《Huld's tree wishes》 Prologue: Huld鈥檚 tree It was getting dark. The winter day was inexorably coming to an end, signaling the end of the hunt. And it had been a very unsuccessful day for Ulv ¨C wandering through the mountains all day, he hadn''t managed to shoot anything and was thoroughly frozen. The hapless hunter was about to head back to the village when, suddenly, he stopped and listened intently. From somewhere nearby, unless it was just his mind playing tricks with echoes, came muffled sounds of rattling. Ulv looked around ¨C the sun had already disappeared behind the neighboring peak, but the thin blanket of white snow still preserved fragments of reflected light. Ulv decided he could still take a look at the source of the mysterious sounds and then make his way down the mountain in the daylight, unburdened. Navigating between jagged boulders and leaning pines, he ascended higher, following the increasing sound of numerous dull claps. Until against the backdrop of the purple sky, the massive crown of a gigantic tree began to outline itself. Its bare branches were adorned with numerous wooden planks resembling foliage in the twilight. It was these planks that produced the sounds of hundreds of rattles in the wind. Finding himself under the shade of the eccentric tree, Ulv couldn''t help but marvel once again, fully grasping its size. Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached for the nearest wooden plaque, spotting a crudely written inscription on it. - Don''t touch that! - a worried maiden''s voice carried over. The hunter quickly turned around and saw a lovely maiden in beautiful festive attire, adorned with colorful amber beads and a wreath of white mistletoe in her platinum hair, sitting on a rock. - Why not? - Ulv asked, overcoming his initial unease at the sudden encounter. - You shouldn''t remove them; they are someone else''s wishes, - the maiden explained kindly, realizing that the young man was listening to her. - Wishes? - Ulv didn''t quite understand. - Yes, the Forest God can grant any wish, - the maiden nodded and smiled, - but only one! Do you want to make a wish? - she inquired, studying the guest with warm green eyes. - But her warmth only multiplied the feeling of unease in the young man''s heart. He stepped back a few paces and asked: - And who are you? - Huld, - the maiden introduced herself eagerly, - I''m the priestess of the sacred tree. - If you want to make a wish, take a clean plank from the roots and carve it... - she suggested. - What if I hang several plaques on the tree? - Ulv jokingly asked, mistaking the maiden for an oracle. - Only the one that the deity reads first will come true, - she replied. - Look, - she pointed to the distant treetop, - many believe that the higher they tie the wish, the sooner it will come true. - Is that so? - the hunter smirked. - Only if the god starts reading from top to bottom, - Huld replied with seriousness but still smiling. Ulv chuckled, but a dull needle pricked his heart ¨C an unattainable dream that had been carefully kept deep inside, but now suddenly awakened with greed. He fell silent for a while, gathering his thoughts, and then asked: - Has your wish been granted? Huld was surprised ¨C her beautiful eyes squinted for a moment, but the smile remained on her lips: - No, not yet... - Has at least one wish come true? - the young man shouted mockingly into the air, filled with other people''s trembling aspirations. - Of course, countless wishes have been fulfilled, - the girl confirmed. - Look - if the plank cracks, it means the wish has been granted. Ulv followed her advice and glanced once again at the nearby plaques ¨C they were all darkened with age and barely legible, but none of them were intact. The young man said nothing but looked at the handful of clean planks. A cautious hope stirred inside him, giving him resolve ¨C Ulv took out a dagger from his boot and began to carve messy letters. - I want to marry Inga, the daughter of the village elder, - he shouted as if for reassurance, hanging up the finished plaque. He thought Hulda would laugh at him and his absurd wish, but that didn''t happen. Instead, when Ulv turned his gaze to the girl, he found only emptiness ¨C between the tall rocks echoed ominous rattles, and the winter gloom thickened. Ulv looked around, searching for his newfound acquaintance, but standing there in complete solitude, he felt truly scared. Panic quickly set in ¨C he turned around and ran away. He didn''t know exactly why ¨C perhaps it was his own fear. Night caught up with him on the outskirts of the forest, but ahead, the lights of humble houses beckoned. Entering the village, Ulv was firmly convinced that everything that had happened was just a dream... And if not, he would never admit it to himself. However, no matter what Ulv thought, his life soon took a sharp turn. He became a much luckier hunter, and as a result, gained respect among the villagers. Even the village elder started trusting him with small tasks. Once or twice, crossing paths near her house with Inga, Ulv secretly remembered his cherished plaque. But the wish carved on it had no chance of coming true ¨C after all, the girl had long had another betrothed. But at some point, the young man stopped caring about all of that. For the first time, venturing out of the village and accompanying a cart of furs to the city, Ulv suddenly realized how vast the world around him was. He saw that it was full of things he had never even heard of before.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Arriving in a tiny provincial town, completely unlike his distant village, he firmly decided that he must leave, break free from his corner, and explore the wider world. The dream of someday becoming the village elder seemed suddenly foolish and mundane to him. And Inga, compared to the city girls, seemed just ordinary. On the way back, the young man dreamt of becoming an assistant to a wandering merchant and venturing into uncharted lands. But as soon as he returned home, reality quickly sobered him up with news ¨C while he was away, Inga''s betrothed died during a hunt. Upon hearing this, something stirred in Ulv''s chest, but it was far from joyful. A slippery feeling twisted his insides into a knot of anxiety and fear, pushing right up to his throat. - Ulv... Ulv! - his father''s voice interrupted him. - It''s too early to announce it, but I talked to the village elder, - the man proudly declared, patting his son''s shoulder warmly. - About what? - Ulv, confused and worried, didn''t understand. - The village elder agreed to marry Inga to you, - the father announced with pleasure in his voice. - Yes, - he corrected himself, - we''ll have to wait a bit for appearances'' sake, but... - But I don''t want to... - Ulv replied colorlessly, as if against his own will, still bewildered. - What do you mean, you don''t want to? - the man''s voice rose in anger. - For whom do you think I did all this? - he asked. - You wanted this - I fulfilled your wish! - the father replied with reproach. These words were like a knife cutting through the young man''s heart - he vividly pictured the dark branches adorned with countless plaques. He could almost hear their trembling in the wind. His heart broke and sank somewhere cold and tight. For the next few weeks, Ulv poorly grasped what was happening - on one hand, everything was unfolding as he had wished, but on the other hand, he no longer felt the desire he had made. This ambivalence tore his soul apart, causing doubts. But in reality, the young man had no choice. To refuse the marriage proposed by themselves would mean disgrace for the family in all neighboring villages. And his father would not allow that... The day before the wedding ceremony, relatives from neighboring villages started to gather. Men warmly greeted each other, gathering in a large, bustling company where the celebration was already beginning. Ulv listened to them, surrounded by the haze of alcohol, hearing their exaggerated stories of distant cities and unseen adventures, and he felt sick at heart. - I''ll run away! Yes, I''ll definitely run away! - he impulsively decided after the second jug of ale. But in his suddenly cleared mind, the unfortunate plaque with the wish emerged once again. - But it hasn''t come true yet! - the young man marveled at the simplicity of this truth, recalling Huld''s words that the plaques crack when wishes are fulfilled. - I just need to remove it from the tree while it''s still intact! - he rejoiced. And then he slumped, realizing that all of this: running away, returning the plaque ¨C should have happened much earlier. It was already getting dark outside, and tomorrow''s ceremony seemed closer and more inevitable than ever. He sat in a corner, looking lost for a few more minutes, and then something changed in his expression. Blind determination took hold of him, and he willingly succumbed to flawed logic. A few hours later, armed with a smoky torch, Ulv climbed the mountain. Without fully discerning the path, he stubbornly marched upward as if his feet