For some reason I am restless in my bed. I toss and I turn, until I realize it’s no use trying to sleep. Conjuring up my cat eye vision I take a look at the room. Birkir’s sleep is both calm and deep, the little ones on the other hand, are pure chaos - they kick away their pelt blankets, snore, munch and mutter. Nanny Gretta is snoring a bit too, we all gave her a hard time that day. Saga and Runa, the sisters, mutter something in their sleep as well.

Without making a sound I rise and move towards the window. I hear squeaking, and beating of a minuscule heart. A mouse hides behind a boot and freezes, looking at me.

I catch a wisp of chill night air, seeping through closed shutters, and decide I should take a walk outside.

The guardian spirit at the door meets me with a silent stare, and lets me pass. On the porch, when I gaze into the distance, I feel a growing uneasiness in my heart. It’s not because of Thorhild the Blue-Eyed witch, though. After I came back from that cave and regained memory of what happened there, I often yearn to see her again, I search for her features in every girl’s face. But no, this time it definitely is something else.

The deep darkness of the sky looks at me with myriads of shining stars. The air is restive, as if there’s a storm coming. Worried, I touch the ether and summon the spirits.

The spirits behave strangely, too. They seem calm on the surface, but a little stiff and trembling. This isn’t right at all.

I step further from the porch into the black of the moonless night. My anxiety rises, and turns into despair. I don’t know why, but I feel like we are doomed.

I go into the thin forest, following my instinct. Someone unseen is warning me.

When I reach the outskirts, I look at Rinkabyholm. Ether is strangely calm, and it troubles me. I suspect that someone interferes with it to keep it from alerting us, its inhabitants.

When I summon the Owl’s eye vision, my heartbeat goes mad and blood in my veins turns liquid fire. Enemies are marching towards us in a thin row, I see it clearly.

In an instant I snap out of the torpor and gain power to throw an alerting impulse into the ether. But then I stop. This is not our way to fight. Let the foes think they still have the element of surprise.

I bolt towards home, avoiding all magic for fear of being noticed. I have to make it in time.

Finally I burst into the parents’ bedroom, panting. Father wakes up.

“There’s… there’s...”

No time to wait until I catch my breath, so he just enters my memory with magic. His eyes spark with fury. I knew now I need not worry - I did my part, all I have to do now is follow his orders.

At this moment all the dogs in Rinkabyholm start howling. There’s so much anguish in their voices, I feel the deepest depths of despair. A feeling not worthy of a warrior.

I feel father summoning the whole family to battle, not through ether, but through magical ties of kinship. These ties provide secrecy, only we, members of the clan, can hear each other. We are to be ready to fight to the death.

Both mothers dress in a hurry and run to gather the children. Father closes his eyes, concentrated, his face grows pale and concerned. When he opens his eyes, he speaks to me with urgency in his voice:

“Son, listen to me. The enemy is a very strong one. What you do now is you find Gretta and gather all the children, Runa and Saga included. You escape through the secret passage, reach Kalmar, and take shelter at Brand’s house. I will come seeking you after the battle.”

My voice quivers in the ghastly silence:

“But what if you don’t?”

“We have the spirits on our side, son. Never give up in the face of danger.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He says that with his crooked smile, a smile that is recognized by many, not only in Sweden, but abroad. I brace myself and reply vigorously:

“Yes, sir!”

“Now go!”

I run off to follow his orders. Even if the circumstances are dire, I can put trust in my father, a seasoned warrior, a living legend. He’ll know what to do. I’ve never been in a war or any serious conflict, only witnessed brawls among jarls.

I am relieved to find the children dressed up and ready, Gretta wasn’t idle and saw to it in haste. I stumble into Birkir running out of the room. He gives me a firm hug and scurries off to answer father’s call.

The battle begins when I and the others reach the shaft to the secret passage. I am shook by the immense power of spells that are cast. A tempest, a tornado, an erupting volcano of spells. The ether is so overwhelmed, it’s agonizing. Lesser spirits are incinerated, common spirits run in fright, and the greater spirits have no choice but to fight, following the wills of the mages.

