Page 21 of The Viking in the Vault
Somehow, those simple words are what destroy me.
The weight of it crashes down on me, more suffocating than the cold. I stagger back, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Fenrik whines, pressing against my side, but even his warmth can’t ground me.
“Elena,” I rasp, my voice shaking.
She steps closer, concern etched across her face. She says something to Ves, but I don’t hear the translation. The world is spinning, the ice beneath me unsteady, and the sky above feels like it’s collapsing.
“Elena,” I say again, clutching at her arm. “Yrsa’s mercy…how long? How long exactly?”
Ves answers hesitantly. They told me back in the archive that it had been a while, but this…it's impossible.. “Long…long time. Expedition missing…four thousand years.”
Four thousand years.
The words echo in my mind, a hammer striking an anvil. Everyone I knew—my crew, my family, the boisterous younger brothers I promised I would return to—they’re all…
Gone.
I sink to my knees, the snow biting through my trousers, and bury my face in my hands. The weight of it all—the loss, the disorientation, the sheer impossibility of what I’ve woken into—it’s too much.
Fenrik nudges my shoulder, whining softly, and Elena crouches beside me, her hand resting gently on my arm. She speaks, her voice soft and soothing, and though I can’t understand the words, the tone eases the jagged edges of my panic.
“Ragnar,” she says, her voice trembling as if she knows. Then she touches my heart, meeting my eyes. “Fenvarra.”
I know she doesn't know what it means–that she understands it merely as a word that could bring comfort–but I don't care. Without another moment's thought, I reach out and take her in my arms, clutching her to me, heedless of what her associates might think.
I don’t know how long we stay like that—her hand on my arm, Fenrik pressed against my side—but eventually, the storm inside me begins to calm. I lift my head, meeting Elena’s gaze, and for the first time, I see not pity, but determination.
“Come,” she says, the word clear and firm. She stands, offering me her hand.
I take it.
The path winds down the foothills, toward what appears to be some sort of station. Swift-moving vessels race along golden tracks, letting some people off and others onboard. I catch more than a few strange looks, Elena remaining at my side the entire time. She looks over at Ves and they share a murmured conversation before Elena looks up at me–and in my own language, says, “You are safe.”
We’re re-routed from the station to a smaller vessel, much to my relief. I hesitate before I get in, but Elena leads the way, Fenrik hopping in behind her. The rest of our party clambers inside, save for the reptilian male and the winged female. Both are species I’ve never encountered before, more to pile on the list of things that are alien to me.
This is not the world I left behind.
Once we’re inside, the smaller vessel hums to life, the walls smooth and alien, with no visible controls. Elena says something to the others, her voice calm and sure, and then she gestures for me to sit. Fenrik settles immediately by her feet, his tail wagging faintly as if trying to reassure me. I can’t help but glance at the door as it seals shut with a soft hiss.
This is not how I imagined M’mir would look—or feel. The fortress I once knew was a bastion of cold steel and unyielding purpose, its walls lined with the whispers of forbidden knowledge. We created it as a stronghold to store our histories, when the Boreans seemed intent on destroying all that did not serve them.
But this…this city, these people—they are soft in a way I don’t understand. Their clothing, their technology, even their voices lack the sharp edge of necessity that shaped my life.
I feel like an intruder in a dream, a relic misplaced in a world that has long since forgotten me.
Elena leans slightly toward me, her hand brushing my arm. I glance down at her, and she offers a small, reassuring smile. The warmth in her gaze cuts through the overwhelming strangeness, anchoring me in the moment. Despite the chaos in my mind, despite the feeling that I’m drowning in unfamiliarity, her presence is steady, constant.
Ves sits across from us, speaking quietly to the older Merati scholar. They keep looking at me, their expressions filled with curiosity and something else—pity, perhaps. I clench my fists, wishing I could understand them, wishing I could demand answers instead of being left to piece everything together like a child.
Elena notices my tension. She shifts closer, her voice soft as she murmurs something I can’t understand. I turn my gaze to her, frowning slightly, and she places her hand over mine. Thegesture is simple, but it cuts through the noise in my head. I don’t pull away.
The vessel begins to move, a gentle hum vibrating through the floor. The view outside is startling—the icy landscape blurs into a stream of white and blue, and I find myself staring, transfixed by the sheer speed of it. Elena follows my gaze, her expression thoughtful as she watches me take it in.
I lean back, trying to focus on the rhythm of the motion, the sound of Fenrik’s steady breathing, the warmth of Elena’s hand on mine. Slowly, the tension in my chest begins to ease, though the weight of everything I’ve lost still lingers, pressing against the edges of my mind.
When the vessel slows and comes to a stop, I feel a jolt of apprehension. Elena squeezes my hand gently, her touch grounding me once more, and then she stands, motioning for me to follow. Fenrik rises immediately, sticking close to her side as we step out into the cold air once again.
This new place is different from the village we passed before. Stone pillars are set on either side of a large wooden door, golden light filtering from beneath it. I recognize some of the runes carved into the pillars: warnings to those who would destroy our history, blessings regarding the sanctity of knowledge. This looks familiar, yes…but I’m certain it was built after my time.
