Eirik fell.

The village twisted before his eyes, stretching and tearing, tangling in on itself. A cacophony of voices filled his ears, each distinct yet overwhelming. His sister’s bold, boisterous laughter. Pitu’s sharp tongue-click, the one he always made when rolling his eyes. Somewhere distant, his father’s words echoed, resonating endlessly as if bouncing between mountain walls: “You caused this mess, so you’re taking responsibility for it.”

The colors of the world bled together. Yellow, green, blue—every hue mixing into brown and finally fading to pitch black. Eirik screamed, reaching out, desperate to grasp onto anything. His fingers plunged into the void, and he strained to bring something—anything—back with him.

When he pulled his hands back, his fingers were an ugly shade of purple, frostbite creeping in as if they were already dying.

Everything stopped.

He stood in darkness. For a moment, nothing happened—his senses were utterly gone, as if the world itself had ceased to exist.

Tip, tap, tip, tap. Five rabbits hopped through his legs, each one wearing a hat more absurd than the last. Towering, colorful creations adorned with feathers, jewels, and tiny dolls. A black top hat rolled across the non-existent floor, and one by one, the rabbits joyfully leapt into it, vanishing inside.

The air—or whatever surrounded him—trembled. It felt like the space itself groaned and flipped upside down, taking him along with it. Only this time, he didn’t fall. He was left floating upside down.

What the hell was in that sauna steam?

Eirik no longer screamed. His wide eyes scanned the void, heart pounding erratically in his chest.

He dangled weightlessly, yet somehow his blood didn’t rush to his head. It might have been almost fun if not for what came next.

From the darkness, a pale hand emerged, its long fingers stretching toward him. They pierced his chest, passing through skin and bone as if he were made of mist.

“What the fuck!?” Eirik gasped, frozen in place, unable to resist.

The hand pulled back, now clutching his heart. But instead of the organ he expected, it was a small button-eyed teddy bear holding a flower.

There was no pain. Only the surreal absurdity of it all.

The void giggled. “Oh, I still have the skill.”

“…Okay,” Eirik said slowly, unsure of who or what he was even talking to. “Could you, uh, maybe use your skills to, I don’t know, get me back up?”

“What? Don’t you like being upside down?”

“Not really. It’s ruining my hair.”

“Hmm. I think you’re quite adorable like this. So… vulnerable.”

The void spoke with a woman’s voice—low, slightly raspy, as if she had just woken from a long sleep. Eirik made a mental note to ask about her skincare routine later. For something as strange as this, her hand had been surprisingly silky, her skin pale as a pearl.

Not that this was the moment for that kind of conversation. The whole situation was far too weird. Eirik shifted uncomfortably, but before he could muster a reply, the void let out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine!” she drawled, stretching the word like a diva. Then, with a snap of her fingers, the teddy bear disappeared and Eirik suddenly found himself sitting on… a floating pink balloon.

At least he was right-side up this time.

“Mankind is so ungrateful,” the void muttered.

“Mhm, yeah, totally agree,” Eirik nodded along. “Just… Please don’t turn me into a rabbit, okay?”

“Maybe if you asked really nicely, I’d refrain.”

“... This is getting way too awkward.”

The void—or rather, the hand—hummed softly. “Apologies. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to humans. I always forget how sensitive you are. Mortals are so terribly dull.”

“Girl, you’re literally just a hand. I don’t think you should be criticizing others here.”

He hoped the void wouldn’t just snap her fingers again and pop the balloon from under him. But she only laughed, her presence retreating into the darkness.

"Maybe try a less... creepy form?" he suggested, knowing she would hear him. "Don’t worry, though. I’m sure that one will come in handy someday.”

She didn’t laugh. Clearly, she had a bad sense of humor.

The sound of footsteps—paws, to be exact—echoed in the void, and a coyote emerged. Eirik had always imagined her as silver, but up close, she was nearly white.

He wasn’t surprised. “You’re a god.”

“Goddess,” the coyote corrected. After his earlier chat with the hand, talking to an animal no longer felt all that strange. She continued, “You know, getting into your head wasn’t easy.”

"Yeah, my bad. I just have high standards for who I let into my head." Eirik frowned. “How long have you been trying?”

“For a while. I only managed it a couple of weeks ago—half by accident. Apparently, we connected when I went looking for your little friends,” the coyote said, her voice playful. “You like acts of service, don’t you?”

Eirik laughed, feeling strangely light, carefree. The dream had carried all his troubles away, at least for the moment.

"I'd give you ten points for good customer service if you had actually found them," he said.

The coyote tilted her head. "At least I found your horse."

"True enough." He was quiet for a moment. "So, this is a dream, then?"

