On a quiet winter night in the year 2020, December 09, Seiren Sommerfeldt stood in Mjölvik, a small town in Norway. The air was crisp and cold, with the faintest scent of snow in the air. The sky was a deep velvety black, illuminated only by the soft glow of the street lamps that cast long shadows on the snowy ground. The town lay mostly still, with only the occasional sound of a passing car breaking the silence. The human presence in the town was scarce, with most people bundled up and staying indoors due to the chill. As Seiren made his way through the town, the cold wind whipped around him, chilling him to the bone. He walked along the main street, the town itself sits right on the shores of Sørfjorden, the fjord stretching out to the north and disappearing into the distance, which was frozen and covered in a thick layer of ice. The houses were mostly made of wood, with steeply pitched roofs designed to withstand the heavy snowfalls. Smoke rose from some of the chimneys, a warm contrast to the chill in the air. The snow crunched under Seiren's boots with each step he took, the sound echoing through the empty streets. On his way back home, Seiren was dressed in warm winter clothing. He wore a heavy woolen coat, a thick scarf, and a pair of leather gloves. His hood was pulled up to protect his ears from the cold wind and a pair of fur-lined boots kept his feet warm. Underneath his coat, he wore a thermal layers and a pair of jeans. On his head, he wore a woolen cap to keep his head warm, and a pair of woolen mittens were looped around his wrists. Standing at a height of 5'6" Seiren Sommerfeldt was a stocky man. He had golden blonde hair, which was kept short and well groomed. His face was clean-shaven and sported meticulously groomed eyebrows, which matched his hair in color. A few strands of hair from his hood and woolen cap had managed to escape and hung loose around his temples, occasionally caught by the chilly breeze. His eyelashes, like his hair, were a light blonde hue and his eyes were a deep blue. As he walked through the streets of Mjölvik, Seiren passed by the local pub, The Hag's Place, the windows were darkened and the only light that could be seen was the faint glow of the 'Closed' sign in the window. It was late, and most of the townspeople were already tucked into their beds, their warm homes no doubt a far cry from the cold streets he was braving.
Still struggling through the cold, Seiren continued his trek home, his breath steaming in the frosty air. As he passed by the town square, he saw that the decorations for the approaching winter solstice festival were in full swing. Brightly colored garlands and strings of lights hung from every available surface, and a large fir tree occupied a central spot in the square, decorated with a dazzling array of ornaments and tinsel. It was a beautiful sight, a striking contrast to the silent, empty streets. Despite the cold, Seiren managed a small smile. As Seiren neared his house, he turned into the narrow alley that led to his front walk. There was a small fence that ran along the front of the property, the fence being only knee-height and made of simple metal spindles. Seiren opened the gate and went through, closing it carefully behind him as not to bang it against its hinges and make a unnecessary sound in the quiet of the night.
The house Seiren approached stood in front of him like a silent sentinel, its classic wooden siding painted in a warm, earthy color, making it a cozy beacon in the dark night. Snow had accumulated on the roof, forming a soft, white cap that glittered faintly in the dim light. The front porch was the house's most charming feature, its intricate woodwork a hint of the care and skill that had gone into its construction. A couple of sturdy wooden chairs and a small table, now covered in a dusting of snow, were set against the side of the house, ready for summer evenings. Large windows, framed with a layer of frost, interrupted the smooth, white expanse of the walls. The curtains were pushed closed, barring a glimpse into the warm, cozy interior. The porch creaked as Seiren stepped on it, the old boards letting out a gentle protest at the sudden weight. Seiring put his right hand into his right pocket, searching for his house keys. After a few seconds, his fingers curled around the metal ring. He pulled it out and sifted through the keys, finally finding the one he needed. He lowered his body down slightly to align the key with the lock. He turned the key to the right, a faint click signaling that the door had unlocked. He straightened his body and pushed the door open. As he stepped into the house and closed the door, the cold was instantly cut off, replaced by the warm, welcoming atmosphere of his home.