I freeze in horror, like the others around me. All of us can feel ether at least to some degree, and we are terrified by the enemy’s magic. The taste of it sends shivers down my spine. It is an unknown, foreign magic, and the few most prominent voices in that choir, reek of death and cold corpses. This is not the freezing winter cold of the Wild Hunt, it is more like the undead rising from their grave.

When we come to our senses, we finally descend into the darkness of the underground passage. Me and the sisters can see in the dark, and we lead the children and Greta with me in the front and Runa and Saga in the back. We cannot use any other magic, or we’d put ourselves in peril.

The little ones are sniveling and following my lead. There’s quite a bit of them - my brothers, sisters and cousins. We need to brace ourselves, the way out to the outskirts of Kalmar is a couple miles ahead.

The battle rages. Even a few feet under the ground we feel every destructive spell cast by either side. That is the first time I see the real power my father and uncle wield. Never before did I get to see, what their sorcerer ranks of general and colonel really mean. I realize father was right to assign me the task of leading the children to safety - my skills are too poor for real battle, I would be a hindrance rather than help. Even Birkir, whom I now admire greatly, is the smallest force on father’s side. He wouldn’t survive a direct attack from the enemy.

Suddenly I feel my heart pierced by unbearable pain. Uncle Hrothgeir had perished, along with two of his wives, who supplied him with mana during battle. I fall to my knees, and Saga doesn’t stumble upon me just because she feels the same way I do. The little ones burst into tears.

I sob silently too. Gods, why?! How could this happen? A powerful galdramadr, killed standing on his own soil.

A shadow makes its way into my mind, and a spiritual voice speaks to me:

“Run, human, run for your life!”

Morally exhausted, I don’t even stop to wonder, I gain my feet and run.

An enemy strikes again and in fear I realize, Birkir is dying. Saga can’t take it and she sends a healing spell his way. I helplessly gape at what she’s done. Now we’re done for. The spirit that warned me to flee, shrieks in agony as he is burned alive.

In an instant I feel a vile gaze of enemy eyes, they discovered us. My heart sinks.

The walls around us tremble. I gather all my might for a last counterspell but it is smitten by the sheer power of what strikes us. The passage caves in, silencing our screams of terror.

I thought I was dead, but when I open my eyes I see violet light surrounding me. Some force saved my life, but only mine. My soul becomes numb at the thought that all of my kin that I was leading to safety, is dead, Gretta too.

Mother’s voice reaches me from afar:

“My child! Save yourself, we cannot hold. You have to live, and avenge us when the time comes. I will hold off the enemies to ensure your escape. Go.”

I sink to the ground, sobbing.

“Mother.”

She was no more. Spending the last of her spiritual energy, she dies a heroic death. Her last spell is a furious fiery tempest, that incinerates many of the enemies.

Beside myself with grief, I run for my life.

Father dies after her. Solgerd, his other wife, puts her dying breath into him, and together they cast a last spell. The Ancient One - jotun Mimir - casts his eye over the land of Thule. This is a spell of unimaginable power. Like children playing with their father’s sword, so uncapable is mankind to wield such magic. It requires legendary skill and immense power.

Mimir draws breath and through a portal in the sky a whirlwind of snow comes into our world. The snowflakes gracefully fall. Innocuous at a first glance, these are no mere bits of snow. Whatever they touch, they freeze it and the ground deep underneath it. Heart bleeding for those I have lost on this night, I can’t but let the sparks of triumph heal my ravaged soul. I see the enemies die one by one, helpless against this incredible magic. Not only their bodies and souls are erased from every reality, their entire bloodline is cursed and doomed to die. These people are no more, as if they never even existed.

I run ever further, furious and helpless. I want to murder them all, I want to make them suffer, make them bleed and see terror in their eyes. I am unable to, but I swear that I will never rest until I avenge my loved ones.

I let out a scream of anguish and rage. Curse you all!