"I'd get kicked out of our realm if I tossed people around outside the boundaries of dreams," she replied.

Maybe he should have taken the situation more seriously. Just last night, he'd thought of dozens of questions in case he got the chance to catch the coyote again. But now that the opportunity had finally come, he couldn't seem to get a single coherent word out of his mouth. Of course, this was a dream. He wasn't that stupid.

The coyote seemed amused. She sat in the darkness before him, her pale blue eyes gleaming. Those beautiful eyes that had seen him on the brink of death twice.

"I have a question," he announced.

"You always have."

Brushing the remark aside, Eirik asked, "Why didn’t you save my life the first time?"

"Out of all the questions in the world, you ask the dumbest ones.” The coyote seemed to laugh. "I don’t waste my power helping mortals for no reason. I knew you weren’t dying that time. The second time, though... I wasn’t so sure."

"Gods aren’t supposed to save people."

"That is correct.”

“They shouldn't do anything that could affect their fate.”

The gods were good at finding loopholes. Even the deity of the moon had done so. It was hard to believe she had placed a healing pond right in the middle of a freezing, deadly wasteland just for “fun.” Everyone knew she favored brave travelers, ones such as Sindre and Ulrik.

Besides, the gods weren’t even supposed to communicate with mortals physically. That’s why they had come up with the method of reaching out through dreams.

“You know the laws of the dreams well, dreamweaver.” The coyote's words lingered in the air. She didn’t open her mouth, as if she were communicating through sheer thoughts.

“Oh, thank y—”

“—For someone who’s never had a dream before I stepped into the picture.”

“That was a low blow.” Eirik sighed. “Do you know why?”

“Maybe.”

“So...?”

“I’m not telling.”

Great. Eirik felt like the entire world was keeping crucial information from him just to tease him.

He wasn’t angry, though. In fact, he was relieved; after all these years, he had finally gotten face-to-face with the real goddess. Even though the coyote still refused to show her true form, and there was no trust between them yet, Eirik kept her close to his heart.

Their rulers always had a reason for everything they did. Something was holding the coyote back from revealing secrets, and Eirik understood that, even if it was annoying, and even if his curiosity felt like it was about to explode at any moment.

A tug. He felt something pulling at the pit of his stomach, as if he were being dragged somewhere else.

The coyote cursed. “I thought we’d have more time. This is your fault—you’ve messed up your sleep schedule so badly that you’re waking up at ungodly hours.”

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“Hey!” he protested. “At least I didn’t spend most of the dream playing with bunnies and colors and whatever else.”

“I just wanted to make a grand entrance,” the coyote quipped.

“Maybe next time, try a fireworks show. That would be cool.”

“I’ll remember that.”

The pull felt stronger now, forcing him to wake up. Eirik looked at the goddess with concern. He didn’t want to be separated yet. They had so much more to talk about, so many topics still left uncovered. Time always seemed to run out too quickly.

“Make sure this isn’t a goodbye,” he said.

The coyote didn’t respond.

He opened her eyes, and just like that, he was back in his room.

He was happy. For the first time in a long while, Eirik felt like he was moving forward in life—not just facing obstacles and angry people. It seemed like this mysterious coyote shapeshifter genuinely wanted to have a conversation with him. That also meant his fate was much more complicated than he had ever imagined. It was time to forget all the hopes of settling down for a peaceful, ordinary life, interpreting dreams until retirement.

Dreams. Eirik had to fight the urge to giggle like a little girl. He had dreamed! Well, he’d had a dream before, but it had been pretty insignificant. The coyote had even mentioned that the connection had been accidental—whatever that meant.

He didn’t rush through his morning routine. It had been a long time since he’d had a proper hot wash. Eirik had always been very particular about his appearance and hygiene, and the blood, sweat, and dirt that had accumulated during his journey still felt repulsive on his skin, even though he’d scrubbed it off the night before.

But he couldn’t afford to procrastinate for long. He hadn’t come here just for a nice winter vacation—he had work to do.

“You look cheerful,” Solveig remarked at the breakfast table. She was serving him an abundant amount of food, clearly energized by having guests at her inn for once.

“I slept well. Had a great dream,” he replied. For the first time, he wasn’t lying about it.

“Good to hear.” The hostess poured him more juice, even though he’d already had two glasses. Eirik didn’t complain, though. He felt like he had an endless appetite. The cold had numbed his senses, but now that his body was finally warming up, he felt the hunger catching up with him.

“Are you going anywhere today?” she continued.

Eirik nodded. “I need to speak with the village elder.”

“Ah, right, the poor man has been having those bad dreams. Is that why you're here?”

“That’s exactly why.” He thought for a moment. “Is there anyone else in Brumar who might have had nightmares?”

