Torvald stood in mute shock on the dock, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Halvard's hands trembled as he walked to the shore, and he fell to his knees. His shoulders trembled as he looked out on the devastation. The houses had been razed, the fields and pastures scorched, and it seemed nothing had been spared. The air was silent, with none of the bustle and conversation Wulfric had come to expect of the dockside market.

"Runa!" Ragnhildr shouted. She jumped from her ship and splashed through the shallows, calling her daughter's name. Torvald and Svein took off after her while Wulfric helped Halvard to his feet. The other warriors hesitantly disembarked from the longships and slowly fanned out through Rovngalad, trying to see if anything could be salvaged or if any of their loved ones had survived.

Wulfric finally caught up with Torvald and Ragnhildr at Halvard's hall, which had suffered worse than the other buildings in the village. A crippled man sat on a stool in front of the door, slowly whittling with a dagger. Ragnhildr backhanded him. "Tell me!" she demanded. "Where is my daughter?"

The man spread his lips in a smile, revealing several missing teeth. He wheezed with laughter until Ragnhildr struck him again. The man shook his head. "The little girl with hair like straw and eyes like jewels? Dead. She burned when we torched the hall."

"How?" Torvald growled. "How did you do this? Uthald and Jarn, they must have—"

"Your pet monsters? We didn't kill them. Couldn't manage that. But the sea beast sank deep into the fjord after a good battering, and we drove your iron monster up into the mountains where it wouldn't bother us. After that, it was easy to put the village to torch." The man grinned wider. "That's the price you pay when all of your best warriors are out to pasture."

It happened quickly, almost too fast for Wulfric to follow. Torvald's fingers twitched, and suddenly he was holding Skerast. There was a flash and then a geyser of blood splashed from the man's throat. Torvald kicked the corpse from the stool and turned on his heel. "I need to find Jarn." He stalked past Wulfric and Halvard and met his brother's eye. "Ingmar is going to pay for this."

Halvard could only nod as they continued on towards Ragnhildr. The woman turned to Wulfric. "Wulfric, please take Svein. I don't want him to see this."

Svein shook his head. "No, Mother. I'm a man now. I have a responsibility to my… to my sister." His voice broke, and he tried valiantly not to cry. Halvard pulled his nephew into an embrace and let the boy hide his face in that jarl's tunic so he wouldn't have to hold back his tears.

Wulfric backed away slowly. "I'll leave you to mourn. I… I wouldn't want to be in the way." Halvard turned to him, about to say something to stop him, but Wulfric shook his head. Halvard's family needed him, and despite opening their home to him, Wulfric would just be an interloper. As he made his way back down towards the harbor, he fished the iron ring out from under his tunic and began to pray.

"Oh great Arceus, Your humble servant comes to you in need of Your grace. "Heal my troubled heart and make me into a vessel of Your peace. In You, let me find clarity and the strength to guide my flock, as You guide Yours. Lord Arceus most high, I come to you in my hour of need beseeching Your light. I give myself to You so that You might make an instrument of me. In Your name I pray."

And yet, Wulfric felt nothing. There was no peace, no clarity. No grace.

Wulfric found Ulfi sitting outside the remains of his workshop, idly poking charred wreckage with a stick. The boat builder looked up as Wulfric approached and gestured to another mostly intact chair nearby. "Did you find Runa?" he asked.

Wulfric shook his head. "She… she died in the attack."

Ulfi nodded slowly. "I see." They sat in silence for a moment. Only the lapping waves made any noise. Finally, Ulfi grunted. "Do we know what happened?"

"King Ingmar ordered the attack, we think. There was a man who was left behind at Halvard's hall, he was wearing Ingmar's colors. He didn't last long once Torvald had him, but he said that they hurt Uthald enough to make him dive deep in the fjord to lick his wounds and they drove Jarn up into the mountains. It seems clear to me." Wulfric shrugged. "How are you holding up?"

Ulfi tossed his stick into the water. "My workshop can be rebuilt. My tools can be reforged. I'm probably the one man in Rovngalad who doesn't give a damn about this one way or the other." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his small hut. "My wife died years ago, and Odmund… well. I don't have that much left to lose. I kept Odmund's old cradle and my wife's wedding dress under my bed. Those probably burned up. But I still have my memories of them. Ingmar can't take those from me." Ulfi stood with a groan. "I'm going to go see if anyone needs something heavy lifted. That's about all I can do now."