knew the right way on their own. Soon enough, he was convinced of this when he heard the characteristic sound of rattles from afar, a sound that had pursued him in his dreams more than once. However, upon reaching his destination, he froze, struck by an unprecedented sight. The snow at the base of the sacred tree had melted away, revealing not earth and stones but actual amber boulders. They shimmered with dancing reflections of the flame under the torchlight. Tiny sparkling droplets of resin, falling from the dense branches, created the effect of a golden rain. - Hulda! - the young man shouted, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the unprecedented beauty and searching for the priestess. - No. Of course, she''s not here at this time! - Ulv scolded himself. He began to search for his plaque among the others, but they all looked exactly the same in the uneven torchlight. Impatience and haste quickly turned into anger in Ulv, and grabbing his dagger, he began to cut the cords on all the plaques within his reach. After some time, the amber was strewn with shredded yellowish leaves and detestable plaques. Without the reflected shimmer, it became noticeably darker, or so it seemed to Ulv. He stood there, panting, amidst the chaos he had created, trying to make out his own wish at his feet, but he couldn''t. The wind calmed down, and silence settled in the narrow space between the rocks. Only the drops of resin, as they fell into the fire, disappeared with a characteristic bubbling sound, drowning out Ulv''s heavy breathing. The young man looked into the fire, and a new plan was born in his mind and immediately put into action. He brought the torch closer to the resin-covered branches, and they burst into crimson flames, quickly spreading throughout the canopy. - No more wishes, nothing left to fulfill! - Ulv exclaimed triumphantly, stepping back from the hot, fragrant tongues of flame. Overjoyed, he hurried back to the village, now feeling completely free - he could leave everything behind and embark on an exciting new future. All that was left was to take his father''s horse and disappear before dawn. He was already halfway to his intended escape when he stumbled on the mossy slope and tumbled down head over heels. The naive childish joy had barely mixed with fear within him when Ulv landed on a sharp protrusion, ending his life. In the morning, they searched for the groom-to-be for a long time, but in vain. Quietly, his father checked the family treasure, suspecting his careless son of running away, but fortunately found nothing missing. He was so relieved that he was ready to endure all the shameful reproaches from the village elder. Inga blushed with shame behind her father''s back, unable to hide from the mocking gazes of the numerous guests. This was already her second failed wedding. - He just got drunk and passed out somewhere! - yesterday''s companions of Ulv laughed heartily. - That''s right, - the unfortunate father echoed them, cursing his son inwardly. - What should we do next? - the village elder exclaimed indignantly. - Just hold the ceremony without the groom, - suggested an elderly relative of Inga. - That''s only done for those who have gone off to war, - the village elder protested, - not for someone who got drunk somewhere. - Well, how long should we wait then? - voices chimed in from all sides. The matchmakers began to doubt - the ceremony was supposed to be held at dawn under the young moon, and gathering the guests again would be an unnecessary expense. So, at the wedding, the place of the groom was marked by his festive coat, as was customary in the old days for young men going off to war. And Inga''s eyes, wet with tears from bitter mockery, remained fixed on the floor¡­ *** At the top of the golden-leaved tree sat a light-haired deity with green eyes, fiddling with a well-known wish on a wooden tablet. It was difficult to say for sure which gender the deity belonged to, as everyone saw it differently. But the absence of lavish amber beads gave it a decidedly boyish appearance. As tying the cracked tablet to a branch, Huld''s beautiful eyes were filled with sadness. Their depth was so profound that it seemed tears would spill forth any moment. A gust of wind stirred the unyielding crown of the sacred tree, causing it to sway like Huld''s soul. The centuries-old hopes, awakened from their slumber, quivered in the leaves. Among them, at the very top, appeared an amber tablet, almost indistinguishable from the golden foliage. It caught Huld''s gaze, making the owner even more melancholic. On the sparkling smooth surface, untouched by time, the words were clearly visible: - May the wishes I grant make people happy. Story 1. Weavers of destinies Under the great Tree of Existence, Idras sat the old Norn, a six-armed weaver of human destinies, spinning the fabric of the cosmos from her silken platinum hair. Her eyes, clouded with time, were blind, but her hands were skilled and precise - the fabric beneath them was smooth and weightless. At the roots of the golden-leaved tree, three fair-haired children watched over her tireless work. Their amber eyes were clear and attentive, their gazes too focused for their young age. Despite their outward resemblance, Norn was not their mother - the triplets were born from the singular fruit of Idras, the tree of life. They were meant to grow and learn the craft of weaving. However, to the teacher''s dismay, the children had vastly different characters. Urdr was attentive to Norn''s teachings, eagerly absorbing every word. Verdandi was marked by excessive zeal, at times hindering her from fully grasping the mentor''s doctrines. And Skuld was plagued by excessive doubts, sometimes even about Norn''s fundamental tenets. - What if people don''t like how their destinies are woven together? - inquired the curious Skuld, and Norn sighed heavily. - Their happiness is not your concern, - the mentor replied displeased, tired of such heresy. - But we could easily fix it, couldn''t we? - Skuld naively remarked. Norn became visibly angry - her blind gaze gave away her frustration as she looked at the careless student. - By weaving an extra thread into the fabric, you leave its end clumsily hanging, - Norn explained. - Pull on it, and the thread will unravel, leaving an unsightly mark on the fabric... The mentor fell silent. Her unquestionable tone indicated that the discussion was over. - All of you, go and practice weaving destinies: war and sea are the most intricate patterns, - commanded the mentor. - But you, stay behind, Urdr, - she stopped one of the girls. - I have something to tell you... Verde complied, but her expression was discontented. She cast a curious glance towards her sister who remained, then obediently followed Skuld. - Do you think Mistress Norn teaches Urdr separately from us, right? - the girl spoke up anxiously. - Why would she? - Skuld genuinely wondered. - I don''t know, - Verde shrugged. - It''s just that she seems to weave better than anyone else. - I wish I had another pair of hands soon, so I can weave patterns as quickly as our mistress does, - Verde admitted shyly. - Mistress Norn said it will happen when we reach the right age, don''t worry, - Skuld reassured her friend, who was particularly troubled by such matters. - I know, - sighed Verde, - but I wish it would happen sooner... - Are you skipping practice again? - she asked Skuld when she saw the girl veering off the path. - I don''t want to weave those patterns, - confessed Skuld.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. - Mistress will be upset with you again... - Verde warned half-heartedly as Skuld walked away. Skuld indeed often neglected the instructions of Mistress Norn. Instead, she would go to the Source of Change to watch the river serpent Nidhe gnaw at the roots of Idhras. And on clear days, from the edge of the world, she would peer down at the human realm, separated by a veil of clouds. Today''s weather was unusually overcast, and Skuld, venturing to study the mortal world, quickly despaired of seeing anything. Walking back along the winding path, she pondered the words of the ancient Norn, inventing all sorts of new crazy ideas. But they all flew out of her head when she spotted Verde lying in the tall grass. Her eyes, unblinking, gazed at the sky, and were as clouded as the blind eyes of their mistress. - Verde, - Skuld called out to her sister, clearly concerned. But Verde didn''t respond, didn''t even stir at the sound of her voice. Only the wind rustled through Verde''s platinum locks, swaying the whispering blades of the drooping grass at her brow. - What''s wrong with you? - Skuld asked again, unaware of what death was like. - She stopped seeing, like Mistress Norn, and now she''s upset that she won''t be able to learn from her anymore, - Skuld decided, mistaking her sister''s silence for distress. Her heart filled with pity and compassion for Verde, who desired so strongly to master the great mystery but was doomed to lose this opportunity at such a young age. Skuld found it unfair: - Don''t be