"Where can I find it?"
Rhian's voice was steady, but the question landed with weight.
Borik blinked once, then burst out laughing.
"By the gods, you're not real!" he chuckled, walking back toward his forge. "What are you, some lost son of Odin trying to climb the Bifröst and rewrite fate itself?"
He kept laughing, louder now, shaking his head. "Next you'll be telling me you're off to slay Níðhöggr and drink from Mímir's well."
Rhian didn't say anything. He just stared at him.
Borik kept chuckling to himself, pacing a little as he wiped his hands. "Kid, you have a better chance of finding a rune-smith in these parts than ever laying eyes on the World Tree."
His laughter slowed as he turned back, and then he stopped cold.
The look on Rhian's face wasn't playful. It wasn't curious either. It was focused. Serious.
Borik narrowed his eyes.
"You're... actually serious?" he asked.
Rhian nodded once.
