The swift waters of the forest stream murmured monotonously, washing over the rocky shore. Eir sat on the damp ground, barely covered with the first sparse blades of grass, staring at the rushing current as if, deep down, she longed to drown in it.

  Perhaps she ought to be weeping, mourning her undeniably wretched fate, but her tears had long since dried up, and her heart had grown numb. The only solace left to her was this deserted place, in the brief hour at dawn before they noticed her absence in the master's house.

  Over the course of her life, Eir had already played several roles, but not a single one had been a happy one. She had grown up an orphan, never knowing her parents. She had begged for food in the village. She had found shelter and work as a servant in a wealthy house, endured the old master's advances, and later buried their children in the forest by the stream…

  Who knows why she chose this place? Perhaps because it was the only place where she herself had ever felt safe…

  From behind the bushes by the river, something moved—Eir flinched in fright, fearing… well, anyone, really. But instead of danger, a small child's figure emerged from the thicket.

  The boy walked along the shore, hopping from stone to stone, waving a long broken branch over the water. The girl didn’t recognize the strange child, but she let out a breath of relief, reassured by the lack of threat.

  Huld came closer and closer, paying no attention to Eir’s presence until he was right beside her. She only shrank back, hugging her knees to her chest, making space for him to pass. But the young god lifted his clear green eyes to her and smiled warmly.

  - Well… what do you want?.. - Eir curled in on herself, feeling extremely uneasy at the need to speak to this odd child.

  She had already noticed his expensive, though tattered, clothes—finer than even her master's.

  - Are you lost?.. - she guessed reluctantly.

  The boy tilted his head, checking his surroundings as if aligning himself with some markers only he could see, then shook his head.

  - No. I know where I am.

  - Then you should go home, little lord, - the girl sighed.

  - They're probably looking for you already…

  Eir’s words saddened Huld, and it showed plainly on the child's face.

  - I don’t think so, - the boy replied and sat down on the grass beside her.

  - Don’t want to go back? - the girl scoffed.

  She knew that feeling all too well. What irked Eir, though, was the thought of this little rich boy's trivial troubles—ones that couldn’t possibly compare to her unbearable life.

  Huld didn’t answer—not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t.

  They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The boy examined a small branch with beautiful golden leaves, holding it close to his chest, while Eir, as always, stared at the water.

  - I don’t want to, - the god finally said, having clearly spent all this time thinking over his answer to a question Eir had almost forgotten.

  - And you? - Huld turned his emerald gaze to his silent companion.

  -Do you have a wish?

  The word "wish" cut into Eir’s heart like a blade—like she had ever been allowed to wish for anything at all. Her answer was short but filled with bitterness:

  - No, - Eir snapped.

  - Not a single one? - Huld frowned.

  - Nothing at all?

  - Only lords like you can afford to want something, - the girl said, though her tone was now less heated.

  - For people like me, dreams and wishes only make it harder to go on, - Eir sighed.

  - Why? - the god asked, genuinely confused.

  - Because they don’t come true, - she voiced the harsh truth.

  Huld lowered his gaze, still trying to grasp the full weight of the girl’s words. But before he could respond, Eir rose to her feet, ready to leave.

  She had taken only a few steps when Huld’s question caught up with her:

  - But if one did come true… what would you wish for?

  The girl froze in place, staring at the ground with tear-filled eyes—somehow, this fair-haired boy managed to wound her heart again and again with nothing but words.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She didn’t turn, didn’t look at Huld, but lifted her gaze to the sky, fighting back the rising tears and taking a deep breath to steady herself.

  - I want to be free, like a bird, - Eir admitted, - to fly so far that no one could ever catch me…

  Her shoulders slumped, as if this confession had drained what little strength she had left.

  - Write it down, and it will surely come true, - Huld promised, holding out a small tablet, freshly formed from a golden leaf.

  Eir flinched and turned around—her face twisted with something close to madness. Then, suddenly, she burst into tears, laughing hoarsely and hysterically.

  - I told you… only people like you get their wishes granted, - she rasped between fits of laughter.

  A worried Huld met her gaze, bewildered.

  - I don’t know how to write, - Eir said, cutting off her laughter in an instant.

  She turned away and walked off in silence.

  The deity watched her go, struggling with conflicting emotions—on the one hand, Morten had taught Huld that people were forgetful and needed reminders of their wishes, but on the other… On the other hand, it seemed deeply unfair to the god that Eir had lost her chance to make a wish because of it.

  Huld hesitated for a while longer, then, as a compromise, decided to bend the rules and write the wish down himself. He quickly and carefully scratched the words into the small tablet with a sharp river stone, then wove another cord from his own hair to hang it. With this, his mood visibly improved.