sad, Verde, - she soothingly stroked her sister''s light curls. - I will fetch the fruit of Idras for you - it''s the source of life and surely can restore your sight. Filled with this thought, Skuld hurried to the Tree of Existence. She knew that this plan, like others, was not destined to gain the approval of their mentor, Norn. And so, to bypass her, she decided to climb the vast tree from the side of the Source. This turned out to be much more difficult than it seemed at first - the bark of Idras was smooth, and the nearest branches were very high. But the girl didn''t give up, slipping down time after time, and trying again until she finally grabbed hold of the lower branch. - What are you doing? - a familiar voice sounded from behind her. Skuld turned around and saw Urd, who was watching her efforts. The girl looked much older than before - her amber eyes had darkened, almost turning coppery, and in the wide sleeves of her shirt, another pair of hands could be seen. But Skuld''s fleeting glance didn''t immediately notice these changes. - I want to get the fruit of Idras for Verde, - the girl explained, sitting precariously on a thin branch. - She has gone blind, like Lady Norn, - Skuld continued, catching her breath, - and she was deeply saddened that she could no longer learn to weave... - Come down, - demanded the girl from below. - I want to help her - please don''t tell Lady Norn, - Skuld begged, knowing how Urd zealously followed Lady Norn''s instructions. - The fruit of life won''t help her, Skuld, - Urd replied indifferently, - Verde is dead. - Dead? - Skuld asked, puzzled. - That''s your fate - Verde''s and yours, - Urd confirmed just as coldly. - When it''s time to die, the weavers of fate go blind. - But why? - Skuld wondered. The cruel words of her sister about death didn''t so much frighten Skuld as they sparked a new wave of curiosity in her. After all, the only death she had witnessed before was the cutting of threads by Norns during the weaving of human lives. - That''s because there''s always only one weaver of destinies, Skuld - explained Urd. - From the fruit of Yggdrasil, three are born, but the previous weaver chooses only the most worthy. - And that''s you, Urd? - Yes, Lady Norn chose me, just as she was chosen before among three sisters. - But I don''t even want to be a weaver - confessed Skuld - why do I have to die? - Because as long as you''re alive, you still have one part of the fruit of life from which we were born. - And without it, I won''t attain my true form - shrugged Urd. - But don''t worry, sister, the time is almost here: look - your eyes have already lost their amber glow - noted Urd, whose appearance was continuously changing. Skuld, driven by her own curiosity, leaned forward thoughtlessly to see her reflection in the crystalline waters of the Well of Change. However, the branch of Yggdrasil beneath her proved too thin - it trembled and bent, ultimately breaking off. In Urd''s astonished ruby eyes, there was reflected both Skuld''s fall into the churning waters and the way her delicate form was caught in the whirlpool, spiraling and then sinking into the abyss. The serene countenance of the beautiful maiden Urd did not darken with sorrow at this sight. However, a hint of confusion shone through when she looked at her hands and realized that there were now only four of them... Story 2. From Heaven to Earth A crowd had gathered in the square in front of King Harold¡¯s palace. An old priest was performing a ceremony to praise Odin at the fortress gates, with the noisy crowd cheering him on. Behind him, on a raised platform, the king himself stood watching the proceedings gloomily. Harold honored the gods, as his ancestors¡¯ traditions demanded, but in matters of war and governance, he relied only on his own wits and strength. And as such, the will of the gods often seemed to be in his favor. But on this day, even Harold could not shake the uneasy feeling that gnawed at him. This was because the weather for the ceremony was particularly unfavorable¡ªheavy, leaden clouds swirled and writhed in agony under fierce gusts of wind, while lightning flashed somewhere in the sky. Such foul weather was always interpreted by the priests as a bad omen, and it was usually the king who had to deal with the consequences. But then, a lightning bolt struck, splitting the sky in two, and a torrential downpour began. Cold raindrops drummed against the fortress walls and the gathered crowd, drowning out the chanting of the frail old priest in his robes. Something small, almost weightless, like a piece of silk fabric, slipped through the rain and fell to the ground at the priest¡¯s feet, splashing sticky mud. The thunderclap deafened the onlookers for a moment, gifting a fleeting silence that lent the scene a sense of sacredness. The old man laboriously bent down to examine the strange object, leaning on his staff, and then straightened up, holding a fair-haired child in his arms. Despite the dark mess beneath his feet, the child¡¯s platinum curls and snow-white clothes remained pristine, as though the dirt repelled from him.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. The child¡¯s eyes were green and so clear that those watching felt as though his gaze pierced through them. In his hands, he held a long branch, adorned with shimmering golden leaves. - Who are you, child of the heavens? - croaked the priest, as the crowd waited in silent anticipation. King Harold, standing behind him, nervously rose from his seat - for the first time in a long while, he was genuinely confused and unsure of what to do. The child¡¯s gaze finally turned to the old man. He blinked, as though considering an answer, or perhaps not understanding the question at all. - I am Skuld - the weaver of fates... - the child quietly and uncertainly whispered into the priest¡¯s ear. - What?.. What?! - murmured the crowd, their voices filled with anxious confusion. In response, the priest struck his staff, calling for silence, and said: - Odin has sent us His messenger, - the old man grumbled in a solemn voice, - Huld, the one who knows the fates! The fair-haired child was surprised by such a spectacle, but the crowd gasped loudly and pressed forward to get a better look at the divine messenger. Skuld was frightened, both by the strangers and their sudden obsession, so the words that the old man had distorted her name were lost, as if by themselves. The confusion was caused by the simple fact that the elderly priest was nearly deaf and had simply not heard Skuld properly. But among the common folk, thanks to his words, the rumor spread quickly, glorifying her new name. Story 3. One wish Bersi considered himself quite lucky¡ªsince childhood, he had been known as a clever lad, and so he passed the selection for work in the royal fortress on his very first attempt. It couldn''t be said that his service had been easy and carefree, especially during those first few months he had spent as a kitchen assistant. But, in the end, he had no real reason to complain about his fate. Walking the familiar path to the chambers of Odin''s Great Messenger once again, Bersi quietly hummed a mournful tune from a heroic ballad he had heard in town the day before. But as he turned the corner, he was met with a rather unpleasant sight¡ªthough by now, it had become routine. Two guards were dragging yet another high priest of Odin out of the fortress. Lately, they had been changing with alarming frequency. Bersi fell silent and stepped back behind the wall, wanting no part in anything even remotely compromising. He understood nothing about palace intrigues or politics, but his intuition had always warned him to keep a safe distance from such matters. The guards continued down the corridor, but Bersi didn¡¯t move until they had completely disappeared down the stairs. Only then did his spirits lift again, and he stepped out of his hiding spot, striding forward with renewed confidence, balancing a tray of food in his hands. The entrances to the palace¡¯s inner garden were sealed with wrought iron gates, but through the bars, one could glimpse dense honeysuckle and heather bushes. Sometimes, Bersi was tempted to take a closer look, but, of course, entry to the garden was strictly forbidden to him. Approaching the massive gate, the young man knocked his knuckles against the wooden beam and whispered softly: - Lais... Laaaais! It''s me¡ªBersi!" He waited for a couple of minutes, but no response came. What¡¯s more, after carefully scanning the garden through the bars, Bersi saw no sign of anyone hurrying to meet him. However, he did notice the golden crown of the Sacred Tree standing tall in the center of the courtyard. Bersi knew that Lais wasn¡¯t particularly bright, but she was always quick on her feet¡ªthere was no way she would forget to fetch her master¡¯s meal. But he had been delayed while hiding from the guards, and perhaps Lais had given up waiting for him. - Could I really be punished for this?! - Bersi shuddered at the thought, having maintained a spotless reputation until now. But blind luck¡ªor perhaps it was Huld¡¯s sister, Urd¡ªdecided otherwise. Something stirred behind the honeysuckle bush, and before Bersi¡¯s eyes appeared the very messenger of Odin. The boy was nearly two heads shorter than the servant, yet his demeanor and gaze did not seem childlike to Bersi in the slightest. Huld stepped up to the delicate wrought-iron bars and looked directly into the face of the frozen visitor. Only then did Bersi realize how terribly rude it was to look down upon the messenger¡ªhe dropped to his knees at once and bowed deeply. But Huld paid no heed to his behavior. - Lais is not here, - Huld said, addressing Bersi. To be completely honest, Bersi had no desire to respond to the boy¡ªnor did he wish to meet him face to face. But to remain silent would be just as disrespectful. - I beg your pardon for disturbing you, my lord, - the servant stammered. - I have brought your meal and am waiting for your attendant... - There is no one else here, - Huld interrupted. This news surprised Bersi, but he did not let it show. - Then, with your permission, I will leave the tray here,- he said, carefully setting his burden on the floor, near the designated opening in the bars. - Harald ordered the priest to be taken away again?