Chapter 5, Phase 4 - Storybook

Response To: 'Chasing Shadows'

The rays of early morning sunshine rolled over Haldor’s Pass in layers of scattered gold.They spilled out and across the rolling hills, washing over the blanket of snow beneath your paws in various shades of apricot and lavender. Light dappled delicately against the forest floor, laced against every pine needle and stone alike. With your nose pressed firmly to the ground, you searched for Freyja’s scent where the dying campfire laid barren now. It was faint, meaning she had left some time ago, but it was still there, muddled in with the scent of ash and winter, trailing just north of where the two of you had set up camp. You had only just made out the shapes of her pawprints in the snow when voices cut through Haldor’s morning hush.

The voices were not peaceful, not in the slightest. Tension weighed heavy in the air as if to be a storm that hadn’t decided whether to break or roar on more violently. It was Bjorn and Ylva. At first you were confused, how could she be here? Even still you held back cautiously in the underbrush, listening to the conversation they exchanged.

“He’s not himself,” Ylva insisted, “Bjorn, listen to me. He is our brother.”

“This is foolish,” Bjorn snapped back. “We’re finished making excuses for him. What you are seeing is Ulfr as Ulfr, raw and unfiltered.”

Ylva’s ears pinned back tightly against her skull, uncertainty flashing across her expression, “You know that’s not true. It’s dark magic. Hel said so. We can trust her.”

When Ylva spoke Hel’s name, Bjorn’s hackles lifted like he’d been struck by lightning. “Hel,” he growled. “You’re surrounded by corruption. If you remain in this cycle, it will corrupt even you.”

Ylva flinched as if the words Bjorn had spoken had teeth, as though they reached out and snapped at her. “You’ve forgotten the way of forgiveness, Bjorn,” she said, voice trembling now with hurt, “And it will leave you cold. Cold and alone.” She regretted them the moment they left her muzzle, but she couldn’t take them back.

Bjorn didn’t answer. He only stared at her like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, then he turned and vanished into the trees. Frustration in every stride as Ylva took a few pawsteps towards him nervously reaching. You stepped out from the underbrush now as Ylva snapped back to reality. She wiped her face quickly, trying to pretend she hadn’t been crying, but her eyes gave her away when she noticed you. Clearly deprived of rest and pained by something.

“Judgment,” she whispered, hurt, “They all wish to cast judgment.”

Ylva drifted to the cliff’s edge now and stared out towards Skalaness, the hills rolling away beneath the morning light as it attempted to wash away Ylva’s sorrow. “They speak of forgiveness like it belongs to everyone… until it doesn’t suit the verdict they’ve already chosen. Then it’s animosity instead.” She could feel her throat tense up, choking back even more tears, “Have they not learned death is not the way? Have they not learned from the moment that tore us all-”

“Stop whining, girl.” Another voice, somewhat unfamiliar, sliced through the treeline now. Skorgrim stepped from the shadows, gaze hard as stone. He sized you up with open disrespect as he passed, before fixating on Ylva. “As if you know what it means to struggle. As if you know no love, no compassion, no kindness.”

“You cast judgment and weigh assumption on what you know not,” Ylva shot back without hesitation, pride washed over her as she lifted her head higher now to make it clear she wasn’t scared of the creature standing before.

Skorgrim’s lip curled up in agitation. He surged forward, words spitting as he closed the gap between them rather quickly. “Says the bitch in Fenrir’s Shadow.” 

Instinctively you released a low growl, allowing it to rise deep from within your chest. Skorgrim’s gaze snapped to you, clearly unimpressed before responding to Ylva, “Not allfel walk the righteous path you walk,” he muttered, clearly angered by you both, “Some of us were born of hatred. Meant to kill.” Ylva’s expression flicked to confusion, then dread. 

“Your precious Ulfr will do just that,” Skorgrim continued now, “He will be the sheep Oracle needs. Seeing as I failed him.”

Skorgrim turned now and brushed past you, the two of you paused shoulder to shoulder for a moment as he whispered words he could only hope would start a fight, “All bark, no bite.” You looked to Ylva as Skorgrim continued on and took his leave, disappearing into the forest once more. Neither you nor Ylva understood who Skorgrim was, not yet. But when you told Ylva about the tome, about the purple vortex and Ulfr’s eyes when he lunged at you, her posture changed. She appeared panicked as she digested every word. Together, the two of you turned north, following Freyja’s trail deeper into Haldor’s Pass. Ylva said very little on the way, lost in her thoughts, and all you could do was stay beside her, even as you heard her sniffle from time to time.

