Xylos's POV
The snow fell thicker that night, drifting in sheets over the fjord, muffling every sound but the crackle of torches and the distant roar of the sea. Xylos walked the perimeter of the village, axe slung across his back, eyes sharp and scanning. Every shadow felt heavier, every gust of wind a whisper of Kaelen's presence.
He had expected threats. Ravens nailed to doors, runes carved in blood—it was all too deliberate, too theatrical to be ignored. But nothing prepared him for the subtle terror that followed.
A scream split the night. From the cliffs above, a group of scouts stumbled into view, shouting in fear. Their breath came in ragged gasps, visible in the cold air.
"Kaelen's men," one stammered. "We… we saw them moving along the ridges. Shadows with torches, watching… listening…"
Xylos's jaw tightened. "How many?"
"Too many to count, my lord. They didn't attack… just… just watched us. Mocked us. They knew we saw them."
The words sank like ice. This was Kaelen's signature. He did not strike to kill; he struck to terrify. To break the courage of those who might resist him.
Rurik appeared beside Xylos, shaking snow from his cloak. "A fine greeting," he muttered. "Brotherly love at its finest."
Xylos gave him a look sharp enough to cut steel. "This is no jest. We cannot allow him to sow fear among our people. Not here. Not now."
Rurik grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Then what do you propose, my king? Hunt shadows in the snow?"
"I propose vigilance," Xylos said. "We know he watches. Now we prepare. Any man seen beyond the border is to be captured and questioned. Leave no room for doubt—our people will not bend to fear."
The scouts nodded, trembling, and dispersed into the village. Xylos turned to the fjord, eyes narrowing. Somewhere out there, in the darkness, Kaelen's presence lingered, like a storm waiting to break.
He felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders—not just as a leader but as a father. Fyra's words from earlier in the week echoed in his mind: "Together, we will make sure your brother's fire does not burn it all away."
He clenched his axe tighter. I will protect them. No matter what.
Kaelen's POV
Kaelen crouched on the cliffs, the fjord a dark river below him. His spy network slithered through the snow and shadow, reporting every move of Xylos's people: where they gathered, where they feasted, where their walls were weakest. His hands rested over Astrid's belly, feeling the subtle movement of the child within.
"Your son will see the world burn," Kaelen whispered to her, lips close to her ear. "And when he rises, it will rise on our terms."
Astrid shivered, not from the cold. She placed a hand over his, uncertain. "Kaelen… sometimes I wonder if there is a world where we do not burn everything we touch."
He laughed softly, low and dangerous. "There is no world like that, Astrid. Only one who seizes it can call it theirs. And the world belongs to those bold enough to take it."
Through the snow-draped ridges, a shadow shifted. Kaelen's eyes narrowed. A scout returned, breathless, fingers numb, eyes wide.
"They spotted him, my lord. Xylos… he is on the perimeter, speaking to his men. Watching. Listening."
Kaelen's grin widened. "Good. Let him see. Let him know I watch every movement. I am not a man to be ignored."
The spy hesitated. "My lord… some of them… they speak of fear. Some whisper… that they might turn if he asks."
Kaelen's eyes darkened, sharp as obsidian. "Let them whisper. Let them fear. Fear makes men pliable, obedient… and the bold overreach only to fall beneath my sword."
He stood, wind tugging at his cloak, overlooking the fjord. "Prepare torches. Leave runes. Make sure they know: I see them. I know them. Nothing escapes me."
His men bowed, obedient as wolves circling their alpha. Kaelen's mind, always hungry, imagined the scene from Xylos's point of view: panic in his brother's village, whispers in the snow, trembling children and trembling warriors alike. Perfect.
Xylos's POV
Xylos paced the village, listening to the wind, feeling its message like a chill against his skin. He could not rest—not while Kaelen's shadow stretched so close. Scouts returned with reports: small groups moving along the ridges, torchlight in the distance, and strange runes carved into trees.
Rurik moved beside him, silent for once. "He toys with you," he said quietly. "Sending shadows, spies… maybe he wishes you to act rashly. Let him."
Xylos did not answer. He clenched his jaw, staring into the darkness where Kaelen's eyes undoubtedly waited. Every village wall, every post, every path leading into the fjord was now a map in his mind of where Kaelen might strike next.
He called the council together. Men and women of the village, seasoned warriors and clever elders alike, gathered in the longhouse. The air was thick with tension, smoke from the hearth curling toward the rafters.
"We know he watches us," Xylos said, voice steady, resonant. "And he will continue to watch. But fear will not rule us. If he thinks shadows will break our hearts… he is mistaken."
A young warrior spoke up, voice trembling: "Lord Xylos… if Kaelen is watching, if he sends his men… what do we do? Do we strike first?"
Xylos shook his head. "No. Patience. Observation. Strategy. We are not children chasing shadows. We are a tribe, united. He may have fire, but we have vision. And one day, that vision will burn brighter than his flames."
Rurik muttered under his breath, smirking: "And when that day comes, the storm-born may find himself caught in his own tempest."
Kaelen's POV – Obsession Grows
Kaelen sat with his head bent, studying reports from spies. Every path Xylos walked, every patrol, every gathering, recorded and analyzed. His obsession grew heavier with each passing hour. He did not merely want to scare his brother's people—he wanted to control them, to know every thought and action of Xylos.
Astrid watched him quietly. "Kaelen… sometimes I fear what you will become."
Kaelen laughed softly, the sound dark and sharp. "Fear is a tool, Astrid. Not weakness. And I will wield it better than anyone. Soon, Xylos will understand… nothing moves in these fjords without my knowledge."
