Not knowing what to do, Einar decided to take a gamble with Spear’s advice. He stabbed his sword into the sand and lowered himself into a kneeling position with his head lowered.

“Einar Arnessen greets the Fates!”

He dared not look up as the creatures reached him and then moved by without touching him.

“Welcome, chosen of Harald.” He heard a creaky yet childish voice echo in his head.

“Die, monsters!” Fastúlfr snapped out of his stupor as the three floated close enough, the tone of the Viking prince prompting a deep hiss from them.

The prince and his followers sprung into action, swinging their blades at the horrid creatures. Weapons met and passed through the three that swiped their blackened claws at their attackers, turning Fastúlfr and the rest into a pile of shredded flesh and gore in an instant between shrill screams. Then, they kept moving toward the rest of the Vikings who stood near the sea, horrified by the slaughter they just witnessed.

“Princess Brynhildr greets the Fates!” The princess stepped forward, stabbing her spear into the ground and kneeling.

Seeing her actions that seemed to mimic Einar’s who was left alone by the creatures, the rest of the Vikings followed suit, lowering their weapons and kneeling while greeting the Fates. The three stopped, black mist swirling around them for a few moments. When it was gone, the people found themselves staring at three women dressed in shamanistic clothes, their faces hidden by the deer skulls.

“It seems this one has some brain”. A young and childish voice resounded from the shortest of the three, the voice sounding both near and far at the same time.

“And some manners,” an older voice remarked. “Unlike that idiot just now. To think he had no sense of danger at all.”

“He believed himself to be a king amongst men,” an ancient voice croaked out from behind the third deer skull. “A simpleton deserving a fool’s death.”

“At least Harald and Svanhildr chose wisely.” The youngest of the three chuckled.

“That is still to be seen.” The older one stated.

“Now rise, sons and daughters of the Vikings!” The oldest one ordered.

Brynhildr followed the order of the Fates, slowly getting up from the ground with the rest of the God-marked following her. On the other side of the clearing, Einar also stood back up, sheathing his sword before pulling the slightly burnt fish skewers from the fire. He ate them in barely two bites while walking closer to the crowd, his eyes drifting toward the shredded carcasses in the sand as he walked.

“By the decree of Harald, king of the gods that reign over the Vikings, you were sent here to serve.” The youngest of the Fates began.

“And we were sent here to guide.” The middle one added.

“You have passed the trial of the waves,” the oldest one finished. “Barely. Some of the foolish ones failed.”

“But their death is your gain.” The youngest laughed as the three turned toward the gruesome pile of corpses, raising their hand toward them.

Einar froze in place as he watched a glowing blood-red mist float up from the remains that shrivelled and dried up until crumbling into dust.

“Take your reward and claim this place for yourselves.” The oldest of the Fates said.

“You will need a safe place to fall back to after facing the challenges of the Torn Serpent.” The middle of the three added.

As they spoke, Einar looked at the swirling red cloud floating not far from him. It made him feel the same way as the mist released by the draugr did, so he pulled hid drinking horn from his belt and held it out toward the red cloud. It flashed and churned as a fist-sized piece broke free, floating toward the young giant. It stopped above the horn and filled it with a shimmering red nectar which he drank in one go.

“Good,” the oldest of the Fates hummed. “The giant seems to know when to act and when to not.”

“Or it might have been just the dragon’s greed that pushed him to do it.” The youngest one chuckled.

“Either way, his prize was claimed.” The middle one noted.

Hearing their banter, Brynhildr and the rest of the Vikings finally gathered enough courage to claim what was offered by the Fates, all of them taking a small piece of the dead God-marked’s strength for themselves.

“We can offer little help besides guidance.” The middle of the Fates spoke after a few moments of silence.

“Lest we alter the weave of the tapestry.” The oldest one sighed.

“We can tell some of what awaits you though,” the youngest chimed in. “And there’s a lot.”