The peace you two shared upon the blanket of white was very quickly disrupted again. A commotion rose through the trees, the two of you breaking into a trot to see what was happening ahead. Through the branches you caught sight of Ulfr and Fenrir, face to face, their posture rigid and laced with fury. Ulfr’s voice was a mess of nonsense and broken words, words nofel could fully make out. Fenrir’s voice, however, was crystal clear.

“You are no son of mine.”

What followed was an eruption. Fur flying as they slammed into the forest floor, sending earth and snow alike flinging in every direction surrounding them. Ylva screamed at them to stop, pleading, trying to wedge herself between them, but they crashed into her in a blind fury without regard. Fenrir twisted towards her, alarmed, and in that moment Ulfr scrambled to all fours and sprang upwards, sinking teeth deep into the Great Father’s neck. Fenrir roared. He bucked and spun, finally breaking free of Ulfr’s bite and sending him off into the distance with brute force. Ulfr hit the ground so hard he yowled. He scrambled to all fours and bolted straight through you, knocking into your shoulder and nearly sending you both over as he disappeared into the trees.

Fenrir’s howl quickly became something far uglier and unnatural. Black blood poured from the bite, staining his fur even darker somehow. Ylva rushed to his side, she was frantic, and when she looked up at you she didn’t need to speak words aloud for you to understand what she was asking of you. You spun immediately and made chase after Ulfr. You found him near a cliffside, heaving, a dark shroud pressing close around him as it threatened to consume him whole. He didn’t look as though he could be talked down. There was something in his eyes that wasn’t just rage. It was hurt, sharpened into something so far beyond repair. You barely had time to decide what to do before Ulfr turned and lunged at you. You prepared for impact but it never came.

Instead Bjorn intercepted. The two slammed together like brick walls as they slid over the cliffside and tumbled down in a tangle of claws and snarls. Your heart stopped for a moment as you raced to the edge of the drop, scanning left and right as you tried to track them as they scrambled downwards. A flicker of light in the treeline to your right caught your attention. A figure weaving between the trunks, and very quickly you could digest it was Hel. Impossible. You left her in Miðhafsey.

She sprinted towards you at full speed, gaze locked on yours as she thundered forward. Then she leapt without hesitation over the cliff, scaling down like she knew every crease. You stood frozen still at the edge, watching her drop to where Ulfr and Bjorn were scrapping. Hel whispered something under her breath, chest lifting and collapsing violently. In the middle of Ulfr’s next lunge, his body seized, then collapsed against the mountainside as if the strings to whatever controlled him had been severed. Limp. Breathing, but barely alive.

Bjorn stood over him, panting, eyes burning down on him like a blade forged in flames. One strike could end it all. One choice and it was his to make. Hel leapt between them, causing Bjorn to take a step backward in confusion. She shook her head left and right slowly. A warning, as if to draw a line in the snow that she dared him not to cross. 

Bjorn’s disgust was immediate. “Birds of a feather,” he muttered. Casting judgment upon both her and Ulfr alike. Hel bared her teeth. This made Bjorn take one step closer to her, causing Hel to snap at the air in his direction, desperation laced with dread, “Don’t make me do it... Please.” Bjorn allowed his eyes to explore Hel from top to bottom, but a cry carried down from above snapped the two of them back into focus. It was Ylva and her sorrow surged through the forest raw and terrified. Bjorn didn’t hesitate. He turned and climbed, driven solely by Ylva’s plea for help. Even as he fell he clambered back on all fours and scrambled upward desperately. Alongside it a gut-wrenching cry from Freyja made your stomach drop.

Hel stayed behind. She turned to Ulfr, still nearly lifeless and spoke again. This time her words were meant only for him, but spoken only after an enchantment that eased his breathing and softened the tremor in his limbs. With her muzzle placed gently beside Ulfr’s ear Hel whispered, “May we both find a path forged only by our future,” Hel glanced up at you now as she paused, “and one that sees us free of our past.”

