“Don’t take his words to heart,” Stígr said as they began to walk away. “My son likes to compare everyone to himself but tends to forget that not everyone had the same chances in their youth as he did. Come. The rest of the clan is already waiting for you back home.”

“Can we first stop at Lady Hrefna’s emporium?”

“Hrefna?” his grandfather hummed. “Did you get her to craft you a talisman?”

“Yes. She told me that she should be ready in an hour or two, but...”

“It’s alright,” old Bodvar said. “There are a couple of places in Wolfhold you ought to see anyway.”

His grandfather was true to his word and showed him around Wolfhold, stopping at notable places like the grand shrines of the Gods. As it turned out, the Arnessen clan was kept in high regard by the people of Wolfhold due to them being excellent warriors and hardy defenders of the kingdom. Bodvar kept asking him about his parents and his siblings, the man’s face a mixture of pain and pride as he listened to Einar’s stories about his childhood and his parents. He also asked a few questions about the God-marked, his uncle answering them earnestly.

The Arnessen clan had seven God-marked, including Einar. His godfather was one of them, one of his aunts and uncle, Fólki, Herleif as well as an older cousin who was over twenty-six and was away on a raid. One of his sudden questions earned him the knowledge that God-marked were forbidden from fighting each other outside of sanctioned duels, but that law was likely absent from the Torn Serpent.

Stígr warned him that the moment he arrived on the island he would have to consider every other God-marked as a potential enemy because upon killing each other, they could use the ritual horn to tear away and refine some of their enemy’s god-given power. Normally one could expect some solidarity due to them belonging to the same kingdom, but over there, things would be different. He would have to pick his allies wisely or be prepared to take on everyone else alone. With their short tour over, the three of them returned to Hrefna's talisman shop, the shopkeepers freezing in place as they saw the three giants walk into the shop.

“Sorry to bother you lot,” Bodvar said with a firm tone. “Is Hrefna done with my grandson’s talisman yet?”

“I... I’ll go and ask.” The woman behind the counter muttered before turning around to leave with hasty steps.

Einar could barely hold back a chuckle as he watched the greying-haired warrior scare the shopkeeper due to him hearing how she treated the young giant. A minute or so later the woman returned with Hrefna in tow.

“For some reason, I’m not surprised that you already found him,” Hrefna spoke to Bodvar. “The two of you wait here. This is between him and me.”

“The payment...”

“Is also between him and me.” The woman stopped Bodvar as she led Einar away.

Once the two of them were alone, the seeress spoke her mind.

“Your grandfather is a stubborn man,” she remarked. “It seems to run in your family. Now, before I give you your talismans, let’s talk about my payment.”

“Right.” Einar agreed, already feeling a headache creeping in.

“I’m not asking for your coin or any other thing you owe, the woman stated. “Instead, you pay me with a favour.”

“A favour?”

“Yes. I need you to bring something to the Torn Serpent.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “As long as it’s not dangerous or something against the rules.”

“No,” the woman shook her head as she led him to a stone urn. “I want you to bring this to the isles of the gods and bury it beneath the roots of the first Ash tree you come across.”

“This is...”

“My mother’s ashes,” Hrefna answered with a saddened voice. “She was a great seeress and a worshipper of Dagne, the goddess of spring and renewal. She always wanted to visit the Torn Serpent Isles but knew that she could never reach it in her lifetime. You will help her reach it, even if in her death.”

“If that is what you want,” he agreed, putting the stone urn inside his world eater pouch. “Do I need any burial ritual or…”

“No,” she shook her head. “Just bury her and be on your way. You’ll have plenty of things to deal with. For now, let me tell you about your talismans.”

Hrefna walked over to one of the worktables, picking up two leather bracelets that had a strip of red metal woven into them with leather strips. Both add different sets of runes carved into them that glowed with a faint golden hue. She handed them over, pointing out which one was to be worn on his left and right wrists. They seemed to fit between his gloves and bracers, the armour pieces covering most of the talisman from sight.

