The feigned realm

Yrsa appeared in a place of infinite darkness as far as her eyes could see. She was floating in the air, feeling as light as a feather. She was scared and heavy breaths escaped her lips.

"Ragnarök has begun, immortal one. As we speak winter devours your home and the sun is dying. Soon enough all life will die. All will become ash," A loud, clear voice spoke. She could feel vibrations in her chest as the voice tore through every atom in the air, like thunder.

"You have sought me and I have revealed myself to you, but you have not yet proven yourself worthy. To do what you wish you must pass my test and only then will you wield the Forlǫgslá's powers. If you want to give up now and let the universe finish this cycle forever, I will return you to your realm. If not, we will begin," the voice spoke.

She could feel chills running up her spine. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as that, she thought, but I must do it.

Before she could speak, a bowl of water appeared in front of her, levitating sideways, but all the water stayed in place and gave off a light glow.

She saw herself in the water, riding a black mare on a long road. It was early in the morning - drops of dew were still decorating the many blades of grass.

"You are looking at yourself, stripped away of all your powers. It is who you would have been, had you not accepted the spirit of Yggdrasil. You will be met with choices that will test you and if you choose right, you will wield my powers. If you prove yourself unworthy, Ragnarök will finish as it is foretold. Good luck," the voice spoke and Yrsa was pushed through the water and into the unknown.

When she opened her eyes, she had no memory of all that had happened. She was just a girl, coming home from a hunt and thinking about her dream from last night. A black crow followed her, flying above. She didn't notice it.

She watched the sun rise between two mountaintops behind her and the last stars disappeared into the sky. It was the middle of spring, she noted. She could see it from the blooming flowers on the side of the road. However, a strange chill ached in her bones.

Somewhere in front of her, she saw an overturned carriage and a horse laying on its side, unable to get up. As she rushed forward, she could see the horse was wounded and a dead man laid on his back a few steps away. Judging by his clothes, he must've been a merchant.

She rushed to him, checking him for any signs of life, but there were none. He was far too gone now. She turned to the horse and tried to free it from its reins, but it was still stuck from under the carriage.

After realising she couldn't turn it over herself, she brought her horse closer and tied it to the wheel, successfully pulling it back and freeing the horse. It managed to get up, but blood started flowing down its leg.

Thyre led it away from the fire and tied a piece of her shirt around the open wound. Great and what the hell do I do with this horse now, she thought, looking at the mess. The mare rubbed its head to hers and seemed to be thankful.

"The next town is two kilometres away, don't look so happy yet," she replied, smiling at the black kaldblodstraver, which she tied to her horse's saddle.

The ride was slow and luckily, there was a stable master outside the old town who could help. He quickly led the horses away and unfortunately, took payment up front. Thyre was left with half of her gold, which wasn't that much to begin with. It was enough for a night or two at the inn and maybe a decent meal. She wouldn't sell what she hunted earlier because she could get three times the price in Hedeby.

She walked around the town and noticed an inn - the only inn - was open and smelled of warm stew. Her stomach growled and her body dragged her forward.

It was called the Naglfar. The name sounded familiar, although Thyre couldn't quite remember where she had heard it before. She was too hungry to think, so she went inside and a short, blonde woman with two braids on the sides of her head approached her with a polite smile.

"Welcome traveller, how can I help you?" she said, standing upright with hands full of empty ale horns.

"Do you have any spare rooms per chance? Just for the night and then I'm off," Thyre replied, looking around. She noticed the inn was full of strange people. People with grim faces and deadly looks. Not good people, for sure.

"You're lucky. There's one room free, the one on the left. First one. Would you like something to eat?" she asked, leading Thyre to an empty table.

"Whatever you'd reccomended and some mead, thank you" she replied, taking her bow off her back, but keeping the dagger on her waistband. She sat down and waited for the food, observing the inn.

It was nothing special, but it was very tidy and the carvings on the wood were beautiful - serpents and creatures alike. It wasn't too bright or too dark, just right, and over the counter, from the roof, there were many hanged herbs that gave the inn a pleasant smell. That, and the barrels of ale, of course.

