The assault vehicle roared across the frozen road, its wheels crunching through patches of ice and hard-packed snow. Smoke from the ruined fishing village still clung to their clothes, a bitter, acrid stench that no wind could wash away.
Inside the cabin, no one spoke.
Elin sat nearest the door, her sword laid across her lap, gaze fixed on the horizon though the windows were streaked with grime. Runa crouched toward the rear, mechanical eyes flicking every so often as if replaying the images of the assimilation pods. Holt kept both hands tight on the wheel, knuckles pale as he muttered curses under his breath. Vidar sat with arms crossed, silent as a carved statue, his scarred face unreadable.
Solveig's head was bowed, hands trembling faintly as she clutched her rifle. She hadn't stopped shaking since they left.
The silence was suffocating. The only sound was the groan of the battered engine and the occasional screech of gears grinding against frost.
Brynhild lasted all of five minutes before the quiet drove her mad. She leaned back in her seat, kicked her boots up against the steel wall, and smirked at no one in particular.
"Well," she said loudly, "on the bright side, those kids put up more of a fight than half the soldiers I've seen."
The words hung like a hammer dropped in a chapel.
Holt slammed his hand against the wheel. "For fuck's sake, Brynhild."
Solveig flinched, her eyes going wide. Elin turned her head just enough to glance at Brynhild — and to the group's surprise, the shieldmaiden's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Really?" One said. "That's what you choose to say?"
Brynhild shrugged, unfazed. "Better than all of us sitting here like corpses. Someone had to break the silence."
"You break silence the way an axe breaks skulls," Runa muttered, metallic tone sharp.
Brynhild winked at her. "That's why you like me."
The vehicle jolted hard, nearly throwing Brynhild from her seat. Holt cursed, jerking the wheel to keep it steady, but the machine only coughed and sputtered before grinding to a halt. The rumble of the engine faded into the frozen air.
"Don't tell me…" a lady in the group says.
Holt slammed the dashboard with his fist. "Out. Gas and battery both. Drained dry. Son of a bitch!"
The rebels exchanged grim looks. The worst place to be stranded was the Skjoldur wilderness — where Draugr patrols could sweep in at any time.
One by one, they climbed out into the biting cold. The sky was a flat sheet of gray, the wind carrying fine crystals of ice that stung their faces. The assault vehicle steamed faintly, hissing like a dying beast.
Brynhild stretched her arms above her head, unfazed. "Well, walking keeps the blood warm."
Holt spun on her. "Shut your mouth before I freeze it shut."
It was Solveig who cracked first. The youngest of them, her cheeks red from cold, her eyes raw with exhaustion. She turned suddenly, her voice high and trembling as she shouted:
"What the fuck did we just witness?!"
Her words cut through the group sharper than any blade.
Solveig's chest heaved, her hands shaking as she gestured wildly at the snow, the broken vehicle, the sky. "Why is no one talking about it?!"
No one answered.
So she went on, words spilling like floodwater.
"We've seen them use magic! Magic! Draugr — machines — throwing fire like mages! We found them building whole armies under the ground! We fought that… that monster, Brimscythe, who said, 'Oh, we have bigger ambitions' — like he was mocking us! And now—"
Her voice cracked. Tears froze on her lashes as she choked the last words: "—children. They turned children into machines. And you're all just standing here like it's another day."
Her voice echoed over the frozen hills before the wind carried it away.
Elin lowered her head. Runa's jaw clenched, eyes cold and distant. Holt cursed softly and turned away. Vidar remained a stone.
Brynhild, for once, didn't smile.
The group huddled near the stalled vehicle, frost biting through their clothes, silence heavy after Solveig's outburst.
Runa was the first to answer. Her voice was low, clipped, but unshakably certain. "She's not wrong. The Draugr are evolving. Faster than we can comprehend."
"That's impossible," Holt snapped. "They're machines. They don't… grow."
"I saw it," Elin said calmly. Her eyes held the same steel they had in battle. "We all did. The Draugr wielding sorcery. The assimilation pods. Denying it won't keep us alive."
Solveig hugged herself tighter, her breath fogging in the cold. "Then what are we even fighting for? If they can become that… what chance do we have?"
Brynhild finally broke her silence. She crouched in the snow, staring at the ground as she spoke in an uncharacteristically steady voice. "The same chance we've always had. Swing until one of us drops."
Runa shot her a glare. "You think this is a joke?"
Brynhild looked up, grin returning, though it was sharper this time. "I think if we stop swinging, we're already dead. So what's the point in whining about it?"
Elin gave her a long, unreadable look. Brynhild winked again.
Vidar had not spoken once since leaving the village. He stood apart, arms crossed, face shadowed beneath the gray sky. Now, at last, he lifted his gaze.
"They're making a move on us," he said quietly. His voice was rough stone dragged across iron. "Like they did sixty-six years ago."
The others stilled. Even Brynhild's grin faded.
Vidar's eyes swept across them all, cold and steady. "You've all heard the stories. But I was raised on the ruins. I know the truth."
"The Black Bastion."
The words dropped like a curse.
Solveig frowned, confused. Holt muttered the name under his breath.
Vidar went on, his tone grim, deliberate, every word heavy with memory not his own but carved into Skjoldur's bones.
"The Bastion was where the Draugr first revealed what they truly were. Not just constructs, not just weapons. They thought. They planned. They broke through our defenses with strategy, not strength. They infiltrated, manipulated, cut us apart from the inside."
His fists tightened. "Tens of thousands died in weeks. The survivors swore they saw the machines learning how to hunt us."
The cold deepened. The wind itself seemed to fall silent, as if listening.
Vidar looked back toward the smoking horizon they had left behind. "What we saw in that village… it's the same pattern. The same beginning. The Draugr aren't just fighting us. They're preparing for another Bastion."