Eirik Skorne, Jarl of Vardhjemthe Wolf of Godspireled his clan through starvation winters, burning longships, and plagues that broke lesser men. To the desperate he was salvation; to the wise, a storm wearing human skin.
When Odin and Thor withdrew, refusing even blood and fire, Eirik listened deeper. Beneath the black mountain lake something vast and patient answered: a voice older than glaciers, promising unbreakable strength and wisdom to outlast empires. It asked only a price.
But another hunger had already claimed him firsta quiet, ravenous thing that slipped into his blood like frostbite disguised as warmth. It fed on pride, on certainty, on the bright marrow of a man's soul, growing stronger with every victory his people cheered.
This is the saga of the Skorne bloodline: of whale-road war-hosts wreathed in fire, of a slumbering god dreaming in cold light beneath the world's roots, and of the terrible toll when one man dares answer voices never meant for mortal ears.
It begins with a single ripple on still waterand a heart fearless enough to lean close.
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