- Huld asked, as if he hadn''t heard the servant¡¯s words at all. - I wouldn¡¯t know, forgive me, - Bersi lied, silently noting how casually the messenger spoke of their ruler. - Everyone I asked never came back¡­- Huld exhaled sorrowfully. A chill ran down the servant¡¯s spine at those words¡ªhe realized in an instant what had become of Lais and the rest of Huld¡¯s attendants. His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to escape, but the divine messenger stunned him with another unexpected question: - Are you happy?Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Bersi was so taken aback that he lifted his eyes from the floor and met Huld¡¯s gaze¡ªthose green eyes sent a shiver of reverent awe through him. - Yes, my lord... I think so, - Bersi stammered. Huld smiled¡ªa smile so warm and gentle that Bersi unwittingly let his guard down. - Harald says that the wishes I grant make people happy¡ªso it must be true, - Huld said, genuinely delighted. - Wishes?..- the servant echoed thoughtlessly, captivated by the joy on the messenger¡¯s face. - Yes, - Huld nodded, - Harald has many wishes, though I don¡¯t understand all of them¡­ - He wants mountains of precious gems and gold, wants to rule ever more lands, and for his enemies to be utterly defeated... - But I just want everyone to be happy, - Huld smiled. - You grant wishes, my lord?.. - Bersi asked, both astonished and horrified in equal measure. - Well, yes. Harald says that as long as I am by his side, I can bring happiness to all. - And you... have you ever tried granting anyone else¡¯s wish?- the servant asked, almost against his own will. Bersi understood all too well that the na?ve, benevolent deity had been deceived by King Harald, known among the people as "the Conqueror." He was horrified by his newfound knowledge, but he couldn¡¯t remain silent while looking into Huld¡¯s green eyes. The little god¡¯s eyes widened in surprise - he hesitated for a moment, then asked: - And what do you want? - Well, I¡¯d like to work as a palace cook until the end of my days - there¡¯s good food and a warm place to sleep here, - the servant blurted out without thinking. - You have a simple wish, - Huld said with a warm smile. - Most people do, I think, - Bersi murmured, feeling awkward. - Harald¡­ has complicated wishes, - Huld countered, suddenly frowning. - Wishes like yours - I could grant so many more, and much faster, - he noted. - If you waste time, you won¡¯t be able to fulfill all of Lord Harald¡¯s wishes, - Bersi quickly objected, terrified of what he had inadvertently encouraged the messenger to do. Huld fell into serious thought over Bersi¡¯s hasty words. - But what if just one¡­? - he murmured uncertainly. - What if I grant everyone a single wish?! - Huld said, suddenly filled with enthusiasm. Bersi¡¯s heart plummeted into a chasm of horror. He hurriedly tried to dissuade the young god, but his words only seemed to make things worse: - Oh, no, my lord! - You reside in the halls of the royal stronghold¡­ Meeting you is the greatest honor for a humble servant like me, and¡­ Bersi realized, even as he spoke, that he had made an even greater mistake. But it was far too late to fix it¡ªat least, not on his own. - You''re right, - Huld agreed eagerly, - there were so many people beyond the fortress walls! - If I go outside, I¡¯ll be able to hear their wishes! - he exclaimed in delight. Huld turned and disappeared into the honeysuckle thickets. For a moment, Bersi dared to hope that the little god wouldn¡¯t be able to leave his beautiful prison. But then, he realized his mistake. The crown of the Sacred Tree shuddered, as if caught in a gust of wind - then faded into the air like a mirage. The terrified servant was smart enough to realize exactly who would bear the wrath of King Harold if he ever discovered that it was Bersi who had played a hand in Huld¡¯s escape. Or perhaps¡­ he would be punished regardless. Rushing down into the castle¡¯s half-basement kitchen, Bersi skipped several steps at a time. The suffocating sense of doom and inevitable punishment spurred him forward, though he knew full well that his frantic behavior would only give him away. As he entered the kitchen, he froze in place - his master stood waiting for him. Desperately, Bersi tried to steady his breath after the long run. - Bersi, - the cook greeted him, - I have excellent news for you. - Truly, sir? - the boy asked nervously. - Yes. You¡¯re a clever lad, and I¡¯ve decided to take you on as my apprentice now that a spot has opened up¡­ Bersi barely listened. His face went even paler as he realized that the kind-hearted Huld had not forgotten, before leaving, to fulfill his cherished wish. Mumbling an excuse to his puzzled master, Bersi slipped away to the common sleeping quarters. There, he reached into the gap in the stone wall behind the bunks and pulled out all his savings. He was going to run. *** King Harold sat in his high-backed chair, staring blankly from the terrace as the ravens pecked at the remains of the wretched servant who had dared to speak with his god. The first waves of madness that had gripped him after Huld¡¯s disappearance had now subsided, but his courtiers still feared to approach their ruler. And so, Harold was left to his thoughts in complete solitude. Now, for what must have been the hundredth time, he sifted through the wishes he had made, searching them over and over for flaws. And what troubled him most was that he had never told Huld that he intended to rule his lands forever. Harold vividly imagined the shadows writhing at the edges of his domain, greedy hands reaching toward his wealth, and once again, he felt the hot rush of impotent rage. Darkness thickened. The ravens cawed wickedly over Beresi¡¯s corpse, mocking Harold¡¯s misfortune. And autumn was fading. Story 4. Someones wish The sun had just begun to rise above the horizon, but poor Atli was already dragging his cart toward the market square. Dark circles lay under his eyes, and echoes of last night''s drinking still pounded in his head. He would have gladly slept in until noon, but he had squandered his last coins at the tavern. His foul mood was fueled by every little thing he encountered along the way: the bumpy road, a striped cat that darted under his wheels from around the corner, the low-hanging sun blinding his swollen eyes¡­ But the final straw was the massive tree blocking his path to the right row. Atli looked around, glancing at the still-closed stalls, sluggishly trying to figure out if he had taken the right way. The road was correct, his old cart hadn¡¯t changed, and yet¡ªsomehow¡ªthis enormous tree had appeared where it had no place being. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them hard, desperately trying to recall how exactly he had passed through here before, reasonably thinking that trees didn¡¯t just sprout overnight. But he was interrupted by a concerned child''s voice: ¨C Does it bother you? ¨C someone asked, and to Atli, it seemed as though the voice came from above. The man squinted his swollen eyelids and stared intently into the golden canopy. There, perched on a branch in a colorful outfit, sat a fair-haired child with green eyes. His gaze was so expressive that it outshone the overly expensive attire. ¨C What are you¡­ ¨C Atli hesitated, suspecting the boy¡¯s high status. ¨C What are you doing alone¡­ at this hour¡­ up in a tree? ¨C I wanted to pick a place where there would be many people, ¨C the child explained vaguely. ¨C So, you got lost then? ¨C the man guessed, finally letting go of his cart¡¯s shafts. ¨C No, I don¡¯t think so, ¨C the boy hesitated, pondering the question. He looked westward, as if verifying something, and then said: ¨C Yes, look, there''s Harold¡¯s castle. Atli obediently glanced in the direction of the fortress, and his suspicions only grew stronger. ¨C Ah, so you¡¯re waiting for someone to come for you, my lord? ¨C he swiftly changed his tone, making an effort to sound respectfully servile. ¨C I wouldn¡¯t say that, ¨C Huld replied. ¨C Then let me take you there, ¨C Atli offered eagerly, already greedily anticipating the coins he¡¯d be rewarded with for returning a noble child. ¨C Where? ¨C the boy asked. ¨C To the castle, ¨C the man clarified, his voice dripping with flattery. ¨C Why? ¨C Huld didn¡¯t understand. ¨C To return you to your family, of course, ¨C Atli began losing patience. ¨C I don¡¯t think that¡¯s within your power, ¨C Huld noted reasonably, misinterpreting Atli¡¯s words. The man was truly angered now¡ªthe sun was rising higher and higher, and with each passing minute, the risk grew that someone else might notice the noble child. In the best case, Atli would have to share his reward, and in the worst, he¡¯d lose it entirely. But the drunkard had already caught the scent of easy money and wasn¡¯t about to let some brat¡¯s whims stand in his way. He pondered how best to get the little rascal down without earning the wrath of his noble parents. But while Atli was deep in thought¡ªsomething that didn¡¯t happen to him often¡ªHuld repeated his initial question: ¨C The tree¡­ does it block your way? ¨C Huh? Oh, to Hel* with it! ¨C the man waved him off, glancing at his old cart. ¨C I¡¯d forgotten it was even there. ¨C What I really need is a horse, so I don¡¯t have to drag this junk myself¡­ ¨C Atli sighed wistfully, momentarily distracted from his scheme. He hadn¡¯t even finished his thought when Huld reached up and plucked a golden leaf from above. Twisting it between his fingers, he wrapped a pale thread around its stem and then tossed it down at Atli¡¯s feet.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¨C Here, take it, ¨C Huld said. Atli almost decided then and there that the boy must be mad, but before he could scoff, the leaf trembled, twitched, and began to grow before his astonished eyes. Its shape twisted and expanded in an instant, and there, right in the middle of the marketplace, between him and the tree, a tall, stately palomino horse had grown¡ªthere was no other word for it. Atli, who once, in a drunken stupor, had mistaken a rat for a puppy, was completely dumbfounded. He stumbled backward from the marvel before him, lost his footing, and collapsed onto the edge of his cart, exhaling so loudly it was as if he had given up the ghost. ¡ª Are you happy? ¡ª the boy asked with a smile. ¡ª I granted your wish. ¡ª A wish? ¡ª Atli croaked hoarsely, barely able to tear his eyes away from the horse. ¡ª Uh-huh, ¡ª Huld confirmed from the tree, swinging his legs in the air like any carefree child. Something stirred unexpectedly in Atli¡¯s fevered mind¡ªonce, long ago, when he was still a youth, he had witnessed a priest of Odin summon a divine messenger to earth, and it had appeared in the form of a fair-haired child. Atli swallowed hard, staring at Huld with reverent terror. In his miserable, long-derailed life, a bolt of lightning had suddenly struck, illuminating an entire world of unimaginable possibilities. And the sheer scale of them left him gasping for air. ¡ª I¡­ I¡­ ¡ª he stammered, like a spoiled child before a stall bursting with colorful trinkets. ¡ª I only grant one wish, ¡ª Huld cut him off, having understood all too well where this was going. ¡ª But¡­ but this¡­ ¡ª Atli¡¯s excitement instantly faded as he glanced at the palomino marvel before him. ¡ª This isn¡¯t it! ¡ª he protested with conviction. ¡ª Isn¡¯t it? ¡ª Huld asked, surprised and visibly saddened by his mistake. ¡ª Then what is it that you truly want? Atli¡¯s eyes darted frantically as he started reconsidering, now with far greater caution¡ªhe doubted the deity would let him make another mistake. His head quickly began to overheat from the frantic back-and-forth of his thoughts, though all traces of his drunken stupor had long since vanished. ¡ª Gold! ¡ª he finally declared, unable to fully articulate his vision of a luxurious life. ¡ª Yes, gold¡­ and plenty of it¡ªa whole cart full! ¡ª Atli nodded fervently. ¡ª Alright, ¡ª Huld readily agreed. The child plucked another golden leaf and tossed it onto the pile of firewood Atli had been hauling to the bakery. In an instant, every log transformed into gleaming gold. But before Atli could fully revel in his newfound fortune, the rotting planks of his cart groaned in protest. They creaked, bent under the weight, and with a harsh crack, gave way¡ªdumping the entire load onto the ground. The noise roused sluggish movement from the drowsy shopfronts lining the street. Groggy shopkeepers began to emerge, drawn by the commotion, their gazes quickly sharpening as they took in the scene. ¡ª Mine! ¡ª Atli bellowed, his voice ringing through half the street in desperate fury. But who would listen to a ragged drunkard? *** The marketplace was in utter chaos, though not due to the usual bustle of trading hours. No one was buying or selling¡ªon the contrary, finding a merchant at their own stall was nearly impossible. Small thieves scurried between the stands, quietly sneaking off with goods or, at times, brazenly snatching whatever they pleased. Yet even they were the exception rather than the rule. No, all life in the square now pulsed around the colossal tree, where the messenger of Odin himself¡ªHuld¡ªsat among the branches, patiently listening to the endless wishes of the townsfolk. He smiled warmly and silently fulfilled the countless, yet monotonous, greedy requests. But even those whose desires had already been granted showed no intention of leaving. Instead, they lingered, hoping to profit from the wishes of others¡ªjust as they had scavenged the golden logs of Atli, many of which had yet to be dragged into alleyways due to their sheer weight and the thickening crowd. The sight of such disorder deeply dismayed King Harald, who had rushed to the scene upon receiving word that a golden-haired child was granting the desires of commoners in the heart of his city. The ruler cast a calculating gaze over the mountains of treasure¡ªplundered from their newfound owners by cunning cutthroats just out of Huld¡¯s sight. And over the corpses of those who had refused to part with their riches peacefully. But as soon as he caught a few dark looks from his own retinue (unless paranoia had merely whispered it to him), he snapped out of his stupor and issued a commanding order to his guards¡ªbefore they slipped beyond his control. - Kill everyone in the square! - The gold will be yours! - But anyone who dares speak to Huld will face immediate execution! - Harald thundered, his voice rising above the tumult of the crowd. Yet instead of obedience, he felt the sharp bite of a blade in his back. The king turned, but the riders had already spurred into motion, carrying out his final command. Among his own retinue, chaos erupted. - Who?! - he snarled low, feeling himself slide helplessly from the saddle. But even as his strength failed him, Harald¡¯s furious gaze remained fixed on Huld. - Whose wish are you fulfilling?! - he exhaled, barely above a whisper, staring through dimming eyes at the bewildered face of the only god he had ever truly believed in. Story 5. Mommy Beneath the heavy canopy of the autumn forest, it was dark and bitterly cold. Kaeya tucked her small hands into the chilly sleeves of her linen shirt, bringing them to her face every few moments to warm them with her breath. Had her mother seen her now, she would surely have scolded her for such an improper appearance in this weather¡ªor, more likely, for running off into the woods at dusk without permission. But Kaeya¡¯s mother rested beneath a fresh burial mound, and her father had enough worries with the younger children, so the girl was left to her own devices. Pushing deeper and deeper into the thicket out of sheer stubbornness, Kaeya felt despair creeping in, the thought gnawing at her that this escapade would change nothing. Tears welled up in her eyes¡ªnow she had to wipe her face with her sleeves. Struggling her way out of a tangle of blackberry bushes, she stepped into a tiny clearing where a single colossal tree stood, surrounded by yellowing maples. Its branches were dark and smooth, and its leaves remained a fresh, springlike shade of green and gold. At its roots, nestled among the withered grass, sat a little girl, almost Kaeya¡¯s age, weaving something from pale threads. Kaeya was so delighted to see another child that she never stopped to wonder why she had never seen this girl in the village before. She simply ran up to her and froze, caught off guard by the deep emerald gaze that met her own. - I... I got lost! - Kaeya admitted at once, suddenly losing her composure and bursting into tears. - The village is that way, - the girl said without a hint of doubt, pointing south. Kaeya looked in the direction she indicated but made no move to head home. - And you? Why are you here? - she asked the fair-haired child. - I''m waiting for someone to make a wish,- the girl sighed, sounding dejected. - But why?..