After leaving Cyeollaria through the woods, the group came to a halt, trying to catch their breath.

     Athanasia found herself sitting on a fallen log a little ways away from the rest of the group.

     "What were those things?" Aculia asked, taking heavy breaths.

     "Demons," Agnar quickly told her. "They wanted Heimir and his forces gone and-" He stopped.

      "They wanted me," Athanasia spoke up, slightly fidgeting with the wyvern pendant around her neck.

      "My dear lady, may I ask, why do they want you?" Cadwal questioned.

      Athanasia lied. "I'm not quite sure of that yet."

     Rustling came from the bushes.

     Derbáil's eyes grew wide and Hrafnúlfr stiffened.

      "Hey! Who's out there?" Agnar shouted, drawing his sword.

       Noaah shamefully stepped out from the bushes with Altaïr and a couple of others behind him. "It's us," he confessed.

    Derbáil breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods! I thought you were those awful demons!"

      "Nope. No demons here," Altaïr began to say. "No reason to be frightened."

      "Why are you so frightened, bjor?" Aðalbjörk asked, as her six-year-old trembled in the corner.

     "The thunder," young Athanasia confessed.

     "It's just a storm, my darling," Aðalbjörk said, taking a seat by Athanasia. She draped an arm around the child, pulling her closer. "The earth needs water… that's why it rains. The thunder and lightning just makes sure nobody tries to take the earth's water. There's no reason to be frightened."

     "You promise?" Athanasia sniffled.

     Aðalbjörk smiled. "I solemnly promise."

    Another crackle of thunder pierced the sky–this time it was closer.

     Athanasia yelped.

     "Ásgeirr…" Aðalbjörk began to call.

     "I'm not scared of it anymore," Athanasia told her mother. "It's just too loud. It hurts my head. It makes me dizzy… just like the Great Hall is during gatherings."

      "Try to focus on one thing at a time," Aðalbjörk urged. "Focus on the sound of my voice and only my voice. Your mind should tune out the rest."

      Athanasia nodded, closing her eyes.

     Aðalbjörk wiped the tears off Athanasia's face with her dress sleeve before softly singing a lullaby in old Norse.

      "Unless you wanna count sirens and vampires as demons," Noaah interjected.

      "Or elves," one of the girls said.

      Noaah carefully tried to push Agnar's sword. "Yep. No reason to have the sword right to my chest."

      Agnar sighed and re-sheathed his blade. "Alright, now that we know you aren't demons, that doesn't make us safe. We really should all make sure they don't find us," Agnar stated.

       Noaah nodded. "Agreed. I was in lower Cyeollaria when they attacked. They're no joke. We should really focus on getting out of here."    

    Athanasia peered out of the room, her mother's footsteps echoing through the hall. Her nine-year-old mind wouldn't be satisfied with thinking Aðalbjörk was just checking on the guards–she took a deep breath before slipping on her boots and her fur coat before running in the direction her mother went in.

    Athanasia rushed down the staircase to the courtyard, hoping she'd be able to catch up to her mother in enough time. "Móðir?" The child called out to her mother.

     Aðalbjörk turned to face the child. "Ásgeirr. What are you doing up? It's late."

    Sounds of horses' hooves clapping against the ground filled the air as a man with long blonde hair approached, heavily armored on a horse as black as night. Around the man, fully armored soldiers rode in beside him.

     Aðalbjörk moved closer to the child, ushering her behind her before turning in the direction of the horses. "Stay behind me, okay, bjor?"

    Athanasia nodded, peering out from behind Aðalbjörk's leg.

    "Aðalbjörk…" the blonde man said, smirking and dismounting his horse. "As radiant as ever."

    "What do you want, Ilrok?" Aðalbjörk questioned, straight-faced.

   "I see that the child is with you," Ilrok began to comment, unamused. "Come out, boy so I might fully gaze upon you."

   When Athanasia did nothing other than stand still, Ilrok angrily huffed. "Alright. I've finished with playing nice." He whistled to his soldiers who had dismounted their horses already. "Bring the Queen to me."

    One of his guards nodded in response and approached Aðalbjörk. He grabbed her and started yanking her over to Ilrok.

    "Let go of me!" She protested.

    Once Aðalbjörk had been brought to Ilrok, he laughed a little before reaching for Aðalbjörk's pendant–it was a wyvern wrapped around an amethyst. He yanked it off her neck and chucked it.

     Athanasia lurched forward, knowing the necklace meant a lot to her mother. She picked it up and started forward, slipping the necklace into her pocket.

    "Restrain the boy," Ilrok commanded.
    A guard approached Athanasia, doing as he was told.

