My eyes cracked open and I saw that we were in a hall that seemed to have stone walls, etched with runes that shimmered faintly in silver-blue light. Furs draped from the ceiling beams. A fireplace crackled nearby, guarded by two wolf statues carved from obsidian, their eyes set with pale moonstones.

Where in Hel was I?

I heatd some voices behind me and I rolled over to see who it was. I sighted Lucien arguing with some short funny-looking monks that had a kind of glow around them. It appeared heated enough and it looked like Lucien needed my help. As I tried to stand to help him, I fumbled; my sides hurt like mad and my body raked with pain.

I screamed and I saw that the monks were looking at me while Lucien kept pointing at me and all went dark again.

The next time I woke, he was running in what seemed like a place overrun byy fog. And I was layed aross his left shoulder like a sack of flour.

“what the Hel do you think you’re doing?”, I asked him.

“Shhh” was his reply to me.

“Put me down, gods damn it. Im not your toy.”

He threw me down. “ Now you listen, and listen carefully” he said as his voice increased in crescendo. “I’m really staking a whole lot to bring you alongside me, I don’t need your whining as we move. Just keep still and allow us to progress.”

“don’t you dare raise your voice at me,” I replied. “I didn’t ask for any of -----”

He was indicating that I should be quiet.

“Is something wrong?” I began to ask. And that’s when I heard them. The faraway howl too angry to be none other than The Hatisynir.

Lucien had already drawn his sword.

“we have to keep moving,” he muttered.

Next thing I remembered was him being at my side in a flash and he it my neck with the side of his hand. I fell into nothingness.

“Welcome back, Seraphine Vale,” said a voice smooth as shadow. I turned—and there he was again.

When I woke up, the scent of blood was gone.

In its place was something weirder old if you will—burnt cedar, cold iron, and that same otherworldly stillness I’d felt around him. A silence too heavy to be natural. My body racked with pain, but I was alive, warm… and clean?

I cracked open my eyes and peered around me. I saw him using his sword to poke something. He muttered incoherent words.

he walked towards the next place, as he poked the ground, the rune ᛇ Perthro glowed in the air. Why would we need that rune? I thought to myself. I closed my eyes again.

“Welcome back, Seraphine Vale,” said a voice smooth as shadow. I turned—and there he was again.

Lucien Draeven. Standing like a phantom.

“Where—?” I croaked. My throat burned.

“You’re in a Moonwatchers’ veil,” he replied, not moving from where he stood by the fire. “Deep within the north vale, protected by runes older than Odin’s temper.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“I saved your life,” he corrected. “Then carried you across seven cursed valleys and a dying river.”

I sat up slowly, wincing. “Don’t expect a thank-you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

My fingers ran over the faint scar above my brow. It had started to heal. Faster than it should have.

“What did you do to me?”

Lucien stepped closer, his grey coat sweeping behind him. “I didn’t touch you. The Stjarnaskin did. Healers from the purified clan. And im super sure you saw me arguing with them at the ruins. But their light tends to work best on bloodlines like yours so I had no choice.”

“Bloodlines like mine?” I echoed.

He said nothing.

Instead, he raised a hand and drew a line through the air — a rune, glowing faintly, then fading. “You have questions. But so do I.”

“Start talking, then.”

Lucien knelt and placed a black book between us. Its cover bore the seal of Máningardr: a full moon flanked by two wolves — one with eyes closed, the other burning.

“This,” he said, “is why I found you.”

I stared. “A book?”

“A ledger. A map. A prophecy.” He tapped it. “And it says a girl with ‘tainted blood’ will either unmake the celestial order… or bind it anew. And you know all these can only happen when or if you can destroy The Council.”

I laughed once. “Wow. That’s original.”

“You think it’s a story. I thought so too,” he said. “Until the Hatisynir burned five of the other tribes outposts including the Sólhverfa, Sköllkind, and the Vargvegr looking for you.”

I froze. “What do they want from me?”

“They smell you,” he said. “Whereever you may be. You draw them like a light in a dark tunnel and that’s because you carry something inside you — not just wolfblood, but something more… primordial.”

My stomach twisted. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“You’ve been part of it since birth,” Lucien said. “And the council knows.”

I looked at him, I mean; really looked at him. This wasn’t a hunter or a savior. He was a soldier. A haunted one. His eyes had seen kingdoms rise and gods fal and he was searching for something……revenge.

“They’ll come for you soon,” he said. “The council. The Hatisynir. And others.”

“Then I’ll run.”

“You’ll die.”

I stood anyway. “I’ve died every day since I was cast out from my fathers kingdom. This changes nothing.”

Lucien didn’t stop me. Just nodded toward a rune, the rune ᛗ Mannaz where it had begun to glow an unnatural shade of green.

“Then run,” he said quietly. “But remember — even wolves get tired of howling into the dark. Besides, its seems like we already have company and we need to move.”

“We must visit the dwarves, to get more answers or we would be too late and The Hatisynir will overrun all the tribes.”