That’s a brilliant hook. I’d start by mapping the Völuspá cadence onto breathing cycles – inhale on the opening lines, exhale on the climactic verses, letting each breath sync with the rhythm. The virtual space would be a mist‑shrouded clearing, stone circles glowing faintly, the wind carrying the ancient chants. As you move through the ritual, the environment subtly shifts, mirroring the warrior’s transformation: light dims, a fire flickers, then brightens again as you release tension. I’d sprinkle in occasional visual cues—like a rune glinting—to remind you of the story’s milestones, and finish with a silent moment where the warrior’s silence becomes your own quiet. It feels like stepping into a living myth, but you’re still breathing, still here.

Got it—wind will be a bit more stormy, not a gentle lull, so you feel that surge without drowning in calm. I’ll carve the runes in wax‑stained, half‑burned stone, exactly the skalds did, and I’ll seat you on a sturdy stone chair so every shift in posture feels like a true ritual. No plastic—just the weight of ancient wood and stone.