Rage was overflowing. But neither his friend nor Hoyle seemed to pay him much mind. Again he was feeling betrayed by these people, and his patience was running thin. They had dragged him into what was escelating into a nightmare. And yet they would not answer him, his best friend would not answer for what he had done. He was seething, brimming with anger. He was about to lash out against Atticus again when a hand rested on his shoulders. Strange, yet familiar sensations ran trough him. Natures own, like roots of trees that slowly encroach on the river, taming it's flow. He eyed the Dryad, listened to his words. There was a lot that made sense, and it actually annoyed him a bit. This man had no idea why Henry wanted to punch his best friend and his boss both. But maybe that was a good thing.

“Niffleheim merely birthed the very first ones as far as I know.” Henry relaxed visibly, the Dryad was right about anger not solving anything and the energies ebbing out inside him was somehow able to quell the raging river that currently screamed bloody murder inside him. “Niffleheim is the realm of Hel now, the Lady of Death. It's the place of the afterlife for those who died of sickness and not battle. It's also the realm of eternal frost.” He paused. From what he knew, the Lady of Ice looked and felt elven. He looked to Atticus and his petite vampiress and sighed. He would give that man a piece of his mind later, rest assured. But for now they needed to get going before more things came for them and the only one who could help Siya was likely the Incubus. So he turned back to the Dryad and the doctor who was out cold.

 “Help me with the good doctor here. Sleeping or not, we have to move. The lady of Ice can trace me now that I have decided to step out of my disguise.” He carefully hoisted the unconscious mans arm over his shoulder. “Oof, Dr Kinnon needs to ease up a bit on the food.” 

 “As for the Frozen Lady. Once we are safe, I will thell all I know is about her. But I can tell you right now is that her name is Ylva, Someone I used to know, referred to her as a scandinavian Dökkálfr, commonly referred to as a Dark elf in common tongue. Granted, I can tell you about seven different kinds of Dark Elves, all from different mythos. I met her once, a long time ago and paid a terrible for refusing to serve under her. But from the looks of it, she found others of my kind that were willing to do her bidding.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, the memories vivid still to this day. How close had it not been to a repeat of those very events. He began to follow the Werewolf

 “ Dark Elves are supposed to be subterran and stick to their own realms however, not born in Niffleheim. So you got me there, I have no idea what she is in truth. I suspect the usual godlike mischief took place to create her, for no other creature I have encountered is as cruel as her. Only she knows what her ambitions and reasons are.” Henry was, quite honesltly as clueless as the Dryad about the whole thing. His entire stay with the company, he had tried to research her, but they had next to nothing on the wicked ice witch. And the past year he had been unable to sleep in fear he'd see the bitch in his dreams.