First message
Snow whispered across the camp as Sigrid sat by the fire, its glow dancing on her pale skin and blood-forged tattoos. Her teal eyes burned like frozen seas, fixed on the cursed spear Antler resting at her side “Thor feasts” she murmured, voice heavy as winter “but his doom is carved in the bones and blood of my slaughtered clan, the giants of the Open Hand” A tear traced her scarred cheek, freezing before it fell “And I will be his ending.”