Once inside, Seiren shrugged off his woolen coat and hung it up on one of the antique pegs on the wall. He then sat down on a small bench beneath the coats and removed his cold, wet boots. He placed them next to the door, making sure they wouldn't be a tripping hazard when wet. Then, he removed his gloves and scarf, hanging them up to dry next to the coats, as he did the same with his woolen hat. His eyes scanned the room for a minute, searching for somewhere to put his keys. He found a small bowl on a nearby table and dropped the key ring into it with a satisfying clink. With his outdoor gear all taken care of, Seiren stood up and took a moment to savor the warmth and comfort of his home.
The house was still and quiet, the only sounds coming from the faint crackling of firewood in the living room. Seiren took a deep breath, the scent of wood smoke and pine filling his nostrils.
He glanced at the clock on the wall – 10:31 pm – before making his way to the living room.
The room was cozy and familiar, furnished with a couple of comfortable chairs and a large couch, all faced towards a sturdy fireplace. The fireplace was filled with a steady, crackling fire, its golden light casting dancing shadows on the walls. A large rug covered the floor, adding a touch of color to the otherwise simple room.
Seiren's attention was suddenly caught by the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs that lead to the upper level of the house. He turned his head towards the source of the noise, and saw his mother, Meire Sommerfeldt, descending the stairs.
"Mother," Seiren spoke simply.
Meire Sommerfeldt was a tall, slender woman with wavy golden hair that fell to her shoulders. Her face was marked with the years, but her eyes were still sharp and lively. She was dressed in a warm sweater and a pair of comfortable pants, her feet covered in a pair of fuzzy slippers.
"Seiren," Meire said, her voice carrying a hint of warmth and concern. "You're home late. Again.''
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, but also a sense of resignation. Seiren knew that this wasn't the first time he had stayed out late, and likely wouldn't be the last. He couldn't help it, the long winter nights made him restless, and he often found himself wandering the streets, lost in thought.
"Sorry, Mother," Seiren replied, his tone apologetic. "I lost track of time." He smiled then, a small, sheepish grin, hoping to disarm his mother's reproach.
Meire didn't seem fully convinced, but the stern look on her face softened slightly. "You need to start coming home earlier, Seiren. What if something happened to you out in the cold? You'll catch your death, that's what."
Seiren winced at his mother's scolding. "Sorry, Mother," he repeated. "I'll try to come home earlier next time." He made a show of looking guilty, but his mind was already upstairs, in his room. He began to move towards the stairs, hoping that his mother would let him go without any further lectures.
"Seiren…" Meire began, her voice taking on a hint of warning. She knew her son well, and she could see the distraction in his eyes. But she also knew when to let things go. "Just be careful, alright?''
Seiren had already started to climb the stairs, his mind already in his room, when his mother's voice stopped him in his tracks. He paused, his foot poised in mid-air for a moment, before turning his head to look back at his mother. "Yeah," he said simply, nodding in agreement. And with that, he continued up the stairs, quickly disappearing from view.
Meire heard the faint sound of a door closing upstairs, the sound coming through the ceiling from Seiren's room above. She shook her head, a mix of mild annoyance and frustration on her face. Seiren was a good boy, but he had a habit of staying out late at night, and it always worried her. With a small sigh, she turned towards her own bedroom. It was late, and she needed rest.
Seiren's bedroom was a cozy, intimate space. The walls were painted a soft grey, and the white-framed window looked out onto the snow-covered landscape outside. There were a few pieces of personal decor, a photo of Seiren with his friends on the wall, a small collection of books on the shelf. The bed was situated in the middle of the room, a dark oak frame and a fluffy blue comforter, making it look like a safe haven after a long day. There was a desk and a dresser to the side, and the room was surprisingly neat and tidy. In one corner of the room, there was a large armchair, placed in a perfect spot to catch the best light from the window. A small bookshelf next to it is stocked full of books of various sizes and genres. Seiren's bedroom was his own private sanctuary, a place where he could retreat from the world and spend time with his thoughts.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The door to his room closed behind Seiren, shutting out the sounds of the rest of the house. He let out a small sigh as he leaned against the door, his body finally relaxing after the long walk home. He looked around the room for a moment, savoring the solitude and the familiar surroundings. The snow falling outside made faint pattering sounds against the windowpane, and for a moment, Seiren stood listening to the soft lullaby of the falling snowflakes.
