In this captivating narrative, our familiar universe has been reshaped into a singular, colossal realm known as "the Cleansed World." In this bewildering landscape, the concepts of time, space, and reality dissolve, giving way to limitless possibili...
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Flykra, a name that means "snowflake," and my existence seemed to mirror the very essence of a winter's day. With soft, light blue eyes that glistened like ice, and long, messy hair as white as freshly fallen snow, my appearance was a testament to the beauty of the Northlands. Thick white eyebrows framed my face, adding a touch of uniqueness to my snowy visage.
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In our Viking town, I was a figure of intrigue, sought after by many aspiring Yaels from lands near and far. Yet, the decision of whom I would marry was ultimately mine, as per my father's request. He, being the Yael of our city, had entrusted me with the choice, a responsibility that weighed heavily upon my shoulders.
My days were spent in dedicated training, honing my skills in the ways of our people. But more than that, I devoted myself to the task of preserving the legacy of Viking Legend: Bjorn Ironaxe. I told his tales to anyone who would listen, especially the younger generations, ensuring that his valorous deeds and the traditions of our Viking heritage endured through the ages.
As the stories of Bjorn Ironaxe continued to inspire those around me, I, Flykra, stood as a living connection to our Viking past, a symbol of the strength, courage, and indomitable spirit that defined our people in the face of ever-changing times.
The day my life changed forever remains etched in my memory like a never-ending nightmare. It was the middle of the night, when the haunting cries of women filled the air, intertwined with the shouts of men. My family, ever ready to defend our town, sprang into action. First, my father, resolute in his duty to protect our people, followed by my brother, eager to prove his courage. Then, there was me, willing to assist wherever I was needed, though I was still trying to comprehend the chaos unfolding around us.
The invaders from across the sea, men from England, descended upon our town under the cover of darkness. I watched in horror as they callously cut down men, women, and even children, leaving burning homes in their wake. The brutal reality of war had engulfed our peaceful Viking settlement.
I did what I could, using my training to cut down some of the invaders who lacked the battle-hardened skills I possessed. But it was a futile effort, for their numbers were overwhelming, an unrelenting tide that surged through our city.
As the nightmarish scene played out before me, I witnessed the unthinkable. My father, the Yael of our city, was beheaded before my very eyes, his life extinguished by the invaders' cruelty. An overwhelming rage surged through me, a fiery torrent that blinded my judgment and foresight. I lashed out, determined to exact vengeance for my father's death, my screams of anger echoing through the chaos.
But my fury proved to be my undoing. In my blind rage, I failed to notice the attacker behind me until it was too late. A searing pain tore through my abdomen as his blade cut through my armor, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through my body. I fell to the ground, the world spinning, as if thousands of hot daggers were burning into my skin.