“I’m not sure. There’s been some unrest around here, but I haven’t asked for details. Dreams are very personal, and it’s impolite to pry,” Solveig said. “At least for us regular folk. No one would mind if you ask about them as a professional.”

She had a point. Dreams were between the gods and their followers. They could contain sensitive information, glimpses of the past and thoughts. Most of the time, the gods didn’t just warn mortals. They provided emotional support, kept company. Eirik had seen many lonely elders whose dreams were simply a chance to have a conversation with their favorite deity over a cup of coffee and a slice of cake, discussing times gone by. It was generally considered inappropriate to pry into anyone’s dreams. That’s why dreamweavers were so rare, and at the same time, held in such high social regard; it took a lot to earn that kind of trust.

“I see.” He ate the last pieces of meat and eggs, emptied his glass, and said, “I’ll go on and be a professional then. Thanks, Solveig, you’re a real star.”

Eirik wasn't exactly sure where he was supposed to go, but he didn’t stay lost for long. He asked the villagers for directions and soon found himself standing in front of the elder’s house. It was built of stone and wood, with decorative glass windows letting light spill out. Eirik had almost forgotten about the eternal night—Brumar was so brightly lit.

Three knocks, and the same old man from the previous evening opened the door. He looked cranky, as though he had just woken up.

“Good morning!” Eirik greeted cheerfully.

The elder gave him a sideways glance but motioned for him to come inside. Eirik thought he heard something about 'damned energetic youth,' but he wasn’t quite sure.

Once inside, Eirik’s first thought was simple: this man was a big-time hoarder. The floor was completely hidden under layers of rugs, and the tables were piled high with old books, candles, and odd trinkets. Large vases held dead, wilted plants, and the whole place felt cramped and cluttered.

The elder led him into the living room. Eirik could smell tobacco and dust, nearly holding his breath.

“I’ve been waiting for you for some time,” the elder remarked, settling into a leather couch.

Eirik sat down across from him. “I’m sorry. We ran into a few complications along the way.”

“I’ve gathered as much.” The elder pulled a small pouch from his pocket, rolling his own cigarette in the heavy silence. “I sent soldiers to look for the Rimeholt brothers, if you’re wondering. They’re motivated young men… if there is something to be found, they will find it. After all, they’ve been idle for too long. Halsport and Grivath continue sending soldiers who have nothing to do here.”

“Grivath?” Eirik repeated in surprise. Grivath was the capital of Jarnholm, their neighboring country.

“Indeed. The army is overreacting. You must have seen the breaking ice. It shouldn’t be melting this early. Not yet, it should’ve only started after the long night, a few months from now.”

He remembered the nightmare Ulrik had had—the movement beneath the water, the drowned city, the dying people.

“Good sir…” Eirik began uncertainly, “What if they’re not overreacting?”

The elder smiled faintly. “Then what could we do? Our task is to report when that creature returns, not to fight it.”

He didn’t know how to respond to the statement. Eirik had thought he would be able to warn the village in time, tell them about Ulrik’s dream. But it seemed they were already aware of the lurking danger.

“Shouldn’t you evacuate the village?” he blurted out.

“You didn’t come all this way to tell us what we should do with our home.”

“I’m sorry. I overstepped.” Eirik gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breath.

“Hmm…” The elder took a deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the air. It swirled around Eirik, and he fought the urge to cough.

After a long silence, the elder continued, “You remind me a lot of your sister.”

Eirik flinched. “Saarni? How do you know her?”

“She was here once, about ten years ago.”

She had been nineteen at the time—only in the military for a year. Eirik had always assumed that only high-ranking soldiers knew of settlement in Everfrost and Norden Viper.

“Ever since, she has sent letters every six months,” the old man said, an unreadable expression on his face. “But she always said her siblings were dreamweavers, used to luxury and comfort—nothing like her, at least not anymore. I was quite surprised when I saw you in my nightmare.”

It was hard to believe. When Eirik had left Halsport, his sister had been a gatekeeper. She’d been stunned to hear where he was headed, even saying that there was no life in Everfrost.

She had lied. But why?

“Speak your thoughts aloud, boy.”

Eirik looked at the elder, puzzled. “I was just thinking about my sister. She acted like she didn’t know the village existed.”

“Because we asked her not to. There were likely listening ears, other soldiers around. Saarni is a very cautious woman.”

“What was she doing here?”

“She silenced her curiosity.” The old man chuckled. “She often sparred with our men and usually won. Always busy, always asking questions. She’s the first one we will contact the sea serpent rises.”

His mind darkened. The more he learned, the stranger things became. He wanted to blame Saarni for keeping secrets from him, but on the other hand, he wasn’t any better himself.

