Asgard.
Odin's Castle.
Odin paced back and forth across the vast, shadow-draped hall of his castle, the Allfather's restless steps echoing against the cold silver floor.
His single remaining eye flickered like a storm, filled with impatience and anxiety, while his ravens—Huginn and Muninn—perched silently upon the iron beams above, too wary to speak.
Every few steps, Odin would halt before the tall, ancient mirror that stood beside his throne, its dark glass swirling faintly with faint traces of violet light.
It was a relic gifted to him by Nyx herself, a conduit of communication across the boundaries of cosmos, yet now it stood quiet and unmoving, as though mocking his anticipation.
"Come on," Odin muttered under his breath, the veins on his temple pulsing. "Why hasn't she called yet?"
His fingers clenched around his spear, Gungnir's shaft, tapping it restlessly against the marble floor.
