Taufik leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, voice low but edged with interest. "…Some amazing eyes you've got there"

For a moment, the shadows around him thickened, curling faintly against the light. His next words carried a quiet gravity that made even Lysandra's eyes flicker.

"Tell me, Princess, what are you to Fate?" He smiled faintly. "His agent?"

Elaria tilted her head, genuine confusion clouding her otherwise serene composure. "Him? The Norns, you mean?"

"…The Norns?"

This time, it was Taufik's turn to falter. His brow furrowed. Of course, he knew who they were, the three sisters of Norse mythology, ancient weavers who measured every thread of existence: Urðr, the Past; Verðandi, the Present; and Skuld, the Future. They dwelled beneath the roots of Yggdrasil, weaving the destinies of gods and mortals alike.

But that wasn't what puzzled him.

From what Taufik understood, gods and goddesses were not the concepts themselves. They were merely holders of those powers, vessels granted with authority over fundamental truths. The Norns might weave the fabric of destiny within their world, but the Concept of Fate was far older, far greater.

To him, Fate was not a title, nor a trinity of goddesses. It was a Being, a Conceptual Entity that determined not just the destinies within one universe, but the balance of all creation itself. The Norns were its hands; Fate was the will that moved them.

And above even that, Taufik knew of the Creator, the one who existed before all things. Known by countless names across worlds, in Yggdrasil they called Him Ginnungagap.

But before the first light, before the first breath, before even the gods, there were only two creations: The Fate and The Will.

So how could she, an elven princess of light, not know?

"…You really don't know anything about The Fate?" he asked slowly. His voice dropped, a strange mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Or any other Conceptual Entity?"

Elaria shook her head once, her silver blindfold catching the light like liquid moonstone.

"No," she said simply. "I have seen countless threads of life, of gods, of mortal dreams, but never something by that name"

Taufik's eyes narrowed slightly. The shadow around his form pulsed once, faintly distorting the light.

"…Then what about Lady Death?" he pressed.

Elaria's lips parted. "Lady… Death?" she echoed uncertainly. Then, as though reaching for something familiar, she added, "You mean Hel? The Goddess of Death... the Queen of Helheim?"

Taufik's expression didn't change, but the silence that followed deepened, thick, strange, and thoughtful.

'... So they only know the gods, not the Concepts behind them? That's... troublesome'

For the first time, he began to suspect something far more unsettling: that Álfheimr, and perhaps the Nine Realms themselves, were not built upon the same cosmic truth as his own reality.

'Or maybe… just maybe… the Fate is only known to us, only in my universe? But why so?' Taufik's thoughts spiraled inward, sharp and quiet. 'Is it because my Earth was the last Creation of the Creator? Or… is there something else?'

He blinked slowly. For the first time since he'd arrived in Álfheimr, his composure faltered, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of realization.

"…Hel, huh." He finally muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose before letting out a soft, humorless chuckle. "No, not that kind of death. I mean Death itself, the entity, the Conceptual Being known as Lady Death"

The very name seemed to ripple through the crystal hall. A tremor passed along the runes etched into the pillars; the light in the chamber dimmed as though some ancient law had been momentarily defied. Even sound itself seemed to bow in silence.

Elaria's brows knitted beneath her veil. She repeated the name like tasting an unfamiliar word. "Lady Death…? No such being exists within our archives. Death is Hel's dominion"

Taufik exhaled, his eyes half-lidded, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips.

"Then your archives," he said softly, "are missing a few chapters"

Caelir stepped forward, hand tightening around his sword, his voice ringing sharp and cold. "Watch your tongue, outsider. You speak as though the gods are beneath you... beneath your world"

Taufik's gaze slid lazily toward him, unfazed.

"That's because they are." His tone was calm, deadly calm. "Your gods, your divinities, your so-called creators... they're just tenants borrowing divine power. Concepts don't kneel to gods, boy. They are the bedrock upon which your reality stands"

The air cracked with outrage. A dozen Celestial Guards rose to their feet, wings flaring, weapons blazing with condensed sunlight.

But before a single word of command could leave Caelir's lips, Lysandra lifted a hand.

"Enough... Let him speak," Her voice was soft, but it stilled the room. The golden light of authority wrapped around her like a silent command, and one by one, the Celestials lowered their weapons.

Taufik's attention returned to her. He studied her for a long moment, then walked forward, unhurried, until he stood beside Thalia's throne. He leaned lightly against its armrest, earning a quiet intake of breath from the attendants.

