A bizarre group had gathered at the infirmary. Eirik was trying to position himself as close to the door as possible, just in case it swung open and he could be the first one to rush in. Then there was Ylva, fiddling with her pearl necklace so aggressively that Eirik wondered how it hadn't broken yet. Next to Ylva stood the gatekeeper, glaring at him with nothing but pure hatred, but he also seemed oddly relieved and concerned—like he was glad the brothers had been found, but still furious that he had been wrong about Eirik. Even the village elder had arrived.

And, of course, there was the ice spirit, writhing on the floor, howling and screaming. It probably didn’t even know why it was crying this time. Everyone tried politely to ignore it.

By some miracle, Ulrik and Sindre were alive. They were gaunt, frail, sickly-looking, and on the brink of death, but they were alive. No one knew what had happened, not even the village elder, who claimed to have tried asking the gods about their whereabouts. Apparently, all he got in return were more nightmares. He hadn't mentioned it to Eirik when he visited him at dawn, but they hadn't gone through all the dreams after all.

Villagers constantly loitered in front of the infirmary. Even the soldiers sacrificed their coffee breaks to stare at the door, which remained firmly shut. Only the nurses came in and out, their faces all bearing the same grim expression.

Eventually, even the most persistent of the onlookers began to leave. Only Ylva and Eirik remained— the spirit had wandered off somewhere else, probably to disturb the citizens and make everyone feel uncomfortable with its ramblings and wailings.

The wait stretched deep into the night. The hallway was never silent for a moment, thanks to Eirik. Ylva didn't say a word, but Eirik spoke. He shared stories from his childhood—how he used to fight with his older sister, follow his mother to all the fancy parties and meetings, and play adventurer in the nearby woods. He told about his first long-term girlfriend, who had to move to the other side of the continent and had asked Eirik to join her, but he had been too much of a coward and turned her down, and they broke up. He spoke of Pitu, his somewhat arrogant little brother, who clearly enjoyed how he was a better dreamweaver than Eirik. And he spoke of his father, who had become distant toward him after Eirik's grandmother had thought him to be different and wrong.

Eirik spoke of his sorrow, how he was surrounded by people and could get along with anyone, often becoming the center of attention at parties. Yet, he never felt complete. There was always a void, as if something essential was missing. Perhaps it was the way he had tried to suppress his thirst for adventure, attempting to fit into a mold that wasn’t his. But even here, hundreds of miles away, after countless miraculous experiences, he still felt alone.

Ylva didn’t respond, but she listened intently. Her large, dark eyes were fixed on Eirik, as if she were carefully processing every word that left his mouth. Before long, the early hours of the morning had arrived.

"Well, that’s my life story," Eirik said with a dry chuckle. "You can write a book or something about it."

She let out a huff. Eirik couldn’t tell if it was a sound of amusement or irritation, but it was the first noise she had made, and he couldn’t help but smile at it.

"I’d like to know about your life too," he added. "Sindre and Ulrik weren’t exactly talkative. I don’t know anything about their past either.”

It was easy to talk to Ylva. Eirik didn’t usually open up about his deepest feelings, and in hindsight, he felt a little embarrassed by how much he had shared with a stranger. But there was something about Ylva that radiated calm energy—open and understanding. She could have made a great dreamweaver, if only she could banish the nightmares from her mind. She didn’t seem bothered by Eirik’s words, never rolling her eyes or acting uninterested.

Fatigue began to weigh on Eirik’s eyelids, urging them shut. He didn’t want to sleep—what if something happened to Ulrik and Sindre? He wanted to stay awake, ready to react if anything occurred. But in the end, he slipped into a deep, heavy sleep.

Fireworks. Red, yellow, purple, and green explosions lighting up the sky, accompanied by the music of a ceremonial orchestra. Eirik sat on a massive throne floating above the melted sea surface, watching the display.

“Hmph,” he said, “Not bad, but I expected more from you, Virelia.”

The fireworks vanished in an instant. They disappeared like ash in the wind, as did the orchestra and his grand throne. Eirik yelped as he fell into the freezing water, sinking deeper and deeper, until only darkness surrounded him, along with rainbow-colored little fish who whispered about their treacherous former sea-snake partners.

“You figured it out.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, emerging in bubbles from the depths of the water.

"I had help,” Eirik responded.

