As the effects of the Domi Reversi began to take hold, the markings on Zelos's arm started to glow. The abyss mark he bore was unlike the usual kind—its color carried a distinct reddish hue mixed with faint streaks of black, giving it a strange, volatile appearance.
Then, the mark lit up with electricity. The lightning that emerged was unlike normal lightning that travels in a single path; instead, it scattered, branched, and circled around itself, moving with a rhythm that almost looked alive.
The lightning shaped itself into a whip of energy, which began to spin rapidly around the Light of Alfheim. With each passing second, it moved faster and faster until it no longer appeared like a whip but rather a perfect ring of blinding energy surrounding the Light. Then, with a sharp pull, the lightning whip shot inward and pierced through the Light.
Zelos placed his hand upon the glowing magic circle he had drawn for the Domi Reversi, gripping it firmly. The abyssal mark on his arm pulsed, connecting itself to the magic circle through his contract with Brok. The two energies merged, forming a tether meant to attract the missing fragment of Brok's soul, which had become one with the Light.
Minutes passed, the cave filled with the constant hum of magic. Freya and Atreus stood close by, both watching silently, unsure of what would happen. Then, the circle started to pulse, glowing brighter with every second.
Zelos knew this meant the spell had succeeded. He tightened his grip and began to pull, his arm trembling from the resistance.
The energy he was drawing felt impossibly heavy, as though he were pulling against the force of an entire realm. After all, the Light of Alfheim was one of the anchors that held the realms together.
Still, Zelos pulled harder, channeling every ounce of strength he had. The magic circle cracked under the strain, light spilling out in violent bursts, until finally, a blue, ghostly figure emerged from within the Light.
It was the faint shape of Brok's soul. For a moment, it hovered in front of them, flickering like a dying flame, before being pulled into the abyss mark on Zelos's arm.
The mark flared once more, absorbing the soul fragment, then began its secondary process—converting the fragment by separating the Light's essence from the soul, returning the spirit to its proper form.
Zelos stood quietly as the light subsided. He extended his hand and gathered a small fragment of processed Light that still lingered in the air.
He divided the fragment into five smaller pieces and shared them among his daemon summons. Immediately, he felt something shift within their essences.
Their presence grew darker yet more defined, each daemon resonating with a new energy—the faint trace of primordial power.
Zelos could sense their strength rising, which in turn strengthened his own.
The sensation sparked an idea. If I can forge a connection with the Light itself, he thought, then I can continue to draw from it, just as the Elves do.
Acting on that thought, he left a small part of his essence embedded within the Light. It would serve as a hidden siphon, drawing in energy slowly and naturally over time, enough for him to study and harness.
Unlike the Elves, however, Zelos intended to purify the energy he drew by filtering out any lost soul fragments, returning them to the River of Souls rather than keeping them trapped.
Once his task was complete, Zelos finally released the magic circle. The glow around his arm faded until only faint lines remained on his skin. He turned back to Freya and Atreus, who both looked at him with wide eyes.
Even with all her centuries of experience, Freya could not understand what she had just witnessed.
The runes, the structure of the magic circle, even the way the lightning moved—it was unlike any form of magic she had ever seen.
"It's done," Zelos said quietly, his tone calm but tinged with satisfaction. "All that remains is to return the fragment to Brok. Once I do, the dwarves' secret to moving unseen between realms will be in my hands." He said this softly, making sure his words stayed within the concealment barrier that still surrounded them.
Zelos knew Odin's reach extended across all realms, and any carelessness could bring disaster.
Freya, unable to contain her curiosity, finally asked, "May I ask what exactly you just did? That was unlike any magic I have ever seen."
Zelos nodded slightly, deciding to answer truthfully—at least, in part. "I have a dwarven friend who lost a piece of his soul," he said. "The spell I performed was meant to search through the Light of Alfheim and the River of Souls to find and retrieve it. It succeeded, thankfully. Once I return it to him, he will teach me the dwarven art of concealment, the one they use to travel between realms without being seen."