Ulfr’s eyes opened weakly, unfocused but in an attempt to be present, and only then did he give into the relief Hel offered him. His eyes collapsed closed as he fell into a peaceful slumber. All he could think about was the warmth the sun offered him, free of the rot, free of the pain. Free of whatever sorrow weighed so heavily on him that he might lose his way willingly into the dark of death. Here he rested, for the first time since he could remember. Here a kindness was offered to him that he would never forget, a debt he would never fully repay.

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Be mindful this phase of Storybook concludes on 12/30/2025 | 11:59:59PM IST

🌌The Next Phase of Storybook is Live!🌌

Your search for Freyja leads you into the fading light of Haldor’s Pass. But instead of her, you stumble upon Ulfr… and what happens next makes for an interesting turn of events.

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Chapter 5, Phase 3 - Storybook

Response To: 'Where the Waters Dream'

You pushed free of the waters trembling, your lungs burning with the memory of nearly drowning not once but twice in the span of a single day. Miðhafsey’s waterfalls still roared loudly in your ears even long after you tumbled through the portal and back into the somewhat safety of Helvalla. You couldn’t help but to feel jaded. Hel’s secrets were deeper than you ever realized. And for the first time, you understood exactly where the floods had erupted from when Helvalla nearly sank to the bottom of Hongerige. The weight of that truth settled over you like a sodden fur-cloak.

But even all of that paled to the one thought that refused to settle on you… Nightfall was back. And nothing good had ever followed in her dangerous wake. 

With the Crescent Throne still empty and Sanctuary still rebuilding in Norn’s Weave, the islands were balanced on the edge of something unstable. Far too many portals were ripped open for you to give each one the weight it deserved to digest. The Yggdravixen had returned to Helvalla. The Brunrekka walked beside Felvargs and Hellhounds in Niflheim once more. And now? The Nattnkatt had been spotted on Helvalian soil. If one was seen, more would soon follow. Another species slipping into the fold. The seams between worlds meshing into one. 

And Hel… Hel was still trapped in Miðhafsey, fleeing Vessra and her band of ravenous Nattnkatt. You weren’t sure if you pitied her, feared for her, or resented her—but despite all of that you knew she was on her own now. Unless Ylva managed to find her. 

You shook the water from your coat and steadied your breath as best you could. Freyja’s words return to you then, as sharp as Ylva’s gaze as she demanded to know Hel’s location. She would find the tomes Fenrir had possession of and meet you in Norn’s Weave. It took the entire day for you to make your way back to the city, and as you trotted through its stone gates you couldn’t help but feel relief wash over you.

You made your way to Aurora’s hut—knowing full well she wouldn’t be there. When you entered you were met with a note resting atop a neat stack of tomes just inside the door. Freyja’s paw had penned the message to you personally.

'I tried to wait for you, and even had Uhma attempt to find you by means I dare not admit outloud.

I can’t stay here any longer. Here are the tomes.

I managed to get them all but one. Fenrir is suspicious as to where they’ve gone.

He is calling a meeting in 10 days time at the Shrine of Ragnarok to discover who betrayed him.

I believe the last tome to be in Haldor’s Pass, or so the whispers say.

Meet me there before it’s too late, and please hurry.'

Your chest tightened as you lowered the note in thought. Freyja had taken a great risk retrieving and bringing these tomes to Norn’s Weave for you. You took the night to rest, settling down in Aurora’s empty chambers where her scent still clung faintly to the many books and furs that lined her stone carved walls and shelves. It was a bittersweet comfort as you reflected. You could only hope Aurora was safe, wherever she was. She had taken the other tomes with her into Niflheim, and you had no clue how you were going to retrieve them just yet. But that was a problem for another day. A later you.

At the crack of dawn you boarded a ship bound for Ulfrheim. Crossing Hongerige would take a few days, and with only four remaining before Fenrir’s meeting, you wasted no time. The moment you docked at Hearth, you set off toward Haldor’s Pass. Freyja was waiting for you somewhere in those mountains. Fenrir was hunting for a traitor. Nightfall was somewhere in the fold. Hel was lost in Miðhafsey. Aurora was missing with half of the tomes in her satchel. And you? You could only keep moving forward as best you could. What you had planned to do when you found Freyja? Well.. only time would tell.

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