Chapter Text
This world was in turmoil.
They have seen too much.
They must leave. Now.
Standing beneath the vast sky, a boy and a girl, both with golden hair and golden eyes, sought to depart from this world after witnessing the cataclysm engulfing the lands below; however, three four-pointed portals took shape above as though someone cleaved across the very clouds, thrumming and warping in a sheen of crimson black that exuded an ominous aura.
From the massive rift in the center, a slender figure emerged; garbed in divine garments hued in hints of white, black, and red, her long pearl-white hair waved seamlessly behind her head. A calm yet inscrutable expression coloured her pristine features, her gleaming orange eyes merely staring down at the twins.
"Outlanders…" Apathy laced the mysterious being's voice. "Your journey ends here."
"Who're you!?" yelled the golden-haired girl.
"The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles," the foreign being answered, spinning a small cube around her finger. "The arrogation of mankind ends now."
Flexing her palm, the cube shimmered an ominous red, prompting the stone platform wherein the boy and girl stood to flicker as the floor threatened to lurch up. Instinctively, the twins leaped into the air and evaded the assault, subsequently spreading their wings and summoning their swords as they rushed to fight their attacker.
Responsively, the woman simply stretched out her hand and a swarm of dark red cubes suddenly surged forward akin to a violent torrent - which the travelers narrowly dodged as they took to the skies immediately. They veered and slipped past the relentless onslaught of cubes, nearly overwhelming them – but experience was a pivotal factor on their side; with skillful proficiency, the golden-haired twins weaved through the attack, drawing closer and closer to their assailant before striking her in unison, the collision creating an explosion.
When the smoke cloud cleared, the divine figure remained unperturbed and unmoving, an indifferent expression lingering on her face as her hands blocked the attempted assault, feeble as it was.
"Hmph…" A single glance to her left made the twin brother's heart curl in fear; the moment she spawned a strand of cubes halfway through his sword, he recoiled away in a heartbeat, losing his weapon in the process. Dread only twisted in his stomach when his sister could not flee in time as the crimson cubes already engulfed her arms.
"Lumine!" exclaimed the boy, reaching out his hand, but it was far too late. He had one last glimpse of the helplessness and horror engraved on her face before the mass of cubes enveloped her body and fragmented into smaller pieces, materializing into a glowing yellow cuboid that hovered on the woman's palm.
Anger fogged the boy's mind, his power flaring alarmingly as his left hand crackled like lightning in solid gold. Gritting his teeth, the traveler shot off like a comet, flying behind the god in an instant – and with every ounce of rage he could muster, the lightning-charged attack struck her, creating a thunderous and concussive explosion far stronger than the previous one.
Black smoke blurred the outlander's vision momentarily - before all of a sudden, his left hand was anchored in place, as if it was paralyzed.
No matter how much the twin tried to free his trapped hand, his struggle was in complete vain. When the fumes finally cleared, the figure of the celestial being entered his line of sight once more, wearing a dull expression all the same. With a flex of her fingers, the cubes proliferated in copious amounts to the point they swamped his whole body at a frightening rate.
"Wait, don't go!" he exclaimed, desperation seeping into his tone. "Give my sister back!"
Pointless as it was, the boy was buried beneath the cascade of cubes at last and materialized into a single cuboid just like his sister had. The celestial being gave the cube one scornful look before a thought came to her. Raising her left hand into the air, she then dropped it in one smooth motion, the cube obeying without resistance as it plummeted down into the lands below, never to be seen again.
Moments later, the woman fixated her attention on the spatial rifts around her, numerous and odd as they were, even to her. Extending a hand towards one of the warping anomalies, she promptly clenched her fingers into a fist as the voidless gateways dispersed one by one at her command.
Six months.
Following the conflict and demise of a particular Aesir god, it had been six months since snow began to fall on Midgard. Winter continued to blanket every corner of the land with liberal amounts of snow each passing day, proving to be far more troubling than one initially thought.
The sky was now always ladened with grey clouds, obscuring the sun and preventing any sunlight and warmth from piercing through. Every plant had frost, every breeze was numbing, and every blizzard was punishing. Crops cannot grow anymore because the snow on the ground never melts entirely and animals were becoming more difficult to locate, causing food to go scarce at an alarming rate.
