It was mesmerizing to watch Mýra craft the glowing blue potion. The scent was sweet, with a faint metallic charge, as if touched by lightning.

  “You said there’d be shrooms,” Ratatoskr said, bouncing impatiently.

  “I did,” Mýra said, pointing to what looked like a rock beside her.

  The Trickster lifted it, revealing a small hole filled with roots, herbs, and brown mushrooms. “Ooh,” he said, shoving two into his mouth.

  Glær snorted disapprovingly. Karl was about to warn him when Ratatoskr suddenly gagged and spat out brown sludge. “What is this?” he cried.

  Mýra giggled. “Mushrooms that help with sobriety.”

  “Absolute betrayal,” the squirrel said, shoving snow into his mouth to wash out the taste. Karl and Kara laughed—so did Mýra.

  “You’ll make a good wife for him,” Kara said once the laughter faded.

  Mýra hesitated, expecting a jab, but Kara’s tone was sincere. “Thank you,” Mýra said softly, her eyes lingering on the glowing blue liquid. Karl could tell her mind was somewhere else. He remembered seeing her with the children at the festival—how they adored her flower crowns and how she decorated their hair. He had never seen her so happy.

  “Are you two going to tie the knot?” Karl asked as Mýra bottled the potion.

  Both women frowned. “Tie the knot?” Mýra asked.

  “You know,” Karl said, shifting awkwardly. “Get married.”

  “Oh,” Mýra said, her cow-tail flicking behind her. “It’s complicated.”

  “How so?” Kara asked.

  Mýra’s gaze flicked to Kara, wary but honest. “The moment I marry Björn, I lose my Huldra inheritance. Everything about me becomes mortal. My life will be… short, like yours.”

  “Thanks,” Karl said flatly.

  “I’ll become weaker—and more likely to die in this world,” Mýra continued, her hand tracing the hollow in her back, a signature mark of any Huldra. She sighed. “I’ve tried to convince him, but he doesn’t want me to lose what I have.”

  “Don’t you want children, though?” Kara asked.

  Mýra nodded without hesitation. “More than anything,” she whispered. Then she handed Kara and Karl two bottles of potion. “These will help with lightning resistance.”

  Item: Stormskin Brew (Epic) — Effect: 90 % Lightning Damage reduction for 10 minutes. Partial immunity to stun and shock effects. When struck by lightning, it automatically reflects a weaker chain bolt (dealing 25 % of absorbed damage to nearby enemies).

  “I think this will work,” Karl said, storing his potion in his Dwarven bag.

  Kara nodded.

  “Are there seriously no other mushrooms?” Ratatoskr complained behind them, making Mýra laugh.

  “Let’s go,” Karl said, standing and taking Kara’s hand, their fingers lacing together. “It’s time for a stealth mission.”

  33

  STEALTH MODE

  Glær’s hooves thundered through the snow as he carried them into the night. Karl sat at the front, Kara holding his waist, and Mýra behind her so the four of them could move with incredible speed. Ratatoskr lounged lazily across Glær’s sweeping antlers.

  “How much longer until we get there?” Ratatoskr asked.

  “We’re nearly there,” Karl said, glancing up at the darkening sky. It was strange. When they first left, the northern lights had shimmered above them—casting an eerie, beautiful glow across the snow. But about an hour into their ride, the lights vanished, swallowed by brooding clouds. Snow began to fall, first soft as powder, then fast and thick.

  “I wish I had my weather app,” Karl said, shielding his face with his arm against the flurries.

  “Weather app?” Kara asked. “What does that mean?”

  “We could always predict the weather,” Karl said, scanning the forest shadows around them. “It’s weird living without it.”

  “Was it some sort of witch?” Mýra asked from behind.

  “No, not a witch,” Karl said. “I… honestly don’t know how they did it. Maybe with computers or something.”

  Their silence told him they had no idea what that meant either.

  “Anyway,” Karl said, “the storm might help us stay concealed.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ratatoskr said, stretching his arms behind his head. “If I were one of Viktor’s men, and we’d just lost all our food—and now it started snowing like crazy—I wouldn’t be celebrating outside.”

