© 2025, Esa Myllylä, All Rights Reserved
Dark clouds gathered over the Ironwood, thick and ominous, casting long shadows over the tangled underbrush. The air crackled, charged with malevolence, as Hakon Thorsson, Astrid, and Eirik made their way through the forest. They were haunted by the echoes of their past encounters—the debilitating weight of the Skogulbjörn's looming presence, the lives they had fought to protect, and the friends they had lost. Each step forward was an act of defiance against the darkness that threatened to engulf them once more.
"We're close," Hakon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was vigilant, scanning the twisted branches for signs of movement, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
Astrid, eyeing the forest that flourished with sinister shadows, tightened her grip on her bow. "I can feel it too. The Ironwood is alive with something foul. It thirsts for blood."
Eirik, walking slightly behind them, shivered. He was a boy thrust into a world of blood and beasts far beyond his years; the power of his spirit shone through the fear in his eyes. "We should turn back," he suggested hesitantly, though he already knew it was futile.
"Turn back?" Hakon shot him a confident glare. "This is where the second seal lies. We can't afford to retreat now. We made a pact to restore what was broken."
They pressed forward, tracking deeper into the Ironwood, where the trees loomed like ancient giants. An unsettling stillness hung in the air, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant echo of howls. Astrid approached Hakon and whispered, "What if the Draugrvakt is waiting for us? What if it knows we're here?"
"Then we'll be ready," Hakon replied grimly. Beneath the surface of his calm demeanor, his heart raced with the knowledge that confronting the Draugrvakt—the resurrection of a beast forged from pain and vengeance—might awaken memories too horrific to bear.
Suddenly, the shadows flickered, shifting in the periphery of their vision. Hakon steadied his axe with a firm grip, its blade glinting ominously. The whispers in the Ironwood grew louder, swirling around them like an incantation, clawing at the back of their minds.
In a flash of movement, something unleashed itself from the darkness—sinewy and monstrous. The Draugrvakt, a mutated amalgamation of decaying flesh and arcane energy, emerged from the depths of the trees. Its eyes glowed like molten embers, reflecting the rage of the countless souls it had consumed.
"Get ready!" Hakon shouted as he charged forward, muscles coiling with the strength of determination and vengeance.
Astrid was quick to react, nocking an arrow and letting it fly. It struck the beast in the shoulder, embedding itself deep. But the Draugrvakt merely roared in defiance, its form shifting like smoke as the arrow fell away, not even leaving a mark.
Eirik, fighting through the fear constricting his throat, flanked Astrid, holding his blade firmly at his side. He steeled himself, recalling the spirit of his fallen comrades, urging him forward. Body trembling with adrenaline, he shouted, "I'll distract it!"
Without waiting for a response, Eirik burst out from the cover of the trees, brandishing his sword, and hollered a battle cry. "Come at me, beast!"
The creature twisted its grotesque form, its focus now on the young warrior. It lunged, jaws snapping, teeth sharp as glaive blades, ready to consume him whole.
"No!" Astrid shouted, her heart racing, but it was Hakon who acted first. He lunged at the Draugrvakt, axe raised high.
In one swift motion, he swung downward, connecting with the beast's flank. There was a sickening thud as the blade bit into its putrid flesh, eliciting a howl that echoed through the Ironwood like thunder.
"Keep attacking its sides!" Hakon ordered, moving with precision as the beast thrashed wildly.
Astrid fired another arrow, this time aiming for the creature's heart, believing that if they could wound it deeply enough, they might draw its lifeblood out and end its reign of terror once and for all.
But with each shot, the Draugrvakt seemed to absorb their efforts. It swung a massive claw, catching Eirik off guard. He stumbled back, the wind knocked from his lungs. He wasn't going to be easy prey, not today.
"Right here, you cursed abomination!" Eirik gritted his teeth, lifting his blade once more. Fueled by the memory of his sister's laughter and the fire of battle, he charged back into the fray.
The beast turned, attempting to swipe once more, but Hakon was quick to deflect its attack and regained his stance. Together, they fought as one—a trio of warriors bonded by shared loss and the unyielding lust for survival.
As the fight raged on, each blow and clash resonated through the forest. Hakon found himself grappling with the Draugrvakt, wrestling to keep his footing against its tireless onslaught, and his heart pounded with every stab of the creature's claws. Blood painted the ground beneath them in thick, dark rivulets, mingling with the roots of the Ironwood.
Astrid fired relentlessly, each arrow finding its mark in the beast's hide, but their lethality fell short as it surged onward, relentless in its rage. "Aim for its heart!" she yelled, desperation seeping into her voice as she watched Eirik fight with unbridled bravery.
Suddenly, the Draugrvakt emitted a guttural sound, a horrid mixture of roars and cries—voices of the fallen. The call chilled Hakon to the bone as echoes of his past failures crept into his mind, haunting him like specters. He couldn't fail anyone again.
