*Silence.**
Sigrid sat curled in the corner of the dark basement, her fragile body trembling as she hugged her knees tightly to her chest. The world outside was a distant nightmare, but the images refused to leave her mind. Her mother's screams, the metallic clash of weapons, and the haunting howls of the beasts echoed endlessly in her thoughts. Every sound felt too real, as if they could burst through the wooden floorboards at any moment.
Thin streams of smoke seeped through the cracks above, carrying the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh. It clawed at her throat, each breath a sharp pain as though she were inhaling needles. Her small fingers gripped the tattered doll in her lap—a gift from her father just a month ago. Its stitching had begun to unravel, one arm barely hanging on. But she refused to let it go. It was the only thing left of the world she had known before the monsters came.
Sigrid buried her face into the doll's worn fabric, her tears soaking into its faded colors. Her mother's words rang in her ears, a command she couldn't ignore. *"Stay hidden, my love. No matter what happens, don't come out until it's safe."*
But how could she stay hidden when everything inside her screamed for answers? Her stomach growled in protest; the meager bread her mother had left was long gone, and the water jug was nearly empty. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
"Mom…" she whispered, clutching the doll tighter. It wasn't a call—it was a prayer. But only silence answered her.
---
The dim glow of a flickering lantern cast shifting shadows on the cold stone walls, their erratic movements feeding her growing unease. Every creak of the wooden beams above, every faint howl carried on the wind, sent her heart racing. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block it all out, but her fear was relentless.
Time became meaningless in the suffocating darkness. Minutes blurred into hours, hours into an eternity. She couldn't tell if it was day or night anymore. The oppressive stillness pressed down on her, filling her with a suffocating dread.
Her thoughts turned to fleeting moments of happiness. Her father's booming laughter as he spun her in the air. Her mother's soft singing as she braided her hair. The smell of fresh bread baking in their small kitchen. *All gone,* she thought bitterly. *All taken from me.*
The question that had gnawed at her since the trapdoor closed came again, louder this time: *What if they're not coming back?*
"I can't stay here," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. The thought of disobeying her mother's last words terrified her, but so did the possibility of being trapped forever in this silent tomb. "I have to know…"
---
Her hands shook as she reached for the wooden trapdoor above her. She hesitated, her breath hitching as she remembered her mother's face—stern yet loving, her voice firm as she told Sigrid to stay hidden. But what if her mother was waiting for her? What if her father was hurt and needed her help? The thought gave her just enough courage to press on.
The wood was rough under her small hands as she pushed the door open, wincing at the creak it made. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting, carrying the scent of smoke and something else—something metallic and sickly that made her stomach turn.
Sigrid poked her head out cautiously, her wide blue eyes darting around. The world above was unrecognizable. The once-vibrant town of Vardhall was now a smoldering wasteland. Blackened ruins stood where homes once were, their skeletal remains reaching toward the sky like mournful hands. Ash fell like snow, swirling in the wind, and the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of people she once knew.
Her breath caught in her throat as she climbed out, her bare feet pressing into the blood-soaked dirt. "Papa…? Mama…?" she called softly, her voice breaking. No one answered.
---
**The Nightmare Unfolds**
She stumbled forward, her legs trembling beneath her. The doll slipped from her grasp, forgotten as her eyes scanned the ruins frantically. Familiar faces stared back at her—neighbors who had smiled at her just days ago, now frozen in death. Their eyes, once full of life, were now wide and empty, staring into the void.
And then she saw him.
Her father.
He lay motionless, sprawled on the ground, his strong frame broken. His chest was torn open, the blood staining his shirt long since dried.
"Papa…?" Sigrid's voice was barely audible. She ran to him, falling to her knees beside his body. "Papa, it's me… It's Sigrid… Wake up, please…"
Her trembling hands reached for his face, her touch desperate and gentle. His skin was cold, far colder than it should have been. She shook him weakly, her tears falling freely. "You promised…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "You promised we'd leave together…"
The weight of reality crushed her, and she collapsed against him, clutching his torn shirt. "Don't leave me, Papa… I'm scared… I don't know what to do…"
Her cries echoed through the ruins, raw and filled with anguish. The world around her blurred as her tears mixed with the rain that had begun to fall. Droplets pattered against the ash-covered ground, washing away the blood but not the pain.
---
Exhaustion claimed her, and for a moment, she lay still, the rain soaking her hair and dress. But amidst the overwhelming grief, something stirred within her. It was small at first—a faint ember buried deep in her chest. But as she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until they bled, that ember grew into a flame.
Her tear-streaked face twisted, her sorrow transforming into something else. Anger. Hatred. Resolve.
Her small frame trembled, not from fear but from the intensity of the fire now burning within her. Slowly, she stood, her fists clenched at her sides. The doll lay forgotten in the mud as she turned her gaze to the smoke-filled sky.
"I HATE YOU!" she screamed, her voice raw and filled with fury. It tore through the silence, louder than the howls of the beasts that had destroyed her world. "I HATE YOU ALL! I WILL KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I WILL KILL YOU ALL!"
The wind carried her words into the desolate night, a defiant cry that refused to be silenced. The low howl of a werewolf echoed faintly in the distance, mocking her. But Sigrid no longer felt fear. That part of her had died with her parents.
"I will find you," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage and determination. "And I will make you pay."
---
The rain poured harder, washing away the remnants of Vardhall. Amidst the ruins stood a lone survivor—a girl with wounds too deep to heal, both in body and soul. Sigrid Valkyrie, the daughter of shattered valor, made a vow under the smoke-filled sky.
One day, Fenrir's blood would stain her hands.
And so, the spark of human resistance was reignited in a broken world consumed by darkness.