Chapter-3|Into the Unknown

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“Now get up, sleepyhead!” She mumbled at Rowan's face.

“Why do I have to get up so early and why am I even being captured here?” Rowan said reluctantly as he has no choice whatsoever on decisions when he is under the grasp of this crazy woman.

“1st one-Training 2nd one- you will find out!” She said, giving a sly smile on her face. “And I will get some stuff from the storage- when I come back I want to see you smooth and clean!” She said, her voice filling with excitement to the brim.

“That good and all but what are we even doing?” Rowan snapped

“We are doing Training Rowan TRAINING” she replied, this time showing a little bit of anger probably because of Rowan's frustrated face. “I guess you don't know your full potential yet, you have a lot and mean A LOT to learn about what you can do or who you actually are,” She followed up with a rather more serious expression on her face than usual.

“What do you mean by ‘Who you are?’ I know who I am!" Rowan shouted, his voice trembling as if trying to convince himself. "I am Rowan Rivest, the great Asgardian warrior who fought in the war! I have a–" He froze, his breath catching in his throat. "I have a… what do I have?" His voice softened, the rage giving way to confusion.

His fingers clawed at his hair as his thoughts tangled in knots. "Artemis," he muttered, the name slipping out like a long-forgotten secret. "I remember something I have in Artemis, but what DO I HAVE? WHAT IS IT?" he screamed, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of his frustration. His knees buckled, and he fell to the unseen ground, his fists pounding against it.

The darkness around him deepened, swallowing what little sense of space he had left. The air turned cold, suffocating. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears, but even that rhythm felt wrong—too fast, too desperate.

“WHAT DO I HAVE?” he howled again, his voice reverberating endlessly in the oppressive void.

Tick.

The sound was faint at first, distant and barely audible over the echo of his own anguish.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The steady rhythm grew louder, sharper, as if a massive clock were suspended somewhere in the blackness. It sliced through the silence, each tick pounding like a hammer against Rowan's skull.

And then, from the void, a voice—warm, gentle, but edged with something sinister—called out. "Oh, Rowan, where have you been, my child?"

Rowan froze, his breath catching. The voice was faint, echoing from a direction he couldn’t pinpoint, but it carried a strange familiarity, like an old melody he couldn't quite recall.

"It’s good you came back," the voice continued, growing louder, almost excited. "I have to show you something. This is my latest and greatest invention. JUST LOOK AT IT—IT’S MARVELOUS!"

“Who is talking?!” Rowan roared, his voice cracking with frustration and fear. He spun in every direction, fists clenched, his eyes darting through the impenetrable dark. "WHY CAN'T I SEE YOU?"

Laughter erupted from all around him—wild, mocking, and echoing endlessly. It filled the space, ricocheting off unseen walls, piercing his ears like needles.

“IT’S A PORTAL TO THE VOID! HAHAHA!” The voice boomed, gleeful and maniacal, the sound weaving itself into the darkness until Rowan couldn’t tell where the voice ended and the void began.

The laughter suddenly stopped, cut off as if by a blade.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound of the grandfather clock returned, louder now, more insistent. It echoed in perfect rhythm, filling the void like a heartbeat. Rowan’s head whipped around, searching for the source, but there was nothing. No light. No ground. Just him and the maddening, unrelenting ticking.

“Rowan…” The voice called again, softer this time. It was closer now, brushing against his ears like a whisper. “Rowan, Rowan…”

Rowan’s body stiffened. The voice sent shivers racing down his spine. It was different—no longer mocking, no longer filled with chaotic glee. It was... familiar, almost tender. A pang of recognition struck him, but he couldn’t place it.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What do you want from me?”

The ticking grew louder, faster, like the clock was running out of time. Rowan’s chest heaved as the sound filled his head, drowning out his thoughts.

“Rowan,” the voice said again, sorrowful now, yet unrelenting. “Rowan…”


Suddenly, Drenched in sweat and with a racing heart, as if it is he woke up disoriented from the nightmare, unsure of where he was or what was real. He looked to his side, catching an eye at the lady, this time deep asleep. He looked around the room unsure of what was real or fabrication at this point of time, everything seemed real but also unreal, it's like that nightmare-ish thingy had opened a third eye that could look behind the boundary of this world, as if it was like he could take a bird's eye view at any point and look at bigger picture behind the scenes. Suddenly, the lady snapped aweke.

“Oh, so you didn’t die after all!” she remarked, her lips curling into a sly, almost predatory smile, her tone laced with mocking amusement.

Rowan’s glare hardened as he stepped forward, his voice rising in a low, guttural growl. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but ever since you dragged me to this place, I’ve been haunted—visions, dreams, whatever you want to call them. They won’t leave me alone!”

Her expression darkened in an instant, the playful smirk wiped clean. “I brought you here,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension like a blade, “to fix the deed you have done!”

Rowan’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with frustration as he shot back, his voice a low rumble, brimming with barely contained anger. “What the hell do you mean by deeds that I have done?” His eyes bore into hers, demanding answers, though the fire in her gaze didn’t waver under his.

"Oh my lord, I can hardly believe this! You are so utterly and completely out of touch, it's almost laughable!" she exclaims, her tone dripping with a mixture of disbelief and condescension. "The last time I encountered a shard, at the very least he had retained his memory of what he’d done—however shameful it might have been!" Her voice, initially sharp, settles into an unnerving calm as she shifts her focus. Without missing a beat, she raises her hand with deliberate grace, her fingers outstretched as though commanding unseen forces. A faint hum fills the air, and from the farthest corner of the library, on shelf A-1.1, a book springs to life. It soars through the space like a bird in flight, cutting through the stillness with a sharp whoosh, before landing neatly in her outstretched palm as if summoned by sheer will. The entire act happens so swiftly, so effortlessly, that one might almost miss it if they blinked. She throws it too Rowan giving a side eye

“Read it then come back to me, I will be there at floor-2;1,” she said in calm voice

Rowan looked at her as she walked out of the room, this time thinking curiously then he ever was before, what did she mean by ‘The deeds have you done’ and why can't I remember my own past. “I have more questions than answers right now” he said as he opened the book

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To be continued…..