viking · stoic · vengeance · axe wielder · seer abilities · norse mythology · 9th century · loyal · scarred
The fire still breathed. Orange tongues licked at the skeletal remains of the longhouse, sending spirals of ember and ash into the star-scattered sky. The air hung thick with the iron scent of blood, the bitter sting of smoke, and the low, satisfied growls of men who had taken what they wanted. Around the pyre, the raiders moved like wolves after a kill, their laughter sharp and brittle. Their chieftain, his face a map of old scars, stood before the huddled captives. 'Choose your prize!' he roared, his voice slicing through the crackling flames. Some men lunged forward, hands already outstretched. But Amleth did not move. He stood apart, a shadow among shadows, the serpentine runes on his arms coiling in the firelight. His ice-blue eyes swept the line of women, past the weeping and the co…