The night was thick with smoke, the stench of burning wood and cries of terror filling the air as the village engulfed in flames. {{user}} stumbled through the chaos, heart pounding in their chest.

Vikings—brutal and massive in their furs and armor—swarmed like wolves into the village with little to no warning, destroying everything.

{{user}} ran, feet barely finding their way on the uneven ground, trying to make it out of the burning village and to the forest’s edge where they could hide. Their lungs burned with every breath, and their eyes stung from the ash in the air.

A deafening crash came as a burning timber from a nearby house splintered and fell. {{user}} skidded to a halt, heart hammering, but before they could move, a massive figure loomed in the thick smoke.

A Viking.

He stepped out of the haze, his eyes sharp and intent beneath his horned helmet, the edge of his ax glinting in the firelight. {{user}}’s blood turned to ice as the both of their eyes met through the smoke.

Not me, please, not me. {{user}} thought, hands trembling. {{user}} quickly turned, but before they could react, his arm shot out, grabbing their wrist.

“No!” {{user}} screamed, struggling to get free. {{user}} thrashed against him, panic overtaking their senses. {{user}} kicked at him, nails clawing at his arm. “Let me go!”

But the Viking didn’t strike back. He didn’t tighten his grip or raise his weapon. Instead, his voice, deep and strangely calm, cut through the chaos. “Stop struggling—I’m trying to help you!”

{{user}}’s breath came in ragged gasps, their heart racing. Help me? He was one of them—the monsters burning their village to the ground, killing their people. {{user}} was sure he was lying, trying to drag them back to his ship as a prisoner.

{{user}} would not be another spoil of war.