The bubbles multiplied before his eyes, fizzing and boiling. At least this time, the goddess of chaos didn’t appear in the form of a hand or an animal.

Virelia was silent for a moment before laughing. Though her voice was low, her laughter had an ethereal quality. Eirik almost felt disappointed when it stopped—he could have listened to it endlessly. Except, of course, he was angry at her.

“Aha, so you got your hands on the elder’s journal. How interesting,” she said.

“I’m not surprised you know all about it. You went through his memories.”

"Yes, that's what I did." The goddess sounded carefree and amused, as if she saw nothing wrong with her actions.

Eirik pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure what to think. He wanted to keep Virelia close, to ask her to stay and tell him everything. Yet, she had taken advantage of someone he deeply respected. The elder had welcomed him into the village, and he was a figure of great importance to all of Brumar. To invade a vulnerable mind like that wasn’t something a good person would do. Eirik wanted to label her as wicked or deceitful, but deep down, his heart wasn’t convinced. She had saved his life. She had returned his steed, allowing him to escape the wilderness, and guided him onto the right path.

He said just one word, "Why?"

Bubbles popped around him, only to be replaced by new ones. They seemed to mirror Virelia’s emotions, rising fiercely when she laughed, hissing softly when she pondered, and drifting lazily when she spoke.

“Sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes for the greater good,” Virelia said at last. “Over time, the elder would have started forgetting important things. He’d lose his mind, cease to be himself, and then I wouldn’t have been able to uncover anything meaningful from his thoughts.”

“What kind of information could he possibly have that no one else does?” Eirik snapped, his teeth gritted.

“You have no reason to be angry with me. Thanks to him, I found you.”

Eirik opened his mouth to retort but found himself speechless. He was too bewildered to form a coherent response.

Virelia chuckled softly. “Since I had no clue what you looked like and couldn’t connect to your soul while you slept… Well, I had to do a bit of detective work. From the old man’s memories, I saw your sister. She used to send letters with pictures of you. Oh, they were adorable—straight out of a family album! She’s quite family-oriented.”

“My gods, why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Because you are the key to the war.”

The war. Eirik had seen glimpses of it many times—bodies strewn across the world. But there hadn’t been wars in the mortal realm for centuries, and if this was a conflict between the gods, it didn’t make sense that humans were involved.

“This war… it’s not on our lands, is it?” he asked cautiously.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then it’s a war among the gods.” It was a statement, not a question.

The bubbles quivered. “Yes. The gods have been at war for far too long. We don’t have your concept of time, but by mortal understanding... we could call it an eternity.”

That couldn’t be true. The gods lived in harmony. Their existence was so joyful that they shared it with mortals, gifting them knowledge and happiness. No one had ever spoken of any war among the divine.

Eirik wanted to argue, to refute her claim. But this time he knew better. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place. He had already theorized that the nightmares haunting humans, animals, and even spirits weren’t merely dreams. The word dream was just a convenient term for visions shaped by the gods’ interference.

“How are the nightmares connected to your war?” Eirik asked. He wanted to look Virelia directly in the eye, to challenge her to tell the truth. But facing only those ridiculous bubbles in the darkness didn’t have the desired effect.

Virelia’s voice was no longer amused. “It is a tragedy—something no deity ever wished to happen. Many tried to shield mortal minds, but the affliction found its way, latching onto those we forgot to protect.”

“Animals, starting with direwolves.” Eirik swallowed. “And spirits.”

The goddess didn’t comment on his response but didn’t deny it either. Instead, she continued, “Nightmares are power born of divine rage. They arise from our deepest fears. If there aren’t enough fears, they make more of them, showing what is to come.”

Ulrik had dreamed of a sea serpent rising from its deep slumber, unleashing unprecedented destruction. So, that had been a glimpse of the future, as nightmares within his mind evolved, feeding on his fears.

“So the corruption was born from the war?”

“Yes. In everything we do, there is power. Even our emotions hold a part of it. Betrayal, envy, wrath, bloodlust… these faults developed into dark matter, which has plagued us. Even gods have gone mad because of it.”

“The elder’s journal mentioned that Vorsythus’ power isn’t from the mortal realm. Was that because the nightmares had corrupted its mind? Technically, the nightmares are divine influence.”

“In a way.” Virelia didn’t elaborate further, but it was enough for Eirik.