Wulfric watched Ulfi wander off into the ruins of the village. Over the past several months, he had begun to feel like one of the northmen, like part of their tribe. But now, in the face of this tragedy, he felt like an outsider and a voyeur. The northmen needed to mourn the loss of their homes and loved ones, and right now, Wulfric was not welcome. He settled Dismas on his shoulder and picked his way out of the village and into the forest at the base of the mountains. The trees muffled the sounds drifting up from the village, and soon Wulfric was alone save for the sound of the sea air moving through the branches.

He wandered aimlessly through the trees until he caught the scent of wood smoke, entirely unlike the acrid stench of Rovngalad's charred ruins. Following the smell, he found Skaldi hunched next to a small fire in a clearing. The northern priest idly jabbed the coals with a stick. A battered metal pot hung on a spit over the flames.

Skaldi glanced up when he heard Wulfric's footfalls, a hand going to his axe. "Oh. It's just you."

"I thought you would be in the village."

"Why?"

"Is your family safe? Your home?"

"Haven't got a family, and my home was a wreck before all of this." The priest shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't want to be around people. It's easier in the woods."

Wulfric nodded. "I understand. I feel the same, sometimes."

"Sure you do," Skaldi scoffed. He gestured at the other side of the fire. "You might as well sit down. If I let you keep wandering around out here on your own, you might fall in a pit and break your legs or something."

Wulfric sat down and raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't think you'd mind if I disappeared under mysterious circumstances."

"I wouldn't. But Halvard would complain."

"I see."

The water in the pot reached a boil, and Skaldi carefully slipped it off its pole and poured the hot water into a chipped clay cup. He blew over the top and held it out to Wulfric. "If you're going to hang around, you might as well drink up, priest."

Wulfric took a cautious sniff. "What is this?"

"Tea. Don't you have that in the south?"

"Of course we have tea." Wulfric sipped the green-brown liquid and pursed his lips. It was far more bitter than he was used to, and earthier. "It's… interesting."

Skaldi tutted. "You don't drink it in silly little sips. Take a long draught."

"It's rather hot…"

"Don't have the stomach for it?"

Wulfric scowled and tilted the cup up again, drinking it down in three long gulps. He gasped as he passed the cup back to Skaldi. "By Arceus, that burns! This is how northerners take their tea?"

"It's how I do," Skaldi replied, pouring one out for himself. "It's more potent that way. Cheers!" He tossed the earthy tea back and swallowed, blowing out a long breath when he finished. "Shouldn't be long now."

"Shouldn't be long until what?"

Skaldi tittered. "Wulfric, we are going to pray together."

Wulfric tried to stand, but he was overcome with a wave of dizziness. "What was in that tea? What have you done to me?"

"Just a few herbs and mushrooms." Skaldi waved his hands dismissively and rose to his feet in a single fluid motion. He slunk around the fire and hoisted Wulfric up. "I think it's time I introduced you to my gods, Wulfric. You see, when I pray to my gods, they answer me. Can you say the same?"

Wulfric tried to snap back that of course Arceus heeded his prayers. And yet, had not his prayers always fallen on deaf ears? Skaldi laughed and led Wulfric onward. "I thought not. Come, I'll show you what a northern god can do."

The fog had settled more densely over Wulfric's mind, and his thoughts grew increasingly muddled. The greens of the forest seemed much sharper, even as the trunks seemed to warp and bend. He felt as though his spirit was tethered to his body only by a very thin cord, and he was drifting somewhere above it. A strong wind could sever the connection, and he would be barred from Arceus's domain forever. The thought made him begin to panic, but he felt Skaldi's hand clamp down hard on his arm. "None of that now. Not yet."

Wulfric focused on Skaldi's iron grip, using it as his anchor to reality. The sky above their heads had darkened, and the wind began to howl. Stinging rain lashed Wulfric's face as they emerged from the trees on a cliff that overlooked the coast. Dismas shifted uncomfortably on Wulfric's shoulder, bunching up his feathers to keep the water off him. Skaldi staggered to the cliff's edge and spread his arms wide, cackling madly as the wind whipped through his hair. "Do you feel it, Wulfric? Do you feel the power of my gods? It is in the roar of the wind, the biting cold, the crashing surf! These are gods truly worthy of respect and fear! What can your god bring against mine?"

