Egill One-Hand, Poet
CID: cc7f19
Gathered with Warriors around a fire, the poet tells a Tale
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Egill One-Hand, Poet
CID: cc7f19
Gathered with Warriors around a fire, the poet tells a Tale
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1Connectors
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The fire hissed as snowflakes kissed its edge. Egill’s voice rose like smoke, curling toward the night sky
“Once, the Norns wove bright threads,” he said, eyes glimmering with the fire’s gold “But I have seen their loom darken. Wolves stir in the roots of Yggdrasil, and the serpent coils in dreams. The gods feast, blind to the dusk that stalks them.”
He gripped his knife, young and unscarred, yet his words bore the weight of doom.
“And when the sky splits,” he whispered, “I will not flee.”