“You have made your way to the tip of the serpent’s tail,” the middle of the Fates began her explanation. “Four more kingdoms have sent their youngest champions here, two of them landing on each side of the island.”

“All of you sharing the same task and challenges,” the oldest remarked. “The island has nine trials dedicated to honouring the memory of the nine worlds and the nine concepts. For a God-marked to be able to make their way to the next island, they must conquer each of them.”

“The gods of the five kingdoms had agreed that no God-marked blood would be spilt by their champions or their other followers on the first island,” the youngest stated. “So you are safe from them while here.”

“However, once you make your way to the second island, that agreement will be void and you might have to fight them to the death.” The middle of the Fates said with a darkened tone.

“No quest for glory and power was ever without a price to pay,” the oldest one added. “Make sure your life is not tallied as someone else’s price.”

While they talked the youngest of the Fates clapped her hands and the ground shook as a large hourglass made of carved stone and thick misty glass rose from the sand in the middle of the ruined fishing village.

“Rest, for now,” the middle one spoke. “Starting from tomorrow’s sunrise, you will have three months to complete the nine trials.”

“Or risk having to spend the rest of your life on this island.” The oldest one added.

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As soon as they finished talking, the Fates disappeared in a burst of dark mist, leaving behind baffled God-marked and ordinary people alike. Everyone stood frozen in place for a while before some finally had the mental strength to fall back on their arses.

“What in Harald’s name we got ourselves into?” One of the God-marked winced, earning a strained laughter from the others.

Einar was about to turn and head back to his small fire to rest when a spear drilled itself into the sand a few steps beside him. Looking back, the young giant saw Princess Brynhildr walking toward him with several shieldmaidens following her. When they got close enough, the spear yanked itself out of the ground and flew back into her hands, the woman raising it toward Einar’s throat.

“Swear your fealty to me!” She commanded, but her eyes widened as the young giant grabbed the spear’s shaft just beneath the blade.

“Walk away while you can,” he said growling as his anger flared at her actions. “It didn’t turn out well for your brother and it won’t end well for you either if you keep behaving like this.”

Much to everyone’s and even Einar’s surprise, smoke started to seep out from beneath his grip. As Brynhildr managed to yank her spear back, she found a scorched handprint on the shaft.

“You... you’re a chosen one too. Aren’t you?” She asked, her anger now mixed with a slight tinge of fear.

“I’m a God-marked like everyone else.” Einar shrugged, but the shieldmaiden on the right side of the princess scoffed.

“The Fates mentioned that both Harald and Svanhildr chose wisely. We haven’t heard anyone claim to have been blessed by the gods and yet you knew how to act when the Fates arrived.”

“You’re Harald’s chosen,” Brynhildr remarked. “Either swear your fealty to me or leave this place! I won’t stand your presence otherwise.”

“I arrived here first,” Einar said with a low growl as the princess started to irk him far too much. “If anyone should tell the other to leave, it should be me.”

“But I’m...”

“I don’t give a damn about your titles, since they’re worth nothing to me. I serve no one!” The giant said as his eyes and hair flared with crimson flames.

“You...”

“I’m sure everyone’s still on edge,” Arvid’s voice cut the tension as he strolled closer with a wide grin. “But the Fates said that no one can kill a God-marked here so don’t tempt fate.”

His words made everyone aware of how close they got to fighting each other.

“Spear my ass. You got visited by Harald himself and you didn’t even figure it out.”

“Don’t pretend like you knew it from the start.” The giant rolled his eyes as the young warrior walked across the group of shieldmaidens, nodding at a few of them in the process.

“No, but I figured it out as soon as the Fates mentioned that Harald chose well, which means I figured it out faster than they did.” He poked his thumb toward the others.

“Who are you to...” A shieldmaiden tried to curse at him, but Arvid just walked over to Einar and patted his back.

“I knew you were something special, besides being tall as hell and built like a bear. As for the princess, she’s like this because she’s afraid she’ll have to marry you.”