Even the Lake of Nine was frozen over, making the trek to Tyr's Temple easier than it would take to canoe there, which was probably the only convenience the chilly weather offered. Unfortunately, because of the freezing winds, the temple had completely frozen over, effectively locking it down and preventing any realm travel.
It was bound for winter to come sooner or later, but this occurrence took place far too early as the climate got progressively worse and worse. While humans were forced to come out of hiding to search for any kind of sustenance, legions of Hel-Walkers, Draugrs, and other beastly creatures emerged as well, their numbers growing considerably as they roamed across Midgard.
One thing was certain.
Fimbulwinter was well underway and Ragnarök loomed ever-so close.
"Boy."
The gruff voice snapped Atreus to attention, steps instantly coming to a stop as he turned around.
"Yes, Father?"
"The tracks…" Kratos mentioned, the black fur cloak behind him billowing lightly in the cold wind. "Where do they lead now?"
The young Jötunn swayed his eyes back to the blood-stained trail he was following, analyzing the state of the crimson liquid on the pearly snow.
"The trail's getting thicker and thicker," inferred Atreus. "The boar can't be far now."
"Go." Kratos motioned his head forward, prompting Atreus to continue finding the wild animal within the thick patch of snow-covered forestry it fled to.
With Fimbulwinter forcing animals to migrate or hide, finding meat was akin to searching a needle in a haystack - which is why when they finally encountered their first wild boar in weeks, Kratos and Atreus spent the whole day tracking it, the opportunity too precious to ignore. After firing an arrow to the neck, they pursued it for half an hour; fortunately, there was no snowstorm present, making the hunt mildly easy and allowing them to cast aside the concern of a strong blizzard covering the boar's bloodied tracks.
The crimson trail was sporadic, occasionally only leaving a few smattering drops, as well as a concerningly small patch of blood every now and then. It was a clear indication that the boar was slowing down at short intervals, merely delaying its grisly fate to the biting chill and neck wound.
Passing through the canopy of trees and bushes, Atreus kept a keen eye on the thick path of red ichor, trudging across the snow with resolve in his steps. Each breath created a thin mist in front of his face, which quickly disappeared within seconds as the ambient chill nipped at his cheeks and skin. Frankly, having been raised and grown in the Wildwoods, the elements hardly fazed him, but they proved to be bothersome from time to time.
After a few more minutes, the trail guided him to a small clearing surrounded by shrubs and tall, leafless grove of trees - and at the center of said clearing was the corpse of a boar laying on a sizable pool of dried blood, the protruding arrow on its neck all-too-familiar to him.
"There it is!" A sense of elation jumped in Atreus' chest as he jogged towards the carcass at the center of the clearing with renewed vitality, the thought of sinking his teeth into meat again almost making him salivate. Slipping to one knee, the half-Giant promptly retrieved his arrow from the boar's nape and returned it to his quiver.
"Quite the walk back there. Wouldn't you agree, little brother?" came Mimir's voice.
"Yeah. Glad we found a boar near the protection stave when we did," Atreus replied, craning his neck to the sound of approaching footsteps that belonged to his father. "I can't wait to eat meat again after a long time."
"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore, laddie," Mimir reassured, smiling regardless if he could not face the boy. "Your Da' would be spit-roasting that thing to fill yer stomachs to the brim, even 'til the end of Fimbulwinter, I'd wager."
Kratos took a knee next to his son and examined the lifeless boar. Shortly after, he looked at Atreus, his stone-faced visage all but failing to mask the small glimmer of pride and joy seeping into his features.
"You have done well," were the words that simply rolled off the Spartan's tongue.
A smile graced the aforementioned boy's lips. "Thank you, Father."
Even though they had been more recent as of late, Atreus nonetheless relished the blissful feeling of receiving a compliment from his father, for it was quite rare to elicit 'praise' from the lips of someone who had such high expectations.
Now, there was only one thing left to handle — carrying their game back home.
Naturally, it was no problem for his father whatsoever. Given the godlike strength he possessed, the boar should weigh no less than a feather to him. No, there was but a small issue that always nagged Atreus at the back of his mind whenever they finished hunting large animals:
If his father would be hauling their game back to the cabin, then who would defend him from danger?
Of course, to even think his father needed any form of protection from peril was laughable and far-fetched, but the thought of him getting hurt was still something Atreus could not bear to see.
"Y'know, just a thought from a hanging head here…" Mimir began. "If the three of us are going to venture this far into the woods to bring home the little brother's kill, fashioning a sled would be convenient for your sake, no?"
