Einar couldn’t help but feel the singing seemed eerie. Like the wail of a banshee yet not in horror but in sadness. Dozens of elves sang in a high-pitched voice, long notes carried out for five to twelve seconds before changing again.

Soon the words started, none he could understand, and yet the tone in their voices conveyed the loss each of them felt.

Standing in front of Einar, one of the temple priests in a black robe held up their hands, waving slightly from side to side, matching the chorus of singers behind the pyre that had been built.

Out before them were over a hundred elves, all gathered to pay tribute to Lathliss and her sacrifice.

I feel so out of place. Freyr, forgive me if I cannot honor your warrior with my words, as I know she deserves.

Having said his small prayer, Einar stood there, waiting for his turn as the light of the sun disappeared finally, leaving the only light coming from the torches that encircled the ultimate resting place of Lathliss' mortal coil.

Both of the priest’s hands descended, and the singing faded out, stopping when painted hands touched their side.

They turned and gave him a nod, the black shawl covering their head bearing the boar of Freyr in red.

Clearing his throat, Einar moved to where he had been told to go and faced the crowd before him.

“Children of Freyr. Behind me is a warrior who knew the cost of every battle and of every fight she took part in. Never once did she back down and even though she did not have to join us on this journey, her love for her people and the desire of you to all be safe drove her to go.

“I did not get enough time to get to know Lathliss, yet her smile was bright, and she shined with the light of Freyr.”

Taking a deep breath, Einar motioned to Lyeneru, who came toward him, handing him one of the two torches she held before moving to the end, where Lathliss’s feet were bound in a white cloth.

“Tonight, I am honored by you and her family asking if I would send her soul to rejoin Freyr and Yggdrasil. I shall pray for her and that when she returns, she will once more be a light that provides safety to her people.”

Tears began to flow down his cheek and Einar let them be free.

He moved to the spot where the warrior's head was wrapped tight. He had seen the remains, knew what was left after that horrible death she suffered. It was overwhelming, knowing he was sending a soul to be reborn. None of the religious stuff had ever made sense on Earth. Hope was hard to find in a world where he had a horrible father and people did atrocious things. That was why he had joined the military. To extract judgment on those who felt they could inflict pain on the weak.

Waving his torch once, he pushed it deep inside the opening created for it, watching as fire began to ignite slowly.

Then something inside him tugged at his heart.

Einar felt the thread and knew what needed to be done.

Drawing upon his Wyrd, Einar let it flow through him.

He sensed an overwhelming desire to use the gifts he had been given. Even without Odin’s boon to draw upon, he had enough for this moment.

Flames began to form upon his arms, slowly traveling toward his hands and along the torch.

“Lathliss Encan! Allow Odin’s child to bid you a quick return to Freyr!”

As he shouted, the torch roared to life, flames traveling quickly through the dried wood of the pyre. Even though Lyeneru had left her torch stuffed inside, he stood there, part of him ablaze as the flames that surrounded Lathliss grew.

Drawing deeper, he forced more of his Wyrd into this moment, legs tight, core set, eyes focused on the point before him.

Einar shared with this soul a part of him. He gave all that he had, ignoring the heat that washed over him, forcing all the others who had gathered close to back up.

It was as if someone had doused the wood in gasoline and that simple spark had created an inferno that twisted into a flame that rose above the buildings nearby.

Breathing was hard, it burned in his lungs, yet no matter how the flames were, inside him was a greater fire.

A minute passed and then another, and around five minutes his legs trembled, his arms were shaking and the torch clattered against the coals of the wood it touched.

Every breath was ragged, each one harder to take as the hot air scorched his face and body.

Someone had called his name out a while ago but had stopped.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

The pyre was almost burnt away, and his well of Wyrd was almost dry, evaporated by the flames of what he had done.

In unison, Einar and the bonfire collapsed.

A pair of hands grabbed him, pulling him backward from the pile of coals that were scattering across the stone where the pyre had been built.

His head rolled freely and looking up into the dark sky, Einar could see a spout of flames traveling toward the stars, slowly fading into darkness.

“What was that?” Thorodd whispered, yet his voice almost seemed like he had yelled.

No one said a word, and every elf present was silent.

A pile of ash and a scattering of dying coals were all that was left of their sister.

Only the torches provided light and as his second in command lifted him to his feet, Einar saw that each of their faces had rivers of tears running down them yet all of them wore a smile larger than any he had ever seen before.

“Freyr has heard the Child of Odin’s plea! His boon has told us so!”

The priest’s yell stunned Einar and then every elf dropped to their knees, waving their arms and began singing a song that seemed to lift his heart even without knowing the words.

