Greenland, Present Day

The cave is still there, at the edge of everything. I wouldn't have been surprised if the lands had swallowed it again.

Not much surprises me anymore anyway.

I grab Mikk's hand upon entering the cave, not necessarily because I need it myself but rather because I suspect my companion will require something to hold on to when he sees what dwells in these depths. He clasps my fingers tightly, displaying a nervousness I haven't observed in him before. Perhaps it's starting to dawn on him what it will entail if what I've told him is true: that magical forces are real and exist all around us.

Or perhaps he's contemplating what it means if I'm mistaken because then we're trapped in a cave with a formidable predator that can take us both out in mere seconds.

I hope to whatever god rules these lands--Oden perhaps, or some kind of vengeful sea serpent?--that I'm right.

The rocky dwellings appear even darker than yesterday. A damp smell of moss welcomes us into the black depths. And a voice from another time greets us.

"You're not alone," echoes between the walls. It's not a question, but a statement.

"I'm not alone," I reply, not allowing Björn to negotiate Mikk's presence. "He'll come with me, or I'll leave."

A hollow laughter rattles damp walls. "Come then," Björn replies. "Both of you."

Mikk gives me a questioning look. "You understand what he's saying?" he asks. "I mean, it sounds a bit similar to Danish and Swedish, but I can't make out the words."

That's when I realize the language spoken to me is neither my mother tongue nor English. My guess is that it's a version of Old Norse, which isn't a tongue I master, but yet my brain must know it by some kind of psychic connection.

"I do," I reply. "Not sure how, but I do. He told us both to come closer."

Mikk accepts my explanation without question. If he were to question me, he probably would have done so way before he ended up in this cave beside me, getting ready to face the past.

Together we tread through the darkness, toward the impossible man. As I stumble on the uneven surface, Mikk pulls out a flashlight from his pocket to illuminate our path. Moss makes the walls dance in neon green as the light flickers over them.

The beam lands on Björn, who is slumped down on the floor with a bear skin draped across his shoulders. Mikk gasps.

"He's real," Mikk mumbles. "He's actually real. I mean I believed you, but to actually see him... that's something else."

I squeeze his hand harder. "He's real," I confirm, more to myself than to Mikk. Because through his eyes my own truth is confirmed. Björn is real.

The ancient Viking looks so ordinary but yet so strange. He's an ordinary man but his eyes betray knowledge no man should have: bitterness from living through centuries of heartache and hunger from walking most of those years in the skin of a wild beast. His body still has the shell of a young man: broad shoulders, lean muscles, and a full head of hair, but his gaze betrays his age.

Unless others have been preserved by similar magic, he's older than any other human on this planet. He's older than the printing press, indoor plumbing, and Columbus' discovery of America.

"Be careful or I might turn vicious again," Björn notes, a dry bite to his tone. "That weird torch shines brighter than the damn sun. I can't control my impulses once the bear takes over."

"Can you fade the light?" I whisper to Mikk. "He's worried it will turn him into a bear since his curse is controlled by the sunlight."

After some fiddling with the buttons on the device, the glowing beam turns into a muted sheen. Mikk is probably as concerned about the prospect to stand face-to-face with a bear in an enclosed space as me. Perhaps even more, as he's knowledgeable about the damage the apex predator of these shores can cause.

Guided by sparse light, we finish the trek over spiky rocks and ice-cold puddles and crouch down beside the man forgotten by time. Mikk looks at Björn in awe, or fear, as he places the flashlight on the ground between us, to allow us all to see each other as we speak.

Björn reaches his hand toward Mikk, uniting two men across time. "Here," he says. "You'll need this."

I see a familiar white object transfer into Mikk's grip: the beartooth that started it all. Mikk looks at Björn in confusion. "Thank you," he says. "I... can understand your words now."

"The tooth connects us so our tongues sing the same song," Björn confirms. "Saga doesn't need it. Our songs are already in tune."

I don't quite understand how or why, but I'm not sure it matters. It's probably better to embrace this new warped reality and its endless possibilities. Whatever I thought was the limit of possibility a few days ago has now vastly expanded its scope. It's tantalizing but also frightening. Since I no longer know where the border is, I float through space untethered.

Mikk's hand squeezes mine, reigning me in from my journey toward planets unknown. I'm not untethered, because I have him.

"I got something for you as well, Saga," Björns says. He gestures to me to open my hand. "I forgot to give you this yesterday. But I believe this is yours."

A circular object lands in my palm. The weight of it is familiar. And even though the luster has faded into dark shadows, I recognize the ring. My fingers trace the names engraved on the inside: Saga and Stefan.

"You found this in the water after I found the tooth?" I ask, confused about how the symbol of my broken engagement has ended up in his possession.

A hint of a smile flies over Björns face, making him look almost sinister in the glow of the flashlight. "No," he says. "I didn't find it at all. Gudrun did, many lifetimes ago. She gave it to me before she left. She told me to find you. I've been waiting ever since."

I remember seeing Gudrun find my ring in my dreams. It's just hard for my brain to comprehend that such an event of crossing timelines can be real. But the rest of the story remains to be told. I don't know how my ring ended up in Björn's hands.

"Gudrun left?" I ask, trying to prod him to fill in the gaps. Because I need to know what happened to be able to save him. "Where did she go?"

"Vinland," Björn replies but says nothing more in the matter. Even after all these years--or perhaps because of them--speaking of Gudrun seems to hurt. Instead, he turns toward Mikk.

"You're a skräling?" he asks, using the name the Vikings called the people better equipped to live on these frozen shores.

"I'm Inuit," Mikk replies proudly.

A glint of recognition flashes over Björn's face. For a moment, he looks younger, like the age of the features he wears. A man barely more than twenty, who still harbors hope for his future. "That's what she called your people as well," he mumbles.

"Who?" Mikk asks.

"Aakku," Björn replies, his gaze fastened on the cave wall. But he must see something else in the darkness than damp stone. "My brother's love. She's gone now, and so is Ivar. I saw them live and die. But at least they were happy. Most of us weren't as lucky."

"What happened to Ivar?" I ask, hoping that perhaps Björn will be more willing to talk about his brother than Gudrun.

Björn's gaze turns from me to Mikk, squinting as if he tries to read a saga on the other man's face. "He's still here," Björn says, lost in a dream that was once real. "Everyone else left. Gudrun. Our daughter. But Ivar stayed. I protected him. I protected his children."

As if hit by a sudden epiphany, Björn's expression softens. The fire in his eyes melts away. Jerking forward, he reaches his hand toward Mikk and gently grabs his shoulder. "I protected you," he whispers.

Author's Note: And here we go again! Full speed ahead toward new twists and turns.

The next chapter will be a Björn chapter, as he tells Saga and Mikk the rest of the story (starting with Ivar's part in it all).

I may take a bit longer to write these chapters, as we approach the messy middle and there are a lot of plates to juggle. Hopefully, I won't drop any of them...