"I have considered the option," Kratos answered.
"Splendid. Should at least give yer back a rest, eh?"
Unamused, the God of War lightly smacked the severed head in response, the small chuckle from Mimir not unheard thereafter. Meanwhile, Atreus could not suppress the tiny snort that fled his breath, a childlike smile adorning his lips.
"Right, so… When Father and I are making the sled…" The half-Jötunn chimed in, shrugging half-heartedly. "Maybe I could find some animals to pull it? Like, y'know… wolves?"
Abruptly, Kratos whipped his head over to his son, shooting a look bordering almost like a scowl. "Wolves?" he parroted, a stern edge lacing his voice.
A shiver lanced up Atreus' spine, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden shift of his father's temperament. He was not expecting a reaction like that at all. "Oh… You… don't like wolves, Father?"
"No."
"Can I ask why?"
Kratos averted his gaze. "That is my concern alone."
"Brother, please. Cut the laddie some slack," Mimir piped in. "A little help from a few furry friends wouldn't do no harm tae anybody. Plus, the boy's gift of comprehending animals would come in quite handy to wrangle up some canines. Maybe even keep some for him to play with, eh?"
Kratos breathed out a dismissive grunt, continuing to face forward without deigning to give another reply. Moments later, from the corner of his right eye, a crestfallen visage morphed on the young demigod's face. A small sliver of sympathy filled his chest, somehow depriving the wants of a child who only wanted to help making him reconsider, albeit reluctantly.
There was an indecisive silence for a long while, broken only by a weary and rough sigh.
"If the wolves serve their purpose, then I will allow it."
The statement was enough to make Atreus look at his father, who never returned a gaze of his own at him. Regardless, a gleeful smile curved at the Jötunn's lips, tilting his head back to the dead boar to occupy himself with his thoughts, no doubt already thinking the names he wanted to call his wolves soon.
For a brief moment, silence reigned in the frigid air once more until Mimir's voice permeated it not long after. "Not trying to dampen the mood here or anythin', but we're quite fortunate that we didn't ran into her this time."
Briefly, Atreus contemplated what the horned man meant, only to frown when he finally connected the dots. "Oh, you mean—"
"Freya," Kratos finished.
"Aye," Mimir affirmed. "Between her, the bloody Raiders, and anything that's trying to kill us in this damn winter, she's the most problematic one. I suppose she's still recuperating from her last confrontation with the two of 'ya back then."
Recollection of their encounter against the warrior goddess not too many weeks ago flashed in Atreus' mind, his lips pursing and brow furrowing at the memory of witnessing how hellbent Freya was on cutting down his father that day. What was seemingly a common scavenging hunt for food and resources in the Wildwoods quickly developed into an ambush and a brutal conflict between two gods.
As for Atreus, he was nothing more than a witness to the whole skirmish; given that he was explicitly ordered not to engage, he would not have been able to force himself to fight a former friend anyway. He had never seen the goddess fight with such aggression before, but then again, she was the Valkyrie Queen. Ultimately, with her wings and warrior spirit locked away, she was bested - but even now, her words still echoed, almost hauntingly.
"Mark my words, Kratos!" Freya wailed, watching the red-tattooed man walk away with his son, not giving her so much as a glance as she laid bruised and defeated on the snow. "I will kill you after what you did! Do you hear me? You left me with nothing! You will pay for your sins soon enough!"
The harrowing memory released a very tired sigh from Atreus' throat, shaking his head a bit as if to shut out the shrill voices of a devastated mother in his ears.
"Good thing the seal the lad put up is doin' wonders in keeping her and intruders out," Mimir said. "Having to deal with someone who wants to murder 'ya first thing in the morning is not an ideal routine."
"If she bothers us again, I will handle her," Kratos stated.
"No issue on that, Brother," Mimir concurred. "Just hopin' Her Majesty would come around her loss soon. And hopefully, soon enough."
The conversation became bleak at that point as silence pervaded the air again - before Atreus finally spoke.
"Father…"
Kratos swayed his eyes to meet his son's crestfallen expression.
"Do you think…" The Jötunn paused momentarily, then sighed and went on. "Do you think Freya can change? Move on from… what we did?"