It was a lot to take in. It was all starting to make sense—logical, even—despite going against his reason and knowledge. Against the understanding of all humankind.

There was still one thing Eirik didn’t understand. “How am I the key to all this?”

“I cannot tell you yet.”

“Great. Just fantastic.” He sighed. “Alright, don’t tell me, then.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I won’t.”

“Got it.” If the news hadn’t been so shocking, he might’ve chuckled at their back-and-forth.

Eirik felt like Virelia had already told him everything she could—for now, at least. The goddess had been surprisingly open about the situation, filling in the gaps of his theories. They were on the same side, though he still couldn’t grasp her motives.

“One more thing,” Eirik said, “Could you finally show yourself in your true form?”

Virelia let out a small laugh. “Would that make you feel special?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’ve already seen me once. You just didn’t realize it because you were too busy sulking.”

“What—”

The goddess cut him off. “You should wake up now.”

And he did. The moment he opened his eyes in the dim hallway, the door in front of him swung open. The increased bustle of people moving about told Eirik that he had likely been asleep for several hours.

Not fully understanding what had just happened, Eirik glanced worriedly at Ylva. She looked as though she hadn't slept a wink. But despite appearing weak and exhausted, there was a fire in her eyes that he had never seen before.

"The patients may now receive visitors."

The nurse's words finally snapped Eirik back to full awareness. He jumped to his feet, staring at her in surprise, silently seeking confirmation. The nurse nodded with a bright smile, but she didn’t have time to say anything before Eirik had already dashed past her into the room. Ylva followed him, her steps more dignified than his, though there was a noticeable urgency in her pace.

Sindre and Ulrik were both awake. Their brown hair had grown a little longer, and while Ulrik's beard had thickened, Sindre now sported a light stubble.

Eirik had seen them in light clothing before, but he hadn't paid much attention to their physiques back then. Now, it was clear they were both muscular—though admittedly a bit thinner than before—and Ulrik’s dark arm was decorated with a tattoo, etched into his skin with traditional ink.

Eirik stood frozen in front of the brothers' beds, not sure how to react. Ylva seized the moment, jumping onto Sindre’s bed and wrapping her arm around him. With the other hand, she reached out toward Ulrik, who slowly rose to his feet and moved toward his siblings, joining the embrace.

Few tears streamed down Eirik’s face as he desperately tried to wipe them away, giving the three of them time to reunite. He had never been good at waiting patiently, and eventually, he jumped into the group hug.

Ylva pressed herself against him, accepting his presence, while Sindre laughed. Ulrik, on the other hand, shot him a furious glare, but in the end, he placed his hand on Eirik’s back, squeezing it tightly.

“Damn, Ulrik,” Eirik teased, “When did you become such a softie?”

“I’ve learned that there are worse things in the world than you. Barely.”

“Charming.”

“Alright, your time’s up. Go away.”

Eirik laughed but obeyed, giving them some space. Ylva pulled away as well, but stayed sitting at the foot of Sindre’s bed. She too was crying, but much more gracefully than Eirik had.

"I thought you were dead. I saw your bodies." Ylva's voice was weak and uncertain. Eirik looked at her in surprise, hearing her speak for the first time. She was probably referring to the nightmares. On those rare nights when Ylva actually slept, the corruption attacked her.

The sickness caused by the war of the gods.

Sindre reached for the necklace Ylva had now wrapped around her wrist in layers. He took a pearl between his fingers, his gaze heavy with sorrow. Eirik had suspected for some time that it held sentimental value.

"I was badly injured when the direwolves attacked. I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I found out about the avalanche. I searched for Eirik and Ulrik for a long time until I found him," Sindre said, nodding toward his brother.

"I was looking for both of you too!" Eirik cut in, raising his hands dramatically. "Every snowy hill, every damn tree. I even thought one particularly large rock might’ve been Ulrik, but nope—just a rock."

Sindre glanced at him, one brow lifting slightly. “I’m guessing the rock didn’t shout at you as much."

“Hey!” Ulrik retorted.

Eirik smirked, but his smile didn’t hold on for long. “I was really scared, though. When I couldn’t find you two, I thought…” He hesitated.

