Together, they left the eatery, getting lost in the crowd of people thronging the streets. The sound of hammering on metal, the smell of freshly baked bread, and the chatter of the crowd enveloped them as they made their way towards the city gate.
As they walked through the Burh, a young woman named Lyra, one of the palace's honoured attendants, known as a "Hirdkona", caught Kael's eye. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with interest, as they passed each other in the hallway. Vigdis noticed the exchange and elbowed Kael playfully. "Ah, looks like someone's got their eye on you, Kael! Just a try won't hurt, eh?" he teased, using the Norse phrase "Ein þrýr, ein þrýr" (one try, one try). Kael blushed and shook his head, but Vigdis just chuckled and clapped him on the back. They entered the gathered guards' briefing, where their Hersir, the leader of the guard, was addressing the group. "As you all know, an incident occurred in the Víðimýri field last night. A dark force, known as the 'Mórka', drained half of the field and affected several of the Shepherd's herds, known as 'Féhirðir'. It also drained a section of the sacred fountain, 'Mímisbrunnr'." The Hersir's expression was grave. "We need to investigate this incident and determine the cause. Kael and Vigdis, I want you to head to the Víðimýri field and see what you can make of it. Report back to me with any findings." He turned to the other guards. "Meanwhile, I want the higher-ranked guards to put up a patrol at the Langagata gate, the Borgargata gate, and 'Borgartorn' (the tower gate). Let's keep a sharp eye out for any signs of trouble. We'll reconvene once Kael and Vigdis return with their findings." The guards nodded and began to disperse, each one knowing their assigned task. Kael and Vigdis exchanged a look, then headed out towards the Víðimýri field, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Kael and Vigdis rode on horseback, accompanied by other guards, towards the Víðimýri field. As they dismounted their horses, Kael looked around, feeling an eerie sense of familiarity. The same energy he had felt at the stable the previous night seemed to be emanating from the field. Suddenly, Kael's eyes glazed over, and he fell into a state of trance, known as "ógn" in Old Norse. He was transported to a dark, foreboding place, a deep, dark hole that seemed to stretch on forever. As he stood there, frozen in time, he heard his name being called again, the same whispery woman's voice that had summoned him to the stable. The image of the woman he had seen calling for help flashed before his eyes, and then, a horn-like shape began to take form, its surface a deep, fiery red, reminiscent colour. The voice continued to call out to him, but this time, it was a different voice, one that seemed to come from all around him. Vigdis's voice cut through the trance, "Kael! Kael! Are you okay? You're lost for a moment, are you alright?" Kael stumbled back to reality, stammering, "I'm...I'm...Fine." Vigdis looked at him with concern, "You need to stay focused, Kael. We don't need any 'fýla' here." (Fýla is an Old Norse word for "foul play" or "mishap".) Kael took a deep breath, composing himself. "What evil happened here?" he asked, surveying the desolate landscape. Vigdis shook his head, making a wry comment, "Somebody got busy last night, making a huge mess! Looks like the Norns themselves have been weaving a dark tapestry here." Kael called out to a junior guard, "Hey, Sveinn! (Sveinn is an Old Norse name, and also a term used to address a junior guard or servant.) Did you witness anything unusual last night?" The junior guard responded with a crisp, military salute, "Já, Kael! (Yes, Kael!) I was on watch near the field, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. However, I did hear strange noises coming from the field around midnight. It sounded like...like the howling of wolves, but it was different, somehow." Kael nodded and looked around at the desolate field then turned to the junior guard again. "Sveinn, come with me. We'll speak to the villagers and see if anyone has any information." Sveinn nodded and followed Kael as they made their way into the village. As they walked, Kael noticed that the villagers were all huddled together, speaking in hushed tones. They seemed nervous and on edge. Kael approached one of the villagers, an elderly woman. "did you hear anything strange last night? Anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary?" The woman looked around nervously before leaning in close. "I heard the sound of wolves, but it was different. It was...it was almost like they were singing, but it was a sad, mournful sound." Kael's eyes narrowed. "Did you see anything?" The woman shook her head. "No, I saw nothing. Kael and Sveinn spent the rest of the day questioning the villagers, but no one seemed to have any concrete information about what had happened the previous night. As the sun began to set, Kael and Sveinn returned to Vigdis, who was waiting for them by the horses. "Anything?" Vigdis asked, but Kael just shook his head. "No one saw anything, but they all heard the strange noises. It's as if...it's as if something is trying to hide its tracks." Vigdis nodded grimly. "It's a Mórka, all right. I can feel it in my bones." Sveinn looked at them nervously. "What's a Mórka, sir?" Vigdis's expression was grim. "It's a darkness, a malevolent force that brings destruction and chaos. We need to be careful, Sveinn. We don't know what we're dealing with here." As they mounted their horses and rode back to the Burh, "The entire city was gripped with fear and anxiety, as if the very fabric of their reality was unraveling before their eyes..."
