"You can leave this dungeon and never come back,” promised Thyra, “yet there is one condition," she smirked, "you must to leave alone."

She faced Verano as Flavius, his dying priest friend, frowned his head in silence.

"N--" Verano faltered. He missed the Sun's warmth on his back and the winds of freedom guiding him back to the Middle Sea. He imagined that he could leave that forsaken land of the Northmen as if nothing happened, and as if he could be just a boy instead of the Avatar. His mind tempted him with reasons to accept Thyra's offer. He listened to whispers in his ears that described him leaving the North and then somehow returning with an army to free his friends alongside Marzia.

"So," Thyra stomped the ground, impatient, "is it a yes or no?"

Flavius touched Verano's shoulder:

"I won't judge you, whatever you decide."

Verano could not raise his voice. He knew that he was his friends' last hope and that they would become nothing but tools for the Northmen if he left. The boy closed his eyes and felt the coldness in Thyra's heart. He recalled the teachings of his master Johann Martel about feeling the warmth in people's hearts to read their intentions. He reminisced about Queen Thyra and realized that all that she that did was meant to hurt him. There was no reason to believe the good will of her offer.

"I see," Verano's eyes widened. "All you've done so far is to try torturing my body. Now you want me to betray my brother and my friends so I can die inside as well?" He swung his head. "It's not happening."

"We have the dumbest smartass of the Wild Lands here!" Thyra clapped. "Do you even know the opportunity that you're missing?" She glanced at the aged prisoners who rotted in the dungeon cells. "Are you blind? How can you be sure that I'm just trying to corrupt your soul and kill you from the inside?"

"Because..." Verano looked her in the eyes. "That's exactly what I would be doing to someone who had hurt my brother."

Thyra's smile collapsed as he reminded her of Erik. She grunted and turned her head away from him.

"Then enjoy your night here, Fenrhir," she walked away, "it will be your last. You're going to the mines tomorrow."

The gates to the dungeon thundered as they closed.

"Flavius," Verano lied down. "what do you know of her?"

"Thyra?"

"Y-Yes..." He coughed.

"Not much. I heard her cry one night through the Song of the Wind."

"Why?"

"She complained that everyone looked at her with the expectation of being the Queen who would reconquer Alba and avenge all the dead. She felt that she could not match their hope and feared that she would disappoint them. Almost like..."

"Me." Completed Verano.

Flavius nodded.

"Go to sleep now, Verano," said Flavius. "I'll stay here meditating. I'll try reaching your sister Marzia now."

"Thank you again," said Verano as his eyes closed. Thyra's voice echoed in his ears. "I hope made the right decision."

Verano slept and dreamed of his home. He saw himself laying down on the warm beaches of the Duchy of Sforza. Marzia's voice echoed across the sand:

"You are here?"

"Marzia?" Faltered the boy lifting his head and searching for her.

"Why did you take so long to come? You promised me that you'd be back before winter."

"Marzia, w-where are you?"

"Look behind you."

Verano turned around. The sunny day faded into a sea of clouds and mist. Thunder echoed from the sea.

"M-Marzia!" Cried Verano as he saw Marzia's body in the sand. An arrow had pierced her chest.

"They're here," she replied as her tears washed the sand. "They've come for you. Look!"

Verano faced the seas and the sails of Northmen ships eclipsed the quiet Sunset from the Duchy of Sforza.

"No," he gritted his teeth, "No! No--"

His eyes opened as two Northmen pulled him from the ground. His dream fell off his eyes like a veil of fabric.

"Hurry up! Queen Thyra's waiting!" Shouted a Northman pulling him towards the gates of the dungeon. The cold winds of the North Sea and the grey Sun welcomed Verano as he saw the exit. "You should've chosen to leave, Fenrhir!"

Arms pushed Verano against the ground. He rose his head and saw a column of silent prisoners who had their heads frowned. The Northmen lifted him off the ground and pushed him into the group.

"And stay quiet!" They shouted.

Verano gasped tired. He braced himself against the cold morning of the North Sea. Yet the light from a ship on fire colored the rocks beneath his feet. He rose his head and saw a crowd surrounding a boat in flames. They sang hymns in the language of the Northmen.

