"Winter should arrive in a few weeks." That's what Ivarr Ragnarrson thought as he slung his game around his shoulders, tying his paws so it wouldn't slip. The grass was dry and the leaves on the trees were beginning to fall, all lit up by the full moon that covered the valley with its light, while the Aurora Borealis danced around them.

The cool breeze lifted the hairs on Ivarr's face as he carried the deer back to his city. This would be tonight's dinner, which was sure to be even better with Hild's kitchen. Thoughts of home came, though they were not necessary, for as he walked he had already entered the main street, greeting and being greeted by its residents, whom he knew very well.

-One more Mr. Ivarr, that way there won't be many more left for us. - Saluted Sithric, the cheerful blacksmith, while letting out his famous laugh.

-I only use my skills, you are the ones who have to accompany me! – replied the young captain, in the same cheerful and jocular tone.

After passing the merry Sithric's forge, Ivarr continued to walk with his prey on his shoulders, passing the other inhabitants. He saluted his good friend Guthrum, who was fixing the roof of his house while his wife was stripping the bones of fresh fish. He saw Olaf chopping wood, each piece of log splitting apart with each stroke of his axe, while his cousin Wiglaf made new arrows that were sure to be deftly used.

But what mattered most was the house at the end of the street, a modest house that was worth more to Ivarr than any castle he would be able to capture, and waiting within it was the real treasure of his life: His wife Hild.

And there she was, probably listening to the greetings and laughter he'd made, or simply always knowing when he'd come home, opened the door, and stood to wait. Her black hair caught the firelight, and her emerald silk dress, which Ivarr had brought from Frankia, was covered in a white apron. The open door allowed the fireplace to light up the muddy, grass-dry street, and Hild cast a shadow over Ivarr, who grinned in genuine happiness at the sight of his life's wife.

-Did you get a big one this time? - Asked Hild, approaching her husband, with a smile on her face - Or just got another skinny one?

-You hurt me dear- Ivarr replied, putting the deer on the ground for a second - My hunting skills would make even Ullr jealous!

-In that case, O glorious hunter, why don't you enter and receive your great reward?

-The reward I want is right here.

With her she pulled him by the collar, bringing Ivarr into her loving kiss, a moment of passion that Ivarr never wanted to end, even though he knew that whenever he wanted he could return. They held each other for a few seconds, until Hild released him, and when Ivarr tried to continue, he was slapped on the hand.

-I still have to prepare the meat, you glutton - she repressed, pointing to the deer on the ground. – But if you behave there will be a great reward, O great hero.

"I can't wait," he chuckled with gusto.

Ivarr helped his wife carry the deer to the door, lifting it from the muddy floor, and carrying it to the table, where it would be prepared.

-I hope you don't mind, but Rolf came to have dinner with us.

-Rolf is here, where?

As if on call, Rolf, Ivarr's brother, appeared in the doorway, already holding a mug of mead in his left hand and another in his right. His golden hair highlighted his youthful appearance, which was only brightened by his ear-to-ear smile that opened when he saw his older brother. And quickly offered the other mug, which still had a little foam from the mead. Ivarr accepted, taking a nice sip of his drink, as the hunt had dried up his throat.

-What are you doing here brother?

-I knew someone would bring food - Rolf replied - And you never say no to free food, especially when it's prepared by the best cook in town.

Hild flushed at the compliment, trying to deflect to the task of preparing the food. Meanwhile, the two brothers exchanged stories, travel stories; of looting; hunting and trading. They laughed as they told of their adventures, they laughed with all the gusto of living. And when the food was ready, everyone went to the table, sitting down to eat, and Ivarr couldn't be happier. He had the most beautiful woman in the world and his brother always brought the most varied stories from the world, bringing joy and music with his instrument.

On the table was the deer, and more mead, with the three of them sitting, eating and having fun, all happy to be there. After supper Rolf took out his harp and began to sing a song he had learned in Spain from the Moors, Hild loved it, she always liked music.