Sindre’s voice turned quiet. “We thought we’d lost you too.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, the memories flooding in."We tried to return to where we parted, but Ulrik was barely conscious. Then the wolves came back, and we had to retreat into the mountains, into caves. I don’t know how long we were there. During the day, I went out to search for food and water. There was this one… miraculous pond.”

“The pond!” Eirik yelped, suddenly animated. “You mean the one that wasn’t frozen? So it saved your asses too! But—wait—if you drank from it, how are you still so banged up?”

Sindre shrugged. "The gods' powers aren’t endless, Eirik. Maybe it only had enough strength to heal certain wounds. And it didn’t cure our hunger or the cold. Eventually, we had to leave."

Eirik blinked, feeling stupid. "Oh. Right. Obviously, I knew that.”

He hadn't even thought about it, but Sindre was right. The deities’ blessings didn't last forever, and their strength could run out as well.

Seeing Ulrik roll his eyes, he quickly added, eager to change the subject, "I left your horses at where we went for cover, just in case you'd make it back there."

Sindre nodded, looking at Eirik with a sense of quiet appreciation. “I figured. But when we made it back, the horses were gone. We took what we needed and moved on. We tried to reach the nearest village, but… We didn’t have much left to give."

"In the end, the soldiers found you," Eirik said, shifting to a more serious tone. "They only left two nights ago. You must’ve been really close to the village."

Sindre’s brow furrowed slightly, his calm expression flickering with confusion. "What do you mean, they left recently? A soldier found us, and she said she’d been searching for us for a while. She’s been with us for at least a week."

Eirik blinked. "What? That doesn’t make sense. I came here not too long ago, and that’s when the villagers found out you were missing."

Their eyes met, an uneasy silence stretching between them. Ulrik crossed his arms, while Ylva tugged anxiously at the necklace on her wrist. Something about this didn’t add up.

A knock sounded at the door before it creaked open.

Eirik’s heart skipped as the visitor stepped inside—a woman he’d barely noticed earlier, helping carry the brothers on stretchers with the other soldiers. The realization sunk in. He knew those light blue eyes, gleaming with a playful spark. They were stirred deep into his memory.

You’ve already seen me once. You just didn’t realize it because you were too busy sulking. Virelia’s words echoed in his mind.

It was her. She had found the brothers.

Eirik had long wanted to see Virelia in her true form, and now that he finally had, his first thought was that she looked like a mean bitch.

She was dressed in a warm knit dress, with a deep red, almost burgundy cloak draped over her shoulders. A far cry from her attire yesterday, when she had been clad in leather and fur like the other soldiers. Virelia’s complexion was strikingly pale, even more so than that of the villagers who lived in darkness. Her facial features were delicate, with sharp cheekbones, a narrow nose, and thin lips. Her long, platinum-blonde hair, reaching down to her hips, was worn loose, flowing freely around her.

The goddess’s expression was stern. Though her eyes had briefly reflected amused recognition upon seeing Eirik, that softness had quickly faded, leaving behind only a graceful authority, emphasized by her unnaturally straight posture.

Eirik stared at her, mouth agape, fully aware that his companions had noticed his shock, but he had no idea what to say. Should he just casually mention, ‘Hey, by the way, the soldier who found you is actually the goddess of chaos? Oh, and she's the same coyote that’s been digging in Ulrik’s and the village elder’s thoughts—and showing up repeatedly in nightmares’?

Virelia was the first to speak. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I happened to overhear your conversation from the hallway. Indeed, I’ve been searching for you both for a long time, Ulrik and Sindre. The village council knew of your journey and sent me to meet you."

Ulrik wasn’t convinced. "The council doesn’t send anyone alone into the woods. The village elder didn’t even want to let my brother and me go together, but eventually agreed because we’re the most experienced travelers."

"You’re mistaken,” she responded, voice like honey.

There was a subtle shift in the air. Virelia’s aura spiked for just a second, and Eirik felt the tension in the room dissipate. Ulrik’s gaze softened, and Sindre looked at her with familiarity, as if they were old friends. Even Ylva, who had seemed so tense before, appeared to relax under her presence.

Eirik noticed the difference. He was the only one who could perceive Virelia’s aura, the only one who could see what had truly happened.

The goddess continued, "You know me well, don’t you? We trained together often. I was a traveler for a long time, until I came to Brumar to train to be a soldier. Everyone is familiar with my skills in the wild."

