But I was already out the door, marching toward the cafeteria with purpose and the speed of someone who definitely wasn't planning something reckless. The academy's halls were quiet—mid-afternoon classes had started, leaving only a few wandering students who eyed me suspiciously. I ignored them and bee-lined to the nobles' food section.
There it sat.
Golden. Glossy. Innocent-looking.
A cheese danish.
"A perfect divine offering," I whispered reverently, grabbing it.
"Or," Jerry hissed from my shoulder, "an overpriced pastry that—"
"Perfect. Divine. Offering," I repeated, and headed back to the dorm.
Once inside, I sealed the door and placed the danish on my desk like it was some kind of ancient relic. Then I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders, and declared:
"By the grace of Hel, take me to the altar."
Jerry whipped toward me. "WAIT—"
He didn't get to finish.
A sound like tearing fabric ripped through the room as a portal blossomed open in front of me—dark, swirling, reeking faintly of old iron and wet stone. The air dropped twenty degrees instantly.
I stared.
Jerry stared.
"…Oh," I said weakly.
On the other side of the portal was a chamber.
Blood-soaked altar.
Bones scattered like discarded decorations.
Walls chipped, mossy, dripping blackened water.
A faint whisper of something that felt very, very dead.
"Uhh…" I managed. "This doesn't look like an altar. More like a place for rituals. Bad rituals."
Jerry slapped his tail against my cheek. "Because you're supposed to say Odin, not Hel, idiot!"
I grimaced. "Well—sorry! I got flustered!"
He groaned loudly, which was impressive for a creature without lungs.
I cleared my throat again and, sheepishly, tried the correct version:
"By the grace of Odin… take me to the altar?"
The portal flickered as if offended but didn't close.
I looked at Jerry. "That's… fine. Probably. Right?"
"Just go," he said, rubbing his face with his tail. "Before the portal changes its mind and drags you somewhere else."
I stepped hesitantly through.
Cold hit first—sharp and damp, clinging to my skin. This close, the room felt even worse. Like breathing in dusted-off bones and the memories of dying screams. The altar itself was carved marble—beautiful once, but now stained, cracked, and covered in dried blood.
I swallowed hard.
"Alright… offering time, I guess."
Jerry hovered nervously beside me. "Do you need to give blood? Or an item? Or—"
"Don't ask me!" I whisper-hissed. "You're the ancient serpent!"
"And yet you are the one holding a pastry," he snapped.
I lifted the cheese danish and stared at it.
"Do gods… even eat danishes?"
"No clue."
Comforting.
I approached the altar, took a breath for courage I absolutely did not have, and set the danish gently on its cracked surface.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
WHOOSH.
Flames erupted upward, devouring the danish in an instant.
I jumped back with a yelp as the fire snarled upward in a spiral, illuminating the chamber in violent orange light—
—and stopped right before touching the ceiling.
The fire twisted, reshaping itself into a glowing symbol—
And that was where everything froze.