“You...” Brynhildr growled in anger.

“Come now, it’s obvious. Harald and Svanhildr are king and queen, so their chosen ones are likely meant to end up...”

“Shut your mouth! I will rise to godhood on my own,” the young woman said as she pointed her spear at Einar. “I will not be chained to such a brute.”

At that point, Einar couldn’t stop himself from laughing at her antics.

“They say that Harald is all-seeing so he should know damn well that I’d never marry a pompous woman like you, even if it meant gaining godhood. Go and prance about somewhere else, princess.”

With that, he turned and left, Arvid following him after sending a wink and a farewell kiss to the shieldmaidens. After reaching the small fire, the giant sat down with a sigh. ‘Harald you old bastard. I really hope you didn't mean for me to marry that arrogant wench. She can’t even hold a spear properly.’ His musings earned a chuckle as he shook his head.

“I’ve got to say, that princess is a feisty one for sure,” Arvid remarked as he sat down. “Still, she’s not the worst choice if you can put up with her attitude.”

The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds before they both broke out in laughter.

“I’m pretty sure she would run me through with her spear on our wedding night.”

“Not if you do it first.” The warrior argued while wiggling his eyebrows.

“I leave that to you, charmer of shieldmaidens.”

“Out of the question,” Arvid shook his head. “If I marry one, what will I do with the rest?”

Those words earned a sigh from Einar as he was getting used to the young warrior’s womanising mindset.

“Anyway. You sure scared me back there when you jumped into the sea. I knew you were a madman when you punched Fastúlfr back in Wolfhold but this was something else. Still, I’m glad you reached the shore in one piece.”

“So am I,” the giant agreed. “Ran into a bunch of draugr almost as soon as I got here though.”

“Draugr,” Arvid shuddered. “A nasty bunch those are. I would rather fight a gang of trolls or netherworld wretches than the draugr. They remind me of how I could end up if I’m not careful enough. But anyway, what are your plans now?”

“The same as everyone’s I guess,” Einar said as he tossed a branch on the fire. “We have three months to conquer the trials but the Fates didn’t say we have to stay here the whole time.”

“You want to clear the trial as soon as possible, huh?”

“These lands are full of challenges and treasures. Both are a means to power and I’m sure that there are others out there who are already preparing to get it for themselves.”

“When are you leaving?” Arvid asked with a sombre tone as he watched the giant stare into the fire.

“Half an hour at best. If nothing else, I want to scout around to see what lurks out there.”

“You mean, what can be hunted or looted out there.”

“That too,” the giant nodded while closing his eyes. “Could you watch over me while I check what changed?”

“Sure,” Arvid nodded. “Just don’t take too long. I’m getting hungry.”

Einar closed his eyes and when he next opened them, he was in his inner world already, a clear change waiting for him there. Standing up he found himself looking at what seemed to be a tapestry of sorts floating next to the stone slab that stood behind the altar. The threads looked coarse yet glowed with a faint power. There wasn’t much there yet, but it told a familiar story.

He found images of fighting the bear and earning his God-mark. It was followed by the weave showing him his trial of Paths and earning his blessed arms and armour. The trial with the draugrs and netherworld wretches was quite lifelike. The last feast on Bear-rock Island and his night with Kari also got on the tapestry. He saw the sunken ship's scavenging and how he reached Wolfhold.

Rúna and Hrefna were there as they helped him get stronger through his weapons and talismans. The short time with the Arnessen and Unfrid clans as well as him punching Fastúlfr at the feat were sewn into the tapestry as well. Einar found the part where he met Spear or rather Harald, the image making it obvious as it depicted the All-father in its full glory.

Then came the Gods' Gate and his glorious swim toward the Torn Serpent. The story stopped after Fastúlfr’s death and the Fates leaving the hourglass behind. He watched as the threads that made the tapestry floated upwards, vanishing in the darkness above him. ‘Not bad.’ He admitted with a nod as he returned to the stone altar.