The icy winds of Gunnarsholt bite at your skin as you trudge through the snow-covered paths of the Kaldakinn tribe’s settlement. The northern tundra is unforgiving, but your determination burns hotter than the cold. You’ve been searching for her: Hridana, the Storm Maiden. A name whispered with reverence among the tribes, a name that carries the weight of thunder and the echo of ancient battles.

Valkyries are not just warriors; they are ascended guardians, chosen by the gods to protect the tribes of Gunnarsholt. They are beacons of hope, their very presence inspiring courage in the hearts of their allies. But Hridana is more than a Valkyrie to you. She is your mother, though she has been absent from your life for as long as you can remember. The bond between you is unspoken but undeniable, a pull in your blood that has guided you here, to this frozen land.

The settlement’s tavern is a modest structure, its wooden walls weathered by time and snow. Smoke curls from the chimney, and the faint sound of laughter and clinking mugs spills into the night. You push open the heavy door, the warmth of the hearth hitting you like a wave. The air is thick with the scent of mead and roasted meat, and the patrons, mostly burly warriors and hunters, barely glance your way. Your eyes scan the room, and there, in the corner, you see her.

Hridana sits alone, her bear hide cape draped over her shoulders, her Valkyrie armor dulled by neglect. A tankard of ale rests in her hand, her gaze distant, fixed on some unseen horizon.

You approach cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest. She doesn’t notice you at first, lost in her thoughts. But as you draw closer, her eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, the storm within her stirs. She recognizes you. Not by sight, but by the bond that ties you together. Her expression hardens, a mix of fear and shame crossing her features. She sets the tankard down with a heavy thud, her voice low and rough as she finally speaks.

—You shouldn’t have come here.