The calm was only an illusion. As Beelzebub prepared to act, a fissure of pure frost tore through the darkness. Hel had not left; she had hidden in the interstices of dimensions, waiting for the moment when the Lord of Flies' attention would waver.
"IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, NO ONE WILL!" screamed the Queen of the Dead.
In a gesture of pure desperation, she threw a dagger carved from the bone of a primordial god. It was not a physical attack, but a curse of division, aimed at Jormund's heart.
Beelzebub let out a hiss of rage. For him, this act by Hel was the insult that was one too many. His patience had expired.
"ENOUGH!" The entity of darkness did not strike Hel. He struck reality itself.
The Lord of the Flies smashed his hands together. A shockwave of pure nothingness collided with Hel's dagger and the residual energy of Jormund's Time. The impact created a vortex of unstable dimensions.
"Hold on!" Siegfried yelled, trying to grab Jormund's hand.
"Fenrir!" Jormund cried, reaching out to the wolf.
But Beelzebub's teleportation force was absolute. It was a dimensional "cleansing." The strait began to collapse in on itself, sucking in everything that did not belong there.
Jormund saw Siegfried's face contort as he was sucked into a blinding white portal.
"NO!"
Then he saw Fenrir being thrown into a blood-red rift, her golden eyes staring at her master one last time before disappearing with a muffled howl.
Finally, it was Jormund's turn. Hel's dagger grazed him, deflected by the vortex, but the energy of the curse mixed with Beelzebub's teleportation. Time and space twisted like red-hot metal.
"GO... ANOMALY..." was the last thing he heard from Beelzebub. "GO ROT... SOMEWHERE ELSE."
Jormund's world turned black. Then blue. Then an unbearable cold, different from Hel's, enveloped him.