Glancing over his shoulder, Einar saw each of his warriors staring at him in shock.

“Join them,” he whispered and fell to his knees, freeing himself of his friends' hands that had just lifted him up.

The sound of their massive bodies hitting the stone was drowned out as the elves sang for over ten minutes, finally crescendoing in a song that could have ignited the sun with the warmth it gave.

The priest came to where Einar and the Vikings were and reached into a long sleeve, pulling out a jar.

“The honor we owe cannot be repaid. You who are gathered here, paid tribute to our sister and fought beside her, have earned something no other Viking has received in so much time.”

Dipping the long, elegant finger, the priest withdrew his finger, a black substance covering the ivory skin. Moving to stand in front of Einar, the priest drew something on his forehead.

It felt cold and hot at the same time. Each stroke was deliberate.

When finished, the priest moved before Thorodd and repeated the act.

His heart pounded in his chest, trying to recover from what he had done, and yet he hadn’t felt this alive in a while.

As the priest moved from Viking to Viking, a few murmurs from the elves reached them and turning to look behind, he saw on Thorodd and the other’s forehead was the rune for Freyr.

The marking was white, no longer black.

What does this mean?

A puzzled look from the large man and others came, but Einar shrugged.

Then he spotted Thorve, who was sobbing silently.

Tears flowed and yet she looked happier than any of the elves had moments ago.

She spotted him and mouthed thank you before blinking and letting the tears run down her cheeks untouched.

Soon, the priest stood before all of them again. After storing the vial, the priest held up their hand, silencing all who had been whispering.

“We have been granted a gift from Freyr and he revealed to me what I needed to do. Stand Viking! You have been marked as children of Freyr as well! Every elf will see you as one of our own!”

A cheer came and Einar found himself unable to move for a moment. Once more Thorodd grabbed him with those beefy hands of his and yanked him upward.

The priest held up his hands once more, silencing all those who were gathered.

“To prove that the words I have spoken are true and that none may ever doubt what has been said, you shall see something only an elf can see. If I have lied and Freyr did not tell me to do what I have done, then may my lifeless body serve as proof to never pretend to be the tongue for our Father.”

Taking the cloth that hung over his head, the priest lifted the veil.

Ivory skin shone with a deep glow, somehow hidden by the material it wore.

Both eyes were like the sun, blazing with yellow light and when the priest turned for a moment, letting all who were gathered gaze upon his image. A moment later,r he lowered the cloth, hiding the glowing presence.

“Tonight, let us celebrate the birth of our new brothers and sisters and rejoice that Lathliss shall join us sooner than later!”

Cheers came and every elf that had been watching from afar rushed them, welcoming their newest family.

***

“Einar Sibbonson, I am not happy with you. For the last few months, I was your friend and possibly close enough to call you brother and now I must compete with every other of my people for that title.”

Chuckling, Einar gave the warrior a gentle punch to the shoulder as they rode side by side.

“I’m just glad we made it out finally. Two hours later than we had planned.”

“One does not just leave for the capital and plan to escape unnoticed. Especially after what you did last night. For generations, elves will sing of the send off you gave. Yet not even that will compare to what Freyr commanded our holy one to do.”

Snorting and shaking his head, Varitan motioned to Einar.

“Don’t get me started,” Lyeneru mumbled. “If I had not seen it with my own eyes, felt the touch of Freyr and witnessed the drawing of the rune, never would I have believed it. Even so, the things this is going to cause when we arrive at Lho Allanar, the news will spread like a fire through dry grass on a windy day. Hopefully, we have beaten any news from being sent out already.”

“I’m certain Nissa did not send out a messenger,” Varitan said before starting to chuckle. “One of the servants I know says she has not left her chambers since the gift that was given. It would appear she has not felt well.”

“Serves her right. I have had to deal with too many like her and being able to kick the stool she stood upon out from under her brought me more joy than I will admit.”

Varitan this time gave Einar a gentle punch and let out a booming laugh.

“Tell me,” Lyeneru said as she leaned forward to look past her laughing friend. “Do you plan on causing as much trouble when we get to Lho Allanar? I for once would like to enjoy a life that doesn’t involve people who can make me sit at the edge of a swamp cutting wings off of bugs.”

Scratching his chin, Einar shrugged.

“Probably not. I seem to have a problem with pissing people off.”

Thorodd burst into laughter at those words, bobbing his head over and over.

“With Odin as my witness, not only does Einar shit gold, but every word he speaks either makes someone love him or makes them want to kill him.”