But then Ivarr heard a noise, a sound of metal hitting metal, and he turned to see what it was. But when he turned around he was no longer sitting in his house, he was on the street, instead of a deer on his back, he had a bottle in his hand. The street was empty, with no one to greet him. Meanwhile, the Aurora Borealis was in the sky, but it was red, an ominous color that never happened. Her house was opposite, the fireplace was on and lighting up the humble home. But something was wrong, her door now had the triquetra he had found in the talisman and seen in the eyes of the figures.

And inside, there were noises, and Ivarr knew what those noises meant, but he didn't want to remember. Yet his feet, against his will, were leading him to the door, his free hand moving to the lock, ready to open the door.

-No, please - Ivarr begged - I don't want to see it!

Yet his body wouldn't obey, as if he was being controlled by someone else, someone who wanted to make him suffer. He'd been there before, and he knew what was coming next and he didn't want to see it. The symbol on his door began to glow, an intense crimson red, and he watched it, like an all-seeing eye, and judged him.

He heard a scream, he didn't know if it was his or someone else's, but a scream sounded in the dark of the night. Ivarr closed his eyes and he began to scream himself.

And he woke up screaming, sweaty and getting up on the makeshift mattress, sweating and confused, Guthrum was holding him, his worried gaze fixed the captain intensely. Ivarr controlled himself and calmed himself, turning his head to reintroduce where he was in his mind. He was no longer in his hometown, he was back in Ireland, and its strange forest.

-Are you okay? - Someone said, maybe Guthrum the loyal mate, or maybe Olaf, Ivarr didn't know yet.

His screams must have woken the rest of the crew, for they were looking at him with the same concern Guthrum showed. Ivarr, now calm, looked around him, his men, still half awake and half asleep, were staring at him, as if waiting for an answer.

Ivarr looked around him, the forest where they slept was thicker than in the previous kilometers, when there were several spaces where the sunlight penetrated, illuminating the vegetation, now these small holes were getting more and more scarce, and the light that entered was getting smaller and smaller. In this tight environment, Ivarr looked at his men, and then at his worried first mate, stood up, freeing himself from Guthrum, who tried to hold him, and simply started walking. Heading towards the river to wash up as he was covered in sweat, but also to calm down and process what he saw and how he would explain it to his crew.

The sun was already setting, turning orange, and soon it would be time to set sail in search of the place the witch had told them to look for. He knelt on the edge of the river, looking at his reflection, his face was tense and the image was warped by the Dane's hands, which buried themselves in the liquid mirror. Bringing the water to his face, Ivarr splashed it on his face, cooling off a little and washing away the sweat. The cold water gave him a few chills, due to the shock of temperatures, which soon passed as he repeated the movement.

"What's happening to me?" The captain thought as he once again bathed in the icy waters, while the sun reflected its light on the river.

-The same dream again? – asked a familiar voice behind Ivarr, who turned to find Guthrum also kneeling, but he was beside the captain, who had not heard him arrive.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Ivarr didn't answer directly, just nodding his head and saying "yes". Guthrum did the same, understanding the answer but not responding. As there was no further dialogue, Ivarr returned to his task, lost in thought.

-At some point you'll have to explain what the problem is, boss - Guthrum said, looking at the river beside his captain.

-We both know you already know what this is about - replied Ivarr, turning his soaked face to face his old friend, who returned the gesture.

-Not to me, boss, to the others.

-You, more than anyone, know that I can't

-Then find a way to deal with whatever is happening to you.

Guthrum settled himself on the edge of the river, leaving a silence between the two men that neither of them wanted to fill, just letting the sounds of water, plants and wind fill the atmosphere. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Guthrum just gazing at the increasingly thick and dark forest, and Ivarr continuing to wash himself in the clear water of the river.

-You have problems too – Ivarr finally got up the courage to end the silence, turning to his friend – Only you disguise it better.

-What gave me away? – replied the mate, widening his eyes with surprise.

-Your dark circles, you've been waking up too early, I assume they're nightmares too.

"And I thought I was hiding it so well." He chuckled, a taste of his good old laugh that had often served as a beacon in the darkest times the crew had ever faced.

