The Pack had retreated under the broken arch of an ancient aqueduct. The spectacle beyond the ruins was Dantesque: the black of Hades' Legions and the spectral blue of Hel's Draugar crashed into each other, creating an impenetrable wall of death.
Jormund dug his obsidian fingers into the ground to stabilize their shelter. He turned to Siegfried.
"Assess the situation," Jormund ordered. "We can't stay here."
Siegfried spread an old leather map on a block of stone. His eyes scanned the horizon, devastated by fire arrows and frost storms.
"It's a dead end," Siegfried began. "The direct path to Bifrost has become a meat grinder. The front between the Greeks and the Norsemen cuts the road in two. If we try to cross the plain, we'll be pulverized by crossfire before we're even spotted. No one will let us pass; they'll take us for spies or deserters."
Fenrir let out a growl, his wolf ears swiveling toward the explosions in the distance.
" "We can't just sit here waiting for the earth to collapse."
Siegfried took a deep breath and pointed to a completely blank area on the map, a dark spot located at the junction of the two worlds.
"I have an idea," Siegfried whispered. "There is a rift that even the Gods are unaware of. The Forgotten Strait. It is the domain of Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. It is an organic dump where everything that Hell cannot recycle ends up."
Jormund stared at the black spot on the map.
"Why doesn't anyone go there?"
"Because it is a place without law or honor," replied Siegfried. "Beelzebub serves no one. He feeds on decay. Hades and Hel are too proud to look into their own sewers. For them, this strait does not exist. It is our only chance to bypass their war without being seen. It is filthy, it is dangerous, but it is our only way out to the rainbow bridge."
Jormund looked at his companion. He saw that Siegfried was willing to do anything, even sully his honor as a knight in the filth, to succeed in their ascent.
"Lead us, Siegfried," Jormund said, standing up.
The trio left the aqueduct and descended into the sticky depths. Very quickly, the smell of snow and sulfur was replaced by a stench of decay so strong that Fenrir had to cover his muzzle.
They had just entered the bowels of the world. And in the silence of this eternal dump, a colossal buzzing began to rise, welcoming the three intruders to the kingdom of the Lord of the Flies.