The woman came back with a bowl of steaming stew, ale, sweet rolls, bread and pears. She was called over to another table and with that she was off.

When she was done with her food, Thyre left to her room. She dropped her travel bag and remembered she'd left the rest of her baggage with the horses. A good choice would have been to go get it, but she was too tired, so she just laid on her bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

She slept like a rock until the evening, when she was woken up by sounds of yelling and swords clashing. Dashing out of the bed, she followed the sounds and was met with two men fighting.

One was a tall, strong man with a longsword and the other was cloaked and carried two daggers. They both fought remarkably well, but the taller one was loosing his temper. He swung the sword hard and struck the other's hand.

Thyre felt it was time she stepped in because no one else would. She pulled her dagger out and, as the victor was about to deliver the final blow, she jumped between them and stopped the blade with her own.

"No need to kill him, you've already won. Leave sir, or you might be the one to lose your hand the next time you raise your sword" she said, in a firm, authoritative voice. He eyed her down and sheathed his sword. Then, he left with an angry look.

Thyre turned around to look at the other man and helped him sit on a chair. The blonde woman rushed to them with a bandage to stop the bleeding.

"What are you all looking at? Go on, off with your business" she yelled at the crowd that had gathered around the inn. They were quick to leave.

"Thank you" the hooded figure whispered, passing out.

"Wonderful... could this get any better? Here, help me get him to my room. Do you know who he is?" Thyre asked the woman.

"No idea. I've never seen him here before" she added "but the other one is Ivar. The most dangerous, double-crossing, lying... well, you get my point."

They dragged him to the room and placed him on the bed. His bleeding seemed to have slowed down, so things were looking positive at least.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

"Some clean bandages, water and if you have some onions and honey" Thyre said, rolling his sleeve up.

"I'll be right back" she said, running off. Thyre pulled the hood off and saw a man no older than his twenties. He had dark brown hair shaved on the sides with two braids and a little stubble. There was a scar that ran all the way across his left cheek, from his eye to the bottom of his jaw.

The woman came in with the requested supplies and set them down on the bed.

"Here you are. I have to go, but I'll come back later to check up on you" she said, going out once again. Thyre called to her.

"Wait, what's your name?" she asked her.

"Nanna" she said and the name really fir her. Nanna must've been named after the wife of the beautiful god Balder.

Thyre cleaned the wound and covered it with a mixture of crushed onions and honey. She had learned it from a friend a long, long time ago and it was basically the simplest herbal concoction one could think of that actually worked.

She sat next to him the entire evening and sent Nanna to check on her horses. The wounded mare should be fine is what the stable master said, but whether or not she'll be able to pull any carriages again was questionable. That was alright though, Thyre had no need of a carriage.

The man, whoever he was, seemed to have a grudge with every third man in the city and some women, although no one knew his real name. Whoever Nanna asked, replied with a different name each time. Thyre didn't like the sound of it in the least, but he was hurt and needed help.

His wounds were looking good, so Thyre snuggled into a blanket in the large chair and fell asleep. Sometime during the morning, the man woke up and his first instinct was to draw his dagger out, but there was no dagger and he could not move his hand yet. He looked around and noticed her sleeping.

He sat up and took a long, hard look at his life and the choices he made because he was in some deep mess and if he didn't get out of this city soon, a scar on his hand would be the least of his worries.

"Oh, you're awake" Thyre yawned and rubbed her eyes. She was still exhausted and her muscles ached.

"I owe you my life" he whispered. "I fear you might regret it, but still, thank you. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"No worries, I just want to know the truth. What are you hiding and who are you, stranger?" she said, raising a brow and giving him a firm look.

"I will tell you but not here. It is too dangerous. My belongings are hidden away near the stream. If you accompany me at noon, I will tell you whatever you wish to know" He replied.

"Very well. I suggest you rest some more. If you need anything just ask the innkeeper, Nanna. There's a back entrance and I suggest you take it. I'll wait for you by the stable master " Thyre said, picking up her bag and going to the bar for a quick drink before leaving the inn.