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” He stepped toward the door, motioning for Bendy to follow. “Now stop gawking and let’s go inside.”  

Taking one last skeptical glance at the tilting house, Bendy sighed.  

“This is gonna be interesting...” he muttered under his breath before stepping in after Cletus.

The door creaked loudly as Bendy stepped inside, and the moment he did, a musty, unwashed smell hit him like a brick wall. His golden eyes scanned the interior, and his face twisted in discomfort.

The place was a mess.  

Old clothes and scraps of fabric were strewn haphazardly across the floor. Unwashed plates stacked on top of each other in the sink, some still filled with what looked like week-old food.

The wooden floorboards creaked under Bendy’s weight, sticky in some places and slick in others. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he swore he saw a dead mouse lying in the corner, partially hidden under a ragged blanket.

Cletus, noticing his reaction, chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about the mess. I don’t usually have visitors.” He bent down, hurriedly scooping up some of the clutter and tossing it into another room before wiping his hands against his already-dirty shorts. “Actually... you’re the first one I’ve had in, like, years.”  

That made Bendy pause.  

Years?  

Didn’t Cletus have any friends? What about his parents?  

His expression shifted to concern as he glanced at his red-skinned companion. “So, uh... it’s okay for me to stay here, right? I mean... do your parents know about me?”  

Cletus waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s no one. I live alone.” He said it so casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, while he continued tidying up—though his version of ‘cleaning’ mostly involved kicking things under the couch.

Bendy’s frown deepened. Something about that answer didn’t sit right with him.  

“...Wait,” he said slowly. “What about your parents?”  

Cletus barely glanced at him. “Oh, I don’t have parents. I’m an orphan.” He said it with a shrug, like it was nothing more than a fun fact, completely oblivious to the way Bendy’s face twisted in shock.

The words took a moment to fully sink in.  

Bendy wasn’t expecting that.  

His tail flicked uneasily behind him as he hesitated before asking, “…Wait. If you’re an orphan, then how did you, like... grow up? Someone had to take care of you, right?”  

Cletus finally stopped his half-hearted cleaning and scratched the back of his head, his tone still irritatingly nonchalant.

“Oh yeah, sure. Some folks here in Undertown found me when I was just a little cub, dumped in some huge old cargo box.” He snorted, as if it were some joke. “They took care of me for a bit—gave me food, some clothes, a place to sleep. Then, as soon as I turned seven, they chucked me out on the streets.” He let out a wistful sigh. “Ah, good times.”  

Bendy could only stare.  

His stomach twisted as he processed what he had just heard. That was—what? That wasn’t ‘good times,’ that was horrible!  

“Wait, wait, wait…” Bendy shook his head, trying to grasp the full weight of what Cletus had just said. “How old are you?”  

“Ten,” Cletus answered instantly. “Why?”  

Bendy’s eyes widened even further. “...Cletus, you’ve been on your own for three years?!”  

“Well, yeah,” Cletus said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But that doesn’t mean it was all bad. Look at me! I have a job, I have a house—” he gestured grandly toward the rust-covered metal walls, which looked like they might collapse at any second “—and I even have my own bed.”  

Bendy followed his hand… to what could barely be classified as a bed.  

It was little more than a ragged mattress with springs poking out at odd angles, covered in a nest of old blankets that looked like they hadn’t been washed in months.

Bendy could see something crawling in there.  

A shudder ran down his spine.

Cletus, however, didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Instead, he leaned back with a satisfied grin.

“Yeah, a life without adults ordering me around or telling me what to do. Just me and my own responsibilities.” He sighed in contentment. “That’s life.”  

Bendy stared at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions—disbelief, pity, frustration.  

Did Cletus really believe this was the best life could offer him? That being alone, struggling to survive, was somehow freedom?  

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. But Cletus must have caught onto his expression, because his grin faded slightly, and he quickly clapped his hands together.  

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking,” he said before Bendy could even speak. “But seriously, it’s not that bad. And actually...” His grin returned, though this time, there was a spark of excitement in his crimson eyes. “I wanna show you something.”  

Bendy tilted his head. “What is it?”  

Cletus smirked. “Just trust me.”  

With that, he turned and motioned for Bendy to follow, disappearing into another part of the house.  

