Hel studied the mortal seated before her.
On the surface, everything was simple—too simple—for someone marked by the Trickster.
His wishes were modest.
Resurrection was expected.
The rest were trivial, gifts she could grant with a flick of her hand.
And yet…
A whisper of unease stirred beneath her calm.
That ancient instinct honed across eons, the kind even gods couldn't name, gave a warning.
This mortal wasn't what he seemed.
It wasn't just the Trickster's spark within him.
It was the way he moved through the world like a man who already knew what it was made of.
Not just its laws but also its future and that was dangerous.
More dangerous than arrogance.
More dangerous than power.
Still, Hel knew better than most:
No reward ever came without risk.
And if she couldn't gamble—if she couldn't step into the unknown, even when a mortal dared where gods hesitated—
Then what right did she have to claim the Chalice?
Yes, she could have broken him.
