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***
Obsidian walls were adorned in intricate gold details. Everchanging and alive.
In the middle of the gold-clad room, stood a plinth. She had not meant to enter, but ultimately felt compelled to investigate the unfamiliar place, after it had disrupted her racing mind.
Apart from an occasional crack! from someplace inside the room, the atmosphere was eerie and tense. Even the air felt empty and chilling. As she neared the pedestal, something inside her loosened. Holding her breath, her cold fingertips absentmindedly reached out for the orb.
Stop it! You do not even know what it is!
The crevices in the orb split open, revealing a fiery light, that only served to draw her in further. That day's occurrences were out of mind, all focus now on the object before her. On its alluring, enticing aura. Her eyes glazed over, her heat pounded, and she swore, as soon as she touched it, she would be complete.
It was cathartic...
"Égáta!"
Recoiling back, eyes the size of saucers, she turned to meet the glare of Odin. She had not heard him enter, nor had she heard his calls. Curiosity surpassed all manners.
"What is it"?
Surprisingly enough, Odin answered. Though with a small falter.
"Remnants of Surtur's power, left behind after his defeat."
Glancing back at it, it now looked veiny, and was encased in a forcefield of some sort.
