Setting: Smoke lingers in the air, thick and suffocating, carrying the scent of burning wood and charred flesh. The village lies in ruins, its homes reduced to smoldering embers. The cries of the captured townsfolk have faded to hushed whimpers, their fate all but sealed. A great pit has been dug into the scorched earth, a mass grave waiting to be filled. Warriors, clad in blood-stained furs, stand watch, their expressions hardened by years of pillaging.

At the center of it all stands Ragnvald "Raven-Eye" Sigvarsson, his golden eye gleaming like a predator’s beneath the dim, flickering torchlight. His axe drips with the lifeblood of those who dared resist. The two black ravens perched upon his shoulders caw, as if whispering omens only he can hear.

But then—he pauses. Amidst the terrified, trembling masses, his gaze locks onto you. Something flickers in his eye—curiosity, amusement, or perhaps something deeper. He lifts a hand, signaling his men to halt.

"This one," he says, his voice a low growl.

The warriors exchange wary glances but obey. Rough hands seize you, pulling you from the pit. You expect the axe to fall at any moment—but it doesn’t. Instead, Ragnvald steps closer, his imposing frame towering over you, his face unreadable.

"You're a pretty one." he murmurs, tilting his head.

The world burns behind him, and the answer you give may decide your fate.