There was no immediate response, for even the God of War could not give a concrete answer to such a question as his gaze fell subtly before looking away to stare into the distance, a cascade of thoughts flooding his mind. Without a doubt, he had sown the seeds of vengeance and though he did not regret saving her life, actions will always have consequences. Questions began to stir from within:
How many more times will they be hunted down?
Will there be an end to her need for revenge?
Would there still be room for forgiveness in a broken mother's heart?
Seconds of silent contemplation went by before the Spartan finally expelled a long sigh of his own, facing his son once more, expression softening lightly.
"Someday," Kratos muttered, placing a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder. "But we must remain strong for the road ahead. There is still much to be done."
A weak yet fond smile curled on Atreus' lips, somehow convinced and unconvinced by those words. Even though he appreciated the fact his father attempted to ease the somber atmosphere, there was no forgetting the past. Letting go from loss was not simple, but can someone really learn to let go when something was forcibly 'taken' from them?
The half-Jötunn grimaced afterward and stared wistfully at the distance, trying to wrap his head around such thoughts.
Just then, whether it was caused by some kind of ill-omened occurrence, inhumane growls suddenly resonated in the vicinity, prompting both father and son to scan the area vigilantly. Urgency and alarm coursed through their veins as they made to stand at once, with Atreus nocking an arrow to the bowstring and Kratos removing the Leviathan Axe from its holster, their muscles tensing with each passing second as the otherworldly snarls grew fiercer and louder.
"Ready yourself," Kratos murmured gruffly, tightening his grip on the axe.
Before Atreus could even let out a word, the raspy growls belonged to a swarm of Hel-Walkers and Draugrs barreling through the foliage, their sights solely focused on the pair with the mindless intent to kill.
With a warlike shout, Kratos hurled the axe towards the horde of Draugrs in front of him, his weapon cleaving through the mutilated warriors easily before bolting forward to meet his attackers halfway. On the other hand, Atreus acted instantaneously, yelling "Þruma!" to the air and firing an arrow infused with yellow electricity to a group of Hel-Walkers on his left, subsequently stunning them for a moment - before nocking three more arrows to the bowstring and pointing them at the ground.
"Úlfr Hlaup!"
Shouting the command, Atreus let loose the arrows, the Seiðr magic responding in kind as three spectral wolves coalesced into existence. A single second was all it took before the phantasmic animals pounced on the paralyzed Hel-Walkers, tearing the fiendish warriors apart until they flopped against the snow, their mutilated forms disintegrating and leaving a black patch of ash behind.
The wolves swiftly honed their sights on another group of hostiles - specifically a legion of Draugrs to the side, wasting not a moment more as they lunged towards the undead creatures as they mangled them with ravenous ferocity.
"And stay dead!" cheered Atreus, nocking another arrow to the bowstring to pick off the remaining enemies in the vicinity - not before glancing at the sound of flesh being ripped apart near him.
"Watch out, Father!"
Paying no heed to his son's cry of worry, Kratos finished the Draugr off by tearing its shoulder in half and throwing it aside carelessly.
"Right side, brother!" Mimir warned loudly.
The Spartan focused on another Draugr closing in on him, prompting him to lift his right hand in the air, the metallic whir in the distance growing nearer and nearer as the fiendish warrior raised its flaming sword, no doubt intending to bring it down on him.
However, Kratos deftly evaded the head-on assault, stepping to the side and gaining a bit of space as the Leviathan landed in his hand. Before the Draugr could attack again, the God of War was already moving, bringing the axe down and cutting through its skull, not before wrenching the ax-blade free and slicing its neck afterward.
As the body parts fell on the snow with a muffled thud, Kratos proceeded to swing the Leviathan with deadly precision against the mob of Draugrs around him, the sheer force behind each swing butchering their mangled forms even more; all the while, lightning-charged arrows whistled sharply through the air, plunging themselves into the head or throat of the approaching attackers surrounding them.
"Keep the pressure on!" bellowed Kratos, his order carrying through the sounds of battle.
"Got it!" Atreus hollered back, maintaining the momentum of firing arrow after arrow towards any assailant that attempted to flank them, effectively keeping the horde at bay as their numbers slowly dwindled; their lifeless bodies littering the once-pristine snow.
Kicking the Draugr's headless body back with careless abandon, the snarls of Hel-Walkers forewarned Kratos, his eyes swerving to the sound of his three aggressors charging closer at him.