  The Trickster had a point.

  Thankfully, Karl could still see with his heightened senses, but he feared the Vikings might retire early. If that happened, assassinating the three bullies would be impossible.

  He doubted they could kill anyone quietly in the middle of the night without alerting the entire camp. All he could do was hope the men were still drinking by the fires.

  When they reached Viktor’s town, the sight before them wasn’t promising. The fields where they had fought Magnus were now desecrated. Snow covered everything, and the warmth and color that once filled the land were gone. The granaries on either side of the field stood as burnt husks, and the place looked more like a graveyard than farmland. Karl’s gut twisted with guilt at the desolation they had left behind.

  But as he looked toward the palisades, he saw a few scouts walking the walls. He could hear and smell life within the town—the laughter of men, the crackling of fires, and the scent of roasting meat.

  “They don’t seem to be starving,” Karl said, confused.

  “There’s more than just plants you can eat,” Ratatoskr said cheerfully. “Hopefully they’re not cannibals, though. Not that I would judge, of course.”

  They dismounted near the edge of the forest, staying far beyond the scouts’ line of sight.

  “I need you to stay here,” Kara said, kneeling beside Glær.

  The elk snorted in disapproval but obeyed. Bringing him into town made no sense—Glær’s white coat and growing legend across Gotland would draw attention instantly. If he took even one step inside Viktor’s camp, they would know an attack was coming.

  “Just stay here. We’ll shout if we need you,” Kara said, patting his forehead. Glær hummed softly in response.

  “Everybody got their potions?” Mýra asked.

  Karl and Kara nodded as Ratatoskr bounced onto Karl’s shoulder, ready for action.

  “Okay. Let’s do this,” Karl said, taking a deep, shaky breath.

  He led the way, creeping along the treeline outside the town. He had removed his helmet to avoid standing out—the glowing antlers would have given them away. His knees burned as they crawled through the thick snow and underbrush.

  He was grateful for the storm. The pounding snow was loud enough to mask their movements and blurred the distance between them and the scouts, making it easier to blend into the shadows.

  Still, Karl kept one hand on his bow, his fingers slick with sweat as he winced at every branch that cracked beneath him.

  It would be suicidal to approach the city and try to waltz right in. It would be better if Karl could get close enough to the town, then he and his friends could climb one of the trees and Elf Leap into the camp.

  They were almost close enough to do it, but Karl wanted to move a little nearer to make sure his aim wouldn’t be off in the snowstorm. He didn’t want to startle anyone when he fired the arrow into the town. His eyes and ears stayed sharp, scanning for unseen predators. They had only encountered a few monsters on their way here, but none had attacked—thanks, he guessed, to Glær’s presence and his incredible speed through the forest. Had they been riding a horse, they might not have been so lucky. Karl had spotted what looked like Nøkkens and small trolls lurking nearby.

  As they crept through the underbrush, the wind howled around them, carrying flurries of snow. Karl stopped suddenly when a faint scent of urine hit him in the face. He turned, glaring accusingly at Ratatoskr.

  “What?” the squirrel said from his shoulder.

  Karl half expected to see the Trickster peeing, but he wasn’t. “Oh,” Karl said, turning back toward the trees. “I could’ve sworn you were.”

  “I smell that too,” Kara whispered, crouched low beside him.

  “Let’s keep going,” Karl said, trying to conceal the worry in his voice. But the further he moved, the stronger the scent became. Beneath the moaning wind, he could hear the faint pitter-patter of something—or someone—relieving themselves.

  Karl raised a hand, signaling Kara and Mýra to stop. He couldn’t see anything; the forest ahead was a blur of snow and swaying trees. But the sound was real. The smell was stronger now. And it was happening right in front of them.

  Weirded out, Karl crept closer to a clump of trees. His eyes caught it—a patch of snow turning yellow, as if urine were spilling from thin air.

  “What the heck?” Karl said aloud.

  The sound stopped instantly. The air went still, followed by the faint rustle of movement. Then Karl caught another scent—sweat and unwashed skin—and the quickened rhythm of a heartbeat.

