HELHEIM: MAXIMILIAN
As a child he had met Hela once, in passing, he had stumbled out of his chambers when he was a young boy and seen a radiant woman knelt at her father's throne, from the right, (all that he could see) she looked like an angel. The way the green gossamer silk dress flowed around her. Then she rose, and the other side saw like the spectre of death, Black wreathed with a charcoal half mask, Maximilian would always remember the mysterious lady that was half angel half spectre.
Now that same horror stood before him. Maximilian felt his heart retreat inside him, the bravery that normally filled his veins was gone. He steeled his nerves, he felt the battle coming. It was what he always did. Duty came first, duty to his friends.
Maximilian reared his head to look up at the face of death: "Hela. What do you want with us?"
Hela looked at Maximilian, her one visible eye was completely black, but it seemed to focus on him: "That I don't know. Just know that my esteemed father Loki has uses and plans for you."
Maximilian tried to rush out at Hela before Garmr and row other undead warriors seized him and wrangled him back into his previous position. Hela looked down at the three of them: "You will be guests here until I receive word from my father about what to do with you. You will be free to wander the castle, but if you attempt to escape, there will be consequences. Fail to escape and you will watch as I slit your other friends' throats. Succeed and their throats will still be slit. Garmr, down boy. Let them go."
Garmr let go of the three of them. Hela waved him off: "Garmr show them to their quarters, and have those weapons stored in my throne room."
And with that Hela vanished in a wisp of black smoke. Several undead warriors had chained their weapons up and brought them inside for the throne room.the undead pushed the three teens to their feet. Maximilian reluctantly got up and they were marched into the castle.
The castle was very elegant yet barebones. The high grey stone arches and dark stained windows were reminiscent of Asgardian halls without the gold. There was no luxury furniture, every room would be empty or filled with only the bare necessities. Unlike Hrym or Surtur's castles there were no ornate designs, no sculptures or friezes, no ice or fire to spice up the architecture, just black-grey gothic stone walls and columns. Simple, plain, inornate, just like death.
They reached their rooms. Garmr opened the door: "Your room. Feel free to explore the castle."
And shut the door behind him as he left. The room was about the size of a training arena on Asgard three simple black beds were placed there at even intervals. Next to them was an open door to a room they could assume was the lavatory.
Skylar hurried over Victor: "How's your arm?"
Victor rolled up the torn sleeve on it was a ghostly white scar on his light, slightly sun kissed skin, but other than that, no skin that the flesh had been torn from it. Victor tentatively touched the skin, though it felt raw, the searing agony was but a ghost on the skin. Victor's voice seemed caught on disbelief: "How...?"
Maximilian held Victor's hand and looked him consolingly in the eyes: "All that matters is that you're not dying. Can you use your powers?"
Victor squeezed his eyes shut and for a few seconds a green flame blazed on his hand before it turned black and the Kenaz rune on his right forearm was covered in black veins, and Victor shrieked in agony. And he fell to the floor clutching his forearm, gasping. The voice of Hela emanated through the stones of the room: "I forgot to mention, no magic happens in this palace without my knowledge. The next time you try a stunt like that brother, pain will be a relief."
