Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Storm
The harsh winds of the North blew fiercely through the forests, carrying with them the bitter scent of salt and the sharp bite of winter. The sun hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows over the snow-covered village. The fires that crackled in the hearths of the wooden huts did little to fend off the cold, but they brought warmth to the souls of the villagers gathered around.
Leif Gunnarsson stood at the edge of the village, staring out toward the dark forest that loomed just beyond the village's borders. His broad shoulders were hunched against the chill, but his eyes remained locked on the distant trees as if they held the answers to questions he had yet to ask.
"Leif!" a voice called, breaking his concentration.
Leif turned to see his older brother, Bjorn Gunnarsson, approaching. Bjorn was tall and strong, his muscles honed through years of hard work as a warrior, his face weathered and scarred from battles long past. He was the first to have left the village to fight in distant lands, and Leif had always looked up to him.
"Bjorn," Leif replied, his voice flat and unreadable. "What brings you here?"
Bjorn walked up to his younger brother, his boots crunching in the snow with each step. He placed a firm hand on Leif's shoulder. "I came to see how you're holding up. It's been two years since Father died."
Leif winced at the mention of their father. Thorvald Gunnarsson had been the village's protector, a great warrior who had led countless raids and defended their lands against invaders. But all of that had ended one dark night when Sigvar, the warlord who had been terrorizing the northern territories, struck. The village had been razed, their father slain in battle, and Leif's life had been shattered.
"I'm fine," Leif muttered, brushing off his brother's hand. "I'm not the one who left. You went off to fight, and I stayed behind to bury Father."
Bjorn frowned. He knew the pain in Leif's voice wasn't just about their father's death; it was about the guilt Leif felt for not being able to protect their family when the time came.
"Leif, you know I couldn't stay. There's nothing for me here. We need to rebuild, and I couldn't do that stuck in this village."
Leif's eyes narrowed as his anger began to rise. "Rebuild? What's left to rebuild, Bjorn? Everything's gone. Father's dead, and the village is in ruins. There's nothing here anymore except memories."
Bjorn's expression softened as he sighed deeply. "I know. But it's not just about the village. We have our names, our legacy. And you, Leif, you're not like Father. You have the strength to do something more. It's time you learned that."
Leif turned away, his fists clenching at his sides. "What do you know about it, Bjorn? You've been gone for years. You don't understand the weight of what happened here."
Bjorn stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "I understand more than you think, Leif. But if you want to die in this broken village, that's your choice. But if you want to honor Father's memory, then stop hiding in your grief and take action. We can't change what's happened, but we can make sure Sigvar pays for what he did."
Leif's gaze turned cold, the fury in his eyes burning brighter than any fire. "Sigvar…" he spat the name, like it was poison on his tongue. "I will make him pay. He's a coward who hides behind his men and his gold. But I will find him, and I will kill him."
Bjorn's hand shot out, grabbing Leif by the wrist. "That's not how it works, Leif," he said, his voice low. "Sigvar is a monster, and you can't defeat him with rage alone. You'll need a plan, allies, and more strength than you've ever known. And I'm not going to let you go after him alone."
Leif's eyes flickered with a mix of pride and frustration. "I don't need you to protect me. I'm no child anymore. I'm going to kill Sigvar for Father, for this village, for all the lives he's taken."
Bjorn held his brother's gaze for a moment longer before releasing his grip. "Then we leave at dawn. But remember this, Leif—revenge has a price. It will change you. Make sure it's worth it."
---
The next morning, as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Leif and Bjorn set out, leaving the village behind. Their footsteps were the only sounds that broke the eerie silence of the snow-covered forest as they made their way south, toward the lands that Sigvar had claimed as his own.
The journey was long and grueling, but Leif's determination kept him moving forward. His thoughts were consumed by the promise of revenge, the image of Sigvar's cruel face burned into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the death of his father, his strength fading as Sigvar's sword cleaved through him. It was a vision he could not escape, a nightmare that drove him to the edge of madness.
As they neared the outskirts of Sigvar's territory, the landscape began to change. The forests gave way to barren hills, the wind now carrying a faint smell of smoke. It was as though the land itself had been scarred by the warlord's presence.
"We're getting close," Bjorn said, his voice low and cautious. "Stay sharp."
Leif nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His heart was pounding in his chest, but his focus was razor-sharp. He had no time for fear. He would find Sigvar, and when he did, he would make him pay.
Suddenly, a figure appeared on the horizon, silhouetted against the setting sun. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a cloak of wolf fur and carrying a massive battle-axe. His eyes gleamed with malice as he approached, his lips curling into a twisted grin.
"Well, well," the man said, his voice deep and mocking. "Look what we have here. Two little pups looking for trouble."
Bjorn's hand went to his axe, and Leif instinctively drew his sword. "Who are you?" Leif demanded.
The man chuckled darkly. "I'm one of Sigvar's men. And I'd say you've wandered into the wrong territory."
Leif's eyes flashed with fury. "Get out of my way, or I'll make you regret it."
The man laughed again, his axe raised high. "You think you're ready for me? Come then, show me what you've got."
With a roar, the man swung his axe down toward Leif, the blade cutting through the air with terrifying speed. Leif barely had time to react. He twisted to the side, just in time to avoid the deadly swing. The ground trembled as the axe struck the earth with a thunderous crash, sending snow flying in all directions.
Leif sprang forward, using the momentum of his dodge to drive his sword toward the man's exposed side. But the warrior was quick, spinning on his heel and raising his axe to block the strike. The two weapons clashed with a deafening sound, the force of the blow rattling Leif's arms.
"You're not bad," the man sneered, pushing Leif back with a powerful shove. "But you're still too weak."
Leif gritted his teeth, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew he couldn't afford to hesitate. This was just a taste of what Sigvar's men were capable of. He had to prove himself.
With a battle cry, Leif launched himself at the man once again, his sword a blur of motion. The man swung his axe with brutal force, but Leif was faster, ducking under the swing and landing a slash across the warrior's ribs. Blood spurted from the wound, but the man barely flinched. He swung his axe again, this time aiming for Leif's head.
Leif ducked, then rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc of the axe. He sprang to his feet, his sword held ready. "You'll have to do better than that," he growled.
The warrior snarled, his patience wearing thin. With a final, savage roar, he charged, swinging his axe in a wide arc. Leif ducked beneath the blow, sliding forward with a swift thrust of his sword.
The blade pierced the man's chest with a sickening crunch, and the warrior's eyes widened in shock as he staggered back, blood pouring from the wound.
Leif pulled his sword free, watching the man crumble to the snow, his life draining away with each breath.
Bjorn stepped forward, his axe still in hand. "You did well, Leif. But don't get cocky. There are more like him ahead."
Leif wiped the blood from his sword, his heart still pounding with adrenaline. "I don't care how many there are. I'm going to kill Sigvar."
Bjorn's face grew serious. "Remember, Leif. This is only the beginning."
As the two brothers prepared to continue their journey, the wind howled through the hills, carrying with it the promise of the storm that was to come.