Forgotten Gods
“You need to prepare a sacrifice, Kjartan”
She said gravelly, her words carrying the weight of a warning and cutting deeply through conversations that began to quieten down, until the tent was filled with silence broken only by the noises coming from the outside. Her dark eyes were glimmering in the candlelight, but it was hard to say which was fierier – the fire dancing on the knots of the candles, or the sparks flickering in the irises that almost melted with the black pupils. A man whose size could only be compared to that of a bear, slowly turned towards her, wiping the ale dripping from his beard with a sleeve of his tunic. He was a warrior, tall and muscular, strength radiating from his physique. His cold grey eyes caught the light and shimmered dangerously while he scanned the face of a woman who dared giving him an order. Suddenly, he laughed loudly, the sides of pitch woollen tent trembling with his deep voice.