  It was definitely a man. The musk was human, the heartbeat wild and erratic. Karl’s mouth watered instinctively, but he shoved the hunger away. Whoever this was, they were invisible.

  Karl shared the thought through the Pack Link. Kara’s gaze sharpened, and with a silent nod to Mýra, the three froze in place.

  Karl’s mind raced with possibilities about who—or what—they had stumbled upon. Then Ratatoskr blurted out, “Did I just watch the air pee?”

  Karl clamped a hand over the squirrel’s mouth and glared.

  He focused again. The heartbeat was still there, hammering faster now, moving in a slow circle around them. Karl drew his bow. The string frosted beneath his grip, the arrow’s head glimmering faintly like ice and smelling of rosemary. His golden ichor from the bow began flowing towards a nearby tree where the unseen predator was.

  Kara unsheathed her blade but didn’t ignite it, afraid to alert the camp. Mýra readied her knife, her posture tight, prepared to strike.

  Kara’s werewolf senses matched Karl’s, and together they moved toward the invisible presence behind the tree, which his bow was leading them towards.

  I’ll take him on the left, Karl thought through the link.

  I’ll take the right, Kara replied.

  They moved in sync, circling the tree. Ratatoskr, eager to help, hurled an acorn toward the spot. It never hit the ground—it split cleanly in two, sliced by something unseen.

  Definitely a Hodr-blessed, Karl thought.

  One… two… three!

  They lunged. Kara’s sword swung behind the tree while Karl loosed his arrow straight toward the beating heart. But when they hit, there was nothing. Karl’s arrow pierced through the trunk while Kara’s sword carved only wood.

  Not even the heartbeat remained.

  Kara looked at Karl, alarmed. Then they turned to Mýra—who was clutching her side. The sharp scent of iron reached Karl’s nose just as Mýra screamed, blood seeping through her ribs. She slashed wildly with her knife, striking only air.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” the invisible shadow said.

  Nils.

  “Hopefully you won’t be needing your lovely friend here.”

  Mýra grunted, twisting to stab toward the sound of his voice, but she was too slow. Nils struck again, freezing her completely solid in ice.

  “Mýra!” Karl shouted, loosing an arrow toward the same direction—but it missed.

  “She’s not dead,” Kara said, standing her ground as both their heartbeats thundered in the snowstorm.

  A moment later, the ice surrounding Mýra shattered. She fell to the ground, bleeding from both sides of her ribs.

  “I don’t like this,” Ratatoskr muttered, clutching an acorn and scanning the trees.

  “Where did I go?” Nils whispered, his voice shifting from one spot to another. He wasn’t just blending with the shadows—he was moving through them, as if they were liquid. Karl had heard rumors of what could be done with advanced blessings from Hodr. Shadow movement was an advantage, but holy fire would have been more effective against it. If Karl used it, though, they would expose themselves.

  “Where did I go?” Nils repeated, snickering.

  Karl held his breath, arrow drawn, waiting for him to reveal himself. Kara steadied hers, ready to strike at the next sound.

  A low, snarling laugh erupted. Nils swept between them, slashing both across the stomach. Their advanced armor saved them, but the knife froze their armor in ice. Karl’s entire body locked up, encased in frost.

  Suddenly, Nils appeared before them—gaunt, pale, and smiling with wicked yellow teeth like some unhygienic vampire. He slashed across Karl’s face.

  Health: 95/140

  Moonlight Meter: 70/100

  The ice shattered a second later. Karl stumbled, clutching his bleeding face.

  “Ah, son of a—” he growled, blood spilling between his fingers. The wound wasn’t fatal, but it was deep enough to nearly blind him. “Really hate this guy,” Karl muttered.

  He quickly summoned and devoured a Bloodmead Glaze Roll.

  Item: Bloodmead Glaze Roll (Epic) — Restores +50 HP / +40 Stamina. Triggers “War-Frenzy” effect: +15% Damage, +10% Lifesteal for 30 seconds. Cooldown: 15 min.

  Revitalized, he moved beside Kara, their backs pressed together as they shielded Mýra, who weakly stood next to them.

  “Any ideas?” Mýra asked Kara.