"For he was Erik Hüfbar, The Warrior of Stone; may Val-Hella welcome him as the valiant warrior who he was!" Proclaimed the Queenmother of the Tribe as Thyra stood by her side. Verano realized that they celebrated a mass for the man whom he had killed: Thyra's brother, Erik. "So valiant that only the Fenrhir claimed his life," the Queenmother continued. "Now the Mouth of the Spirits shall sing a song in honor of our honorable comrade!"

"Wait, that's Arnaud!" Verano recoiled as he saw his brother stagger towards the crowd with papyrus between the hands.

Arnaud faltered as he faced the crowd in the eyes.

"H-Hi!" He concealed his head beneath the papyrus. "B-Bölümde yer alan..." He butchered the language whenever his mouth moved. "Y-Y-Yer alan... Damn it, how do people even read this?"

Tomatoes flew against him.

"Poor Arnaud..." Verano swung his head. He smirked as he turned his sights away from his brother. He noticed that a tall Northman warrior with red hair and red beard stood by Thyra's side. The banner stamping his shield and armor were not the same as Thyra's tribe. The stranger watched the salvo of tomatoes with an eerie smile on his face.

"Enough!" Interrupted the Queenmother banging her scepter against the ground. The Spirit living on top of her staff darkened.

The crowd quieted as the woman continued:

"Now we say our last words to Prince Erik and deliver him to the Spirits of the Deep," she stared at Queen Thyra. "May you give him a warrior's farewell?"

"I shall--"

A hand blocked her passage. The redhead warrior walked down the beach and the crowd opened way for him to pass.

"I-It's Hagen, the Red Tide," recoiled a Northman, "from the Eastern Tribe of the North Sea!"

Voices gossiped:

"They say he razed more than a hundred ports. Wasn't he the master of Prince Erik?"

"They say the water that he bends turns red with all the blood of his victims!"

"If he were the High King, not even the Fenrhir would've stood a chance!"

Joël, Thyra's right hand man, grunted at the whispers roaming the crowd:

"Silence!"

Hagen, the redhead, rose his hands towards the waters and the tides carried the ship on flames towards the waters.

"We will avenge you, Prince Erik," said Hagen glancing towards his men. They were thrice as many as Thyra's Northmen. "The next raid on Alba shall be the last. The Fire Peoples won't dare touch our sacred land for the next 10000 years." He rose his head towards the ship on flames that headed into the horizon. "May the Spirits of the Deep take you."

The crowd sang a hymn in the honor of Hagen and the fallen Prince as Thyra remained silent.

The population dispersed as the burning vessel carrying Erik's remnants disappeared in the horizon.

"I guess it is our time to go." Said a slave standing by Verano's side.

"Exactly," said Queen Thyra as she stood ahead of the column of slaves with her bodyguards, "We're heading to the mines. Joël," she faced her second in command, "Keep Ëdim safe." She referred to the settlement.

"Of course--"

"That won't be an issue," interrupted Hagen, "I have brought more than enough true Northmen with me to defend this hole for the next century. Now can we go see my mines?"

Thyra nodded. The column of slaves walked towards the mountain ranges in the extreme north.

Verano had his head frowned yet Hagen's words caught his attention:

"The Fenrhir..." The redhead looked towards the column. "Which one is he?"

"The one with darker skin and hair," replied Thyra, “looks as strong as a flower.”

"I see..." He smiled towards Verano. "He took Erik's life and now you walk him like a pet. Are you that desperate for slaves that you'll spare your brother's murderer?"

"I tried to kill him but the Queenmother would not let me. She said that's not the will of the Spirits."

"Wait, Queenmother?" He laughed. "You still listen to yours?"

"We are young," she frowned, "our parents died in the same war that we are fighting now. We don't have the luxury to upset the Spirits. We must follow the elders.”

"The state of your tribe is just sad. The war with the Fire Peoples has drained it," Hagen swung his head, "you had 8 brothers and 7 are now dead. You don't even have any children. If you die, who will rule--"

"I won't die." She unsheathed her sword.

"There is no need to flee from hard questions, Queen Thyra," Hagen smirked, "I admire you. You were thrust into a position of an incredible burden and you haven't broken yet. You're young and strong. But I fear you'll need way more than your strength to defeat King Heinrich of Aarchen..."