"…Your pantheon," Taufik said finally, his tone measured but unflinching, "…your Light, even this world, all of it was built on Concepts. You worship the shapes cast by the flame, you see the shapes… but never the source"

For a heartbeat, silence stretched through the hall. Lysandra's expression did not change, but something, some faint shimmer, passed through her eyes. It wasn't anger. It was memory.

Recognition.

Or perhaps… remembrance.

When she spoke, her voice was softer than before, no longer regal, but curious, almost reverent.

"Then tell us," she said, "what is this Fate you speak of… if not the Norns?"

Taufik looked at her for a long, unreadable moment. Then, he smiled, not mockingly, but almost gently.

"Fate," he began, "is not a name. It's not a trio of goddesses, nor a tapestry of threads. It's the first Thought the Creator ever had, the rule that binds all creation, the logic that reality itself can't disobey"

He lifted a hand, and the shadows followed, forming faint spirals in the air, twisting into symbols no one in Álfheimr could read.

"Your Norns weave lives," he continued, voice low, "but Fate weaves worlds. It decides what can exist, and what can never be. The moment the Creator spoke the first Word, Fate was already listening, writing the consequences of that Word into eternity"

He turned his gaze upward, to the luminous spires above. "Your Light exists because Fate allowed it. Your gods reign because Will permitted them to. Everything, your heaven, your hell, even your Queen, is bound to those two forces"

The last sentence hung in the air, heavy, electric, undeniable.

And though the Queen did not rise, every light in the hall flickered once, like the world itself had stopped to listen.

"... You speak as if you know everything," Prince Ardyn Ljósaara, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke up. His voice was calm but carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed. "But who are you to these two beings you call Fate and Will? You speak as if you know them very well"

Taufik cast him a glance, sharp, assessing, and utterly indifferent. For a moment, the light in the hall seemed to dim against the depth of his gaze. Then he smirked faintly.

"Who am I?" he said, his tone half amusement, half memory. "In my reality, I was called by many names. Some called me The Will's Last Remains..." his eyes drifted upward, as though recalling something, "...while others called me The Defiant. The One Who Defies the Fate"

A hush fell over the hall. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. The living runes engraved upon the marble floor, which had been humming softly with divine rhythm, flickered and fell silent. For a heartbeat, even the Light itself seemed uncertain whether to shine.

Then, in that stillness, Queen Lysandra rose from her throne. The Celestial Guards instinctively bowed, their armor glimmering like molten gold under her presence. Her radiance softened, no longer the blinding majesty of the sun, but the gentle, wistful glow of dawn tempered by understanding.

"If what you say is true," she said, her voice both regal and sorrowful, "then your existence is not merely foreign... it is forbidden. A being who has defied the weave of Fate has no rightful place in any of the Realms"

Taufik tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I've been told that before"

The words hung like a shadow in the light.

Thalia, who had remained silent all this time, suddenly stood. Her wings flared slightly, trembling with emotion.

"Mother, wait!" she said, her voice breaking through the tension like a bell in the fog. "He's not our enemy-"

"Silence, child," Lysandra's tone turned sharp, not born of anger, but of fear buried beneath her poise. The warmth of her light trembled. "If he speaks the truth, then his presence threatens the balance of the Nine Realms. Even Light cannot bear the weight of a broken thread"

At once, the Celestial Guards stirred. Caelir unsheathed his sword. The weapon blazed like a fragment of dawn, its edge humming with divine intent.

"Then it falls to us," he declared coldly, "to end this anomaly before all its happens"

Thalia moved before Taufik in a blur of white and gold. Her hands spread wide.

"Touch him," she said, her voice low and trembling with fury, "and I'll cut you down myself"

Gasps rippled through the chamber.

Taufik sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his tone almost amused despite the rising tension. "You know, Thalia, I appreciate the gesture," he said lightly, "but you really don't have to start a family feud over me"

"You shut up," she hissed without turning around, her focus still locked on Caelir.

Lysandra's gaze darted between them, her daughter's fierce defiance, the stranger's unnerving calm, and the quiet disintegration of the order she had maintained for centuries. The air around her dimmed, the brilliance of her crown fading into something uncertain.

"... I need to ask you to leave, stranger," she said at last, her voice steady but her eyes sorrowful. "Not because I despise you, but because I cannot risk offending the Æsir for your sake. Your presence alone is already enough to stir the heavens"

The silence that followed was thick with meaning, a moment balanced between faith and defiance, between the laws of gods and the will of one who defied them.

....

...

..

.