10/22/2024 - 11/18/2024 | 11:59:59PM IST
Sorrow's Burden
The air around the Shrine of Ragnarok was thick with the weight of ancient power. The towering stone structures, etched with runes older than most could comprehend, loomed above in quiet reverence. You tread carefully, your paws pressing lightly into the cold ground as you approached the heart of the sacred site. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the distant echoes of a time when the island of Ulfrheim had been ravaged by war and chaos. It was in this solemn place that you saw her—
Hel. Her presence was unmistakable, cloaked in shadows and power. She stood tall before one of the larger shrines, the runes on the stone glowing faintly as if in response to her very being. Her fur, dark as the deepest night, shimmered in the pale light of the sun filtering through the trees, and her eyes glowed with a depth of sorrow that few could bear to see.
For a moment, you hesitated. You had heard stories of Hel, her name was whispered in both reverence and fear, and yet, here she was, alone, paying her respects to the fallen. The weight of history hung in the air, and you felt it tug at your heart as you took a slow step forward, drawn to her in spite of yourself. Hel's gaze flickered to you, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she had sensed your presence long before you had arrived. There was no malice in her stare, only a deep, quiet sadness that made your chest tighten.
“Do you know why I come here?” she asked, her voice a soft, velvety echo of ages past.
“To remember,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the shrine before her.
“To honour those who were lost in the war, the ones who fell in battle and the ones who were left behind. So many were lost...” Her voice trailed off, and for a brief moment, you saw the flicker of pain cross her features—fleeting but sharp, like a knife slicing through the air.
“Even those who were close to me.”
Hel's presence seemed to radiate sorrow as she spoke, and though she kept her distance, you could feel the weight of her memories pressing in on you. You had always known that the war had taken a toll on all who lived through it, but hearing her speak of it—someone so ancient and powerful—brought a new level of gravity to the loss.
“I have lived countless years,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper now.
“But there are still some regrets that haunt me. Things I did that I cannot take back. Choices made... lives lost. Some of those lives were dear to me, and yet... I wronged them.”
You blinked, caught off guard by her admission. Hel, the unflinching, very powerful witch, admitting regret? It seemed unfathomable, yet here she was, standing in the shadow of the shrines, baring a piece of her soul. She didn’t elaborate on who she had wronged or how. That secret, it seemed, was hers to bear alone. But the pain in her voice was unmistakable.
“I have learned,” she continued, her eyes locking onto yours,
“that time is far more fleeting than you might think. Even for someone like me, who has watched the ages come and go. We think we have all the time in the world, that we can mend what’s broken when it suits us. But in the end, we find that the moments slip through our claws like grains of sand.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if the weight of her words was difficult even for her to bear.
“If there is one thing I have come to understand, it is this: seek out those you have wronged. Make amends before it is too late. Not for them... but for you. Once they are gone, no amount of power or remorse will bring them back. And the guilt... it will stay with you. Always.”
Her words struck deep, a sobering reminder of the impermanence of life, even in a world where magic and ancient forces ruled. You could feel her gaze boring into you, as if she was silently urging you to reflect on your own past, on the Fel you might have wronged, on the chances you had let slip by.
“Go,” she said at last, her voice soft yet commanding.
“Do not wait until the weight of regret crushes you. Make amends while you still can. The dead... they have already paid the price. Do not let the living bear that burden.” With that, she turned her gaze back to the shrine, her eyes distant once more as she lost herself in the memories of those she had wronged and the lives that had been lost. The air around her seemed to grow heavier, colder, as if the souls of the fallen were gathering at her side, their silent presence a testament to the weight she carried.
You stood there for a moment longer, the gravity of her words settling into your bones. Then, with a quiet nod, you turned away, leaving Hel to her silent vigil, the wind carrying her sorrowful whispers as you made your way back through the Shrine of Ragnarok. The weight of unfinished business pressed against your heart, and for the first time, you truly understood the importance of making things right... before it was too late.
Objective:
Depict or write your Felvarg seeking out somefel they have wronged and making amends, before time itself steals that option from you.
Reward:
1,000 Felcredits,
1x Long Lost Treasure,
1x Shrine,
50% chance for
1x Blessing of the High Queen.