The Forgotten Strait groaned. The organic walls, sensitive to the vibrations of the soul, began to crack under the pressure of a foreign energy. It was no longer just darkness that reigned, but a storm of conflicting powers.
At the northern entrance, a wave of absolute frost pulverized the rock formations. Hel appeared, carried by a blizzard of frozen ash. Her skin, half porcelain, half corpse, glowed with cold fury. Behind her, the air seemed to tear apart.
"You hide the Anomaly in decay," she spat, her voice freezing the insects that tried to approach her. "Give it back to me, or I will make this strait the tomb of your two pantheons." "
At the southern entrance, the ground turned to liquid magma. Hades stepped forward, his invisibility helmet removed, revealing a face of marble blackened by eternal fire. At his side, even more imposing, Pluto wielded a black gold spear, symbol of wealth and inevitable death.
"This strait is under my jurisdiction, Queen of the North," thundered Hades, his cloak of shadows spreading like bat wings. "The Anomaly belongs to Tartarus. You have crossed the border. This is an act of war that even Odin cannot justify."
"Borders no longer exist for those who seek to break the cycle," replied Pluto, his voice echoing like gold coins clattering in a tomb.
At the center of this triangle of death, hidden behind a fold of rock, Jormund, Siegfried, and Fenrir watched the scene. The air had become unbreathable, saturated with the ozone of Hades' black lightning and the biting cold of Hel.
"They're here... all three of them," whispered Siegfried, his hand trembling against the battered wall of the strait. "If a single blow is struck, this tunnel will collapse on us." "
Jormund did not respond. He stared at Hel. For the first time, he saw the Queen of the Dead not as a jailer, but as a prey cornered by her own obsession. He felt the Anomaly vibrating within him; time seemed to slow around him, reacting to the presence of the three deities.
"They're not here for us," Jormund suddenly understood. "They're here to prove who is strongest. We are merely the spark."
Hel raised her emaciated arm. A spear of pure ice materialized in her hand. Opposite her, Hades raised his bident, and Pluto struck the ground with his spear, creating a shockwave that shook the underground mountains.
The triangle was formed. The Forgotten Strait was no longer a passageway; it was an arena.
"Pay the price," Hel shouted as she lunged forward.
The first clash between the northern ice and the Olympian fire shattered the ceiling of the strait. The battle of the three Thrones had begun.