- Kaeya asked, so surprised that she forgot to cry. The lost girl¡¯s question puzzled Huld for a moment¡ªfor, in truth, she had no real reason to grant anyone¡¯s wishes. And according to her mentor, the Norn, human happiness was not the concern of the weavers of fate. But Huld was no longer a weaver¡­ A flicker of uncertainty settled in the young deity¡¯s heart. - Because, - Huld finally answered hesitantly, - making people happy is something I can do¡­ She quickly changed the subject, unwilling to dwell on the meaning of her existence. - So, what do you wish for? Kaeya had first thought of a warm cloak, but the thought of it inevitably brought her back to memories of her mother, and silent tears once again streamed down the child''s cheeks. - I want mommy to come back, - she sobbed, - to take care of me,.. like before... Huld looked at the child somewhat distantly, almost indifferently ¨C it seemed that the deity was clearly not in the best of moods. And, most likely, that was true. Huld¡¯s last good-hearted endeavor, granting wishes in the marketplace, had ended terribly, and the young god had begun to doubt both their methods and the very idea itself. - And is this truly your most cherished wish? - Huld asked again. - ¡°Cherished¡±? - the child didn¡¯t understand. - The most important, the biggest, the main one,.. - the sorrowful deity clarified. - Well, yes, - Kaeya admitted, growing just as sad as her companion. - Then hurry home, - Huld advised, - she will be back soon, too. - Really, really? - the naive child immediately believed. - Uh-huh, - the stranger nodded, finishing braiding her string. Kaeya hurried home, pushing her way straight through the dense bushes, paying no mind to how her shirt caught and tore in her haste. She emerged from the forest so quickly that she even outran the setting sun and had no reason to fear scolding for being late¡ªperhaps only for her disheveled appearance. The girl practically burst into the house, the creaky door slamming loudly against the frame, waking her younger brothers. Her blue eyes, shining with hope, swept across the room, but her mother was nowhere to be seen. Nor was her father¡ªonly the frightened, drowsy children squirming in a heap of sheepskins. Kaeya quieted down, grew somber, even felt bitter at the cruel joke of her new friend, but she did not cry, for first, she had to soothe the whimpering little ones. After all, now she was their mother. The usual chores made time pass unnoticed. By sunset, her father returned from the hunt. He carried a large, speckled pheasant and tossed it onto the floor by the fire. And once again, it was Kaeya who had to deal with the bird. The sun set, and darkness fell in an instant. The autumn mist, as always, drifted in from the river, wrapping the village houses in a soft, fluffy shroud. Only the crackling of logs in the fire disturbed the sleepy stillness after a satisfying supper. Then, there was a knock at the locked door¡ªquiet, hesitant, like a faint rustling, so soft no one even noticed. And then again, louder, clearer. - Who¡¯s there in the middle of the night? - the head of the family called out loudly, rising to his feet and gripping the axe handle. - Dahlia¡­- whispered from behind the door, like a gust of wind. - Let me in, Jorgen,- came a woman''s voice. Another knock followed, for the man had not answered, and the pause stretched too long. Terror was written across Jorgen¡¯s face as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, unable to move. And yet, every fiber of his being strained toward the door at the sound of the familiar voice of the departed.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. - Mommy! - Kaeya cried out joyfully and rushed to slide back the bolt. The door swung open before the man could stop his daughter. A tall, red-haired woman appeared on the threshold, dressed in a long white linen shirt and an ornate crimson sarafan. Her skin was paler than cloth, and her eyes and cheeks were sunken. The woman stepped inside and ran an icy hand over Kaeya¡¯s red curls, completely ignoring her husband. The girl was overjoyed despite the cold touch¡ªshe grasped the woman¡¯s hands and pressed against her with all her might. - Kaeya! - Jorgen called out, watching his wife warily. Dahlia turned her sunken, dark eyes to him, her stern gaze cutting off any thought of taking the child away from her. She glanced around the room and noticed the sleeping boys. Without hesitation, she moved toward them, pulling her daughter along. And so, Dahlia took up residence in her home once more. Cold and emotionless, she roamed the house at night, her predatory stares keeping Jorgen from closing his eyes. And during the day, she was sluggish, hiding in a dark corner as she cradled her boys in her arms. All this time, she neither slept, nor drank, nor ate. Her entire attention was devoted to her children, who, in their youth, found nothing frightening in the change that had overtaken her. But Jorgen was afraid. And he waited for the inevitable moment when he would have to return Dahlia to the grave with his own hands. Yet he delayed it, again and again¡ªseeing the genuine care with which she watched over the children¡­ *** Kaeya was immensely pleased with herself¡ªshe had managed to slip out of the house despite her father¡¯s forbiddance and even sneak a bit of honey from the barrel. Now, she hurried through the forest, heading strictly north, carefully avoiding any chance encounters with the neighbors prowling through the undergrowth. She had begun to doubt whether she had chosen the right path when, suddenly, the bushes parted, revealing a small, snow-covered clearing with a massive tree standing at its center. Its crown was bare, but a few golden leaves still clung stubbornly to the highest branches. Kaeya glanced around, wanting to call out for her friend, only to realize - too late - that she had never even asked her name. Pouting in disappointment, she sat by the tree¡¯s roots - perhaps to wait, or perhaps just to ponder whether she was even allowed to. A gust of wind blew, shaking the branches, and heavy clumps of packed snow tumbled down onto the girl. Instinctively, she looked up¡ªand there, perched on a branch, sat the fair-haired girl. - You¡¯re here! - Kaeya exclaimed happily, slightly surprised that she hadn¡¯t noticed her friend from afar. - Well, yes, - the girl nodded cautiously. Her emerald eyes watched Kaeya warily, as if expecting some kind of trick. - And what¡¯s your name, sister? - Kaeya asked, a little shyly. - Huld, - the girl exhaled. - Sister Huld, - Kaeya chirped, - I wanted to come thank you earlier, but ever since Mother came back home, Father won¡¯t let us go outside¡­ - Thank me? - Huld repeated in surprise, a careful smile flickering across her face. - Uh-huh, - Kaeya nodded eagerly. - Oh, look! - she lifted a small dish of honey above her head? - I brought you some sweets¡­ Without a second''s hesitation, Huld fluttered down from the branch and landed softly in the snow beside Kaeya. The sudden movement took Kaeya¡¯s breath away, though mostly out of excitement. - Here, take it,- she said, pushing the small dish into Huld¡¯s hands. But at that moment, distant, indistinct voices carried through the trees. Kaeya glanced toward the sound warily and shrank back. - Sorry, but I have to go home now,- she admitted to her friend. - If they see me, they¡¯ll tell my father¡­ Judging by the look on Huld¡¯s face, she wasn¡¯t happy about the unexpected visitors either. She stared into the wall of trees, listening intently to the approaching shouts. - What is it?.. - she exhaled softly. - Uncle Asgrim¡¯s gone missing,- Kaeya explained, worried. - So the whole village is out looking for him¡­ - The whole village? - Huld asked cautiously, glancing at Kaeya. - Uh-huh. I only managed to sneak out because my father left too¡­ - Alright, I really have to go,- Kaeya said, throwing her arms around Huld in a quick hug. - Thank you so much! - she whispered into the god¡¯s ear, then ran toward the trees. Suddenly uplifted, Huld watched Kaeya disappear into the trees for a few more moments. But then, the voices of the villagers searching for Asgrim pulled her back to the present. She hesitated for a split second, vividly recalling the fresh memory of the chaos at the market, where she had foolishly granted the crowd¡¯s wishes. Shaking her head, she pushed the unpleasant image from her mind. Her gaze fell on Kaeya¡¯s gift, and she silently decided that everything worked out as it should¡ªso long as she listened to people one at a time. Not wanting to be seen, Huld leapt up onto the tree and darted barefoot along its branches, climbing higher and higher until she reached the very top. She grasped the last branch still holding onto its golden leaves and snapped it off with a sharp tug. A shadow rippled down the trunk from the treetop to the roots¡ªthe branches cracked like charred wood, crumbling into ash as they fell to the ground. Only the broken branch in Huld¡¯s hand remained unchanged. She swung it through the air, tracing a circle around herself, and vanished before