Despite everything, Bendy hesitated for only a second before sighing and following after him.  

Following Cletus through the cluttered interior of his house, Bendy soon found himself stepping out onto a narrow ledge. The cool night air hit his face, and he hesitated as he watched Cletus effortlessly clamber up the side of the building, using cracks in the wall and rusted pipes like a natural-born climber.

The cub moved with an almost practiced ease, his fingers gripping the jagged edges as if he had done this a thousand times before.  

"You coming?" Cletus called down, his smirk illuminated by the glow of a flickering streetlamp nearby.  

For a moment, Bendy wanted to say no. His instincts screamed at him that this was a terrible idea. But something about Cletus’ confidence made backing out feel… embarrassing.  

Swallowing hard, Bendy reached up, gripping the wall. The surface was rough against his palms, the texture uneven with chipped bricks and loose mortar. Every move felt like a gamble. He had to be careful. The pipes groaned under his weight, and the sensation of being suspended above nothingness sent a shiver down his spine.  

Meanwhile, Cletus climbed like a stray cat, light on his feet, barely making a sound. He never second-guessed where to step, navigating the ascent with ease.  

'V, I swear on my life, if you let us both die, I'll kill you myself.'

Bendy cursed at the voice in his head, but ‘V’ remained silent, either ignoring him or amused by his suffering.  

The higher he climbed, the worse it got. The wind howled softly, and the distance between him and the safety of the ground grew. His grip was tight—too tight—but panic clawed at him. The metal pipes felt unstable, some wobbling under his touch.  

Then—  

CRACK!

Bendy's left hand clutched a crooked pipe, and the moment his weight pulled on it, the rusted metal groaned in protest before suddenly yanking downward.  

"Aah!" he shrieked, his stomach lurching as his body slipped slightly. He managed to catch himself, his fingers scraping against rough brick, his feet dangling momentarily. His breath came in ragged gasps as he glanced down.  

Big mistake.  

The alley below seemed miles away, and the thought of crashing down onto the hard pavement sent a bolt of terror through his chest. His fingers tightened desperately, pressing himself against the wall like a gecko clinging to glass. If he let go now, he was done for.  

"Hey, Ben," a voice called casually.  

Bendy's eyes darted upward. Cletus stood at the rooftop’s edge, hands on his hips, a smug grin on his face. He was perfectly relaxed, as if the whole climb had been nothing more than a fun stroll up a staircase.

"How’s it hanging?" Cletus teased.  

Bendy gritted his teeth. "Grr—Cletus, can you give me a hand or not?!" His voice wavered slightly, betraying his nerves.  

Cletus chuckled, kneeling down and extending a hand. "Hehe, sure, come on—give me your hand."  

Bendy hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching up. Their fingers locked, and with a surprising amount of strength for his small frame, Cletus pulled Bendy up the rest of the way.  

The moment his feet hit solid rooftop, Bendy collapsed onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. The night sky stretched above them, the stars twinkling in the darkness, but all he could focus on was the solid ground beneath him.  

Cletus, meanwhile, just grinned. "See? Not so bad, right?"  

Bendy groaned. "I think I just aged ten years."  

Cletus laughed.

"Well, at least now you're getting old with me."

"Okay, but what's so important that you're risking my life, huh?" Bendy huffed, his voice laced with impatience as he brushed off the lingering adrenaline from their climb.  

Cletus shot him a knowing smirk. "Come here, and I'll show you," he said calmly, his tone carrying a hint of mystery.

Without another word, he turned and started walking across the rooftop. Bendy followed, but something felt... off.

Cletus was deliberately blocking his view, stepping in front of him just enough to obscure whatever he was leading him toward. His body language was relaxed, but there was a certain anticipation in the way he moved.  

"Hey—what’s with the secrecy?" Bendy muttered, trying to peek around him.  

"Just trust me," Cletus said over his shoulder, his tail flicking with amusement.  

The rooftop's edge came into view, and just when Bendy was about to push past him, Cletus finally stepped aside.  

"Here it is: Best view in my neighborhood!" he announced proudly, stretching his arms out as if he were presenting a grand prize.  

For a second, Bendy didn’t know what he was looking at. Then his breath caught in his throat.  

"...Wow," he whispered, his purple eyes widening in awe.  

