A woman stood in the crowd that had gathered in the museum. There was some sort presentation going on and the whole world had been invited to this tiny, isolated island empire. It was a place she’d only heard stories about from a man long since dead. The entire place was like a time capsule back to her youth. She may have looked young but she was far older than her appearance suggested. She waited along with the rest of the crowd with bated breath. Onto the makeshift stage, stepped a girl. By the girl’s side was the largest dog she had ever seen. The girl’s hand rested lightly on its head as she took her place at the center of the stage. The woman was struck by how similar the girl looked to her. Her stance, her posture, the way she carried herself, it all suggested the strength of will she possessed. She was so caught up looking and studying the girl, she didn’t realize that the girl had begun to speak.

“First, I would like to thank you all for being here today,” she began. “I realize many of you were unaware of the existance of this empire and that fault lies with us. We have isolated ourselves on these islands we call home for too long. That is why I petitioned the king to open our shores so that we all may share this momentous discovery. A discovery that my father devoted his last years to and one that I spent the last seven years looking for. My father was a brilliant man and a wonderful archeologist. He taught me everything I know. Things that cannot be learned in school or a book. If it weren’t for him, none of us would be here today. Sadly, he is the only one who is missing today.” The girl paused to compose herself. “Ironically, or perhaps fortuitously, today it has been a year since he passed. This past year has been one of the most difficult, not only of my life but of my career. To any archeologist, the story of the phantom ship known today only as The Bloodshed is just that, a story. But to some, it is more than a story. It is truth. My father grew up on stories of the Wolfe of the Atlantic and her ship The Bloodshed. Ever since he could remember, he want to find this lost ship and prove to the world it existed. But fate had other ideas. Fate would not see him begin looking for his phantom ship until his later years. I spent those years with him. It came with a stunning discovery on the island of Folkvang when I was 17.” A wall appeared to her left. “As you can see, this wall is Egyptian in style. However, it is not your typical Egyptian style. It more closely resembles the style seen during the Armarna period. But it isn’t the painting itself that pertains to The Bloodshed. It is in fact, the two sets of runes near the base of the wall that are of the most pertenance. They translate to the following: Ulric Eames I am taken. I know not whence we came nor where we go. These words be my last perhaps. Should I perish I go to Valhalla to join my mother and father at Frejya’s table. That is the first set. The second reads: Slavers whisper in fear. A ship has been sighted off the coast. Some say it’s a sister ship. Others say it’s The Bloodshed come to plunder their cargo and kill them while they sleep. Freyja help me I hope against hope it is The Bloodshed come to plunder their cargo and set us free.” She paused here to let the words sink in. “Anyone who studies history knows that Ulric Eames was freed by Anwen Wolfe from slavers. However, the history books neglect to mention whether or not he was aboard a ship at the time of his release. There is one final set of runes that I noticed upon going back over the stones of the wall several months ago. It reads: Free. To Greenland with the silver wolf. It is common knowledge that Anwen Wolfe had very light hair. Light enough that in the right light it could look either white or silver. I believe this last set of runes to be a clue for Ulric’s family if they were searching for him and stumbled across the isle. Contemporary accounts of this ship are next to none. But Ulric’s runes point us towards Greenland. And, in fact, it was known that Balthazar Price, Anwen’s father, stole items from his own cargo and left them on Iceland to be collected later. Records tell us that Balthazar Price became Balthazar the Black upon turning to piracy. The ship he sailed was the ship he sailed as a merchant, The Star of Orion. Over the years, that same ship became known a The Bloodshed and was feared wherever she went. But her fearsome reputation under Balthazar’s command did not even come close to her reputation under Anwen. Anwen Price became Anwen Wolfe when her father tried to sell her off in marriage before turning pirate. Their relationship was tense at the best of times and after this, dissolved completely. Thus, it should come as no surprise that Anwen killed her own father and took his ship as her prize. Her own ship, The Siren’s Revenge, became a supply ship for the settlement she built on Greenland.” Pictures appeared on a screen behind the girl. “Now, archeological digs at this site have shown that the structures predate Anwen’s time. They are, in fact, Viking. Anwen herself grew up on stories of the Vikings, based on the journal of her father’s found in my family’s library. According to Balthazar’s journal, Anwen would beg him for stories of the Vikings and the shield maidens. Stories that were more than just blood and gore. Stories that were more like the sagas. So it makes sense that she would be drawn to the very place she had heard so many stories about. Granted, she had no way of knowing their truth until she arrived on shore. The last time either ship was spotted was on a return voyage from England.” Murmurs went around the crowd at this but the girl merely held up her hand and silence descended once again. “It is true, the British despised her. But we have to remember Anwen herself was British. She was indeed a high society lady, though if she ever heard you call her that she was sure to slit your throat. The only reason Anwen could have for returning to England was her mother. Her mother died when she was very young and Anwen never got over that. Her mother was the only real parent she knew. So, every year around her mother’s birthday she would make the trip back to England to visit her mother’s grave for the day. The last reports are of her ship limping back towards Greenland. But the reports say it was The Bloodshed that sank that day. The reports are wrong. The Bloodshed was too easily recognized. So Anwen always sailed to England aboard The Siren’s Revenge. Thus, the ship that the Spanish sank that day wasn’t The Bloodshed but The Siren’s Revenge. This was later confirmed in the captain’s log of the HMS Boudica by Captain McAlistair. The crew of the ship escaped and returned to Greenland, where upon hearing rumors that it was The Bloodshed that sank that fateful day they beached her permanently. The frozen landscape of Greenland preserved the ship. And though I wish my father were here to see her in person, I know he would not want me to delay this anylonger than necessary. Ladies and gentleman, I give you The Bloodshed!”

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The great curtain that had been covering the window behind the girl suddenly dropped. There, anchored in a false harbor, sat The Bloodshed. The reveal elicited gasps of surprise or awe from most of the gathered audience but for the woman who stood rooted to the spot. She had come tonight only because she had been told of this isle long ago. Now, she could see the person who’d insisted she come had ulterior motives.

A pair of arms snaked around her waist and a head came to rest on her shoulder.

“She is something, isn’t she?” he asked her.

The woman made no reply. She was too busy trying to clear the cobwebs from her memories. Trying to remember why the ship elicited such a magnetic pull on her.

“Annie, you alright?” the man asked, turning her to face him.

She cocked her head before replying, “I can’t quite seem to to shake the feeling that I’ve seen that ship before.”

Her brows furrowed as she desparately tried to recall anything. The man put a hand on her cheek causing her to look into his eyes again. He was about to say something when a voice cut him off.

“Akira!” it called.

The woman froze as her eyes widened. She knew that voice.

“Asena!” the girl from the stage called. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Ha! Like I’d miss this! Oi! Mavi, come on old man!”

“Who are you calling old, sister?” a third voice joined the other two.

The woman turned quickly, so quickly her unbound hair hit the man behind her. There were now two more figures on stage with the girl. One had hair like fire, while the other had hair that was halfway between the firey red of the woman and the silver-white of the girl.

“Annie?” the man behind her reached for her but she was already moving.

She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd until she was at the edge of the makeshift stage. By this time, a fourth figure had joined the other three. A boy, younger than the girl by two or three years. He too had a large wolf-like dog at his side. She could see the resemblance between the boy, the girl, and the man but it was clear the man was not their father. His eyes said he was far older than he looked. Just like the eyes of the woman. Just like her own eyes.

“It cannot be,” she said.

Four sets of eyes turned to her. Two sets widened in surprise while two lit with recognition.

“Mum?”