The boots of Asgardian paladins pressed into scorched earth. Ash kicked up with every step. Wind whispered through the blackened trees—what few still stood.
Thor stopped at the edge of what used to be a village.
The ground was littered with broken planks, caved-in rooftops, skeletal wagons, and scorch marks too deep to be from any fire they knew. One of the huts had collapsed in on itself, roof burnt through, like something had torn out from inside.
His jaw tightened.
"This place…" one of the soldiers said, scanning the area. "It's not recent."
Thor crouched. His gloved hand hovered over a bloodstain darkened by time. Not fresh, but not old either. Something had happened here.
He stood again, eyes drifting up to the sky. No sign of the Yggdrasil veins. No rune lights. Not even a pull of seidr.
"This isn't any realm I know," he muttered.
"Could it be hidden?" another asked. "A sealed pocket? A lost branch of the World Tree?"
"No," Thor replied. "It's not connected at all. Feels like something else entirely."
They moved further in.
Past a burned well.
Past a stone wall, cracked from heat.
The smell of ash was thick. Underneath it—iron and something foul. Not rot. Something worse.
They came across a hut still intact. The door slammed shut the second they stepped near. A pair of frightened eyes peeked through the slits.
Thor raised a hand. "We're not here to hurt anyone."
No answer.
Another soldier called out. "What is this land? What happened here?"
The only reply was the slam of shutters, hurried footsteps inside, and someone whispering a word.
"Demons."
Thor's eyes narrowed. His thoughts turned quickly.
Demons. Hellspawn. Fire erupting from beneath.
But not Helheim. Not Muspelheim either.
And definitely not his world.
"Hades?" he muttered under his breath. "No… wrong smell. Wrong feel."
Still… the chaos, the fire, the way this place had been ripped apart. It all reminded him of places he thought he'd left behind.
He walked a little farther. Then stopped.
A familiar boot print. Big. Heavy. Not recent… but not worn either.
He crouched again. Pressed his fingers into the dirt.
Kratos.
He'd been here.
Thor straightened up. His gaze drifted to the horizon. Cold air brushed past his shoulders.
So. He wasn't just guessing anymore.
He was here.
And he didn't run far.
Thor looked around one last time, then signaled to the others. "Spread out. Don't draw blades unless you need to. Watch the shadows."
One of the paladins hesitated. "You really think it's him?"
Thor didn't respond right away.
He just looked forward, hand resting on Mjölnir's leather strap.
Then he said, calmly:
"He doesn't hide. If he's here, we'll find him."
And if he left traces, they wouldn't be far behind.