“The talisman on your left-hand holds your bow, ready to be summoned and dismissed by a thought.”

Einar nodded as he focused on the bracelet and grabbed the air in front of him. A quick spew of fire burst out from his empty grasp and took on the shape of a recurve bow. As the flames disappeared, a wooden bow remained behind, its limbs narrow, ending in roughly carved dragon heads that held the bowstring in their opened mouths. The middle of the bow was dark, reminding him of the ebony wood he left with the seeress, a sanded strip of bone covering the area where the arrow was meant to be placed. He grabbed the string with his right hand’s fingers and slowly drew on it, watching as the limbs bent further back. After slowly letting it back, the youth dismissed the bow in another splash of fire.”

“It’s a good bow,” he remarked. “I’ll have to get a few arrows for it.”

“It can be strengthened the same way your other arms and armour,” the seeress claimed. “The amulet also has a spell sealed in it.”

“A spell?”

“Yes,” she nodded proudly. “That one however will require your spiritual energy to manifest. Focus your mind and reach for it, just as you did with your bow.”

Einar did as told and as he grasped at the air, it cracked with a chilling cold. Ice spread out from beneath his fingers, covering his glove and bracer before quickly spreading out in a circle, forming a shield of ice on his arm. It was at least as thick as his thumb and he could see through it quite well.

“A shield of ice,” he hummed. “It looks interesting but how strong is it?”

“As strong as any mortal shield,” Hrefna claimed. “Its power will grow with the talisman and your spirit. The stronger those two are, the stronger your shield will be.”

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“I see,” the youth nodded as he dismissed the shield that rapidly evaporated. “Thank you. This will help me a lot.”

“I’m sure of that,” the woman agreed. “And so will the spell in your other talisman. It allows you to summon a throwing spear of fire or ice. You can use it for melee and ranged fights alike but please don’t summon it here! I don’t want anything to catch on fire. You’ll have to practice with them later to see how many times you can summon each before they take their toll on you.”

The young giant looked at his right hand, fighting the urge to summon a spear of ice, but in the end, he just let it go.

“You should go now. Bodvar must be getting impatient outside.”

“Thank you,” Einar said with a sincere tone. “For everything.”

“No need to thank me, just fulfil your promise.”

“I will. Farewell.”

He left the workshop, finding Bodvar and Stígr waiting for him at the shop.

“Are you done?” His grandfather asked, earning a nod.

“Good. We should get going then,” Stígr said from the side. “The feast should be ready by now.”

The three of them left the shop, Einar following their lead for a good half an hour before they reached a large stonewalled house that kind of reminded him of his home back in Bear-rock Island. As soon as he entered the building, the youth got washed away by the crowd of people who came to greet him. Several aunts, uncles, cousins and the like came to see the lost child of their clan.

“He looks just like Björn did when he was his age.” One of his aunts gushed as she patted him on the back.

“Björn was a bit shorter,” a man remarked with a smirk. “And that red hair with those eyes. The lad must have awakened the dragon blood he inherited from his father.”

“Good,” yet another, much older woman hummed. “Our clan will be able to send three God-marked to the Torn Serpent. Only the Ironheart clan can match that.”

“Bah,” Stígr spat disdainfully. “Those Ironheart brats are barely able to lift their blades, let alone fight off a wretch or something bigger. Einar here fought more than twenty of them across the five rounds of the trial and got away with all of his innards still in their places.”

“Forget about the Ironhearts! Come on lad, tell us about your parents. How are they doing? What about the little ones?” An older aunt asked, the crowd eagerly waiting for the answers.

Einar spent the next few hours telling them about the way they lived on Bear-rock Island. He told them about his childhood, his hunts with Björn and how his younger siblings were growing up and such things. He then recalled the day of the Proving and how he became a God-marked. His relatives listened to his tale with bated breath, almost everyone cheering by the end of it while some were growling at the thought of how Haftor and Ingrid almost got him killed.

“It’s hard to believe that the gods would give you their blessing just because you managed to kill a damn bear.” A young woman said from the side, the crowd turning toward her.

