Wolves, Amsvartnir knew, were important. It was clear from the way his cane was lovingly carved. He ran his thumb over the head of the wolf top of the cane and sighed a bit.

In mythology, Amsvartnir was a lake. The lake that held the island where the wolf Fenrir was bound. Left alone to suffer for eternity, until Ragnarok was upon them, and then Fenrir would finally break free and destroy the gods for their terrible crimes. Amsvartnir couldn't say he blamed the guy at all. He wondered, though, why the gods would bind the wolf in the first place, and make it thirst for revenge, instead of just... treating it nicely. He was sure there was research he needed to keep doing, but still.

Ugh. Gods were so fickle. G-d was, too, of course, but he did like his G-d versus the assholes tying up wolves.

He really ought to visit his lake. Maybe it was finally time. Maybe... he finally felt like he could handle whatever it was up there. Beyond the stars.

Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and thought hard about going to Amsvartnir. The world around him pulled and shifted, and then the air tasted different as he breathed in again, and he opened his eyes.

"Wow," he breathed out, standing, somehow, on the end of a pier. A dock. A huge harbor where giant fishing vessels must have come and gone and come again when people lived here. Maybe trade ships, too, but he wasn't sure how all that spacey stuff would've worked yet. He looked over the expansive lake in wonder and awe, and turned.

"Holy s**t."

Behind him, back towards land—he hadn't expected to actually have an island in the middle of his lake, but it was there. He could go. There was a large castle, and a huge withered orchard, and an expansive village between the shore and the castle. The landscape itself... was cold and icy, but there were still plants, here and there. Tundra plants, like pine trees and bushes and red grasses that reminded him of pictures of Alaska. Man, it was completely gorgeous, if quite a bit chilly. The wind blew his hair back and he instinctively reached up to grab at a hat that didn't exist anymore, shaking his head at himself when all he did was slap his head. Man, he wished he had his camera. This place... his place. It was so picturesque. He wanted to have this on a postcard or something. Having his camera on him right about now would be so splendid. Pictures of the island, of the beautiful landscape, of the lake itself, stretching into space, stars that twinkled in the distance in addition to the closer ones that provided light to the island. It wasn't perfect—the sky almost looked like a gloomy overcast day off some kind of British seashore. And that made it even more beautiful, to him. He—oh, right. His camera was in his subspace, wasn't it?

Amsvartnir pulled it out, frowning slightly. Well. That wasn't the camera he'd expected to pull out, but... well, it was his, then, wasn't it? He turned it in his hands and raised it to his face, looking through the viewer until he found the perfect angle.

Snap! It whirred and printed the photo as a harsh gust of wind blew, and he panicked, snatching the photo from the printer in the camera and stuffing both into his subspace. He'd have to look at it later. For now, he needed to work towards getting to that castle. Being inside sounded far more pleasant than staying outside as the wind on a ******** tundra raged, bringing the cold to him and all over the place.

He moved forward, and as he started treading on the land, his wisp burbled and spun in front of him, glowing brighter. Alarmed, he took a step back, hand tightening on his cane, but it just... sort of looked like a pokémon evolving, until the lights and swirls settled, and...

Oh.

Well. He had a wolf now.

It whined at him, sitting and flapping a paw at him, and he grabbed it in mild confusion, shaking it.

"Nice to meet you. Suppose I should change your name, eh? Don't think Loki really fits, even if he did bear a wolf child."

It whined again, mouth open this time, and gave a little yelp.

"You like that idea? You want a new name?"

It yelped again, standing up and spinning in a little circle, wings flapping.

"Okay. Lemme think, little man."

He hummed, watching the striped wolf spin and spin, and worried if he didn't come up with a name in time, the poor thing would make itself dizzy and topple over. Come on, brain, think! There had to be some other Norse kinds of words he could use. He'd studied a lot in his time waiting for his opportunity to come here.

...Wolf. Feilan. Of course!

"Feilan," he said, the wolf stopping in its bid to spin forever to look at him, and then falling over. Amsvartnir chuckled and knelt, picking him up.