"Finish this!" Hakon shouted, his voice a rallying cry that tore through the fog of despair momentarily clouding their minds. "We can't let it take any more from us!"
Hakon poised his axe, channeling every ounce of strength and courage inherited from his father and ancestors before him. He rushed forward, catching the creature off guard. Reaching its chest, he saw the pulsing heartstone—a rune-carved center of energy thrumming with power.
With all his might, he drove his axe straight into it, feeling the warmth bleed from the Draugrvakt. Light exploded all around as a terrible scream split the air, causing Astrid and Eirik to shield their eyes.
The Draugrvakt shrieked, its form convulsing violently, thrashing and contorting until finally, it shattered, fragments of dark mist spiraling off into the winds. The forest fell silent; the shadows slinked back, retreating into the depths.
Panting heavily, Hakon stood over the smoldering remains. He could barely process what had just occurred as relief washed over him.
"Is it...over?" Eirik gasped, wiping sweat and grime from his forehead.
"For now," Hakon replied, allowing himself a moment to breathe.
The trees around them creaked and shifted as if the Ironwood itself mourned the loss of the Draugrvakt.
Astrid sheathed her bow. "What do we do now?"
Hakon raised his chin defiantly. "We mend the second seal."
Astounded by their victory, but unsure of what the next step entailed, Astrid glanced toward the heart of the Ironwood. "But how?"
"We will find the altar," he assured her, resolute in their mission. "That's where the seal will guide us."
Together, they ventured deeper into the heart of the cursed woods, the air thick with tension and expectation. The Ironwood was a labyrinth of twisting shadows, leading them through the maze of thorns and echoes.
Finally, they came upon the altar—a stone slab draped with moss and blackened roots, dark runes glowing faintly in the dim light.
Eirik stepped forward, fingering the edge of the stone. "What do we need to do?"
"Blood," Hakon replied, drawing his blade and slicing across his palm. He let the crimson droplets fall to the altar, the warmth of life mingling with the cold stone.
As the blood seeped into the runes, they ignited, casting swirling patterns of light that filled the grove with ethereal energy. Hakon felt the connection surge through him, recalling the pain and struggle it had taken to confront the Draugrvakt.
Astrid followed Hakon's lead, spilling her own blood on the altar. The moment her warmth touched the cold stone, it hummed, resonating with ancient magic.
Eirik watched, uncertain but unable to remain passive. He raised his blade and rallied with them, despite his reservations. "For them!" he yelled, pressing his blood against the stone.
With each sacrifice, the altar vibrated, shaking the very roots of the Ironwood. The light pulsed, brighter and warmer, until it enveloped the entire grove—casting out the last remnants of darkness.
And then it happened: the cracked seal above them began to shimmer and glow, reforming into a beaten silver disk that pulsed rhythmically with life.
"It's working!" Astrid exclaimed, awestruck.
Deep within, the spirits of the forest ushered forth, a chorus of joy erupting through the trees, each note echoing the victory over despair. Hakon, Astrid, and Eirik felt the weight of generations uplifted, the bonds they had forged solidified in shared courage and purpose.
But as the light dimmed and calm settled in, they were greeted by a new vexation. Shadows reformed just beyond the light, flickering at the edges of the grove—an omen of what was yet to come.
The forest stirred uneasily, whispering of the battles yet unyielded. Hakon turned to Astrid and Eirik, determination glowing in his eyes. "One seal restored. Seven more await, and the fate of our world hinges on our victories."
"We continue to the next," Astrid agreed, the weight of the challenge exhilarating rather than daunting.
With a final glance into the forest that held so many secrets and lingering shadows, they set forth once more. The path before them was fraught with peril and doubt, a testament to their courage and resilience.
As they emerged from the depths of the Ironwood, they could feel the future unfurl before them—dangerous and uncertain, yet ripe for discovery. The expedition had only just begun.
"Next stop, Helgafell," Hakon declared, his voice a beacon of hope in the face of encroaching darkness.
"Together," Astrid and Eirik echoed, forging bonds of unity among the shadows.
With swords drawn and hearts ignited by a shared vision, they began anew, not just as warriors, but as harbingers of hope against an inevitable storm.
And thus, they rode into the unknown, on the precipice of legends yet to be written, facing fury head-on with courage and tenacity as their guides.
As they traversed the rugged landscape that led to Helgafell, Hakon considered the sacrifices made and lives lost. The memory of Ragnar, Yrsa, and the others lingered in the depths of their hearts, urging them onward.
"We will finish this," he swore quietly to himself, the weight of destiny resting heavily upon his shoulders. "For them."
They would face the horrors yet to come, confront their fears, and uphold their promise to restore balance to their world. The journey into the heart of darkness had only just begun.
And the winds of fate whispered their names, urging them to destiny yet unwritten.
"For Jarnfjall," they shouted, the battle cry echoing through the valleys, a vow to their ancestors and the legacies of those who rose before them.
Continue in Book 4