Below them was a part of Undertown unlike anything he had ever seen. Every other area Bendy had passed through had been grimy, packed with makeshift markets, rusting metal structures, and streets that reeked of oil and damp stone. But this—this was something else entirely.  

The streets in this district were pristine, gleaming under the golden glow of well-maintained lamps. The buildings stood tall, their polished surfaces reflecting the city lights. Unlike the cramped, crooked homes in the lower districts, these looked modern, strong—untouched by decay.

But what truly dominated the skyline were the three massive golden towers in the very center, shining like a beacon in the dark. They looked almost surreal, as if they had been ripped straight out of some ancient fairy tale, standing like a grand castle that ruled over everything beneath it.  

"Amazing, huh?" Cletus asked, his voice softer now, carrying a mix of admiration and longing. The golden lights flickered in his red eyes, making them look even more intense.  

Bendy could only nod. "That's... beautiful." His words came out in an honest breath, as if he didn’t even realize he had spoken them.  

"Yeah, it is..." Cletus admitted, but there was something in his tone—something deeper than just admiration. He tilted his head toward the three golden towers. "But that’s not everything. Do you see those? Right in the center?"

Bendy followed his gaze to the towers, their golden glow standing out even more against the darkness of the surrounding city.  

"That’s where I’m going to live."  

Bendy’s head snapped toward him in surprise. "Really?"  

Cletus didn’t hesitate. "Yup," he said firmly. "That’s where the most respected and admired people in Undertown live. Only the strongest, the smartest, the ones who make it to the top. So if I can get there, no one will ever call me filthy or useless again. I’ll finally have respect."  

His voice was steady, but there was a quiet fire beneath it—an unshakable determination that made Bendy pause.  

"Is that what you want?" Bendy asked, his curiosity genuine.  

"More than anything," Cletus replied, his red eyes burning with fierce resolve. "And I won’t stop until I get it."  

For a moment, Bendy just watched him. He could see it—the hunger, the ambition. It wasn’t just some childish dream; Cletus truly believed in this. He had a fire inside him, one that couldn’t be extinguished.  

And for some reason, Bendy found that... inspiring.  

"Well," he said, a small smirk forming, "I gotta admit—that’s kinda badass."  

Cletus glanced at him, then chuckled. "Thanks."

As they stood together on the rooftop, overlooking the gleaming towers of the Upper Area, Bendy realized something.  

Cletus didn’t just want to climb buildings.  

He wanted to climb his way to the top of the world.

Even with everything they had just talked about—the golden towers, the Upper Area, Cletus' dreams—one lingering thought refused to leave Bendy’s mind. It sat there, itching at the back of his brain, a question he had been holding back since the moment they met.  

It felt weird to say it out loud, but the more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him. Finally, he just blurted it out.  

"You know... I didn’t say anything before because I thought it would be kinda weird, but… you noticed that we both look almost the same, right?"  

Cletus blinked. He had noticed. It was impossible not to. The two of them were nearly identical in build and features—right down to the sharp horns curling from their heads and the reptilian texture of their skin.

If it weren’t for Bendy’s dark gray-black coloring and those glowing purple eyes, Cletus might have mistaken him for a reflection.  

"Yeah… I noticed," Cletus admitted, tilting his head. Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "The only real difference is that you look like you took a tar bath."  

Bendy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, really? Well, you look like you got tossed into a pile of crushed red berries."  

For a second, there was silence. Then, both of them broke into laughter. The sound echoed over the rooftops, light and carefree, as if all the heaviness of their earlier conversation had been lifted.  

Cletus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. "Yeah, but I'm not gonna lie—the way you look, I'd swear you were my brother."  

Bendy paused, blinking at him. It was a simple comment, but something about it made him think.  

"I guess..." he murmured.  

A strange silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but there was a weight to it—like they had stumbled onto something deeper without meaning to. Bendy shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say next.  

And then, Cletus spoke.

"You know... I’ve always wanted a brother."  

Bendy’s breath hitched slightly, and he turned to look at Cletus. His red eyes were serious—not in a forced way, not in a joking way. Just… honest. There was no lie in them, no bravado, no mask of humor.  

For a moment, Bendy just stared at him, absorbing the words. Cletus wasn’t saying it to be sentimental. He wasn’t looking for pity. He just meant it.  