Returning the Leviathan to its holster, he instinctively grabbed another weapon from his back, one that hissed and hummed with divine flame as if sensing their master's silent call. Without delay, he flung one blade at blinding speed towards the blue-skinned corpse posing as a vanguard, extracting a gurgling shriek as it fell to its knees, the fiery blade sunk deep between its eyes.
With a strong flick of his arm, Kratos yanked the Helheim warrior back to him, subsequently grabbing his other blade on his back, flaming with scorching intensity, and burying it in its stomach. Gripping the steel handles tighter, the Blades of Chaos ignited further as the Spartan blatantly ignored the agonizing screech from his victim, jamming the weapons further into its body to the point the pale blue flesh around the wound started to melt.
Unwavering, a feral snarl escaped Kratos as he lobbed the fiendish being airborne towards the other rushing Hel-Walkers. With the Blades still wedged in its body, he brought his arms down in one quick motion, slamming the corpse right on top of them; a blazing explosion soon decimating the soulless foes completely, leaving naught but a charred patch of ash on the snow.
Pulling the chained blades back to his hands, Kratos perked his head over to his son - who was holding his ground impressively, each arrow making its mark. A mild surge of pride welled in Kratos' chest, witnessing how the sparring sessions they often engage in had not been in vain at such a critical moment.
No, they were never in vain.
How could they be?
Ever since returning from Jötunheim, refining his son's techniques in both physical and magical aspects were among of Kratos' top priorities, barring the crucial necessities for surviving Fimbulwinter and whatnot. With the inevitable prophecy of Ragnarök looming on the horizon, there was little time and with what time they had left, he hoped that every action and every choice they made so far had meaning and purpose.
In his heart, he hoped Atreus felt the same way.
The sound of thundering footsteps tore Kratos away from his stupor, every muscle in his body bracing on pure instinct as the trembling earth only reinforced the fact that something was indeed coming their way. After a few tense seconds, the weighty footfalls came in the form of a hulking creature breaking through the foliage with a ferocious roar, the massive tusks on its face and the cracked stone totem it carried being a clear indication of what exactly entered the clearing.
"A Troll!" exclaimed Atreus, falling in step next to his father and notching another arrow on the bowstring.
"Þú ert að brjóta inn!"
"What did it say?" Kratos inquired.
The young Jötunn was swift to translate. "He says we're trespassing in his woods."
"Shoulda' put a sign of ownership 'round here then," Mimir jeered.
Whether or not the beast comprehended their words, the Troll roared savagely and lifted the stone column overhead, the rune engraved on the pillar flaring in response, to which Kratos and Atreus evaded the scorching totem hitting the earth.
Gaining sufficient space, the Spartan returned the twin blades on his back and stretched an open palm to the side, the Leviathan whipping into his hand the next second. "Focus up and aim for the face!" he boomed authoritatively, surging forward and swinging with brutal precision.
Having fought a number of its violent kind throughout their journey, it was already second nature for Atreus to know where his arrows should land when it came to Trolls or any humongous beasts for that matter. Drawing the bowstring to his chest, golden streaks of electricity started to course across the arrow as the chosen incantation in his mind nearly left his lips.
However, of all the things that could happen in that moment, be it a Draugr or Hel-Walker trying to take his life…
A voidless rift coalescing to existence beside him was something he never expected at all.
"W-What the—?" Flinching backwards in absolute shock, the young Giant fell on his back, the panic on his face palpable. "Father, what's happening?!"
The frightened cry ceased Kratos of his vicious assault to look over to his son—and to the anomaly levitating in the air near him.
"Get back, boy!" Acting on impulse, Kratos bolted over to him – only to cross three paces before movement from his peripherals compelled him to act, the Guardian Shield on his left arm uncoiling just in time to bear the full brunt of the stone pillar smashing into him, the force of the strike so profoundly strong that it sent him flying several yards away.
"What in the bloody hell is goin' on?!" Mimir cried out, his golden eyes shifting around.
"Something just… appeared out of nowhere!" shouted Atreus, still alarmed. Getting his bearings together abandoned his mind when more portal-like rifts materialized in the area. "They're everywhere!"
"Calm yourself, Atreus!" Kratos stated firmly, getting to his feet and evading another attack from the hulking Troll. "Keep your distance from them and find your way to me!"
