The icy cascade thundered down, enveloping the kneeling woman in its relentless embrace. Her weathered hands were clasped tightly, trembling not just from the biting cold but from the fervor of her devotion. Words in an ancient, intricate tongue tumbled from her lips, barely audible above the roar of the falls.

"May the gods protect us," she whispered, her voice carried away by the mist.

Nearby, a figure stood motionless, a silent sentinel in the shadows of the surrounding pines. Thranak patience was as unyielding as the stone beneath his feet.

Minutes stretched like hours until, finally, the woman emerged from the punishing deluge. Her frail form shook violently, betraying her age—somewhere in her fifties, though the ritual had aged her further. Thranak stepped forward, his movements purposeful and gentle. In one fluid motion, he removed his thick fur coat and draped it over her quaking shoulders.

Startled by his presence, she glanced up. "I didn't notice you. How long have you been here?" Her voice was hoarse, strained from her ordeal.

Thranak offered no response, instead focusing on steadying her as they began to walk away from the falls. "You shouldn't push yourself this hard," he admonished softly. "The ancient gods of Eon won't answer your call in a single day."

Her eyes, though weary, flashed with determination. "No, I'm trembling because my faith isn't strong enough. If I could stay under the waterfall a little longer, perhaps they would answer immediately." She cast a longing look back at the thundering water.

Thranak grip on her arm tightened, a frown etching deep lines across his face. He understood all too well the beliefs of their people. The barbarians held fast to the notion that the Eons would grant instant favor to those who endured the waterfall's punishing embrace without succumbing to illness. It was a harsh tradition, one that had persisted for centuries.

Though he opposed her self-imposed torment, his words fell on deaf ears. "It's not going to bring him back, Mom," he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and concern. "You're the only parent we have left."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "This would never have happened if they hadn't come here," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

Thranak's knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. "Don't worry, Mom. They've been gone for centuries. We have nothing to fear," he assured her, drawing her into a protective embrace. The words rang hollow in his own ears, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of his conviction. His instincts, honed over years of leadership, prickled with unease.

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Upon reaching the village, Thranak signaled to another barbarian, who nodded in understanding and gently guided his mother toward her tent. Instead of following, Thranak veered off, his steps purposeful as he made his way to a secluded area of the encampment.

A solitary tent stood apart from the others, its entrance marked by a macabre circle of bones and skulls. A fire burned outside, casting long, dancing shadows across the ground. Thranak approached with reverence, bowing low before the entrance.

"Thranak salutes Ravok the shaman," he said

A haunting series of clinks emanated from within, followed by a voice that seemed to seep from the very earth. "You may enter."

Thranak planted his axe at the threshold, removed his sandals, and stepped inside. The interior was a sensory assault—shelves lined with ancient parchments and mysterious vials, their contents shimmering with otherworldly hues. A small blue flame danced beneath a bubbling pot, filling the air with an acrid, mystical scent that made Thranak's heightened senses recoil.

Near the fire sat a figure so gaunt he seemed more specter than man. Ravok's green eyes glowed with an inner light, his bony fingers wrapped around a scepter adorned with a bleached skull. As the shaman's gaze fell upon Thranak, an invisible force seemed to envelope the warrior, sending shivers down his spine despite his familiarity with the sensation.

"Sit," Ravok commanded, his voice dry as autumn leaves.

Thranak obeyed, settling himself by the fire. "What troubles you?" the shaman inquired, tossing an unidentifiable object into the bubbling brew.

"I'm plagued by a sense of foreboding," Thranak admitted, giving voice to the unease that had been gnawing at him. "My instincts warn of impending danger, though I know not its form."

Ravok's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You are right to be wary, Tribe Leader. A storm is indeed brewing."

Thranak's heart quickened, but before he could press further, the shaman raised a hand for silence. With practiced movements, Ravok retrieved a small vial from his collection, sprinkling its pearlescent contents into the pot. A plume of white smoke erupted, twisting and coiling around Thranak's muscular form.

The shaman's fingers danced through the air, shaping the smoke into fleeting visions. His expression shifted subtly, a change that did not escape Thranak's keen eye.

"When the sky ignites, the earth shall weep, and the world will tremble," Ravok intoned, his words reverberating through Thranak's very being.

"Will we survive?" Thranak asked, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Death," the shaman replied, conjuring a smoky skull that hovered ominously before them. "Death has always been woven into the fabric of life. We are born, we flourish, we wither, and we die. I can read the stars, Thranak, but I cannot dictate destiny."

The skeletal apparition lunged forward, its jaws agape as if to devour Thranak whole. Without flinching, the warrior raised his left arm and clenched his fist, shattering the specter into wisps of nothingness.

"Then I shall forge my own destiny," Thranak declared, his voice resonating with unwavering resolve.

Rising to his feet, he bowed to the shaman before exiting the tent. As he retrieved his sandals and axe, a flash of light in the night sky caught his attention. A round object plummeted earthward at breakneck speed, its impact sending tremors through the ground even at this great distance. Stones skittered down the slopes around him, dislodged by the far-off collision.

Thranak's face darkened as realization dawned. "They have arrived," he murmured, his words lost to the wind as he steeled himself for the trials to come