    "Don't you dare-" Aðalbjörk breathed.

    Ilrok snickered a little. "Don't worry, my dear. They won't hurt your precious little one." He moved his hand toward Aðalbjörk's head, but she inched away. He aggressively yanked her head back toward him and then began to stroke the side of her face. Ilrok's eyes grew a bright red–his eyes were like fires. "You really thought you could hide from me, Aðalbjörk? After everything we've been through?"

     Athanasia struggled and strained, trying to force herself out of the guard's grasp. Finally, she broke free and charged at Ilrok.

     Ilrok swung his sword a couple of times, hacking an x-shaped wound over Athanasia's right eye.

    Athanasia fell to the ground, surprised. She rose to her feet very quickly.

     Ilrok swung again, cutting a large wound from the child's hip up across the chest.

    Athanasia fell backwards.

    Everytime the child rose, Ilrok gave her a new stab wound–Aðalbjörk screamed each time.

    "No!" Aðalbjörk shouted, distressed. "Enough! Enough! I'll go with you! Just please, don't lay another finger on my baby!"

    "Fine." Ilrok yanked Aðalbjörk toward the horse, as Athanasia slowly rose to her feet once again.

    "You promised me you wouldn't hurt him," Aðalbjörk hissed.

     Ilrok laughed. "No, my dear. I said they, as in my guards, wouldn't hurt him–I didn't say I wouldn't; just like they won't hurt you… But I will." Ilrok swung his blade upward, slicing Aðalbjörk's neck. Then he thrust his sword forward right into Aðalbjörk's stomach.

      She gasped for air, holding her hand to her neck, hoping to stop the bleeding. She collapsed forward into Ilrok, who promptly slung her over his horse.

    Athanasia screamed, "Móðir!" Before running toward the horse.

    "Kill him!" Ilrok commanded his soldiers.

    Ilrok's men didn't even hesitate a single moment before running full force at Athanasia.

    The child let out a deafening scream, forcing the men backward, and sending flames outward. The small flames danced around her in a circle.

   Ilrok looked like he had seen a ghost.

   Athanasia fell backward, barely holding onto consciousness.

    Heimir approached the horses after exiting the palace and entering the courtyard. "The boy isn't for sale," the viking king said before Ilrok could even utter a word. "Now get out of here before things get ugly for you."

    Ilrok sighed, giving his men a look—who were recovering from the blast—signaling them to fall back in rank. Then, he and his men rode off, leaving a trail of small flames—Aðalbjörk's body draped across the dark horse.

     Heimir stepped over the circle of fire, picking up Athanasia–right then is when she fell unconscious.

    Athanasia closed her eyes, holding the pendant near her forehead. One lone tear rolled down her face. Finally, she opened her eyes again.

     "Okay, after we get out of here, where do we go?" Aculia inquired.

    Athanasia stood back up. "I may have an idea or two."

     "Alright," Altaïr began. "We have a ship on the shore. We'll all head to it."

      "Wait," Derbáil began.

      "What?" Agnar responded.

      "How do we know that we can trust them? It could be a trap," Derbáil said.

       "Maybe." Athanasia moved closer to the group. "But that's just a risk we're going to have to take."

      "At least make them tell us who they are," Derbáil insisted.

       Agnar sighed. "Do as the Princess says."

      "I'm Noaah Iomharsson, that's Altaïr Siraj," Noaah began to say. He gestured to the tall man with dark hair. "This is Cedozar Slavogost." He gestured to the man and woman who looked somewhat like himself, but slightly older–probably somewhere in their twenties. "These are my brother and sister, Wanda and Arii Wyrzykowski." He took a breath. He pointed to the Hun. "That's Jayaatu Buqu." He tilted his head toward the Korean elf. "That's Hyun Eonjeok." Lastly, he gestured to the girl in a black cloak who looked vaguely familiar to Athanasia. "This is Adruidialla Ausonius."

     Adruidialla began to say something in Athanasia assumed to be Latin.

     "They don't know Latin," Altaïr told Adruidialla.

       She sighed. "Just Druid is fine."

       Eonjeok then said, "If we're gonna trust you guys, we need your names too."

      "Fair enough," Agnar began. "I'm Agnar Geirsson."

      "He's a witch!" Hrafnúlfr blurted out.

       Agnar rolled his eyes."That loud-mouthed child is Hrafnúlfr."

       "I'm Cadwal Acfrid." He gestured to the Princesses. "And these are the Ciar sisters, Derbáil and Aculia."

      Eonjeok's gaze fell upon Athanasia. "And what about you, tall, dark, and brooding?"

      Athanasia took a deep breath. "Call me Athanasia Nyqvist."