"Feilan. Hi buddy. Guess you like that one," he said cheerily, grinning as the wolf yipped and wriggled in his arms.

"Okay. Let's go check out that castle, huh?" he suggested, choking when Feilan managed to get a lick in right across his lips. "Ew, dude!"

Okay. To the castle. He could do this. He started the long walk, holding Feilan for a while until he wiggled enough to jump down—no, float, really, or more like glide? whatever, thanks to his wings.

The dirt path was still well worn and packed down from centuries of feet tramping across it. He'd thought it would look more... shattered, but it made sense that the dirt was fine. The houses he passed... weren't. There was so much wear and tear on the homes. Crumbling walls, shattered windows, torn off roofs... many nearer to the shore entirely collapsed. He shivered, wishing he had a coat as the wind blew violently. He hadn't noticed before, but... had the sky always been that dark? Even for a Wonder that was tundra in nature, that seemed too dark. Weren't the tundras the place of the midnight sun or whatever? Geez. This place felt... desolate. Haunted, almost.

Feilan barked, pulling Amsvartnir from his musings, and ran up to the gate to the castle.

"Where's the key?" he muttered to himself, searching around the area for... he didn't know. Maybe a potted plant containing the key inside, like this was someone's apartment building spare key and not a giant castle that was probably guarded 24/7.

But, he frowned as he looked over around the gate and the fence, it didn't really seem designed to keep tons of people out in case of a peasant uprising or something, but more like... a courtesy fence. A polite "do not cross" line. Maybe the people were trusted here. Or rather, had been. Something more like a real community of people, even with a castle. He took a step back and scanned the fence, looking for a spot he could maybe vault over, when Feilan simply jumped up, flapped his wings, and landed on the other side with a mischievous puppy grin, howling in victory at Amsvartnir.

"Smartass," he said to the wolf, a smile working its way onto his face in spite of himself. He started walking along the fence, and eventually found a bit where the iron bars had been weathered and wrenched apart enough for him to squeeze through. He never thought he'd be thankful for being skinny, but this was definitely coming in handy right now. Feilan just watched with judgy eyes, and he couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at the wolf as he twisted his torso and finally got his hips through, falling on his a** and pulling his ankles from the bars.

"That sucked," he complained as he stood and brushed the dirt and snow off his pants. Yuck.

Feilan yipped and took off towards the castle, making Amsvartnir stumble as he hurried to sprint after him. G-d help him, but he was going to go insane, suddenly babysitting a wolf puppy that could ******** fly, because of course it would fly, naturally this would happen to him. Even as athletic as he was, he struggled to keep up with a flippin' flying wolf puppy.

Finally, he reached the doors of the castle and thankfully, they were not locked. The locks and handles were bent out of shape, worn and shapeless. The doors barely hung on the hinges, now that he was taking a closer look. G-d. He hated this. That his place, that was his, was so destroyed. Sad. It almost seemed like it was hunched over on itself, as if tired and embarrassed that it was so hurt, so in need of some serious tender, loving care.

Amsvarnitr wanted so badly to fix that. And he would. Regular visits would start to change things, he knew. So he shoved the doors open, yelping a bit when they moved more easily than he anticipated and he faceplanted into the dusty stone floor. Blech.

He stood and dusted himself off, grimacing at the disgusting state of his clothes. Ah well, nothing to do about it now. He'd just power down as soon as he left here, anyway, and then be clean. Problem solved!

Following Feilan as the wolf (distantly, he wondered if there was a name for the species, if it was something from this Wonder) bounded through the foyer to the... Huh. Was that some kind of throne room? Or rather, Knights of the Round Table sort of room, he supposed, considering.

He was a Knight, after all. Wouldn't make much sense otherwise.

Feilan yapped at the big ornate door until Amsvartnir pushed it open, and then Feilan took off towards some kind of dais at the center of the room.

"Feilan, careful, you might—" he began to scold, before screaming as a ghostly apparition appeared on the dais, looking distinctly wolfish.

"I—will you stop screaming?" the ghost asked, looking frustrated until Amsvartnir clamped his mouth shot, then nodded approvingly. "Thank you. I suppose you're the new Amsvartnir then?"