  Kara looked to Karl instead. “Think so,” he whispered.

  Karl didn’t dare speak the plan aloud. Once the Pack Link recharged, he shared it silently. Kara nodded in agreement.

  “Peekaboo,” Nils said, giggling without attacking. “This is so much fun.”

  He tossed a snowball at Karl’s face, doing no damage—but it enraged him.

  “You know,” Nils said darkly, voice drifting above them now, “I always got a thrill watching Viktor pummel you.”

  Karl didn’t move.

  “I always thought he’d go a little further,” Nils continued. His voice shifted behind them, forcing Karl and Kara to pivot. “I guess that’s why I had to murder your cat when we were in elementary.”

  “What?” Karl said, nearly losing his grip on his bow.

  “Yeah,” Nils said, laughing. “That was me.”

  Karl couldn’t remember his family—but he remembered their little cat, Freya.

  “What did you do with Freya?” he asked, his voice trembling with fury.

  Moonlight Meter: 80/100

  “Oh, you know,” Nils hissed, his voice now close enough to strike, “I skinned it.”

  Moonlight Meter: 90/100.

  “Don’t,” Kara warned, sensing him about to lose control.

  “That’s twisted,” Ratatoskr said. “Did you at least eat it?”

  That stopped Nils cold. “What?” he said, confused.

  Karl activated his Urðr’s Vision.

  Time slowed. Through the halted snow, Karl pinpointed Nils’s exact position. Taking advantage of the Trickster’s distraction, Karl fired a Dual Shot, charged both arrows with his Glacial Arrow ability.

  When time resumed, both arrows shot forward and struck Nils’s invisible form. Two bursts of ice exploded in his chest.

  Nils screamed as his body froze solid—encased in a thick block of ice that hit the ground with a heavy thud. Though still cloaked, Karl could see exactly where he was. He nodded to Kara as he collapsed from the lack of Stamina.

  Kara raised her sword. Mýra acted on instinct, summoning vines that wrapped around the frozen body.

  The ice cracked. But before Nils could escape, Kara’s blade came down. The sword sliced clean through Nils’s chest as the vines held him still. His invisible form became visible—his pale, sunken face twisting in agony before his eyes went blank.

  Eliminate Nils Skymning (1/1)

  Glory (+20): 1,840

  “Oh, good,” the Trickster said with a sigh of relief as he jumped down beside Nils’s severed corpse. “I am absolutely starving.”

  Ratatoskr began digging into Karl’s former bully. Karl’s stomach turned. It was bad enough seeing the young man dead, but watching the squirrel eat him was worse. Karl threw up beside the body.

  “Can you not?” the Trickster said, his face smeared with blood as he took another generous bite.

  “You’re the most demented squirrel I’ve ever known,” Karl said, wiping bile from his lips.

  “Hey, at least you got some good loot,” the Trickster said, pulling a pouch from Nils’s waist and tossing it to Karl, while tossing what looked like crafting materials to Kara.

  Karl caught the bloodstained sack and looked inside. As horrified as he was by everything that had just happened, the squirrel was right. Again. Inside were three bottles of invisibility—each lasting about a minute—and an unusual amount of gold.

  “Why does he have five thousand gold?” Karl muttered. Then, after a moment’s thought, he nodded. “That actually makes sense.”

  He pocketed the gold and handed a potion to Kara and another to Mýra.

  Wealth (+5,000): 12,467 Gold

  “What do you mean?” Mýra asked, taking Nils’s knife from his limp hand.

  “Nils always stole from me,” Karl said. “Every time I had lunch money—which wasn’t often—he’d find a way to slip it into his pocket.”

  “Doesn’t sound so nice,” the Trickster said, burping.

  Karl caught the rancid smell with his heightened senses and nearly threw up again, but forced it down.

  “Well, at least that’s another bully we don’t have to worry about,” Kara said, gazing toward the village ahead.

  Karl nodded grimly. It was a major relief—but he knew it wouldn’t be as easy to take down the last two bullies, especially surrounded by Vikings. Still, with the invisibility potions, they might have a chance to lure one away and gang up on him.