Freya's expression changed from curiosity to surprise. "That kind of magic… and those sigils you used… I have never encountered anything like them. Where did you learn such craft?"
Zelos's eyes softened. "From my mother," he said. "Most of what she taught me, I later modified to suit my own needs. Once you understand how the core system of magic works, it's easy to reshape it into different forms. I've read that Vanir magic shares similarities with the giants' magic, since the Vanir took much of their inspiration from the Jötnar."
"I know that much," Freya said thoughtfully. "But your magic doesn't just resemble theirs—it feels like it is theirs. The control over souls, the way your eyes glow when you cast, even the resonance of your aura—it all reminds me of the Jötnar. Tell me honestly, Zelos, was your mother a giant?"
The question caught him off guard. Freya had noticed every detail of his casting method, and now that she had voiced her observation, she was nearly certain that Faye carried giant blood—or, at the very least, a deep connection to them.
Zelos smiled faintly, neither confirming nor denying. "Aren't the Jötnar long-lived, perhaps even immortal?" he said calmly. "Yet here we are, carrying our mother's ashes to the highest peak in all the realms. That alone should tell you what you already need to know."
Freya studied him for a long moment but did not press further. Atreus, listening quietly, had already come to the same conclusion, though he remained silent. Freya eventually looked away, taking Zelos's answer—or his silence—as sufficient.
Time passed quietly. The three waited patiently for Kratos to return, but when the minutes stretched on with no sign of movement, Freya grew concerned.
"You need to pull your father out," she said suddenly, turning to Atreus. "I should have mentioned this earlier. The Light of Alfheim lures those who have lost someone they love. It traps them with illusions, showing them what they most long to see. Inside, it feels like only a moment passes, but in truth, decades or even centuries can go by. They never realize it until it's too late."
Atreus's eyes widened. Without hesitation, he ran toward the Light and tried to pull Kratos out. The moment his hands touched the radiance, however, he was burned by its intensity. He cried out in pain and stumbled back, clutching his hands.
"Zelos!" Atreus shouted. "Help him!"
Zelos rushed forward, first casting a quick healing spell on Atreus's burns. Then he stepped toward the Light himself.
He could feel its heat the moment he reached out—it was unbearable, a burning sensation that crawled into his bones. Yet strangely, he did not scream or falter.
Pain was nothing new to him. He remembered the times he had severed his own limbs to grant his daemons physical form. Compared to that, this was almost gentle.
He reached deeper into the Light until his hands found Kratos's body. Kratos resisted, his voice echoing faintly from within. "No! Do not pull me out!"
Zelos understood what was happening. The Light was showing Kratos visions of Faye, tempting him to stay, just as Zelos had once heard his own mother's voice calling to him. But he did not let go. He braced himself and pulled with all his strength.
A surge of force burst from the Light as Kratos was dragged out, landing roughly on the floor. The Spartan's eyes were wild, his chest heaving as if he had been fighting something unseen.
"NO! What have you done!" Kratos roared, his voice filled with anger and confusion.
Zelos immediately stepped forward, his tone calm. "Forgive me, Father," he said. "But you have been inside for hours. Freya warned us what would happen. We had to bring you out."
Kratos looked at Freya and Atreus, both of whom were watching him with concern. Slowly, his breathing steadied. "I… I thought only a moment had passed," he said, his expression clouded.
Freya nodded. "That is the illusion the Light offers. It traps you in moments of longing, making time meaningless until you forget the world outside."
Kratos said nothing. He simply stood still for a while, composing himself. When he finally looked up, his eyes had returned to their familiar steadiness. He picked up the bifrost device, which now glowed with a brighter light than before.
"Your bow, boy," Kratos said simply.
Atreus handed it to him, and Kratos performed the same ritual Freya had demonstrated earlier to channel the Light's power.
Freya and Zelos stood nearby, watching quietly. As the energy began to flow, Freya glanced at Zelos from the corner of her eye, as though silently acknowledging something unspoken between them.