On his journey toward the infirmary, Eirik was greeted by the third northern lights of his life. It wasn’t just hearsay that they were far more vivid and common in the untamed north; many villagers barely spared them a glance before returning to their evening tasks. The snowfall had clogged the roads and even trapped some people in their homes, as the snow piled up against doorways. In unspoken agreement, the locals had come together to shovel the heaps away.
It was a beautiful sight, Eirik thought. In Halsport, the task would have been left to paid workers, who would have been criticized for even the smallest mistake or delay. Brumar, however, was a hub of community spirit, where everyone helped one another.
Since it was late, the streets were quieter compared to the daytime bustle, though many places were still open, and the rhythmic clang of iron from the blacksmith echoed across the buildings. Only those with practical reasons remained in the biting cold.
There was just one figure who didn’t seem to belong. Someone—or more like something—with no apparent purpose at all. Other than crying and screaming under the sky.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Eirik asked. "I already told you, I was just joking when I asked you to train me."
The spirit howled. "I can't remember my own name!"
"Well, hasn't it already been established that you don't really remember anything?"
It shook its head furiously—or what Eirik believed to be its head, as its shape still wasn’t clear.
"I'm trying to remember for your sake," it sobbed, "But I can't. And I have this feeling... that my name had some meaning, that it was very beautiful."
"Okay." Eirik sighed. "Okay," he repeated, "What if I call you Frosty until you remember your real name? Would that help?"
There was a brief silence, then the spirit nodded.
"Great!" Eirik grinned. "Frosty, I'll try to look into the village's history tomorrow to see if I can find any information about you. I don't think public executions were all that common around here. And I'll make sure to tell you everything I find, down to the most gruesome detail. Is that okay?"
"Frosty thinks that's okay."
Nice. Now it was speaking in the third person. Eirik hoped he hadn’t just pushed the poor thing deeper into madness.
"Good," he nodded. "I need to go meet Sindre and Ulrik, since I finally have a little free time. See you later, and, uh… have fun with whatever you're doing. Howling under the northern lights."
"Frosty doesn't have fun. It is in misery and sorrow."
"Great.” He wasn’t sure how to reply. “Keep at it.”
The nightmares had gotten out of hand. Every day, new clients arrived alongside those who needed more support from him. Eirik had to momentarily forget about the journal, and he barely had time to practice, only managing to do so early in the morning, which suited Ulrik just fine. He no longer slept in for the required amount of time either. Eirik didn’t need to ask why.
Ulrik had helped him develop his agility, showing him how to use his surroundings to his advantage in battle. Virelia had sometimes watched their practice sessions, as had the spirit of ice, but otherwise, their training remained a secret.
But even though there was no time to waste, Eirik had to confide in someone. He had kept everything inside for far too long, and even Virelia wasn’t of any help, as the goddess no longer showed him dreams, and they had never been alone together again to talk things through. She said the dreams weren’t safe to discuss in, and Eirik’s schedule didn’t have room for her. Because whenever the last official clients left the inn, Ylva would come to him.
Eirik hadn’t worked any miracles, but he could sense the change where Ylva could not yet perceive it. The woman was now able to sleep a little more, and day by day, she seemed more alive, even though her smile still didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The infirmary's dim, familiar light pulled Eirik back to the ground, deep from his thoughts. Its hallways were cold and empty, with only the warmth of the lanterns making them somewhat bearable.
He didn’t bother knocking on the door, walking straight into the brothers' room without a second thought.
"Good evening, fine gentlemen," he said theatrically, though his voice was rougher than usual, and his demeanor more subdued. Sindre furrowed his brow at him, straightening his back immediately, as if he had already been expecting bad news.
They were probably playing cards for the millionth time. There wasn’t much to do in the infirmary, and they weren’t allowed to leave except for the bathroom. Though they rarely followed the professionals' instructions. If the nurse had heard about Ulrik’s morning escapades, she would have had a stroke. Even Sindre, who was much more responsible, had spent time outside his room whenever he could. His fever had eased, and the infection had subsided, but his face still had a grayish hue.
“Sindre! My best friend!” Eirik continued with his usual drama, still not ready to move on to more serious matters. “You look much better today. I told you those scars would be quite the sight. Everyone will think you're incredibly handsome.”