He leaned closer to a map of the region. Every village, every ridge, every pass marked with symbols—runes of watching, tracking, and control. And in the center, one rune larger than all:
Xylos.
That night, when the wind howled across the fjord, torches flaring in the snow, the villagers of Xylos's tribe awoke to a chilling sight. In the soft moonlight, a trail of runes—fresh, dark, unmistakable—led from the edge of the cliffs down toward the village. The final rune, large and jagged, simply read:
Watching.
Xylos stood at the longhouse doorway, axe in hand, staring at the snow. Breath steaming in the cold, he whispered to himself: "If it is war he wants… then war will come."
And far above, on the cliffs, Kaelen's eyes gleamed in the dark. The shadow of the god-king stretched long, patient, waiting.
The stage was set. The brothers, now fathers, now rivals, were poised on the edge of a storm that neither could yet fully control.
Xylos's POV
The dawn came gray and bitter, the fjords wrapped in a frost that bit through furs and armor alike. Xylos stood atop the cliffs overlooking his village, scanning the horizon. Every ridge, every pass, every frozen treeline seemed alive with movement.
He had expected spies. He had expected threats. But what he did not expect was the smell of smoke, faint but unmistakable, curling toward the morning sky. Kaelen was closer than he had imagined.
Rurik appeared beside him, eyes narrowing. "He's bold. Too bold. He's testing you."
"Not testing," Xylos said quietly. "Taunting. And if I do not respond carefully, he'll turn it into blood."
A scout ran up, snow kicking up behind him, breath ragged. "My lord! Scouts report… small groups. They've crossed the ridge. Coming toward the village. Armed. But they're moving with… purpose. Not stealth."
Xylos clenched his axe. "Prepare the defenses. Alert the warriors. Today, he comes—not to spy, but to provoke. And we will meet him on our terms."
The villagers murmured behind him. Some clutched weapons, others children. Fear and tension radiated through the frozen air. But Xylos raised his voice.
"Stand firm. Protect your homes. Protect each other. If he seeks battle, he will find our courage stronger than his fear."
Rurik smirked, brushing snow from his cloak. "Let's see if the storm-born can weather the calm before it strikes."
Kaelen's POV
Kaelen crouched in the shadow of the northern ridge, watching Xylos's village through a gap in the pines. He could see the smoke rising, the torches lit, the people moving in disciplined patterns.
He grinned, low and sharp. "Finally. He rises to meet me."
Astrid pressed a hand against his shoulder. "Kaelen… you have your son growing inside you. Don't… don't let this obsession consume you."
He turned to her, eyes blazing. "I do not fear my son's birth, Astrid. I fear missing my destiny. Xylos thinks he can stand against me with axes and walls. I will show him gods do not bow to men."
He signaled to his warriors. They shifted silently, sliding down the ridge in tight formation. The snow muffled their footsteps, but not the tension in their hearts.
Kaelen's eyes swept over Xylos's village, calculating every approach, every weak point, every exposed flank. Then, softly, to himself: "Let the first strike be a warning… a taste of what comes if he dares defy me."
The first warhorn blew from Kaelen's side, echoing across the fjord. Xylos's warriors answered with their own, steel ringing against shields. Snow churned beneath boots, axes glinting in the pale sun.
The two sides met at the frozen fields, not yet fully engaged in battle, but circling like predators. The tension was nearly tangible, a current in the air.
Kaelen stepped forward, voice carrying across the field. "Brother! Stand down, and I will spare your people. Resist, and you will witness what it means to defy a god!"
Xylos raised his axe, gaze steady. "I am no man's pawn. You are no god. You are a murderer hiding behind fire and fear. Today, I show you the strength of honor and vision."
The warriors on both sides hesitated, the weight of their leaders' words pressing down. A single misstep, and the frozen field would become a slaughter.
Rurik muttered under his breath, "Ah… and now the tempest meets the cliff. Let's see who falls first."
Kaelen laughed, a low, dangerous sound. "Do not think this is the end, brother. Only the beginning."
Xylos's jaw tightened. "Then let it be the beginning of the storm you cannot control."
The brothers finally met in the center of the field. Not behind armies, not behind shields, but face-to-face, eyes locked, each reading the other. The snow swirled around them, flurries catching in their hair, dusting armor in white.
Kaelen's hand hovered over his sword hilt. "Do you feel it? The power I wield? You cannot stand against me and your people both."
Xylos's grip on his axe tightened. "I stand for my people. Not power. Not blood. And I will never kneel to your madness."
For a heartbeat, the air was still. The armies on either side froze, sensing the gravity of this confrontation. A crow flew overhead, cawing sharply.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Then strike, brother. Strike if you dare. Let us see which path the gods favor."
Xylos stepped forward, boots crunching in the snow. "If the gods watch… they will see justice, not fear."
Their blades clashed—not yet fully, but in a test of strength, a spark of metal against metal. The sound carried across the fjord, a promise of the violence yet to come.
Suddenly, a horn echoed from the ridge behind Kaelen's line. A second army—unknown, larger than expected—descended, snow kicking up like smoke. Kaelen's warriors faltered.
Xylos froze, realizing instantly: Kaelen has allies unseen, waiting for the moment to strike.
Kaelen's grin split his face. "You see now, brother? You are not alone, but neither am I. The storm is only beginning."
Xylos raised his axe to meet him, heart hammering. But behind the enemy lines, shapes shifted in the mist—shadows that did not belong to Kaelen's men. A third force. Watching. Waiting.
Rurik whispered, eyes wide: "This… this is no ordinary clash. Something else moves in the shadows."
The snow swirled, the fjord froze in silence, and the first real battle between the brothers was about to erupt.
But neither knew… the unseen eyes would decide who survives this day.