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Chapter 75: The Shattered Veil
Kael felt a pulse within the sword that instant when his eyes met with Draumfangr, it was like a low, thrumming hum that began to build like the deep vibrations of a storm stirring within his chest. The Einherjar’s Blade had never felt like this before. It was no longer simply an extension of his arm, but it had become something else. He could feel it very much alive, reacting to the awakening of Draumfangr, attuned to the terrible magic flooding through Svarthallr. A beast with talons like obsidian struck at his side, but Kael spun just in time, blocking the blow with his sword. The impact sent shockwaves through his body, but it was the blade that sang its edge glowing bright, brighter than the moonlight. Then the world shifted. The moment he held the sword steady, an eclipse of magic washed over him, the blade glowing with a white hot radiance. Kael was awakening with it. The scroll flared in his other hand, and the runes on it writhed like serpents, pulsing in rhythm wit
Chapter 74: The Eye Beneath the World
The ground groaned like the breath of a dying god. Kael staggered back as the stone floor buckled, cracks racing outward from the Runic Pillar. Draumfangr’s eye was vast, slitted, and older than the Nine Realms , had opened. there was no iris. No mercy. It was Just an abyss of golden fire, that was watching. “Run,” Kaida gasped, her voice thinned by pain and a strong fate. “You must run, Kael...now... run!” A shieldmaiden, her face pale and bloodied, didn’t wait. She seized Kael’s arm and pulled. The tremor split through the chamber, sending chunks of obsidian crashing from the ceiling. Kael immediately shoved the scroll into his satchel. Draumfangr’s eye followed him as he turned, the sword of the Einherjar glowing in response to the creature's presence. The blade trembled in his grip. It knew this name. It feared it. The breath of Eir flared inside him, golden veins of light spidering up his arms, fortifying his limbs. His wounds closed. His pulse surged with a god wroug
Chapter 73: The First Blow of the End
Skuggrbani’s roar was not of beast nor man. It was the scream of molten steel being torn apart, of cursed runes breaking and reshaping with every breath. Its eyes blazed like twin suns devoured by shadow. Kael’s blade gleamed as he raised it high. “Einherjar! Shieldmaidens! Strike first and strike deep!” The war cry of the North rose like a tidal wave, and the ground quaked under their charge. Shieldmaidens slammed into Skuggrbani’s legs, driving spears into its joints. Dwarven hammer mages hurled bolts of crushed starlight, cracking through its armor. The elves of Alfheim loosed arrows of radiant wind , yet still, the beast moved. A single swing of its molten arm crushed five men and sent ash flying. “Kael!” Astrid shouted from below, deflecting a falling stone with her shield. “Its heart, the rune-core! It's corrupt but alive!” Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Then we cut it out.” With a leap only an Einherjar could make, he vaulted from a pile of shattered rock and drove his b
Chapter 72: Thrym's Flame
The skies over Nørhaven wept ash. From the blackened clouds above, a crimson light pulsed like the breath of some ancient beast. A heat began to rise that turned even the snow beneath Kael’s boots into steam. The wind smelled of scorched bone and molten iron. All knew what this meant. The Fire Lord had come. Kael stood at the northern watchtower, his eyes narrowed against the thick smoke rolling over the frost-bitten hills. In the distance, rising over the horizon, came the blaze of Muspelheim’s vanguard. Fire giants marched like burning towers, each step leaving charred scars across the land. At the center, looming above all, came Thrym, his sword was Twilight, glowing with the light of a dying star. "Sound the Gjallarhorn," Kael ordered, his voice steady. The guard nodded, sprinting toward the horn at the wall’s edge. Below, the ranks of Nørhaven's defenders braced. The shieldmaidens of Svanhild’s Fortress arrived first, their armor gleaming with divine light At the fa
Chapter 71: Mjölnir Forge And The Weapons of the Damned
In the mountains where Mjölnir was once born, the betrayer now labored to end the realms. Far to the east, beyond the frost bitten peaks of the Dvergfjell Mountains, where thunder once crowned the heavens and the forge of the gods had layed sealed in the depths of the stone, now awakened. The same forge that birthed Mjölnir, the hammer of storms. Now, it answered to Loki. The fire no longer roared gold. It now bled black and violet, hissing with sorcery and great darkness . Anvils cracked with cries not heard since the First War. Chains made from serpent spine and soul iron dangled from the ceiling. This was no forge of creation, it had become the grindstone of oblivion. Loki stood at its center, his eyes wild with purpose. He was not alone. Thrym the frost giant watched his frost giants Pounding heavy metals around the forge. the chill of Jotunheim pouring off him. Hrym, massive and silent, crouched in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the flames. And Jörmungandr, the gr
Chapter 70
Kael chuckled under his breath, the rim of his cup pausing just at his lips. The tavern still burned with life but right outside. outside the moon hung low and wide, like a silver shield in the sky. Stars blinked above the rooftops, and the streets of the northern hold were quiet but for three voices making their way out of the tavern and stumbling through the silence. Kael staggered on the left, steady but swaying, his cloak dragging behind him. Vigdis leaned to the right, humming a half forgotten ballad about a shieldmaiden who once drank a frost giant under the table. Between them, Astrid had her arms hooked around their shoulders, keeping both men from falling and yet barely walking straight herself. "Kael, son of snow and storm," "oh... sorry I head the men called you son of the North,"she slurred, laughing. "You walk like a half frozen elk that forgot its legs." "And you," Kael grunted, elbowing her lightly, "smell like a goat that bathed in mjød." Vigdis roared with
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