“I care little for women’s opinions about my appearance.”
“Who said anything about just women’s opinions?” he teased. “If you asked for my hand right now, I would definitely say yes.”
Sindre barely suppressed a smile, which quickly turned into a low grunt and a grimace. Eirik immediately regretted his joke. Every movement of Sindre's face caused him obvious pain.
He quickly shifted his attention to Ulrik. “And you! You look… quite angry. It suits you perfectly.”
“Shut up.” A short and to-the-point response, as always. “Why are you here?”
“Uhh, to spend time with you two?” He feigned offense and innocence, but then returned to his trademark smile, sitting down on the chair next to Sindre’s bed. “And to finally bring you up to date.”
Even Ulrik seemed to show some interest in his visit now. He put his cards down, and his hostile attitude seemed to ease... at least a little.
After hearing their story from Ylva, Eirik now held Ulrik in much higher regard. He couldn’t even imagine how awful it must have been for Ulrik to find their parents' home burning, to rush into the flames to pull them and his sister out. Three people he had carried through the smoke and fire, and only one of them had survived. No wonder he had been so protective of Ylva.
Eirik didn’t know where to begin. The days had blurred together in his mind, merging into one mass. “A lot happened while you were out on that little forest and cave trip. And even after that.”
He fell silent for a moment.
“I didn’t make it through on my own,” he finally admitted. “It was the coyote. It dragged me to a healing pond and brought the horses back.”
“The coyote?” Ulrik growled. “But that... it’s—”
“It’s not part of the nightmares. It didn’t create them. And in fact, it’s a she. She’s the goddess of chaos, and she helped me find the village.”
He couldn’t tell them the whole truth. Virelia would give him that cruel, nasty look again, the one that made him want to crawl under the covers and hide.
Since neither Ulrik nor Sindre pressed for more questions, he continued, “She told me that the nightmares aren’t dreams created by the gods, but they are caused by them. The gods have been fighting for who knows how long, and the hatred, betrayal, and all those negative emotions from the war have evolved into a matter fueled by their power. It spreads through anyone whose mind isn’t strong enough—animals, traumatized people, children, the elderly.”
The brothers exchanged uneasy looks, their faces etched with concern as they processed the gravity of Eirik's words.
Eventually, Sindre asked, “Why are the gods fighting?”
“And how did their mistakes spill over into our lands?” Ulrik added, his voice thick with frustration.
"I'm not sure yet," Eirik replied, staring at his hands, too afraid to meet their eyes. He hadn't learned enough, and he didn't have the answers. A deep fear gnawed at him—he feared being rejected, deemed useless.
He swallowed nervously and continued, "But I managed to get my hands on the village elder's journal. It had a list of deities rumoured to have disappeared 200 years ago. One of them was Thyrr, the god of the aurora paths, whose task was to guard the Veil that separates our realm from the dreamland. If he's truly gone, that could explain how nightmares have crossed into our world."
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And that would explain how a rebel goddess could have slipped through unnoticed, though Eirik didn't voice that thought.
He finally lifted his gaze, bracing himself for the brothers' scorn. He had been keeping this information from them for a while. Time constraints weren't the only reason he had avoided telling them the truth. He was afraid they would be angry with him for not having solved everything yet.
But no accusations came.
Sindre leaned forward, his dark brown eyes sharp and focused.
"Disappeared?" He repeated, his voice serious but calm. "These nightmares... this corruption caused by the gods. Why are they only haunting Everfrost?"
"This is complete bullshit!" Ulrik snapped. Eirik flinched, but the anger wasn't directed at him.
"How can gods just disappear?" he continued, frustration and despair palpable in his voice.
Eirik took a deep breath. "My theory is that it’s somehow connected to Vorsythus. The coyote gave me the impression that the sea serpent is either directly from their realm, or it's the first being that the nightmares have possessed. Most likely, the villagers' nightmares stem from it. It's waking up from its eternal slumber, which also means its powers are growing stronger."
He didn’t know how to respond to anything else. He had no idea how the gods could simply disappear. He wasn’t even sure why the gods were at war. He had tried to ask Virelia, but she had stayed silent. It struck him as strange, though—she was the one who had brought up the idea of cooperation, yet now she seemed unwilling to share anything further.
