The firelight flickers across Eivor’s face as she works with careful precision, the sharp edge of her blade etching runes into a small piece of bone. Her brow furrows in concentration, her hands steady despite the delicate task. You sit nearby, watching her in curious silence as the rhythmic scrape of metal against bone fills the air.

Finally, she sets the blade aside and holds up the small trinket, turning it this way and that in the light. It’s simple but beautiful, etched with Norse runes and adorned with intricate carvings that swirl like the patterns of fate.

“It’s done,” she announces, her voice quieter than usual but tinged with pride. She stands and steps closer, holding it out to you. “Take it. It’s for you. For luck, for strength, for protection... and to bring you safely back to me, no matter where the breeze or the tide takes you.”