the support beneath her feet could disintegrate. *** Kaeya had been consumed by anxiety ever since her father left to search for Asgrim the day before and hadn¡¯t returned. She had tried to share her worries with her mother, but Dalia wasn¡¯t particularly expressive or talkative. She simply stroked the boys'' hair while stirring the thick stew in the pot. Then, a commotion stirred outside the door. Kaeya let out a breath of relief, thinking her father had finally come home. But her relief was short-lived. As the door swung open, an entire crowd of furious villagers stood at the threshold. They, too, had been searching for Jorgen¡ªbut not out of concern for his safety. They had followed a trail of blood leading straight to his barn. The moment their eyes fell on Dalia, silence rippled through the crowd. The villagers stared at the dead woman in stunned silence, holding their breath, as if uncertain what to do next. - Draugr*! ¨C exclaimed the village elder, finally managing to push through the crowd. And then everything around Kaeya blurred into chaos¡ªsome of the more faint-hearted villagers bolted out of the house, while others, mostly seasoned hunters, drew their weapons. The men closed in on Dalia like a pack of wolves, backing her into a corner as she clutched her small sons against her chest. - The head! Cut off the head! ¨C the elder barked from behind the doorframe, careful not to step too close. One of the hunters lunged forward at once, following the order, but Dalia twisted away, slashing at him with long, razor-sharp claws. Blood gushed from his throat as he collapsed. In that moment, two more men threw themselves at her from behind, tackling her to the ground. The boys tumbled down with their mother and began wailing. The men ruthlessly shoved them aside like ragdolls, then, before the terrified children¡¯s eyes, began hacking at their mother¡¯s neck. It wasn¡¯t an easy task¡ªher body was unnaturally tough, and she felt no pain. The creature thrashed beneath the heavy blows, writhing and shrieking with rage. But only when her head was finally severed from her body did she fall still. Not a single drop of blood stained the floor. *** Night was approaching. Kaeya huddled with her brothers beneath a sheep¡¯s pelt in a dark corner¡ªtheir aunt, who had taken them in with great reluctance after their father¡¯s death, disliked having the children in sight. The girl wept in secret, muffling her sobs so as not to wake the boys. In the village, people now watched them with wary, uneasy glances¡ªchildren who had spent days under the same roof as a draugr. It had been the draugr who had torn their neighbor, Asgrim, to pieces. And then their father, Jorgen. Kaeya¡¯s little brothers didn¡¯t understand why the villagers were so angry with them. But she did. And worse¡ªdeep down, she was certain that it was all her fault. Yet shame and terror kept her from confessing the truth to anyone, making her sobs only more desperate. And then¡ªa knock at the door. Soft. Hesitant. Like a whisper¡­ Story 6. (Not)wish The sky swelled with an unyielding mass of heavy clouds, threatening to turn into a snowstorm at any moment. Sparse snowflakes were already swirling above Alv''s head, twisting into tight spirals, echoing the gusts of wind. The man trudged through the trees with difficulty, fighting against the deep snowdrifts. His breath had long since turned ragged, and sweat poured down his neck in three streams, but Alv was ready to crawl forward on all fours if he had to. Somewhere out there, beyond the endless white veil, salvation awaited him. But the trail of crimson droplets following in his wake told of the futility of that hope. Alv stumbled once more and collapsed into a deep snowdrift. For a moment of weakness, both his strength and his hopes abandoned him, and he surrendered to anxious thoughts. Before his eyes arose the throne hall and the regal profile of his father, Harold, etched into Alv''s heart since childhood. A boisterous feast, the ruler''s commanding speeches. His throne, left empty in the heat of discussions¡ªback then, the boy had liked to secretly imagine himself sitting there, though he had never dared to take the seat. But as he grew, Alv understood that one day, that childhood dream would become reality, inevitably... Only now, it never would¡ªfor after Harold''s overthrow, his son''s greatest ambition had shrunk to mere survival. And he was failing even at that, with his exhausted horse, his bleeding wound, and the approaching storm. But Alv refused to surrender, unwilling to cast away his grand ambitions, even on the very brink of death. He could scarcely believe in their fulfillment now, yet their mere existence gave him the strength to move forward. With a heavy sigh, the fugitive rose and staggered on, without truly knowing where he was going. But after only a few steps, an arrow struck him in the back. Alv swayed and fell face-first into the snow. His fevered mind reeled through childhood memories and now-impossible dreams. And between them, a single desperate thought stretched like a crimson thread: - I don''t want to die... - he whispered in delirium, lying motionless upon the ground. From behind the trees, a trio of pursuers emerged¡ªthey, too, were breathing heavily, but now that their prey was down, they descended the hill at a leisurely pace. One of the men came to an exhausted stop, bending over and taking deep breaths. The other two, however, trudged on along the path Alv had carved through the snow, as if, unlike their companion, they had no choice. - Cut off his head, - ordered the man who had fallen behind, though his companions hardly needed the command. At last, he straightened up, inhaling deeply, and lifted his face to the sky. The weather had taken a hopeless turn for the worse, and he merely wished to gauge the scale of the approaching catastrophe. But against the backdrop of heavy gray clouds, Morten, to his great surprise, spotted an unexpected observer. Perched on a snow-covered treetop ahead was a small childlike figure dressed in lavish festive garments. The child''s keen, attentive gaze followed the scene below¡ªyet in those eyes, there was no fear, no disgust, no pity. Morten met the piercing stare of the fair-haired child, and a shiver ran down his spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold. No, he was not afraid of an unexpected witness to their execution of Alv. But in an instant, he knew exactly who stood before him, even though he had never encountered the divine messenger in person before. Something stirred within his soul for a fleeting second before anyone else noticed Huld. - A wish... - the thought flickered through his mind. And Morten felt it in his very skin¡ªhe had to be the first to make his wish, or he would be deprived of the chance entirely. His thoughts nearly tumbled into a feverish chase after his deepest desire. But then, in his mind''s eye, flashed the image of the massacre on the capital''s marketplace, and he cautiously pushed the idea away. Time¡ªhe needed time to weigh everything, to think it through. But he had only as much of it as it would take his less fortunate companions to notice Huld. Morten pulled the bow from behind his back and silently drew the string. The first of his accomplices took an arrow in the back, letting out a pained gasp before sinking into the snow. The second managed to turn toward the sound¡ªonly to take the next shot straight to the chest. Between the trees, the blizzard howled over the fallen, while the murderer stood on the hill, gazing in silence into the emerald eyes of the young god. - My lord, it is you who grants wishes, is it not? - Morten asked tensely. - Only one, - Huld replied, unperturbed. - What do you wish for? The cutthroat hesitated¡ªthere was no one left to stop him from considering his wish, yet the very possibility stirred an uneasy feeling within him. But he did not dare voice his doubts to the god directly. - Such mercy is too great a gift for a mere man, - Morten spoke obsequiously, long accustomed to fawning over his lords. - I need time to think it over carefully... - the mercenary treaded cautiously, watching the child''s reaction intently. - Huld nodded, his keen gaze shifting toward the bodies sprawled across the ground¡ªthere was only a trace of curiosity in his expression. - May I return here later? - Morten asked. - Yes, - the god replied. - Will you wait for me here? - the man pressed, already shaping a plan in his mind. - I will wait... - Huld agreed. Morten began retreating slowly, never once turning away, as if afraid to let the god slip from his sight. Trapped in thoughts of new opportunities, he had nearly walked away when his gaze fell upon the corpses, and he snapped back to reality. Under Huld''s unwavering watch, the killer returned to Alv''s body and took from his companion''s hands the sack containing the prince''s severed head. Calculating as ever, Morten feared that an elusive wish might slip through his grasp¡ªbut the bounty for the fugitive would be his alone, no matter what came next.