  But when his preparations were finished, Huld once again gazed sorrowfully at the empty cords hanging from the branches of Idras —all the old tablets had been lost when he was moved to a new place. Now, the deity could only hope that the tablets made from the leaves of the World Tree would not meet the same fate.

  Huld looked around and decided not to go anywhere—the spot by the stream felt right. So he swung his arm and drove the golden-leaved branch deep into the damp earth. It immediately took root, growing stronger and taller before his eyes.

  Soon, a lush canopy spread over the water, its branches heavy with fresh, vibrant leaves. From the smooth, dark bark, glistening strands of tree resin began to drip, catching the sunlight like a curtain of golden rain. And wherever the tiny droplets touched the ground, they hardened into fragments of amber.

  ***

  Alv ran without watching the road, stumbling over stones in the thick grass but never falling. Trees and bushes rushed past, yet the loud sound of his footsteps was drowned out by the frantic pounding of his heart in his temples.

  All he could think about was escape; all he could feel was his own worthlessness. After all, it had been barely a couple of months since the god had literally brought him back from the dead. And yet here he was again, like prey in a hunt, forced to race through the forest, fleeing his pursuers.

  It made him feel, almost with his very skin, how inevitably and mercilessly his own fate was closing in on him—one from which there was no escape…

  But suddenly, from behind a boulder, one of the pursuers emerged, cutting off any escape. He was one of those who, in their search for Alv, had first tracked down Morten. Seizing the moment of Alv’s hesitation, the man immediately raised his sword for a strike, not waiting for his companions.

  The fugitive recoiled, but too late—the blade’s edge sliced across his chest, knocking him off his feet and throwing him onto his back. He sprawled in the grass beneath the green canopy of the spring forest, once again feeling the unmistakable presence of his approaching death.

  The pursuer didn’t waste time waiting for his comrades, who were now appearing from behind the trees—he stepped forward at once and drove his sword through Alv’s heart. Only then did he wave to the others, whether as a signal to hurry or to show that there was no longer any need.

  - Well, you’re quick, Orm, - a bearded man wheezed, bending over, catching his breath.

  The leader approached and approvingly clapped the swordsman on the shoulder—he couldn’t yet speak. But after a moment to steady his breath, he managed to say:

  - We only need the head…

  - Bruni, take care of it, - he ordered the bearded man.

  Alv lay on the ground, listening to their conversation, patiently awaiting death. Above him, a gust of wind rushed by, as if an unseen valkyrie had passed, yet deemed him unworthy of the heavenly halls. The thought burned him with anger, forcing him to rise once more.

  Bruni froze in stunned silence as the recently deceased rose from the dead right before his eyes. He only remembered the weapon in his hands when Alv himself drew his blade—but by then, it was too late. He struck without hesitation. Yet the victim didn’t even try to dodge—so their swords pierced each other, but only Bruni collapsed to the ground after the blow.

  The two remaining pursuers turned around, staring in disbelief as Alv pulled his enemy’s sword from his own stomach. His gaze, fixed on the wound, was just as curious and bewildered as that of the cutthroats.

  The young man peered through the tear in the fabric and saw how gleaming silver threads swiftly pulled the edges of his fresh wound together, forming the same dense, familiar pattern as on his neck. A smile touched Alv’s lips as a profound calm and emptiness replaced his fear of death—his merciful god had not only granted him a new life but had bestowed upon him an unimaginable freedom within it.

  ***

  After speaking with the impudent boy, Eir could not calm her agitated feelings. Her vision blurred with tears, and her heart seemed to tremble at her very throat. She gasped for air in a fit, swaying from side to side, yet she kept walking forward, back to the village.

  But hearing men’s voices nearby, she froze and clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling every strangled breath. She immediately dropped to her knees, hiding behind the nearest trunk of a tall maple, and glanced around cautiously, assessing the danger.

  Ahead, beyond the trees, she saw a handsome fair-haired youth with a sword in his hands—he stood over the bodies of two warriors sprawled at his feet, seemingly speaking to them. But his words were so quiet that Eir could not make them out. What she could clearly see, however, were the bloodstains on his clothing.

  She recoiled, landing straight into a silver web, and curled into a tight ball among the tree roots. Her whole being froze, as if bracing for a master's beating, and then something inside her twisted with a sickening sensation, as though turning her inside out.

  For a time, Eir tried to remain silent, fearing the bloodstained youth, but then the pain consumed her entirely, and she howled like a wounded beast. Her cries grew less and less human, and along with them, her flesh turned bestial.

  The beautiful youth, drawn by her wails, cautiously approached and peered behind the tree, uncovering her hiding place. Eir flung up her hands, either trying to shield herself from the stranger or to push him away. But her hands had already turned to wings, and her body had become nimble and light.

  Alv’s pale, translucent eyes swept over the ground and caught sight of a bundle of rough fabric among the roots. Something within it let out a startled cry and took off into the sky, beating its raven-black wings…