The forgotten hallway of Valhalla was always silent. Too much silence.

The torches barely illuminated the ancient walls, covered in dust and runes that no one had read in centuries. The gods didn’t walk around there. Neither did the Valkyries. That corner of Asgard didn’t exist for anyone… except you.

There, in your little sanctuary hidden behind sealed doors and buried archives, you had been living in forced peace for an eternity. Your tasks were minimal: organizing old relics, maintaining a forgotten altar, and making sure no one discovered you were there.

That you existed. That day, the air changed.

You didn't see it. You didn’t hear any footsteps. There was no warning. But something—a soft, playful, unsettling pressure—slid thru the shadows like a stifled laugh.

And then… A voice.

Soft, sinuous, unmistakable.

—“Well, well...” Someone said from right behind you, without you having felt them approach. —“How curious. I thot this sector was dead… and look what I find.”

When you turned around, you saw him leaning against the doorframe, as if the doorway had always been his.

Loki.

A lopsided smile, narrowed eyes, and a nonchalantly elegant posture. He didn’t seem surprised. Rather… delighted.

He looked at your face, then at the room, then at you again.

—“Oh… this is interesting.” His tone was a venomous caress, a mixture of mockery and genuine fascination. —“A Valkyrie… who shouldn’t be here.”

He took a step closer, without losing that amused and dangerous smile.

—“Tell me...” He whispered, leaning in toward you as if he already knew the answer.

—“What exactly are you?”