“Herleif,” a woman chided. “You might think it to be a simple thing to do, but for us ordinary folk, it is a great achievement.”

“I don’t doubt that it’s a big thing for most people, but it’s hardly something worthy of becoming a God-marked over.”

“It’s not up to us to question the reasons for a God’s actions,” someone noted from the crowd. “You were chosen at birth while Einar was chosen when he participated in the Proving. That’s all there is to it.”

“Whatever.” Herleif shrugged before leaving, some of the older members of the family shaking their heads at her strangeness.

“Don’t mind her,” Stígr sighed. “Both she and Fólki grew up being treated with reverence due to them being God-marked. Now that we have another one of the same generation, it must be bothersome for them to share that same attention.”

“I don’t care,” Einar shook his head. “I don’t intend to fight either of them unless they give me a reason to do so.”

“Good lad,” one of her aunts praised. “You’ll have plenty of people to look out for on the Torn Serpent Isles even without those two.”

The rest of the afternoon and early evening went by cheerfully, Einar feeling both awkward and happy as he spent time with his new relatives. Sometime during the evening feast a messenger came by, handing a letter to Bodvar. The man quickly read it, his brows creasing before he gave a nod to the messenger.

“Is something wrong, father?” Stígr asked, the merry crowd turning toward their clan leader.

“A message from Narve Unfrid.” The greying-haired giant said as he sat back.

“What does the old goat-shagger want?” A woman asked from the side.

“What do you think?” Bodvar sighed. “He wants to meet his grandson. When word came that Einar arrived at Wolfhold, I sent him word that we would bring the lad home. Now he says that since we got to spend the day with Einar, he should visit them tomorrow.”

“He can go fuck a goat,” one of Einar’s aunts remarked with a growl. “The bastard has no right to see him after all he did.”

“They are also his family,” Bodvar sighed. “Even if Narve is a bastard, he should still see Einar before they leave for the Torn Serpent.”

“I don’t mind meeting them,” Einar spoke up, everyone turning toward him with clear surprise. “I’ll leave Wolfhold the day after tomorrow and I might never return. I want to at least meet them.”

“Good,” his grandfather nodded. “The old goat might be a bastard, but your grandmother is at least worth the time. For now, let’s eat and drink until we drop.”

The rest of the evening went by fast as Einar spent time eating and drinking with the others before being led to a bath that was prepared for him. The Arnessen clan had quite a few thralls, the one showing him to the bath being surprisingly eager to help him with bathing. Although the girl was charming and eager, the young giant still said no to her advances. His thoughts drifted back to Kari, the pain of leaving her still fresh to him.

A long bath later he was shown to a room where a large bed awaited him, sleep coming fast as he drifted off. When morning came, the sound of the rooster woke him up, prompting the young giant to get dressed. The previous night’s celebration left its mark on the dining room which was still being cleaned by the thralls. One of them led him to the kitchen where he was surprised to meet his grandfather.

“You woke up quite early,” Bodvar remarked. “It seems you hadn’t drunk enough. Nor did you take up little Mara on her offer.”

“I... I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?” The old warrior asked back, his gaze lowering toward the youth’s waist.

“It's just,” Einar explained to clear things up, the old man’s gaze snapping back up toward his face. “I... had someone on Bear-rock Isle.”

“I see,” Bodvar sighed. “I’ve been on quite a few raids throughout my life so I know how hard it is to leave someone behind, knowing that you might never see them again. But you have to know that...”

“It’s going to be a one-way trip to the Torn Serpent?” The young giant asked. “I know. Thorwald already told me. He also told me that I should let Kari and everyone else fade into a nice memory to think back on, but nothing else.”

“A fine advice from a man who left on deadly quests and raids more times than I dare to count. You should take his advice. Still, you should clear your head and get ready to meet your other grandfather. That old bastard might talk though when he first sees you, but I know him. He was heartbroken after losing your mother due to King Carr’s edict.”