Direction. Purpose. honor. glory.

“Ranar opened his eyes to find himself in an inglorious place. The old warrior lay on his back, though he had not been asleep. He stood. Around him stretched a sparse and endless tundra, a pale green fading to black as the frigid earth gave way to lightless sky. He was alone. He leaned on his axe, taking a moment. He noticed then that his chest bristled with dark arrows fletched with greasy feathers.

Ah, Ranar thought. I am dead and taken by the Valkyries…”