“I update her on every situation here,” the elder continued. Now that he had started, he seemed to enjoy talking. “Including my nightmares.”

“So then…”

“She knows about the direwolves.”

Eirik felt a sense of relief. At least the dark shadows that crept into the minds of the wolves—or whatever they were—wouldn’t come as a surprise to Saarni. Perhaps she’d be better prepared to face them.

“If I understood correctly, you’ve seen more nightmares than just the one I was informed about,” Eirik said.

“I have.”

“Can I...?”

He reached his hand across the small, wobbly table. The elder stubbed out his cigarette on the blackened plate, then took Eirik’s hand.

Eirik closed his eyes, asking the elder to share everything, down to the smallest detail.

And he did.

The world is eerily silent, covered in ash. Everywhere lie corpses, scattered across different lands—drowned, torn apart. The force that awakened Vorsythus two hundred years ago, and the force that ultimately vanished from the earth, taking the monster with it, is waking again. Shadows move through the forests, first attaching themselves to the easiest targets.

From the distance, only one sound can be heard. People cry in their sleep. They scream and shriek in their warm, safe beds, but they cannot wake, no matter how much they want to.

People become dull. They move like automatons, no longer living their lives. They avoid sleep, but when their bodies force them to rest, they fall asleep and scream once again, until nothing remains of them but an empty shell.

Wolves howl in the forest, trying to reach their kin. Then they fall silent, their identity completely gone. All that remains are shadows.

This will be the fate of humankind as well.

The war will never end. It will not end even when the entire land is covered in ash and bodies.

They didn't appear as clear visions—there were signs, symbols, and vague flashes, but he could follow them.

Eirik swallowed. He squeezed the elder’s hand, sensing his fear. It wasn’t just coldness and age that had grayed him, but the nightmares. For so long, he had suffered, enduring flashes of ruins and the deaths of his loved ones.

He could feel Eryx’s presence in the man’s dreams—the god of night had sent them, just as the brothers had told him. But it wasn’t a contact with the purest form, nothing like anything ever witnessed.

Other gods were involved. The first one Eirik recognized was the coyote.

The coyote sits on the edge, watching everything unfold. But it doesn't belong here, not in this vision. It is searching for something, rooting through the dream for something.

Memories, Eirik realized immediately. The mysterious rebellious goddess had been prying into the elder’s memories. She hadn’t been part of the dream, but had invaded it to reach into the man’s mind in the middle of his sleep.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation. He was sensitive to the power of the gods, feeling their presence in mortal memory.It was like a strange glow surrounding them—a trace, marking that another entity had touched their mind.

But the deeper the elder delved into the dreams, the more disordered they became. Forces Eirik had never seen before. An aura he had never sensed.

The nightmare wasn’t just Eryx’s doing. It was all the gods’.

Eirik pulled back. He clenched his fists, hiding the faint trembling.

The old man watched him closely. “Don’t tell me what the dreams mean. I wouldn’t bear hearing the whole truth. Just the undertone has been enough for me.”

He lowered his gaze. “Good choice.”

“Did you get answers to all your questions?”

“Not exactly.”

A sharp pain throbbed in Eirik’s head. He had never felt the energy of so many gods at once, and it was heavy, both on his body and his mind. But there was no choice but to endure it.

“I have something for you,” the elder said. He stood up, leaving Eirik to collect himself.

About five minutes later, he returned to the living room, holding a fragile-looking book. Its surface was worn thin, and a thick layer of dust concealed its title.

He handed the book to Eirik. “I believe Ulrik and Sindre told you everything they knew about the sea serpent. But there are things even they didn’t know. Long ago, people burned all evidence that the gods weren’t as flawless as we like to believe. Even after divine law, they’ve made mistakes. This is the only book that survived the destruction. It belonged to my ancestors.”

Eirik remembered it—a journal with detailed illustrations of the sea serpent haunting Norden Viper. The first creature openly called a nightmare. A being with eyes like those of the direwolves, as if possessed or corrupted.

He accepted it, tucking it under his coat.

“Thank you,” Eirik said quietly. “I’ll likely visit you again after I’ve analyzed everything I’ve learned and ask more questions.”

“I’ll be here waiting.”

“I’d like to go see Ylva now, if possible,” Eirik said as he stood, preparing to leave.

“It’s possible,” the elder replied, “but don’t expect too much.”

Eirik bid the elder farewell and headed toward the far end of the village, where Ylva was said to live with her caretaker. He remembered what Sindre had told him about his younger sister—a woman who had lost all hope, quiet and powerless, refusing to sleep. She sounded similar to the hollow shells of people glimpsed in the elder’s nightmare.

He hoped he could still help Ylva. Perhaps then, Ulrik might hate him a little less.