She was his anchor, his beacon of light in the darkness, his guiding star in the vast expanse of uncertainty.
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Ragnar stood at the edge of the river, its tranquil waters flowing gently beneath the rays of the setting sun.
The Sleeping Run, as it was known, held a sacred place in the hearts of the people of Cescil. It was here that they bid farewell to their loved ones, sending them off into eternity.
As Ragnar gazed upon the river, memories flooded his mind. He remembered the solemn procession of mourners, the sound of weeping mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the shore.
It was a place of sorrow, but also of reverence, a final resting place for those who had passed on.
One memory in particular stood out to Ragnar.