A slow, genuine smile spread across Bendy’s face.  

"Then I guess your wish has come true," he said.  

Cletus stared at him for a beat before grinning wide, flashing sharp teeth in amusement. "Guess so."  

They stood there for a moment longer, side by side, staring out over the glowing cityscape.  

For all the differences between them, for all the struggles they had faced in their own lives, neither of them had ever felt like they truly belonged anywhere.  

But maybe, just maybe, they had found something here.  

"Alright, enough of the sappy stuff," Bendy said, shaking off the sentimental moment with a playful grin. Without warning, he slung his left arm over Cletus' shoulder and pulled him close. "How about this—what if I help you get to the top?"  

Cletus blinked, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"  

Bendy gestured toward the three golden towers in the distance, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the soft glow of the city lights.

"Think about it. With our combined skills, you'll be closer than ever. We work together, we watch each other's backs, and before you know it, bam! You’re standing right up there with the best of ‘em."  

Cletus stared at the towers for a moment, his mind turning over the idea. It was ambitious. Insane, even.

The thought of reaching that level—of clawing his way up from the bottom of Undertown—had always felt like a distant dream. Something only the lucky or the powerful could accomplish.  

"Do you really think we can do it?" he asked, doubt creeping into his voice.  

Bendy smirked. "I don’t think so—I know we can." He turned to face Cletus, his purple eyes burning with determination.

Then, he extended his right fist toward him.

"So, what do you say?"  

For a second, Cletus hesitated. A part of him wanted to say no. To brush it off as just another crazy idea that would never work.  

But then he looked at Bendy—the confidence in his stance, the fire in his eyes, the way he carried himself like nothing was impossible.  

And in that moment, Cletus realized something: he didn’t *want* to say no.  

With a slow grin, he lifted his left fist, meeting Bendy’s in a solid bump.  

"Together until the end?" Cletus asked, a newfound excitement creeping into his voice.  

"Until the end," Bendy confirmed with a grin.  

Their fists lingered for a second longer, the silent promise settling between them like an unspoken oath. This wasn’t just about making a deal—it was the start of something bigger.  

A partnership.

A brotherhood.  

The beginning of a bond that would change both of their lives forever.

"Okay, now how about we do something fun?" Bendy said, his signature mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Cletus arched an eyebrow, already wary of whatever crazy idea his friend had in mind. But the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his curiosity. "It depends. What do you have in mind?"

Bendy's eyes gleamed with excitement as he suddenly took a few steps back, bouncing on his heels like an overcharged spring. "How about... A race! Last one to the bottom is the bride of a Gronckle!"

Before Cletus could even process the challenge, Bendy bolted down the hill, his laughter ringing through the air.

"Wha—Hey! That's not fair! I wasn’t even ready!" Cletus yelled, but his protests quickly turned into determination as he kicked off the ground, sprinting after him.

And thus a great friendship...

Begins.

(Cletus)
When I'm on the top
No one in Undertown will break my stride
Break my stride
And my brother

Bendy, laughing breathlessly, catches up and harmonizes with him.

(Bendy)
My brother

(Cletus)
When I'm on top
You'll always take my side

(Bendy)
Ha!
Yeah, right

(Cletus)
That's right
When I am on the top

(Bendy)
When you are on the top

(Cletus)
No one in Undertown will break our pride
Break our pride
And my brother

(Bendy)
My brother

(Cletus)
Our enemies may run away
But they can't hide

(Bendy)
Watch your hide

(Cletus)
Let's go
Let's go

(Bendy and Cletus)
Let's go!

The choir chimes in as the duo dashes through the city streets, dodging past surprised onlookers and leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

(Choir)
Hey
Did your parents say
You could be up this late?

(Bendy)
Okay
They didn't say
Either way

(Bendy and Cletus)
Hide away
Let's go!

Choir:
Hey
Did your family say
You could be out this far?

(Bendy)
Okay
We're on our way

(Bendy and Cletus)
On our way
Run away
Let's go!

Choir:
Hey
Did your parents say
You could be up this late?

(Cletus)
You're very sharp

(Bendy and Cletus)
Yes, you are
Yes, you are
Let's go!

(Choir)
Hey
Did your parents say
You could be out this far?