Wulfric could only shake his head as a long rumble of thunder made the teeth rattle in his skull. A brilliant flash of lightning split the sky some distance out to sea, followed by several more strikes. Skaldi threw back his head and howled along with the thunder. "Look! The Storm Bringer is rattling his wings!"

In the next thunderclap, Wulfric heard another sound, a long, drawn out shriek. He had heard it once before, when Zapdos had descended on Rovngalad last autumn. A chill ran up Wulfric's spine as the dense clouds were illuminated again. The lightning crackled around a dark shape with broad wings soaring in a long arc along the coastline. Hearing the Storm Bringer pass overhead had been one thing, but now he was witnessing the raw fury of lightning incarnate for himself.

Zapdos screamed again, and was echoed by a clap of thunder that nearly deafened Wulfric. When the ringing in his ears subsided, he heard another long scream coming from the south. A great dark shape passed by above the clouds, and Wulfric felt an immense pressure pushing down on him as the vast shape soared by. The Storm Bringer unleashed its fury, splitting the sky again and again with lightning, but the dark shape seemed undeterred. It circled once above the cloud cover and began to pulse with red light. Skaldi fell to his knees and spread his arms wide. "Oh Bringer of Death, show us your power!"

A blast of crimson light descended from the sky, making the sea boil where it struck. Zapdos spiraled out of the way and beat furiously up into the air. The clouds flashed with blue-white lightning as the Storm Bringer struck back, though the Bringer of Death seemed to treat it as nothing more than a minor annoyance. The clouds flashed alternately blue-white and blood red, silhouetting the raging gods. The storm raged around Wulfric and Skaldi, the wind whipping their hair about their heads even as the rain plastered it to their skulls.

Skaldi chanted prayers too quickly for Wulfric to follow, not that he was paying the northern priest much mind anyway. The battle between the giant air aligned was like nothing he had ever seen before. His god was a distant force, all powerful certainly, but Arceus exerted His power in subtle ways. This was raw animalistic fury, the clash of two predators fighting over territory. The northern gods were no more than beasts. Powerful beasts, yes, but they had none of the grace that Arceus had. Couldn't Skaldi see that?

Perhaps he could, and that primordial fury only made Skaldi revere them more.

The crimson light of Yveltal swept out over the sea, throwing up large clouds of steam. Zapdos dove low, lightning sparkling along its feathers. When Yveltal did not stoop in pursuit, Zapdos angled itself higher, obviously intending to strike Yveltal from below. The massive red pokemon glowed brightly again and unleashed another blast of crimson light. Though Zapdos tried to dodge, the blast clipped its left wing, and the Storm Bringer plummeted. Yveltal screamed and began to descend, only for Zapdos to unleash a burst of lightning in the Bringer of Death's eyes. Yveltal recoiled, and Zapdos winged away as quickly as it was able on its damaged wings. As the Storm Bringer fled, the worst of the storm passed with it, though the rain still cascaded down. Yveltal circled lazily above the clouds, not deigning to give chase to a nimbler foe. It began to slowly descend from the roiling thunderheads, glowing with crimson light.

As it looped back towards the shore, Wulfric saw the Bringer of Death clearly for the first time. The lines of black along its pulsing red body stood out like veins, deep voids gouged into its flesh. Its eyes smoldered like massive blazing coals, and the oppressive aura of blind fear settled over Wulfric once again. Skaldi prostrated himself on the ground as Yveltal drifted lower. Wulfric reached up and clutched the iron ring that sat heavily on his breastbone.

"Give the god its due!" Skaldi hissed. Wulfric fixed his gaze on the Bringer of Death and tore the leather thong from his throat and held it at arm's length. "Yes!" Skaldi urged. "Cast off your old god! He can't save you now!"

"No."

In spite of his terror, Wulfric did not let himself waver. He held the iron ring before him, brandishing it at Yveltal. "I will never submit to your gods, Skaldi." Yveltal had reached the cliff where they now stood, and Wulfric felt the weight of its burning gaze. His fist clenched around the leather in his palm. "The power of Arceus is great, and He shall be my shield. In His grace, I have no fear."

"You fool! You have seen the might of my gods! How can you doubt their power?"

