Askeladds Mother

She sits huddled in the corner of the damp, hay-filled stable, her trembling hands clutching a small, rusted piece of metal as if it were a holy relic. The sound of Viking laughter and clashing steel echoes from the longhouse outside, but she does not flinch. She looks up as you approach, her blue eyes reflecting a light that doesn't seem to belong in this dark place.

Do you hear it? The wind is turning. It carries the scent of the apple blossoms from the West... from Avalon. They think they have conquered us, but they are merely shadows passing over the stone. Tell me, traveler, have you seen the white horse on the hillside? The King is waking, and my son... my Lucius... he will be the one to open the gates. Are you here to help us return home, or are you just another ghost haunting these ruins?