"Yes, you’ve always been good at navigating.” Sindre nodded. "No wonder you were sent to find us."

Eirik stared at him, confusion mounting. What on earth was he talking about!? They believed Virelia's silky lies without question, not doubting for a moment.

She was using her abilities. Eirik wasn’t sure what the goddess of chaos’s powers entailed, but they sparked his suspicion. What if she wasn’t a shapeshifter in the traditional sense? Some deities could transform into their spirit animals, like an eagle or a bear, but Eirik had seen Virelia take on more abstract and strange forms. Was it possible that she could somehow alter reality itself?

Whatever she was doing, she was undoubtedly violating at least fifty divine laws. And whatever it was, it was definitely getting on Eirik's nerves.

He knew it was best not to expose Virelia for her lies. He had no idea what the goddess was truly capable of, and with his companions enchanted, he was at a serious disadvantage.

He didn’t have time to say anything before Virelia replied to Sindre, "That’s true. You were in a very weak state, and I didn’t have enough supplies with me. Luckily, we eventually ran into some soldiers sent by Brumar."

"Yeah, lucky you,” Eirik muttered, crossing his arms. "So, miss...?"

"Virelia."

"Virelia," he repeated, as if he hadn't already known her name. "Can I speak with you for a moment? In private."

"Of course."

Eirik gave the siblings a grin, promising to return as soon as possible. There was much he needed to discuss with Sindre and Ulrik. He wanted to tell them what he had learned about the war of the gods and the origins of the nightmares. What was worrying was that Ulrik had experienced a nightmare too. Somehow, he would have to protect his mind from them. And why were nightmares more common near Norden Viper? Could it be because of the sea serpent?

He moved outside with Virelia, as the infirmary was too crowded. Eirik nervously scanned the surroundings, watching for eavesdroppers, until he finally convinced himself they were alone.

Virelia smiled sweetly, but Eirik knew better—she was anything but the friendly, charming soldier she appeared to be.

“We just talked not too long ago, and already you want to be alone with me,” the woman teased, “You’re so possessive.”

This time, he wasn’t going to play her games. “What did you do to my friends?”

“Hmmm... just a little illusion. Nothing too strong. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because you went blabbering about how the soldiers had gone looking for them just a couple of days ago. And they would have found out eventually anyway, so I wanted to make the story a bit more believable.”

Eirik hesitated. “Wouldn’t it have been easier if you’d appeared as a coyote and led them in the right direction or to safety?”

“Not everyone is as trusting as you.” Virelia laughed. “Ulrik would have gotten angry and tried to turn my pelt into a cloak if I’d shown up in that form.”

“... Okay, you have a point.”

“I always do.”

He stared at the goddess, speechless. He berated himself for not recognizing the soldier’s identity when he had seen her carrying the stretcher. Eirik had been so focused on the brothers, he hadn’t spared her a second glance.

But now, it was as clear as day—there was something about her power, something that radiated from her. Eirik had spent years at his tutor’s side, honing his spiritual sight to focus on auras. In theory, any mortal could do it, but it required intense practice, concentration, and maybe even a bit of innate talent—qualities that not many were willing to cultivate. For dreamweavers, it was a necessity.

“You're staring,” Virelia said slyly.

“Well, I’ve never seen a god in person before.”

“Mm, I’d prefer if we kept that our little secret.”

Eirik nodded. He didn’t trust Virelia, but he owed her—quite a lot. She had gone out of her way to find Sindre and Ulrik, even though she didn’t have to. She had saved their lives.

"Why are you doing all of this?" he asked.

Her answer was painfully honest. "Because I need you. It wouldn’t be good if you were constantly distracted, mourning your dead friends. It would only make things harder."

"Wow," Eirik raised an eyebrow, "And here I was, thinking you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart."

"Then you don’t know me well enough yet."

"Yet?"

Virelia's gaze softened. "We'll be working closely together, whether you like it or not. I have plans for you."

She didn’t wait for his reply, turning and walking away. Eirik watched as she left, disappearing into the crowd.

The goddess’s presence stirred many emotions in him—happiness that he hadn’t been abandoned, relief that Virelia had saved them all. Anger at how she’d manipulated his friends, and disgust at how she had ruthlessly probed vulnerable minds. The confusion was a conflict he didn’t know how to resolve. Yet, despite it all, he smiled.