"That's why you and your raiders are here. If I wanted political counseling, I'd have brought someone else."

"I can offer more than warriors, Queen Thyra," he rose his hand and a ruby ring in the shape of two salmons was wrapped around his middle finger, "I can offer security, power and maybe..." He smirked. "Love?"

"W-W-What do you mean?” Thyra blushed. “I'm a warrior and I must avenge my clan," she turned her head away, "I-I don't have time for this love nonsense!"

"But I will help you avenge your clan. And do many other things," he blinked, "just marry me and let me become the High King of this tribe. Our children would be so beautiful and powerful that their hairs would be used to decorate the mead halls of Val-Hella..."

"You just want to be a King." She snorted.

"How can you tear my heart apart like this, Queen Thyra?" He rested his hand upon his chest. "I'm such a romantic man. And we both know you have no idea what you're doing as a ruler. I have so much to offer..."

"Then seal your lips and keep it to someone who’ll believe you." She sheathed her blade.

The group reached a valley with mountains tall as the sky. Large footsteps dotted the mud on the ground.

"I-Is that a..." Verano rose his eyes. He saw a man as tall as three excavating a tunnel. "A giant?"

The creature stared at the boy as it punched a hole through the mountain. Bats escaped from the hole and heaved the Giant against the ground. Verano shouted:

"He needs help--"

"No, he doesn't!" Replied a Northman slapping the boy’s face.

The giant rose from the ground and shoved the mud off its robes. It rose its head towards the hole and city lights blinded him. Verano recoiled as he shoved the blood from the slap from his cheeks:

"Wait, these mines, they are--"

"Shut up!"

"They are Ruins of Light! We can't work here!" Verano yelled towards Hagen and Thyra. "The Spirits will--"

"Get upset." Smirked Hagen. "I'm aware, slave. But Queen Thyra had to find a way to pay for my friendship. I'm interested in what the Spirits hide in these Holy Grounds. Don't worry about us, though. It's you Fire slaves and these dumb giants," he referred to the many silent creatures opening the mountain with pickaxes. Injuries dotted their bodies. "You all will have to deal with the problem, not us."

"This is--" Verano gritted his teeth as he faced the giants’ wounds. All the Spirits roaming the mud turned their eyes towards him. The ground shook.

"What is going on, Thyra?" Asked Hagen. He noticed that all tiny Spirits distanced themselves as fast as they could.

"I don't know," she faltered. "The mountain seems to be reacting to the Fenrhir..."

Stones rolled down the mountain. Giants distanced themselves away from the walls of the stone walls as the valley shook.

"The ground is getting hot?" Faltered a Northman lifting his foot from the mud. "It's burning. Damn it--"

"I sense some heat," faltered Verano as he frowned at the dirt. "Get away from here!"

The column dispersed as a hole tore open the ground. A cloud of fire escaped through the fissure and reddened the skies.

"There's something coming!" Shouted Thyra as she rose her shield. Loud footsteps echoed from the deep. "Form a shield wall!"

The claws of a dark spirit grasped the edge of the hole. A colossal Dark Spirit in the shape of a dog rose its fiery eyes towards the Northmen as it climbed out of the hole.

"The Barghest Spirit..." Faltered a Northman.

The creature dove its head against the ground and breathed a wave of Fire towards the column.

Thyra dove her hands into the mud. A wall of water sprung off the ground and blocked the creature's attack. She yelled for assistance:

"Hagen, do something!"

The man smirked as he faced the creature standing behind her weakening water barrier.

"My men far outnumber Thyra's in her own tribe, she refuses to marry me and now she's facing the Barghest with no prospect of survival..." He reflected as he walked back. His men moved away from the Dark Spirit and left Thyra alone with only her slaves and a couple Waterbenders. "I was never an esoteric man but this seems like clear evidence that the Spirits of the Deep desire new leadership for the Western Tribe of the North Sea. You are the last heir, right?”

"Don't you dare betray me!" She gritted her teeth as she struggled to keep the wall standing.

"This is not betrayal," his salmon ring flashed as he rose his fist. A frozen wall rose behind Thyra's backs and locked the woman and her slaves with the Dark Spirit. "It's just common sense."