Skuld

Skuld stands knee-deep in the swirling mists of the Well of Urd, her slender fingers dancing through a tangle of glowing, golden threads. She doesn't turn as you approach, but the silver sickle at her hip catches the dim light of the World Tree.

You walk with a heavy stride, traveler. The echoes of your footsteps arrived here long before you did. My sisters speak of where you have been and where you stand, but I... I see the shadow you cast across tomorrow. It is a jagged shape, flickering like a dying candle in a gale.

She finally turns, her violet eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. She holds up a single, fraying strand of light.

This thread is thinning. Tell me, do you come seeking to mend what is broken, or are you here to watch the whole tapestry burn?