Ivarr also gave a small laugh, which helped a little, as if a great weight, though not lifted, had been lifted from his shoulders. And then they were silent again, both of them watching the river and the dark green line in front of them, while the rest of the crew began to wake up and move on to other tasks.

-Wouldn't it be better if we went back? - Once again the mate broke the silence.

-I have to close this matter Guthrum.

-Why, just because Thorgest sent it?

-By me!

He turned to face his friend, who looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and understanding, perhaps pity.

-Well, then let's walk, the sun will set - He nodded and stood up, cleaning his hands and pants, and already turning back to the camp.

-What was it about? – Ivarr asked before his friend returned.

-Which?

-Do you know what mine was, what yours was about?

Guthrum took a few seconds to answer, maybe he was wondering if he should answer. But without turning around, he replied grimly.

- About my first ritual.

-And what did you remember?

-From the faces of everyone there - Guthrum still didn't turn to his captain, Ivarr didn't know if it was out of shame or discomfort - Of all the ones I killed.

-For you it may be a personal search captain - He continued, now turning half of his body to face his commander - But you are not the only one with secrets and sins. And this forest knows of them, for there is witchcraft here.

With that he turned and went back to the rest of the crew who were already getting ready to break camp and continue their journey. The setting sun reflected off the water, growing stronger as it receded from Midgar, all in a cycle that it did along with the moon to escape Skol and Hati, the sons of Fenrir. But in this forest Ivarr would have to face the figures, something he had no interest in doing, especially now that he was sure they knew his secrets. They knew what could have been, and what was.

But it was something that was bound to happen, because probably the figures were responsible for his father's disappearance, and to rescue him he would have to go through them. So he returned to the camp, to his place, and armed himself. He shouted the usual orders, and boarded the ship when it was ready, crew in place and the moon in the sky.

As his ship drifted under the starry sky, Ivarr could only look ahead and up. The first to see where he was going, and the second to make sure it was the right way, no more contact with the cursed inhabitants of this forest. Just total concentration on the way forward, for the further Ivarr went into this strange forest, the less he wanted to stay there.

The path was clear this time, but not very pleasant. The trees, once an emerald green, were now a dark green almost gray, and there were fewer and fewer fish in the water, and of the animals in the forest there was no sign.

This scenario was getting weirder and weirder, but Ivarr had gone too far to be scared, they were almost there, he could feel it in his bones. And not only that, he had a strange feeling now. Looking up, he noticed that the constellation, which had kept itself in the starry sky, was now getting more and more aligned, like an “X” marked on the map.

-We are almost there! – He shouted to his crew – Just a few more miles!

He couldn't say why he was so sure, just a feeling, a feeling that nagged at him, telling him he was getting close, near the end. And it was then that he saw the figures again. Not entirely, maybe because they didn't want to expose themselves again, or maybe for some other indecipherable reason. But they were there, moving, accompanying the ship on its journey across the river. Above, the constellation continued to line up with the sky above Ivarr.

-Faster! – The captain shouted to his crew, without taking his eyes off his objective – Just a little longer!

They won't stop me, not now that I'm so close! Ivarr thought, he knew he had to get to his goal, holy place or not. His mission, His Father awaited him, and nothing, not even Surtr and all his fire giants would be able to stop him.

You will not disappear again father!

I let you go once, never again!

Looking up again, Ursa Major was now almost in line with the ship, as if it were an "X" on a star map, pointing to the treasure at the end of the journey.

-Prepare the anchor! - He ordered

His men heard the order and immediately began to slow down, those closest to the bow taking the anchor, a heavy stone attached to a thick rope.

Simple, yes, but efficient, just the way Ivarr liked it. Checking the tree line, Ivarr wanted to see if the figures were still following them, and that's what he found, but fewer and fewer than before.

Turning back to the horizon, Ivarr focused on his objective, nothing on this earth would stop him from reaching it, whether men or demons of Hel. The stars that guided him were now almost on top of him, in a perfect conjunction that almost looked like a well-aimed arrow pointing to the young captain's fate.

