The forest temple glowed with an otherworldly light. The druids had fallen silent, their chants replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of wolves. A warm wind swept through the clearing, scattering snow and carrying with it the faint scent of blooming wildflowers. It was a warmth that did not belong in the heart of winter, yet it was unmistakable: Freya had answered the elder druid's plea.
Ailsa clutched her newborn son tightly, her heart hammering in her chest. Eldric stirred in her arms, his piercing blue eyes reflecting the golden hues of the flickering fire. Around her, the druids remained kneeling, their heads bowed, as the ethereal presence of the goddess filled the air.
From the shadows at the edge of the clearing, a golden stag emerged. Its coat shimmered as though woven from sunlight, and its antlers bore intricate runes that pulsed with faint light. The druids gasped, recognizing the sacred form of Freya's messenger. The stag stepped gracefully into the circle, each step light as though it trod on air. Its luminous eyes locked onto Ailsa and the child she held.
The stag paused before Ailsa, and as it bowed its head, its form began to shift. Light enveloped the animal, growing brighter until it was impossible to look directly at it. When the light dimmed, a woman stood in the stag's place. Her form was radiant and otherworldly, her golden hair cascading over a gown that seemed to be woven from petals and leaves. Freya's presence was unmistakable.
The goddess spoke, her voice soft yet resonating with immense power. "You have called, and I have come. The child is known to me."
Ailsa struggled to speak, her voice trembling. "Great Mother, I... I thank you for your presence. I beg you to guide him. He is but a child, yet destined for burdens no mortal should bear."
Freya stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Eldric. The child's cries quieted, his tiny hand reaching toward the goddess as though drawn by her warmth. A faint smile touched Freya's lips.
"He is more than mortal, Ailsa," Freya said, her tone carrying a depth of meaning that sent shivers through the gathered druids. "His blood carries the strength of the wilds, his spirit the balance of two paths. He will endure trials and sorrows, yet from them, he shall rise."
Freya raised a hand, and the air around her seemed to hum with energy. She placed her palm gently on Eldric's back, and a golden light erupted from the contact. The druids gasped as intricate runes began to etch themselves across the child's skin, forming the image of a sapling. Its delicate lines glowed briefly before settling into a deep, dark green. The sapling seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive.
"This mark is my blessing," Freya said, stepping back. "It will grow as he grows, a symbol of his bond with the untamed and the trials he must overcome. When the time comes, it will guide him."
The goddess turned her gaze to the elder druid, her expression softening. "You have done well to protect this sacred moment. Teach him wisdom, for strength without wisdom is a storm without purpose."
The elder druid bowed deeply. "It shall be as you command, Great Mother."
Freya's form began to dissolve, golden light scattering like embers on the wind. Her final words lingered in the air, soft but unmistakable: "Shine, my son."
The druids remained frozen in reverence, their breaths shallow as the warmth of Freya's presence faded. The fire crackled once more, its mundane light and heat grounding them back in the present.
Ailsa held Eldric close, her tears falling freely. The child was silent, his eyes wide and alert, the sapling tattoo on his back a quiet reminder of the weight he would carry.
The sacred forest was quiet as dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight casting long shadows through the ancient trees. The snow glittered like scattered diamonds, the world seemingly untouched by the events of the night before. Ailsa sat outside the temple, cradling Eldric in her arms. The child slept soundly, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The elder druid approached, their expression weary but filled with purpose. "Ailsa," they said softly, lowering themselves to sit beside her. "You must understand what has happened here. Freya's blessing is a rare and powerful thing, but it comes at a cost."
Ailsa nodded, her gaze never leaving her son. "I know. The prophecy… his life will not be easy."
"No, it will not," the elder agreed. "But he is not alone. The wilds will protect him, as will we. Yet there will come a time when his path will take him far from us."
Ailsa's grip tightened on Eldric. "Then I will prepare him. Whatever it takes, I will ensure he is ready."
The elder placed a hand on her shoulder, their voice filled with quiet resolve. "That is all we can do. Trust in the balance, and trust in him."
Ailsa looked to the horizon, where the sun rose over the snow-laden trees. For the first time since the prophecy was spoken, a faint sense of hope stirred within her.