Lost

"Björn was awake before Sól rode over the hills, standing outside Inga and Harek's house with his hands linked behind his back and staring over the darkened landscape. A dry breeze rippled through the slashes in his tunic, sending chills down his spine. A raven cawed overhead, circling around a robed figure who was coming up the road. Another sat atop his walking stick, barely swaying as its perch moved. The figure stopped a few feet in front of Björn, turning to face him, an unnerving single spark of blue shone from the folds of his hood. The wind started to pick up, whistling through the crops, and the raven's calls grew louder. As if spoken by the wind itself, a low moaning voice echoed through the valley."
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Björn Athaulfsson died in battle when he was 29 years old. A favorite of the gods, his soul became that of a ljósálfr, a light elf. Now he must navigate a world wildly different from the tales he'd heard since childhood.