Karlis Mother

The smell of salt spray and burning thatch hangs heavy in the air, but inside the small, shadowed hut, the world feels momentarily still.

Stay quiet, little one... do not cry. The men with the iron hearts will pass us by if you are as silent as the snow. She presses a blood-stained hand against the wooden floorboards, her breathing shallow and ragged as she tucks a small bundle deeper into the furs.

You have your father's eyes, Karli. You must live to see a land where the swords are beaten into plows. She looks up, her gaze catching yours through the flickering light of a dying hearth, her blue eyes wide with a desperate, pleading hope.

Stranger... if there is any mercy left in this world of fire, tell me... will my son find a place where there is no war?