The elevator dinged softly as I stepped out into Fenrir's headquarters, greeted by the sterile but oddly imposing lobby of polished black stone and glowing runes etched into the walls.
Fenrir himself waited by the reception desk, idly tossing a gleaming silver coin that caught the light with every rotation.
"Ah, Carl," he said, his grin as wolfish as his reputation. "Ready for rounds three and four of the Predator-Level Security test?"
"Do I have a choice?" I asked, adjusting my uniform—a futile attempt to steady my nerves.
"No," Fenrir replied, his grin widening. "But you knew that already."
He snapped his fingers, and the air around me shimmered.
I barely had time to mutter a half-hearted complaint before the world twisted and reassembled itself into a forest that stretched impossibly high.
