The village shouldn't have been silent.Kratos stood at the treeline, one hand resting on the Leviathan Axe strapped to his back, his breath misting in the bitter cold. Behind him, Atreus shifted his weight, bow already in hand. The boy had learned well—never assume safety. Never lower your guard."Father," Atreus whispered. "Where is everyone?"The settlement ahead was small, maybe twenty structures scattered across a clearing carved from the pine forest. Smoke should have been rising from hearths. Children should have been playing in the snow. But there was nothing. Just the wind moving through empty doorways like the breath of something watching.Kratos moved forward, boots crunching through fresh snow. No tracks. No footprints leading away. Just smooth white powder, undisturbed except for their own trail behind them."Stay close," he rumbled.They'd come here following rumors—whispers carried by traders in the last village two days south. People vanishing. Entire families gone in

Dawn came like a wound opening across the sky—red and raw and reluctant.Kratos hadn't slept. He'd sat at the cave entrance all night, axe across his knees, watching the treeline for movement that never came. The creatures had vanished after their warning, leaving only trampled snow and that lingering sweet rot smell that made his stomach turn.Atreus had tried to stay awake too, but exhaustion had claimed him around midnight. The boy slept now, curled near the dead fire, one hand still clutching his bow. Even in sleep, he looked tense. Ready to fight.Good. He'd need to be.Kratos stood, joints protesting from a night of cold and stillness. He was getting old—not by mortal standards, but by the measure of wars fought and blood spilled. Every scar was a calendar marking time he should have been dead. Should have stayed dead.But death had never been permanent for him. Not when there was still work to do.He moved to the cave entrance, studying the landscape with a warrior's eye. The f

They walked for hours through the frozen forest, putting distance between themselves and the ruined village. Neither spoke. There was too much to process, too many questions without answers.Kratos's body ached in ways it hadn't for years. The cold from Vetrblod's grip had sunk deep, settling into his bones like poison. Every breath hurt. Every step required concentration. But he didn't slow down, didn't show weakness. Atreus needed to see strength right now, not doubt.The boy walked beside him, bow ready, eyes constantly scanning the treeline. He'd been quiet since they left—too quiet. Kratos recognized that silence. He'd worn it himself many times, in the years after Lysandra and Calliope. The silence of someone trying to make sense of horror."We need information," Kratos finally said, breaking the oppressive quiet. "Someone who understands what we're facing.""You mean Freya," Atreus said."Yes.""She's not going to be happy to see us.""She doesn't have to be happy. She just has

They traveled for three days without rest, pushing north into territories where even the hardiest Norsemen refused to venture. The landscape grew increasingly hostile—trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their branches reaching skyward like skeletal fingers grasping at clouds that never broke. The snow here wasn't white but grey, ash-colored, as if the land itself was dying.Kratos felt the cold in his chest spreading with each passing hour. It had moved beyond his ribs now, creeping down his arms, making his fingers stiff and unresponsive. He hid it as best he could, but Atreus noticed everything.The boy hadn't spoken much since the encounter with the silver-eyed girl. He walked beside Kratos with his bow perpetually ready, eyes constantly scanning, jumping at shadows that might not be shadows at all. The fear was changing him, hardening him in ways that made Kratos's chest tighten for reasons that had nothing to do with Vetrblod's curse."We need to find shelter," Atreus said as th

[Atreus - Earlier]The deeper passage had been a mistake.Atreus realized this about thirty seconds after leaving his father behind, but by then it was too late to turn back. The sounds of battle echoed from the cave entrance—ice shattering, his father's roars, the inhuman screams of the creatures. Every instinct told him to go back, to fight beside Kratos like they always did.But his father had ordered him to run. And despite everything, despite his growing power and confidence, Atreus was still a son who obeyed when it mattered most.So he ran deeper into the darkness, bow in hand, golden light flickering weakly from his palm to illuminate the way. The passage was narrow, forcing him to squeeze through gaps that would have been impossible for Kratos. Maybe that's what his father had meant—this was a path only he could take.The tunnel descended sharply, twisting and turning in ways that felt deliberately confusing. More than once, Atreus had to backtrack when he hit dead ends or dr