“The coyote… Does it speak to you in your dreams?” Sindre asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you seen it physically since it saved you?”
“No.”
Sindre studied him thoughtfully, as if sensing the lie. But he didn’t say anything, simply nodding in response.
“Thank you for telling us,” he said. “Now we have reason to believe that the sea serpent’s awakening is closer than we feared.”
They talked for a while longer, until it was time for Eirik to leave. However, he didn’t return to the inn. Anxiety grew in his chest, clouding his thoughts. He didn’t want to go back to his room and be left alone with his mind. Even though he didn’t experience the nightmares himself, every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the villagers' voices.
Not wanting to face that now, especially when he was in such a vulnerable state, he walked toward the gates. This time, he was met by a much more pleasant person than the stubborn, rage-driven gatekeeper he'd encountered before. The person didn’t ask any unnecessary questions about why he was leaving the village after seven. She only reminded him that he should return before midnight.
He walked along the shoreline, the colorful light of the northern lights dancing on the ice, illuminating the dark sky. Eirik felt small in the midst of this vast, cold landscape, yet at the same time, it brought him a sense of calm. He felt a deep yearning, longing for the man he once was—the one who had stood at the window of his parents' house, watching the auroras, full of life and hope. He no longer recognized himself as that person. It felt as though he had drifted far from the one who once saw the world so clearly and brightly.
As he continued on his path, his gaze fell upon a figure farther ahead, standing silently and staring at the wide expanse of ice. Though the figure was just a shadow in the distance, Eirik recognized her immediately.
Virelia stared ahead, as if searching for answers on the surface of the ice. Her pale brows were furrowed in deep concentration, and her saint-like features wore an intense expression. She had undoubtedly heard Eirik’s approach but made no immediate reaction to his presence.
"Hey," Eirik said.
Finally, the goddess glanced at him. "Shouldn't you be asleep by now? I bet you have an early morning. You are a busy man nowadays.”
“What’s the point of sleeping if you’re not coming to my dreams anymore?”
"You sound like you're missing me."
Eirik smiled faintly. "Desperately."
For a moment, they didn’t speak. They simply stood side by side, the silence stretching between them. Yet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Eirik felt calmer than he had in a long time, the goddess's presence soothing his anxieties, her power wrapping around him like a protective shield.
Finally, Eirik broke the silence. “I told Sindre and Ulrik where the nightmares came from, and that it’s spreading to people because Vorsythus is awakening,” he said. “I also mentioned that I’ve been helped by a goddess. But I didn’t mention you by name.”
Virelia chuckled softly. “You’re really working hard for some validation from me, even though you don’t even know why I want you to keep my secrets.”
“I don’t think you enchanted everyone into thinking you’re a local for fun.”
“For fun…” Virelia pursed her lips. “I haven’t done anything for fun in a long time. Would you like to change that?”
Eirik’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What? I—I don’t quite…”
She grinned mischievously. “Get your mind out of the gutter, pretty boy.”
Then, with a snap of her fingers, Eirik felt his balance shift. He grabbed onto Virelia’s shoulder for support, his gaze dropping to the ground. His snowshoes had transformed into ice skates.
Virelia moved his hand away but gripped his arm as she guided him toward the ice, a playful smile lighting up her face. She too wore skates, gliding effortlessly beside him.
"Relax," she said. "I just want to check on the rift in the ice. Will you come with me?"
Hesitantly, Eirik nodded. He had been on ice before, but it had been a long time. Eventually, though, Virelia's joy was contagious, and he found the courage to skate faster.
And so, beneath the aurora, they danced across the frozen sea. Each movement was like a poetic line, their laughter lost in the wind. They were free, unbound from reality.
Virelia twirled, her nearly white hair swirling around her like a cold flame. Her graceful skates swept away the stubborn snow from the ice, and for a moment, as they lifted off the ground, they turned into shimmering butterflies. They fluttered around her, sparkling like tiny diamonds, moving with the rhythm of her spins, before settling back to the ground as snowflakes.
Eirik stared at her, bewildered, studying her face. Virelia's smile was genuine—free from the teasing or mocking tone she usually wore.
Realizing she had caught his gaze, she winked at him before pointing down at his feet. Eirik followed her gesture and lowered his eyes to the ice, noticing the traces his skates had left behind.