The silence of the room was suddenly broken by the sound of a notification on Seiren's phone. The sound was sharp and jarring in the quiet room, and Seiren frowned slightly as he pulled the device out of his pocket. He looked at the screen, the light from the display casting a faint glow on his face. Seiren scrolled through the list of notifications on his phone, stopping on the most recent message. It was from Chris, a childhood friend from school, and the message read: (''Hey man where were you? Why didn't you come to the party tonight?'') There was a hint of disappointment in the question, but also a note of concern. Chris was always looking out for his friends, and he probably assumed that something had come up. Seiren let out a small sigh as he read the message. He appreciated Chris' concern, but he wasn't in the mood to explain the reasons behind his absence.
He thought about replying, but decided against it. It was late, and he didn't have the energy for a lengthy explanation. Besides, he knew that Chris would understand. He closed the screen of the phone and placed it on the bedside table. With a yawn, he headed towards the bed and climbed under the covers, letting the warm duvet envelop his tired body.
As Seiren burrowed deeper under the covers, the tiredness in his body began to take hold. The soft mattress seemed to mold around him like a cocoon, and he felt his eyelids growing heavy. The soft sound of falling snow outside provided a soothing background track to the silence in his room. As he closed his eyes, the tiredness seemed to pull him further and further down into the comfort of the bed. The last thing he could remember was the sense of peacefulness that washed over him as he finally fell asleep.
Meanwhile silvery snowflakes danced through the air outside the bedroom window, their delicate forms illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby night lamp. The shadows they cast on the walls and ceiling of the room were faint and fleeting, constantly shifting as new snowflakes fell and filled the void left by their predecessors. There was a sense of calm outside, a peaceful stillness that was broken only by the occasional soft whisper of the wind against the windowpane.
Couple hours later Seiren was jolted out of his sleep by the sudden sound of the window being blown open. He sat up in bed, disoriented and confused by the sharp, cold air that suddenly filled the room. His eyes still bleary from sleep, he looked around, trying to make sense of what had woken him up. Then, he saw the window, open wide, letting in a curtain of snowflakes. As he watched, the wind died down, leaving only the soft, constant fall of snow outside. Seiren got out of bed, the cold air hitting his bare skin and waking him up completely. He walked over to the window, his footsteps soft on the carpeted floor. He placed his hands on the stool and looked outside, watching the snow falling softly through the darkness outside. The view was beautiful, the snow covering everything in white, except for the small patches of orange light from the streetlamps below. Seiren's gaze shifted from the falling snowflakes to the river nearby, its frozen surface reflecting the silvery light of the moon and the streetlamps. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out what he was seeing on the other side of the river, something caught his attention there, something different from the snow-covered landscape surrounding it. With a sense of curiosity, Seiren turned away from the window, his bare feet feeling the cold beneath. He walked over to his bedside table, where a pair of glasses were placed. He picked them up and put them on, the world suddenly becoming much clearer. He walked back to the window, the cold air hitting his face once again as he looked out into the night. With his glasses on, the landscape outside became more detailed. He scanned the area closer to the river, his eyes focusing on the place that had caught his attention earlier. A small, dark shape was visible on the river's surface, a stark contrast to the surrounding whiteness of the snow.
Seiren's eyesight, now enhanced by his glasses, could make out the shape more clearly now. It was indeed a bird, perched on the river's surface. It was too dark to tell if it was a crow or a raven, but the bird's black plumage stood in stark contrast to the shimmering whiteness around it. Seiren watched it for a moment longer, his curiosity piqued. Then, he closed the window, the cold air from outside shut out once again. He drew the curtain closed behind it, leaving just a small gap between them.
