Six months later

Somewhere in Northern Norway

Her screams echoed in the dark night. Blood dripped down her back, again, and onto the new fallen snow. He shook, whether from cold or a seizure the others couldn’t be sure. Six months had passed since the seven companions had set foot in the homeland of Ulric Eames and they were still far from where they needed to be. Her screams had stared the second night after their arrival. The blood came the night afterwards. His trembling had started around much the same time. Their pace was slower each day as his trembling got worse and her bleeding seemingly unstaunchable. The cold seeped into their bones and slowed their pace even further. Nerves frayed and tensions ran high. Of their group, only one knew where they were going and, most days, it seemed she had no idea where she was going. She led the group of seven ever further into the barren, snow-covered landscape. The further north they trekked, the more brutal the cold became. The more brutal the cold, the more the tension mounted and the less sleep everyone got. Frankly, it was a miracle they hadn’t maimed or killed one another, yet. Mavi and Askel lagged behind the rest. The boy couldn’t keep up the rigorous pace Anwen had set, so they followed the crimson trail his sister left in her wake. As they made their way further into the unknown wilds of their ancestral home, Loki’s remaining curse began to eat away at Akira’s sanity. The funny thing was, the more she fought against it the faster it worked. Were she to acknowledge the fact she no longer had control of her own mind, the curse would slow its progression. It was the only way to preserve her waning sanity, not that she or any of her companions knew that. They pressed relentlessly onward; Anwen not seeming to care that Akira was losing the ability to distinguish dream from reality.