"They are fearsome, to be sure. But I will not succumb to fear."

Yveltal screamed, and Wulfric gritted his teeth. The temptation to flee was nearly overwhelming, but he knew that to do so would invite certain death. The Bringer of Death was glowing brighter, but Wulfric felt the rain on his brow and felt a fire burning in his breast. The cold, lashing deluge of Zapdos's fury had subsided, replaced by a misting rain that beaded on his skin.

"Your gods embody the power of the raging storm, the strength of the churning sea, the abject terror of death. But for all that, they lack the power of my Lord. You hear the screams of your gods in the roar of thunder, but Arceus speaks to me with the soft spring rains and the whisper of the wind." He threw his shoulders back and held his iron ring higher. "He speaks to me now, and I know that so long as I hold Him in my heart, I will never walk alone!"

Yveltal screamed again, but this time Wulfric did not cower. The monstrous beast spread its wings wide and surged back up above the clouds, flying back from whence it came. Wulfric turned his face up to the rain as his face broke into a beatific smile.

Halvard sat in the sand near the docks, his head bowed and heedless to the rain. "Runa…" he whispered. "Will I really never see you run again? Will I never hear your voice calling me home from across the field?" He picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. "Without you, everything is going to be so quiet and still. It is like all the color has bled away from the world."

His eyes stung, but he had no tears left to shed. "I… I simply can't believe that you are gone. You will never see another sunset, let alone another summer. We all ache from your loss, but it is nothing to what was stolen from you. There was so much you could have done, could have been. You could have been a warrior, a mother. You had so much joy to give, and so much left to see." Halvard shook his head. "Runa, my dear niece, you are not gone because you will always be in my heart. You were the light in our lives. I know there will come a day when we meet again in the Cold Halls, but…" His voice broke. "But I will wait here a while, and if you wish to come and sit with me, and lay your head in my lap. If you do, I will stroke your beautiful hair with my rough farmer's hands one last time." His shoulders heaved with a gasping sob.

Halvard sat there, letting the rain soak into his skin. After what seemed like hours, the downpour abated into a gentler shower. He heard footsteps in the sand, but he did not raise his eyes. Someone took Halvard's hand in both of their smaller ones, and sat down silently beside him. After a moment, Halvard lifted his head, almost ready to believe that his niece had heard him from beyond the veil. Instead, he saw Wulfric, the monk's eyes closed in silent prayer. As though he could feel Halvard's eyes on him, Wulfric gave the jarl's hand a gentle squeeze.

They sat together in the soft rain for some time, and eventually Ragnhildr and Svein made their way down the beach and sat with them. Ragnhildr laid her head on Wulfric's shoulder and pulled Svein close. Torvald came upon them not long after and stood beside his brother. The warrior opened his mouth to say something, shook his head, and sat down.

The rain continued to fall, mingling with the tears on their cheeks and trickling down to the damp earth. Wulfric had tilted his head up to the heavens and let the water cascade down his face. Although they were all soaked to the skin, they did not feel the cold. Wulfric clasped Halvard's hand and began to pray.

"Great Arceus, who dwells above,

Hallowed be Thy name

Where all Thy light touches

May Thine will be done,

As above and so below

Bless us this day, and those to come

And forgive us when we stray from Thy light

And guide us to work in Thy name,

But keep us from the Shadow.

For Yours is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory

Forever and ever

In Your name I pray."

His prayer finished, Wulfric opened his eyes to see the sun breaking through the low-hanging clouds. The rain began to abate, and as the children of Sigurd watched, the water of the fjord began to seethe. Uthald burst from the depths, tossing his crowned head. The spray caught in the sunlight, glittering like iridescent shards. The Gyarados turned his face towards the sun and basked in the warmth. Though he bore fresh wounds on his scaled hide, the leviathan seemed as powerful and vigorous as ever, and when he roared, Wulfric felt it deep in his bones.

While the screams of Zapdos and Yveltal had inspired terror, Uthald's roar was the sound of defiance, a challenge to the universe itself. Wulfric knew that it was a sign from Arceus, just as surely as he had felt Arceus with him when he stood against the Bringer of Death. The rain had been sent to cleanse him of his sins, and Arceus had called Uthald from the depths to remind Wulfric of his purpose and strengthen his resolve.

He grasped Halvard's hand again, and this time, Halvard clasped back.