Chapter 41: A visit to Brynhild’s Home

The night dragged on after Sophia’s harrowing awakening, the Trihydra’s mocking laughter and Orion’s accusing "Why?" haunting her thoughts.

Sleep eluded her for most of the night as she fought a losing battle against the vivid images of destruction and guilt that refused to fade.

Only in the early hours of the morning, as the first gray light seeped through the shuttered window, did exhaustion claim her. It was a poor, restless rest, plagued by fleeting shadows and muffled roars, leaving her weary and disoriented when she stirred.

She rose with a firm shake of her head, and pain at her side due to how badly she slept, deciding to keep the dream to herself. It was just a dream, a manifestation of her fear from the Trihydra’s piercing gaze at the gate.

There was no point in troubling the pack with her fears especially with Orion’s condition already a heavy burden. She dismissed it as her mind’s way of grappling with the beast’s unnerving focus, vowing to move past it.

Shivering in the cold room, she moved to the basin, the water chilling her skin as she washed away the sweat of her restless night. She wondered if there was a way to get hot water especially due to the weather. Surely, there must be a way. She had been quiet about it but keeping quiet would just give her more pain especially because the weather seemed to be getting worse. She decided to ask Brynhild or Ronan later.

She dressed in warm layers, thick woolen trousers, a knitted sweater, and a heavy fur-lined cloak, bracing for the freezing bite of the wind. The clothes were a bit bigger than her, another thing to ask about, if she could get clothes tailored for her. Brynhild had lent her some clothes but they weren’t exactly the same size, only similar.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to her modest house, the snow outside glistening under the pale morning light. Orion’s home was a few feet from here but she didn’t Pinder on it. She had never even gotten a good look at his home because of how insufferable the owner was.

Sophia’s plan was to visit Brynhild who had woken up the previous night. If there was one person she could refer to as a friend now, it would be Brynhild.

First, she headed toward the medical facility, its sturdy silhouette rising against the snowy expanse. The compound’s houses flanked her path, a testament to the north’s harsh demands. Built from massive stone blocks quarried from frost-riven mountains, they were designed to withstand blizzards and attacks. Ancient runes glowed faintly along their surfaces, warding off cold and unseen threats, while blackened iron chimneys puffed smoke to warm the interiors.

Steep, snow-covered roofs sloped sharply, insulated by packed ice, their edges lined with carved totems to appease northern spirits. Wooden shutters, reinforced with metal bands, sealed the windows against howling winds, and narrow, ice-slick pathways wound between low walls that served as windbreaks and defenses. The rugged beauty spoke of survival, each house a fortress against the elements.

As she approached the medical facility, a young girl stepped out, her apron stained with herbal residue. It was Rita, the same apprentice who’d informed Lysander of Brynhild’s awakening the previous night.

Her youthful face brightened with a smile. "Good morning," she greeted, her voice cheerful despite the early hour. "How may I help you?"

"Morning," Sophia replied, her breath fogging. "I’m looking for Brynhild. Is she still here?"

Rita tilted her head, considering. "No, she’s back at her home now. Lysander moved her last night."

"Oh, okay." Sophia nodded, grateful.

Rita gave her a smile and continued her business while Sophia stood rooted to the ground as she realised she didn’t know Brynhild’s home. They have never met in her house before and during the tour...Brynhild never finished it, not after that distraction.

She turned to Rita. "Um...excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"Could you point me in the direction of her home?" Sophia asked her.

Rita gestured toward a path leading from the facility, not far off. "Head that way, past the healer’s herb garden. It’s a stone house with a porch and a rocking chair out front, you can’t miss it. It wouldn’t take you long to get there, about three minutes or so."

"Thanks," Sophia said, offering a small smile before setting off.

The snow crunched underfoot as she followed the path, the houses looming with their rune-etched walls and smoking chimneys. She passed a family home where children peered out, their breath fogging the glass, and another with a totem swaying in the breeze. The medical facility faded behind her, its torches dimming in the daylight.

Soon, Brynhild and Lysander’s home came into view, a sturdy stone structure standing slightly apart. Its facade was weathered but strong, runes glowing along the edges like a protective web.

There was a porch, its wooden floor swept clean of snow, stretched across the front, supported by posts carved with swirling patterns. Steps led up to the door, and a rocking chair sat on the veranda, its worn wood suggesting frequent use, perhaps by Lysander or even both in quieter moments.

Potted plants, herbs and small evergreens, lined the edges, their green leaves a defiant splash of life against the white. Sophia suspected they were Lysander’s because Brynhild had admitted to not having that touch Lysander seemed to have, a healer’s touch.

She climbed the steps, the wood creaking softly, and knocked on the door.

A warm, tired voice called from within, "Come in." Her hand hesitated, then pushed the door open, the hinges groaning as she entered.

The interior enveloped her in warmth, the air rich with the scent of burning wood and dried herbs. A large hearth dominated one wall, its fire crackling behind a stone mantel etched with pulsing runes. The floor was wooden, polished smooth by years of use, covered in spots with thick rugs woven from wolf pelts. Stone walls held shelves laden with jars of salves and scrolls, Lysander’s healing domain, while a sturdy table bore a steaming kettle. The space felt lived-in, blending Brynhild’s warrior practicality with Lysander’s nurturing care.

"I knew it was you." Sophia heard a voice say and a smile curled up on her lips.