Max's eyes widened in wonder and excitement. No one had encountered a symbol like the red horned skull anywhere on this island until now. It could be a tribal or family mark of some kind used to denote territory, or it could simply be a quick way to remember where the rune stone was located. Whatever its purpose, Max didn't wait to speculate and moved on to the weathered writing beneath.

His fingers trembled slightly as he fished around inside his bag and pulled out the notebook and pen. His Old Norse was a little weak on its own, but fortunately, the notebook contained several helpful runic alphabet charts and pages upon pages of notes about the workings of the language and a couple of its offshoots. It only took him a minute or two to decipher a few words:

Only a…Ha—something…Can…something…the Path.

Max scrunched his eyebrows together in concentration as he ran the last two sticky words through his mind over and over.

Only a what can what the path? Only a what can…is that a "w, a, l"—oh! Walk! Only a…something...can walk the path!

These were instructions on how to get somewhere, but who or what could walk the mentioned path? And where was it?

H…a…d…d…o…

His thought process ground to a halt like a train wreck. The last untranslated word was a name. His name. Max's mouth dropped open as a chill traveled the length of his spine.

Only a Haddock Can Walk the Path.

The young student stood slowly, numbness and disbelief spreading throughout his body. Was this some kind of mean-spirited joke cooked up by the others? The group was known to pull a friendly prank on each other every now and then, but they were never this elaborate and Max was usually a participant, not a target.

His gaze lowered back to the stone. The red skull symbol seemed to stare back at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He could almost hear it whispering to him. It's true, Max. The stories are true. You know they are…

…Did he?

After another moment of quiet contemplation, Max shoved his notebook back into the bag, a determined, adventurous expression flashing across his face. The message was meant for him and him alone. If he didn't find out for himself, he would be left forever wondering, forever questioning his own heritage

But, Max realized, there would be no continuing until he figured out what the sentence actually meant.

Only a Haddock Can Walk the Path.

What path?

He immediately dropped to the ground began searching the area around the stone on all-fours for any kind of clue—an arrow, more writing, a trail, something—but the thousand-year-old messenger wasn't giving anything away for free. They were clever, whoever they were, and had gone to great lengths to make sure their secret was secure.

Frustrated, Max was about to give up entirely when he happened to glance up at the rock wall in front of him. There, underneath a covering of thick tree roots, was a crack. It was only visible at the particular angle he was currently at, and he would have missed it altogether had he not resigned himself to the dirt to search.

Max jumped to his feet and rushed to the crack, tearing roots away as fast as he could. It was much taller than it looked to be underneath the covering. In fact, it was about his height and if he turned sideways, he could slide right in…

Wait, what was he thinking?! It would be dangerous and outright stupid going in there all by himself. He could get hurt or stuck where no one would be able to find him. Maybe he should head back to the dig-site and get somebody to go along with him…

But how could he explain this? It would only look as if Max had created the whole scene for a bit of attention. No. The message was clear, and somehow, he felt assured that the messenger did not mean to cause him any harm.

With that in mind, Max took a deep breath, turned sideways and scooted into the slot-like crack. It was a perfect fit, just wide and tall enough for someone of his exact build to navigate comfortably.

Darker and darker the passage became as it twisted and turned, but never once did the walls narrow or threaten to cut him off completely. Feeling confidence well up inside him with every step, Max moved a little faster, breath coming in short bursts. He was contemplating stopping to dig out his flashlight, but the next step turned out not to be a step at all. With a yelp, Max fell off a rock ledge for the second time that day. It was pitch black and for half a terrifying second, he thought he'd stumbled into a complete abyss, that he would keep falling forever and ever…until he hit a solid rock floor about two feet down.

With a huff, he scrambled to his feet, shaking slightly from the scare. The flashlight was retrieved from the bag and flicked on. It was on the small side, but powerful enough to illuminate much of the area around him. He was suddenly grateful he'd decide to put in a set of fresh batteries that morning.

Max held the light high above his head like a torch. He was standing in a large, rocky chamber that had been cut into the stone by strong human hands many centuries ago. There were only two ways to go now: back through the crack to the outside, or down that long, black tunnel in the opposite wall. He'd come this far. There was no way he would let something as trivial a creepy tunnel in an unexplored cave turn him back now.

He took a cautious step forward, then another and another until he was a few feet in. Then he paused for a moment, awestruck at what his shining light had revealed. The walls were covered in runes of all sizes. They slithered in curling lines along the tunnel's sides, swirled above his head on the ceiling, trickled down the wall onto the floor in an endless stream. From what Max could gather, they were ancient spells, prayers, supplications to the Old Gods for peace, protection, safe passage to Valhalla and beyond.

A thrill coursed through Max as his brain automatically made the connection. This wasn't just a cave. This was a tomb, the final resting place of someone important.

Slowly, almost reverently, Max moved forward again. There was power in this place. A deep and ancient power that seemed to flow through the veins of runes and seep into Max's very being. In a mysterious way, he felt as if all of this was part of him, or that he had a small part in the tale it had to tell and that he always had. As he continued through the space, he could sense the former generations of Haddocks observing his every move, waiting for him to complete this chapter and carry the story on.

He stopped and turned a slow circle to see where he'd been, where he was now and where he was heading. And then his blood froze. At the very end of the tunnel, shrouded in dark shadow, loomed a huge, black, winged creature.