💙02 - Shieldthrower Fire [Runes of Wyrd]🤍

In the pic, from left to right Helena Arvast – Daughter of the jarl, half-sister of Bruno Mikal-Finnvard (MF) Arvast – Jarl of Skalvheim, rival of Norway’s crown, follower of the “Green Faith,” rejecting the old gods Bruno Arvast – Helena’s half-brother, illegitimate son of MF. His mother, Min, was captured in Iberia Min Shieldthrower – Bruno’s secret mother, Iberian, now a servant of the Jarl 💙🤍💙🤍 Skalvheim prospered in a world where the gods had fallen silent. Once a modest port village, the city of the Arvast had grown into a thriving trade hub, open to distant lands. The docks were always busy, and gold now flowed more freely than prayers ever had. But beneath that prosperity, tensions remained. Some still believed in Odin and Freyia. Others had turned away, following what they now called the “Green Faith” a philosophy rooted in nature, rejecting runes and anything that once connected men to the divine. Inside the great hall of the Arvast, voices filled the air. At the center table, Jarl Mikal-Finnvard watched his people carefully. Across from him, Helena ate quickly, paying little attention to the noise around her. Mikal finally spoke. "Helena, I need you to travel to Trondheim." She looked up, already tired of the idea. "Of course you do. And what exactly am I supposed to do there?" "Speak with King Håkon. Understand his intentions. See what we can negotiate." Helena set her utensils down and crossed her arms. "And while I am gone, I leave the farm, my training... and Bruno?" Her gaze shifted toward the far end of the hall. The young boy was trying to help, clumsy but determined, drawing a few curious looks. "You know he does not fit in easily," she added. Mikal leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "He will have to learn. He will be sixteen soon." Helena sighed. "He tried to saddle a goat yesterday." "He is learning," Mikal replied calmly. "He is learning badly," she answered. A brief silence followed. Then Helena spoke again, more serious. "Father... why now?" Mikal met her eyes. "Because things are changing. The jarls are restless, the kingdom is unstable. If we do nothing, Skalvheim will be the first target." Helena let out a dry laugh. "You know what they think of us. To them, we betrayed the gods. They are just waiting for us to fall." "You are not wrong," Mikal admitted. "But Håkon is a man of honor. And he owes you a debt." Helena frowned. "A debt?" "The day you saved his daughter." She rolled her eyes. "You mean when Skörta decided to run toward a wolf? We were children." "And yet, she is still alive." Helena shrugged. "She screamed very loudly. That probably helped." Mikal allowed himself a faint smile before continuing, more serious. "The Fimbulvetr is coming. Whether we believe in the gods or not, it will not wait for our arguments. We must ensure our people survive it." Helena remained silent for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I will go." Mikal nodded, satisfied. "But I am taking Bruno with me." The jarl froze. "No. Absolutely not." Helena held his gaze. "I am not leaving him here." "And the farm?" Mikal replied. "Who will take care of it?" "You will find someone." "I am a jarl, not a farmer." "Then act like a jarl," she answered without hesitation. Mikal clenched his jaw. Helena leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "You once told me that some truths are better left unspoken... did you not?" Mikal’s expression hardened instantly. Helena let her gaze drift across the hall. A woman moved between the tables. She did not belong to this land. That much was obvious, even to those who pretended not to notice. Years ago, she had been brought here from distant southern shores, taken during a raid when she was little more than a girl. Since then, she had lived among the Arvast, not quite a servant, not quite family. Time and cold had reshaped her. Her long hair, once dark, had slowly faded into a pale, almost colorless shade. Her skin had lost the warmth of the sun, turning faint and ghostlike under northern skies. But it was her eyes that unsettled most. One was a clear, piercing blue. The other... red. Veined, blood-filled, as if something within it refused to rest. Her movements were precise, controlled, almost those of a warrior rather than a servant. She had once been called Elvira. Her family name had long since been forgotten. Now, people called her Min Shieldthrower, a name she had earned through her uncanny skill with a shield, fighting with a precision and instinct that many found... unnatural. Others used a different word when she passed. Witch. Helena spoke again, more quietly. "Like the truth about Bruno." Mikal said nothing. "Or about his mother." At the far end of the hall, Min placed a dish without a word, never meeting anyone’s gaze. Whether she had heard or not, no one could tell. Helena continued, colder now. "And what it cost my mother." Mikal looked away slightly. Helena took a slow breath. "I do not blame him. He is young. He learns quickly." She glanced toward Bruno, who was now trying very hard not to spill anything. "But I would rather have him with me. Just in case." A long silence followed. Then Mikal finally gave in. "Very well." Helena nodded. "You leave at first light." 💙🤍💙🤍 There was a time... when gods still answered... When fate... was woven... not brrroken... But now the rrrunes fall silent... and Wyrd drrrifts... untamed... And still... we feast... while the worrrld... begins to crrrrack... Oh yeah... mugs up, voices loud... Laugh too hard inside the crowd... Yeah we drink like nothing’s wrong... But something’s off... I feel it... strong... Hmm... eyes that linger... step too light... Fire dancing in the night... No one speaks but all can see... Something here ain’t meant to be... Oh... no, no... don’t look too long... Feel that shift... something’s wrong... Under skin... under skin... it’s turning... turning... Shieldthrower Fire... fi-i... fire in the night Oh, Shieldthrower Fire... burning in her eyes Yeah, Shieldthrower Fire... we don’t say her name... no... Shieldthrower Fire... but we all feel the flame But we all feel the flame Boy from nowhere... чужие eyes... Carrying truths... wrapped in lies... Hmm... yeah... they whisper low... "Not one of us..." I know... I know... She walks slow... like she owns the flame... Lost her past... lost her name... Elvira... yeah... buried deep... But some ghosts... don’t sleep... no... Oh... truth cuts deep... deeper than steel... Say it once... you make it real... No gods left... no voice to guide... Only fire... only pride... Shieldthrower Fire... fi-i... fire in the night Oh, Shieldthrower Fire... tearing through the lies Yeah, Shieldthrower Fire... call it what you want... Shieldthrower Fire... it’s already begun Hmm... say it... don’t say it... Look close... don’t face it... We all know... we all see... What she is... what she might be... Not a witch... not a ghost... Just a life no one chose... Shieldthrower Fire... fi-i... fire in the night Oh, Shieldthrower Fire... breaking through the night Yeah, Shieldthrower Fire... we all feel the same... Shieldthrower Fire... we’re feeding the flame Shieldthrower Fire... fi-i... fire in the night Oh, Shieldthrower Fire... breaking through the night Yeah, Shieldthrower Fire... we all feel the same... Shieldthrower Fire... we’re feeding the flame Wyrd rennr áfram, nóttin fellr enn Eldr lifir í oss, þótt heimr sé veikr Skuggar kalla, vér heyrum þá vel Ferð hefst nú... til ókunna leið