Trying to steel his mind, the young Jötunn plucked his fallen bow and scrambled to his feet. His eyes then flickered to the floating rifts multiplying in the area, the true gravity of the situation making his blood run cold as a plethora of questions plagued his mind. Before he could fully wrap his head around on what was happening, a fierce roar jolted him upright, his startled eyes focusing on the raging battle at the edge of the clearing.
"Look out, Father!"
Rolling to the side to avoid a pillar slam, Kratos retaliated by hurling the Leviathan at the Troll's face, forcing it to reel back in anguish as the frost weapon aimlessly landed on the ground a few meters away. Without missing a beat, he withdrew the Blades of Chaos and swung a barrage of blade slashes – all of which leaving scathing hot marks on its body.
Ending the fight was on the forefront of Kratos' mind. He did not know what kind of accursed intervention was taking place, nor did he allow it to distract him - but the abrupt change in the situation only intensified the rush of adrenaline through his muscles. Right now, all that mattered was killing the beast and escaping the area with—
"ARGH!"
The God of War stopped, glanced at the source of the cry, and saw red. From afield, a burly-figured Draugr bombarded Atreus with frenzied and untamed attacks with its sizeable hammer, forcing the young Jötunn to stay on the defensive using his bow while barely steering clear of the mystic portals around him.
"Atreus!" Fear and anger churned in Kratos' gut, his legs moving in an instant towards his son. However, five steps were all it took before a massive fist socked him hard on the side, the sheer impact flinging him through the trees, where his body crashed with an audible thud.
Dismissing the fleeting feeling of pain, the Spartan god raised his head from the snow and witnessed the horrifying scene before him as though it was in slow motion; the Draugr Brute struck the young demigod with a crippling swing from its hammer, extracting another painful wail as the momentum deliberately knocked him into the one place that made Kratos' heart clench and eyes widen in genuine horror.
"Father!" was the last word spoken by Atreus - before the voidless rift swallowed his entire being. Not a second too long, the fiendish Draugr followed after, entering the tear in reality without thought to the consequences of whatever waited on the other side, eager to pursue its prey.
Time seemingly stilled for what felt like an eternity, the tormenting silence only broken by a response Kratos could muster in that moment.
"Atreus!" The shout reverberated across the forest as Kratos frantically leapt to his feet and raced to the portal – only for the Troll to stand in his way again, a sickening grin plastered on its face.
Right then, something malicious was immediately clawing its way out from the depths of the war god's soul, the cage that held his bloodlust finally breaking free. His bone-crushing fists spewed sparks of raging fire, the boiling rage within him burning the chilled air as his adrenaline spiked to dangerous degrees and his veins bulged from his ashen skin.
Whether it was by instinct or fear, the Troll took a half-step back from the sudden transformation - but Kratos moved before it could blink. With a primal roar, he swung a right haymaker at the brute's knee, the resounding snap of bones forcing it to fall to a knee, a blood-curdling shriek escaping its mouth a second later. Unfinished, the God of War jumped and lashed a left elbow into the beast's face, the collision shattering one of its tusks and allowing him to mount its head.
Once Kratos was in an advantageous position, a ruthless torrent of punches followed, each blow fiercer than the last. Snarling venomously, he then pulled out one blade from his back and plunged it deep into its forehead, a geyser of blood spewing forth around the Troll's skull. With a vice-like grip on the blade's handle, the Spartan leapt off to the side and used his full weight to haul the beast down, bashing its head against the ground with a sickening crunch.
In one spontaneous motion, Kratos pulled the blade free from the gaping wound, grabbed the other one from his back, lifted both over his head – and with a furious war cry, he jammed the Blades of Chaos into the Troll's eyes, blood spurting haphazardly from the sockets before twisting the twin blades in place, silencing its wails.
Wrenching the chained blades free from the lifeless body, everything went silent for a few moments, save for the labored breath that escaped Kratos' throat, as his chest heaved from the surge of adrenaline coursing through his body and his heart throbbed aggravatingly loud in his ears.
"Brother, the boy!" Mimir voiced aloud.
Clarity returned to Kratos' senses, the seething fury within him subsiding spontaneously as his eyes shifted to the one portal-like opening in the clearing that took his son, the gravity of the circumstance finally settling in. Storing the Blades of Chaos on his back and calling the Leviathan to him, the war god sprang into a full sprint like a god possessed.
'I am coming, Atreus!' was the lone thought inside of Kratos' mind before entering the void and vanishing into the unknown, consequences be damned.