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. *** The blind youth walked among the trees, following a narrow, well-trodden path in the snow. He moved slowly, stretching his hands forward, taking careful, tentative steps. Behind him, with a hand resting on the boy''s shoulder, followed Morten¡ªguiding him, warning him of obstacles. The guide''s face showed a hint of impatience, but any irritation caused by his companion''s sluggishness was more than outweighed by the payment jingling merrily in gold coins at his belt. The path came to an end, and the travelers found themselves beneath a large, sprawling tree. From its crown, a fair-haired child nimbly descended along the bare branches, eyeing the guests with curiosity. - Do you have a wish? - Huld asked, addressing either Morten or the blind youth. - Yes, yes, Lord Huld! - the boy fell to his knees. The blind youth pulled a wooden tablet from his tunic, the writing upon it crude and uneven, and held it out before him, unaware that the god was speaking from the tree''s lower branch. - I was born blind, my lord, - the boy spoke, - but your priest says that you have the power to grant any request, to heal any affliction... - Priest? - Huld repeated. - Yes, Lord Morten, - the blind boy clarified. The child remained silent, but the look he cast at the man was anything but childlike. In Harald''s castle, Huld had seen many priests of Odin, but hardly any of them bore even the slightest resemblance to Morten. And yet, it was difficult for the young god to deny the greed and cunning that united them. So he chose not to dispute the boy''s words. - And what is it that you wish for? - the god simply asked. - I want... to see, to be able to look upon the world... like other people do, - the youth stammered, his voice filled with barely contained excitement. - That is easy, - Huld nodded confidently. The boy deftly wove a thin cord from his silver hair and reached for the tablet in the blind youth''s hands. As of late, following Morten''s advice, Huld had made it a rule to have his supplicants write down their wishes. All because several of Morten''s dissatisfied "clients" had already returned to him more than once, demanding explanations for the way Huld had interpreted their desires. Fortunately, Morten was a skilled warrior and could resolve most disputes with a sword. Even so, he had decided to eliminate any ambiguity and misunderstandings in his clients'' dealings with the god. But the more wishes Huld granted, the more Morten became convinced that entrusting his own fate to the young god was a terrible idea. He had seen far too many warped desires and their consequences in just a few months. During that time, the man had only grown more certain that he had done the right thing by profiting from others'' wishes rather than making one himself. And now, he suspected, it was time to bring this venture to an end¡ªbefore word of the runaway god''s whereabouts spread too far. Huld tied the cord with the wooden tablet to a branch and returned to the treetop, where a handful of golden leaves trembled in the wind. He plucked one and leapt down. The blind youth flinched at the sound of something landing nearby. But Morten, well accustomed to such sights, was no longer surprised. Instead, a thick unease settled in his chest¡ªthe kind he felt when facing an opponent far stronger than himself. A sense of danger. Huld scooped up a handful of snow and warmed it in his palms until it melted completely, revealing the golden leaf in a small pool of water. Then the god stepped forward and washed the blind boy''s face with the icy liquid. The youth shuddered at the unexpected touch and blinked, his head turning this way and that in confusion. But after a moment, his gaze steadied, clear and focused. And the first thing he saw was Huld. The boy burst into tears, collapsed into the snow at Huld''s feet, and began to murmur words of gratitude. They warmed the young god''s soul and flattered his vanity, assuring him that, at last, he was doing everything right. - And you, - the child turned to Morten, - have you decided what you want yet? Once again, a shiver ran down Morten''s spine at that question, but he habitually shook his head. In response, Huld simply nodded and fluttered back up into the tree like a great, colorful bird. His fine garments, gifted by Harold, had grown tattered, now resembling a patchwork of bright feathers. Morten tied a thick cloth over the former blind boy''s eyes and led him back into the forest along the only path. A certainty had nearly taken root in his mind¡ªit was time to put an end to this. Yet greed still planted a seed of doubt. But by the time he finally emerged from the woods, bid farewell to the newly sighted youth, and made his way to his small rented home, Morten had made his final decision¡ªhe had earned enough to leave service behind and settle down somewhere, living a life of ease. That was what Morten was thinking when, upon stepping into the single room of his cottage, he found himself face to face with uninvited guests. There were four of them¡ªall men, all armed, and all tense at the sight of the homeowner. - Morten...- one of the men drawled, shaking his head in displeasure. - Did you really think you could hide in this backwater? - he sneered. Two of his burly companions seized Morten at the threshold, forcing him to his knees before the speaker. - No, lad, orders must be followed,- the leader declared. - Especially when you''ve already taken payment upfront. - No, no, no! - Morten protested, his face going pale at the sight of his visitors. - I did everything!- he blurted out, preempting any further commands from the imposing man. For a moment, the leader hesitated, but then his expression turned skeptical once more. - Then why are you still here? - he asked. - I admit, - Morten nodded, now calmer as he realized they were willing to listen. - I stayed here a little longer to rest... - But only because I had already completed the job! - the mercenary emphasized. - And where are your men? - the man inquired. Morten shrugged indifferently: - Only I remain. The man chuckled knowingly. - No matter... - Better tell me, where''s the proof? - Otherwise, you might just be a traitor hiding out here. - It''s here! Everything''s here! - Morten assured him hastily. - Harald''s heir''s head - I have it! - Well then, your own head stays on your shoulders, - the man murmured smoothly. - Show me. Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, Morten carefully got to his feet. - It''s outside¡ªbehind the firewood pile, - he nodded toward the door. - Lead the way, - the visitor rose eagerly from the bench. Morten stepped out first, silently thanking every god that he had had the foresight to leave a loose end and keep Alv''s head. Confidently, he overturned a few logs stacked by the cabin wall, digging into the snow. And there it was¡ªthe familiar coarse sack, stained with dried blood. But the moment Morten grabbed it, his heart plummeted into an icy void - the bundle was completely empty. *** Huld was not burdened by waiting¡ªtime meant far less to him than to mortals, and his mission seemed far more important than haste. He did not regret his promise to Morten to wait until the man had thought through his wish. But Morten''s time had come to an end, and Huld knew it with certainty, reading the web of the near future¡ªwoven idly each morning, more out of habit than necessity. The young god realized he would no longer need to expect new visitors brought by Morten and decided to turn to the one wish that had eluded him. For the umpteenth time, he plucked a pair of precious leaves from the Tree of Being, Idras, then leapt down to the ground and made his way to the nearest hollow¡ªwhere Morten had discarded the bodies of his fallen comrades and their mutual victim, so as not to frighten Huld''s pilgrims. The child rummaged through the snow for a moment and pulled out Alv''s head, long since found through the threads of fate¡ªyet stubbornly unwilling to return to its rightful shoulders. With a practiced motion, Huld plucked a golden leaf, leaving only its curved central vein¡ªnow resembling a fishing hook. He threaded one of his long platinum hairs through it, like a needle, and once again set to sewing Alv''s head back onto his body. The little god had done this many times before, but the results had always been disappointing, forcing him to undo the seam and try again¡ªchanging the pattern, the number of threads, the placement of each stitch. This time, he decided to weave a leaf from the sacred tree into the wound¡ªsomething he had never attempted before. Slowly but surely, the work neared completion, stitch by stitch forming an intricate silver pattern of unearthly beauty. At last, Huld pulled the thread taut, hiding its end within the wound¡ªnow barely discernible beneath the meticulous embroidery of the god''s hand. The corpse stirred, its deathly pallor fading. Alv''s eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing gray eyes filled with fear and despair. And the first thing they met was the emerald gaze of Huld.