Odin is missing. His belongings remained untouched in his tent, and not a speck of his presence was left. Our voices echoed in the spaceless chamber we were in, deaf to our ears. We separate to investigate the floor we are on, in two groups of three. I’m with Patru and Ni. We lug our baggage with us, ready for anything. The stone stays silent.

Ni points to a soft glow in the distance. As a hunter, her tracking skills proved to be of great value. We walk over to a staircase leading further down into the cave. Above these steps lays Odin’s necklace, with the slightest curl to its cord. Patru crouches down to pick it up, observing it within his thoughts. He calls for the other three. The blue rock sits in his palm, so quiet in the fire of his torch.

 I inquire of Patru what this necklace means to Odin. Their father worked as a miner; he perished in his line of duty. His body rested in the cold underground. This necklace was a memoir; he cut the stone himself and had it turned into a jewel. A somber smile blesses Patru. When the rest of our group arrive, we continue down.

The staircase spirals in an uneven manner. It is neither wide nor narrow. Tre and I trail behind the others, conversing on the matter at hand. He found the story of Odin’s necklace amusing, though it spoke empty words to him. Tre’s own father had not been a kind man. When I press for more, he knows little. Suddenly, those in front stop to a halt. Patru’s cries are as the screech of glass.

I’m eventually able to make my way to the front. Beside the shadows of flame sits a head without a body, its eyes cutting gazeless. The nape is cut in a straight circular outline, inhumanly precise.

Patru insisted that we searched for Odin’s body, and so we did, until fatigue turned to fright. He had covered the head in a scarf and carried it in his bag. When we set camp, he places it on a stone and wraps the necklace around its neck. No one disturbs him in his grief.

This floor is considerably larger, with no end in sight. I wonder what will happen of our expedition. Exhaustion weighs heavy on me, yet sleep would only evoke nightmares. No matter. I cannot write anymore.