The Son of Tyr

Chapter one: The Blood of Gods

Eirik's fingers trembled as he gripped the hilt of his sword, its weight cold and heavy in his hands. In the distance, the village burned, casting an eerie glow against the snow-covered mountains. The flames danced like the ancient runes he had studied with his grandfather-a man who claimed to have the blood of gods in his veins. Eirik had never believed those stories. Not until now.

He stood atop the ridge, the wind biting at his face, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Below him, figures moved through the chaos-raiders, pillaging everything in sight. He saw friends, neighbors, people he'd grown up with, fall under their blades. His heart clenched, the sounds of their screams reaching him even from this height. But worse than the raiders themselves was the creature leading them.

Surtur's Spawn.

It was a monster from the old tales, a creature of fire and shadow, and it walked among the men, devouring anyone in its path. Eirik's heart raced with fear, but something deeper stirred within him. A voice, deep and resonant, whispered in his mind, "You are more than this."

"Eirik!" a voice shouted from behind him, breaking through the trance.

He turned to see Freyja running toward him, her long blonde hair whipping in the wind, her eyes wide with fear and something else-determination. She was his closest friend, though Eirik had long struggled with feelings for her that ran deeper than friendship. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

"They've taken the village!" she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. "They're killing everyone. We have to fight."

Eirik glanced back at the devastation below. Fight? Against that? He had barely trained with a sword. What good could he do? But Freyja's gaze held his, and there was something in her eyes that made him want to believe.

"We'll die if we go down there," he said, voice hoarse.

Freyja stepped closer, gripping his arm. "We're dead if we stay up here. Eirik, we can't run from this forever."

It was then that a roar echoed across the valley, and Eirik's blood ran cold. The creature turned its massive head toward them, flames licking at its form. Its burning eyes locked on Eirik, as if sensing something in him-something familiar.

Before he could react, the voice in his mind whispered again, stronger this time. "Face it. Your fate awaits."

Eirik swallowed hard and met Freyja's gaze. "Then we fight."

---

They charged down the ridge, the snow crunching beneath their boots as they descended into chaos. The smell of smoke and blood filled the air, and Eirik's heart pounded in his chest as they neared the village. The creature loomed ahead, towering above the raiders. It saw them coming, and a sinister grin spread across its molten face.

With a cry, Eirik swung his sword at the nearest raider, more out of instinct than skill. The man crumpled to the ground, his blood spraying the snow. Freyja fought beside him, her movements swift and sure, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

"Fall back!" Eirik shouted, but it was too late. The creature was upon them.

It raised one fiery hand, and with a single strike, the ground beneath them erupted in flames. Eirik was thrown backward, his head spinning. Pain shot through his body as he hit the ground hard, but it was nothing compared to the horror of what he saw next.

Freyja lay still in the snow, her body motionless.

"No!" Eirik screamed, scrambling to her side. He shook her, desperate for a response, but her eyes stared blankly ahead. The fire had claimed her.

The world seemed to fall away around him. The sounds of battle faded, and all that remained was the echo of that voice in his mind. "You are more than this."

Grief consumed him, but in the depths of that pain, something else stirred-rage. His vision blurred as a warmth spread through his veins, something ancient, something powerful. He looked down at his hands and saw them glowing faintly with a soft golden light.

The creature roared again, its fiery gaze fixed on him.

Eirik stood, his body moving as if controlled by something beyond him. The sword in his hand felt lighter now, as if it was an extension of himself. He looked at the beast and knew, somehow, that this was his moment. The time to discover what he truly was.

He was no ordinary man. He was the son of Tyr, the Norse god of war and justice.

And today, he would fight like one.

---

The battle that followed was like something from the sagas. Eirik moved with a speed and strength he had never known, his sword cutting through the raiders like they were nothing. The creature fought back, its fiery attacks fierce and unrelenting, but Eirik stood his ground.

As the flames closed in, Eirik raised his sword and, with a shout that shook the very earth, struck the creature down. The fire died, and the village was silent.

He stood there, panting, staring at the fallen monster. But there was no victory in his heart. Freyja was gone. His village was in ruins. The price of this discovery, of knowing his true nature, was far too high.

Eirik fell to his knees beside Freyja's body, the golden light in his veins fading. He was a god's son, but what did that mean now? He had saved no one. He had lost everything.

As he cradled her lifeless form, the voice in his mind returned one last time. "This is only the beginning."

But to Eirik, it felt like the end.