Back in bed, Seiren set his glasses back on the bedside table. The sudden disturbance was now distant in his mind, and his earlier tiredness began to return. He settled back under the warm duvet, his body sinking into the comforting embrace of the mattress. The faint sound of the wind outside and the soft falling of snowflakes lulled him back to sleep.
Unaware of its presence, Seiren lay on his bed with his eyes closed. His disheveled hair covered part of his face, and he seemed deep in thought, trying to find sleep. Meanwhile, a raven of considerable size had landed on the window frame, right in the gap between the two closed curtains. The raven lowered its head, its dark, nearly black eyes peering at Seiren through the small gap. Seiren, blissfully unaware of the raven's watchful gaze, continued to lay in bed, his mind still buzzing with thoughts and worries. The raven observed him silently from the windowsill, its head tilted slightly to the side as if studying him. The raven fluttered away quietly, its flight barely audible. Seiren, who was still trying to find sleep, was completely oblivious to the raven's departure. The soft sound of the bird's wings was lost in the quiet of the night and Seiren's restless thoughts. Soon, the combination of his exhaustion and the tranquil silence allowed him to fall back into a deep sleep.
Seiren felt like he was floating in a void of darkness, his body paralyzed and unable to move. It took a moment for his senses to adjust, and soon he found himself in a dense forest covered in snow. In front of him was a large black wolf, its yellow eyes fixed on him. The animal's gaze seemed to pierce right through him.
Suddenly, a feeling of warmth enveloped his right hand, a feeling like he had never felt before. His hand moved independently, its movement slow and strange. He glanced down, and his eyes widened in horror. His hand was gone, blood was pouring out of the stump, yet there was no pain, only a sense of surreal disbelief. He was only 18 years old, and the sight of his own hand missing horrified him, even as the loss seemed to be devoid of pain. His mind whirled with confusion and fear as he tried to make sense of the situation. Where was he? Was he hallucinating? Who had done this to him? But no answers came, and he could do nothing but stand there, paralyzed and helpless.
Seiren's terrified gaze shifted to the wolf in front of him. It stood unmoving, a menacing figure in the snowy forest. With a jolt of horror, he noticed that the wolf had something clutched in its jaws. At first glance, he couldn't tell what it was, but as the wolf shifted its head slightly, the gruesome truth became clear. His own hand was in the wolf's mouth, the flesh torn and bloodied. Blood was staining the wolf's teeth and its black fur, a chilling sight that was almost too much to comprehend. The shock of seeing his hand being held by the wolf sent a wave of nausea through his body. He wanted to recoil, to scream, to do something, anything to escape this nightmare, but he was still paralyzed, unable to move even an inch.
The shrill sound of Seiren's alarm clock pierced through the ominous silence, causing his body to jolt awake. He sat up in bed, his legs still tangled in the sheets, and immediately looked down at his right arm. The morning light streamed through the gap in the curtains, falling directly onto his hand. He expected to see the horrifying vision from his dream: the bloodied, severed limb. Instead, he saw his own unharmed hand, free of any wounds or injury.
He stared at his hand, a mixture of relief and confusion washing over him. His mind struggled to comprehend the sudden transition from the chilling dream to the mundane reality of his quiet bedroom, filled with the sounds of the early morning. Seiren took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart. The dream had felt so real, the gruesome sight of his severed hand still vivid in his mind. As he flexed his fingers, feeling the reassuring warmth and flesh of his own hand, he couldn't help but feel shaken.
Seiren let out a shaky sigh as he leaned back against his pillow, his body still trembling from the intensity of the dream. "What a dream," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse with the lingering emotion. He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the remaining images of the nightmare. His heart rate began to slow down, and the tension in his muscles gradually lessened.
As Seiren lay there, still shaken by the dream, his mother's voice rang out from below, breaking through his thoughts. "Seiren! Breakfast is ready!" she called from the bottom of the stairs. Seiren stirred from his bed, the real world slowly seeping back into his consciousness. He took a final deep breath, pushing away the remnants of the dream.
"Coming!" he shouted back, his voice still tremulous. With a last glance at his hand, he got out of bed and headed towards the door of his bedroom...