-On my signal!

All the crew prepared to anchor, as they had done hundreds of times when they sacked and pillaged the coasts of the British Isles. All in one simple motion that had been drilled into the nerves, muscles, and thoughts of Ivarr's crew with practice.

Looking up again, Ivarr saw that they were almost there, just a few more yards away, but what startled him was what he found in front of him: Huge stone pillars and menhirs jutted out from above the tree line, as if the head of a a gigantic primordial beast. Ivarr arrived once more above her head, and the constellation was almost in line, they were almost there.

I arrived Father! thought the captain as he ordered his men to prepare to disembark.

Looking around, the tree line was only green and plants, with no sign of the strange shapes. For the moment at least, they were alone.

The anchoring took place simply and uneventfully, as usual, even too easy.

Around him, his men disembarked, soon after they had tied the ship to the nearby trees. Everyone getting ready for the last part of the expedition.

Guthrum directed the men to move, while Wiglaf prepared to go on a mission.

Meanwhile, the night sky glowed with moonlight, illuminating the Danes who dared to enter the heart of the forest. Ivarr walked, confident in his mission, on the verge of finally knowing why.

Because he left, what was more important than him and his mother?

But there was something strange about this night, the constellation that would so guide them on this journey into the deep heart of Ireland, now hovered over their heads. Ivarr and his men couldn't help but be intrigued by her, as the Aurora Borealis of her home glowed overhead, marking the beginning of the end of her journey. The strangest thing was that she seemed to be spinning, like a creature watching its prey, for a second Ivarr saw a familiar face in the stars, Hild.

The captain closed his eyes, shaking his head, as if trying to get these thoughts out of his head. “It was all in his head,” was what he thought, but some deeper part of his soul still cast that comforting certainty into doubt. He opened his eyes again, this time greeted by the constellation, but weaker, now challenged by the rays of dawn. Gathering courage, and snapping out of his trance, Ivarr ordered them to begin packing camp.

After setting up camp, the sun already dared to show itself. The group decided to wait a few more hours, drinking coffee and getting ready to leave. All except Wiglaf, who had gone ahead as usual since his encounter with the amulet.

Ivarr didn't rest, didn't sleep, just stared at the tree line, as if he could clear a path with just his gaze. For some reason the pocket, the one that held the amulet, itched, but the Viking decided to try to ignore it.

But Ivarr was snapped out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder, and he turned, his right hand already on his sword. Only to find Guthrum, who held a worried look.

-What's up, old friend? asked the captain.

-I think you need to see this - was the reply of the mate.

And, without waiting for an answer from his superior, he turned his back and walked on. Ivarr followed him, for some reason he had a feeling there was something serious.

Following his mate and friend through the camp, all covered with trees since there was no beach, they went deeper until the camp could only be identified by the sounds of the crew. Halfway across was Wiglaf, sitting and shooting more arrows.

-Why did you take so long? – the young hunter greeted them

-Look how you talk boy! – snapped back the mate – Ivarr is still your captain!

Ivarr responded by placing a hand on his old friend's shoulder as a sign of calm. The two looked at each other and Guthrum chose not to rant anymore.

-Why did he call us here? – asked the captain We are almost leaving

-Exactly! – replied the young man – This has to do with our mission.

-Like this?

-We have company, and more than locations.

With that Wiglaf backed away from a tree he used for support, revealing knife-engraved inscriptions. Norse runic inscriptions.

-Those are? - The First Mate asked, as he realized what he saw

-Runes, yes - Replied the young man.

-But how did they get here?

-Someone made them, but who?

-My dad!

The two officers stopped talking to look at their captain, who was staring impassively at the writing on the tree. They stayed like that for a few tortuous moments that felt like hours.

Guthrum was the first to break the silence

-How do you know that boss?

-The writings, they tell a message

-What would they be? -this time it was Wiglaf who spoke

-About what he left, my mother and I for - the captain turned to his subordinates - It's a message about Tir na Nog.