In the pic - Queen Skörta Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 The heat at the summit of the volcano had become almost unbearable. Every breath scorched the lungs as streams of ash drifted lazily around the crater. Yet, amid that blazing furnace, Skörta stood perfectly still. Her gaze was distant, as though her spirit had already departed from Midgard. Only a few steps away, Helena knelt beside her father. She gently shook his shoulder. “My father... come on... wake up, damn it... What was that?” Her voice wavered between fear and frustration. Once again, those she loved had hidden another truth from her. Mikell quietly approached. He rested two fingers against Mikal-Finnvard's neck before releasing a quiet sigh. “He will return. He simply drew far too deeply upon an elemental energy that very few men can even begin to touch... let alone master. He exhausted a part of himself to save you.” Helena frowned. “An elemental... energy?” The vagabond gently took her hand. “I have heard ancient tales of men capable of drawing upon the very energy of nature itself. A primal force that allows one to command the elements. To summon fire... to turn flames into ice... Such stories have always been dismissed as myths because such power seemed impossible.” His eyes settled on the unconscious Jarl. “And yet your father has just accomplished what no legend ever dared describe against that Jötunn.” Helena remained silent for a few moments before slowly pulling her hand away. “Listen, Mikell... we'll talk about this later.” She turned toward Skörta. “When he wakes up. Until then... let the Queen open the passage. We must wait.” Meanwhile, Skörta's spirit had already crossed beyond the world of men. Before her stood Yggdrasil. The World Tree surpassed every legend ever told about it. Its colossal trunk seemed to uphold existence itself. Immense roots descended into an ocean of living light where rivers of stars flowed endlessly, while its branches stretched far beyond the heavens, carrying the Nine Worlds like fruit suspended upon a single destiny. Threads of radiant light connected every realm together, pulsing with an ancient energy that felt like the very breath of creation. Every leaf whispered forgotten memories. Every root seemed to contain the history of an entire world. An indescribable peace filled the Queen's soul. Then a voice echoed across existence. Deep. Ancient. Each word seemed to cross every realm before reaching her mind. “Who are you, stranger? Why have you come here?” There was neither hostility nor kindness within the question. It simply felt as though it had always been destined to be asked. Skörta slowly knelt. “Oh Yggdrasil, Tree of all Trees... I have come to ask that you allow us to pass beyond Midgard, should it be your will.” Silence lingered. “You know that every passage bears a price. The power of the Runes of Wyrd was never meant to allow mortals to walk among the gods.” Unable to hide her wonder, Skörta gazed upon the Tree she had dreamed of her entire life. A profound serenity settled within her heart. “Your price shall be mine, O Yggdrasil. I must learn how my father died... and uncover Fenrir's role in his death.” The answer came slowly, every word chosen with immeasurable care. “I understand. But there shall be two sacrifices. Are you prepared to bear such a fate?” “What must I do?” “Nothing. Odin shattered an ancient balance. From this moment onward, every mortal who crosses into the realms of the gods shall surrender a fragment of their past. One joyful memory from childhood shall vanish forever. Yours included.” Skörta lowered her eyes. “We no longer have a choice. We cannot turn back... What is the second price?” This time, the answer came more swiftly. “There is always a choice... You have a choice. But you choose your destiny.” A long silence followed before the World Tree continued. “The second sacrifice is yours alone, Skörta.” Her breathing faltered. “What do you mean?” “When your final breath comes, your soul shall belong neither to Valhalla, nor to Asgard, nor to any other realm. It shall become one of my roots. You shall nourish my memory until the end of all ages and watch over every world. You shall never know rest.” A single tear slowly rolled down the Queen's cheek. Yggdrasil continued. “The power of the Runes of Wyrd has weakened me. Your wisdom and your strength shall help preserve the balance. By becoming a part of me, every god shall honor your name, for you shall become one of my memories. Tell me... are you prepared to make such a sacrifice?” Skörta slowly wiped away the tear. “Yes... My soul shall be yours when death finally claims me... but not before.” The World Tree remained silent. Then one of its immense roots began to glow. Across the hidden valley of Skuggadalr, a wave of golden light surged through the endless network of roots until it reached Midgard itself. At the summit of the volcano, the sky appeared to split apart. Ancient runes carved into the stone ignited one after another as the air folded inward with a thunderous rumble. Above the crater, an enormous archway of radiant light intertwined with living wood slowly unfolded, as though Yggdrasil itself had extended one of its branches between the worlds. When Skörta opened her eyes once more, Mikell was already rushing toward her. “You did it, my Queen... But how?” Her eyes were still moist as she looked at each of her companions. “Helena... Mikal-Finnvard... Min... Bruno... you as well, Mikell... There is something you must know.” Every face turned toward her. “If you cross that gateway, you will lose one joyful memory from your childhood. It will remain here... forever.” Torstein stepped forward. “My Queen... why not the others?” “Because only those born of Midgard must pay this price, my friend. Your mother is a goddess. Your soul is protected. The same is true for Mikki... Johannes... and Ash.” Helena held the Queen's gaze. “Is that truly the only price?” For the briefest moment, the weight of her promise crushed Skörta's heart. Even so, she forced a timid smile as she discreetly wiped away the last trace of the tear upon her cheek. “Yes... it is the only one. Even if it is already a heavy burden.” Helena drew a slow breath. “Then we have no choice. We must go.” Standing a short distance away, Ash silently watched the Queen. Her usual mischievous smile had vanished. She did not utter a single word. Yet her eyes revealed a truth no one else had perceived. She had seen the sacrifice Skörta had chosen to hide... and, for now, she chose to carry that silence with her. 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 Yggdrasill ek heyri hjarta mitt örlög I... I have crossed beyond the silence. The roots remember what I cannot. My soul trembles but it does not turn away. (Ek óttask en ek stendr) Yggdrasill... Mín Örlög I hear eternity... calling my forgotten name. Fear still walks beside me... (Ótti minn) Yet even tears can feed immortal roots. If my soul must bloom inside your memory... Yggdrasill... Mín Örlög ek man ek gleymi barnsminni Yggdrasill I will leave... leave the child I used to be. One dawn, one smile, forever beyond my reach. (Still I walk) (StillI choose) If sorrow becomes the price of balance... Then let my tears become your rain. When my final breath belongs to your roots... (Remember... remember my name...) Yggdrasill... Mín Örlög