Beautiful, colorful streaks spread across the surface like the northern lights in the sky. They moved with him, tracing intricate paths, weaving mazes and spirals. Virelia’s magic was like nothing he had ever seen.
The goddess’s skates left a mark too— a silvery glow that sparkled under her, much like the hue of her aura. When Virelia extended her hand toward him, and Eirik took it, their colors melded together. It was as if the northern lights and the mist of chaos swirled into one, dancing around them as they spun.
They were far from the village now, its lights distant, like faint stars in the night sky, when they finally came to a halt. Virelia released his hand, and in that instant, all her power seemed to fade, as if it had never existed at all. Even their skates disappeared.
"Look," Virelia said. Eirik didn’t need to ask what she meant.
The crack on the ice.
Eirik had seen it before, when he first arrived in Brumar. The rift had widened, revealing the dark water beneath. And now, he could feel it. The same menacing presence he had sensed in the villagers' nightmares. It pulsed, as if it were breathing deep within the sea’s depths.
He looked anxiously toward Virelia. “It’s only a matter of time before it awakens.”
The goddess nodded, concern flickering in her eyes.
“What do we do?” Eirik asked, his voice tight with urgency.
“We can’t do anything to it while it sleeps,” Virelia replied. “But we can prepare. Send a letter to your sister. Tell her to come here. And…”
“And?”
“Gather your spirit friends.”
He furrowed his brow. “What good will Frosty do? Poor thing doesn’t understand anything. You’ve seen it yourself! All it does is cry and scream.”
“Eirik, you’re the only one who can see it.”
He had always wanted to live an ordinary life. Or maybe he had just convinced himself of that. Whatever the truth was, he never would have wished for any of this. He never wanted to know about the gods' war, the destructive nightmares. He never wanted to learn that he was not normal.
It was as if cold fingers had wrapped around his heart, sharp claws cutting into his core.
“What do you mean?” Eirik laughed in disbelief. “If you haven’t seen it, then surely you’ve heard—”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Eirik pressed his lips together tightly.
“Mortal beings, even most gods, cannot communicate directly with the soul,” Virelia continued. “But your eyes see more than they were meant to. Use it to your advantage.”
For some time, Eirik had known he was part of something larger, a plan he hadn’t chosen to join. Virelia had explained that she’d been searching for him, visiting countless dreams and sifting through memories, trying to find any trace of him.
But none of it made sense.
“Is that why you’ve been looking for me?” Eirik asked. “Because I can see spirits?”
“Kind of. I needed someone who can see beneath the surface, not just figuratively.”
“But—”
She cut him off. “Go to the ice spirit, and ask it what it remembers about The Dawn.”
They looked into each others’ eyes, not saying a word. Eirik processed the revelation, struggling to make sense of it all. But he still couldn’t grasp his role in any of this. So many questions remained, but Virelia’s gaze told him she had already said all that needed to be said.
Finally, Eirik nodded, and together they made their way back to the village, the heavy silence hanging between them until their paths diverged. He wasn’t ready to be alone yet. For a moment, he considered running after Virelia, but changed his mind. He had to follow his own advice and face his fears.
He couldn’t find the spirit. He didn’t even want to find it, not yet. Eirik projected his confusion and anger onto everything—he was furious with Virelia for roping him into this mess, and with Frosty for even existing. But it wasn’t their fault. Deep down, Eirik was only angry with himself and his weakness, fearing what the future might bring.
If they even had a future.
Eirik finally returned to the inn, locking himself in his small room. His heart pounded in his chest, its rhythm thundering in his ears.
You've always been ambitious. Frosty had said many strange things, and over time, Eirik had stopped overthinking them. But now, he had the unsettling feeling that it had been a huge mistake. The spirit had recognized him, or perhaps it had just sensed his abilities, whatever that meant.
Maybe his grandmother had been right. There was something wrong with him. And his father knew it too, as proven by the countless years of distance between them. Eirik hadn’t wanted to admit it, but for a long time, he hadn’t seen love in his father’s eyes. It was as if he no longer considered him his son.
Curiosity had always driven Eirik forward, but now that path had led him to a place he never wanted to reach. But it was too late to turn back now. Too late to regret.
He would fix it all. He had promised it to Frosty. And he never broke his promises.