He nodded slowly, stepping forward and kneeling. "You must be the previous one. You can call me Asher. Might make it a bit easier."

"Stand up," said the ghost, shaking his head with a small smile, "In that case, then, you may call me Takoda."

Takoda's tail twitched, his small wolf-like ears swiveling, searching for the sound that—

Amsvartnir looked to Feilan right as the wolf bounded into him and he made a disgusted sound as Feilan tried very hard to stick his tongue into Amsvartnir's mouth.

"Dude, chill!" he scolded gently.

Takoda stared. "...I never thought I'd see one of those alive again," he breathed, "A Dire. How?"

"I... he came from this little magic bulby thing," Amsvartnir said, flushing at the clumsiness of his sentence. "It stuck around, and then I guess the magic of coming here made him become... not-a-bulby-thing. A... a dire?"

Takoda nodded, breathing out slowly. "As I live and breathe... Or, well. An expression," he said, seeming to blush himself.

Amsvartnir smiled wryly. At least it ran in the family. "It's nice to meet you, many-times-great grandpa."

"Oh, please don't remind me of how old I am," Takoda chuckled, watching Amsvartnir closely. "Hmm. I sense that you don't seem to have much time left to explore around here, hm?"

Amsvartnir glanced around, then nodded slowly, feeling bad. "I wish I could stay longer, but I... I spent a lot of time outdoors, especially chasing this one around after he became a bouncing puppy instead of just a blob that stuck to my hair."

"Well, please come back to visit as soon as you can," Takoda said, "It's lonely up here, you know. Now then... You need your ring. It's hidden, there's a button in the dais that opens the underground passage to the secret room where the ring is stored. Take that, and then go. I shall be here when you come back, my grandson."

Amsvartnir nodded, heart swelling at the familial words. Some part of him wished he knew what a real family felt like, and he had a faint inkling he didn't know even before he'd given up who he'd been before.

"Thank you, grandfather. I'll return soon as my magic lets me," he promised, watching the ghost vanish as he pressed the button and the dais clicked and whirred, revealing the ancient passageway.

Wow. He'd have to give this a thorough look later—right now, he needed to just hurry up and go. Feilan even seemed to sense his need for urgency and largely stayed close, not straying too far or misbehaving.

The stairs were indeed old and worn, but sturdy, he noted as he hurried down them, trying to not let himself get caught up in admiring the beauty in all of the castle around him. Soon enough he made it downstairs, ducking around cobwebs from long-dead spiders that hadn't been taken down by any kind of servants or wind in who knew how long. Well. He knew. Theoretically about one thousand years, anyway. Okay dumb thoughts, not now, he needed focus, damnit.

He struggled a little to open the heavy door at the bottom of the stairs, and shoved it hard until it finally did move, screaming and screeching as the unused metal did not like suddenly being moved after a millennia of not needing to. He winced as it hurt his ears, but kept going until he could squeeze through, Feilan squeezing between his feet and nearly knocking him over in his bid to get into the room before Amsvartnir.

"Brat," he muttered under his breath, getting through the doorway and stepping into the small, secret room. There was some small amount of treasure that was probably useless—he doubted it was gold he could pass off as Earth gold and that sort of thing (not that selling it off would be the smartest idea, since he... doubted, also, that there was much still left of this Wonder to give its history, and he wasn't that heartless, even if he needed help).

He found the ring in a tiny, ornate box, and slipped it on, smiling at the feeling it gave him. "Well, Feilan, lets go home," he said, reaching out for the pup.

Feilan danced away, rushing up to the stairs and then turning took at Amsvartnir with... some kind of deep, knowing purpose in his eyes.

"Oh," he said, feeling... many things he would analyze later. "Well. I suppose if you want to stay... It's probably about time someone kept gramps company, huh?"

Feilan barked, wagging his tail.

"Okay. Well. Stay safe, pup. No idea what's out there, you know."

Feilan yipped again, and Amsvartnir closed his eyes, thinking of home. He powered down as soon as he was there, feeling very much ready to sleep away the stress of that trip, forgetting about that photo he'd taken and shoved into his subspace.