Discerning the Transmundane

Kespin eagerly entered the hall, a light from his staff guiding him. He quickly noticed its influence weakening and stopped, lowering the staff defensively.
"What curious magic. It seems I am by my lonesome."
He flattened himself on the smooth, cold floor as a voice rang out in the darkness like thunder.
"BEGONE SKOLL AND HATI!! DO YOU NOT SEE YOU CREATE YOUR OWN DEMISE?"
As the echoes faded, Kespin cautiously rose, this time igniting a flame spell in his hand.
Taking up a slower pace, he looked all around him in hopes of rejoining the group.
"Please see reason! This path you choose will only bring ruin! For once contain your hubris and LISTEN!!"
This time the voice was close to him, causing him to yelp in fright and send a fireball towards its source. The spell only flew a few feet before being engulfed.
He chose not to speak, certain his insanity would make him believe he had been speaking the whole time. The voice was his, but it seemed more sure of itself.
"Look at you now, mighty Odin-son. I take no pleasure in your loss, though at last your bloodlust can now rest."
A thought was forming in the wizened mans head, though he couldn't finish it before soul-wrenching scream tore through the void around him. Kespin quickly covered his ears and crouched down. As he looked at the ground again, he noticed lines forming around where he stood, each one connecting with another and forming letters. His eyes nearly popped out as he realized it spelled a name, only it wasn't his.
"Mimir?"
As the name left him, the scream stopped. He was left back in the void and he quickly gathered himself and rushed off, not noticing an ancient runic language forming on the cover of his journal.