Grey clouds stretched over the fjord, and a cold wind blew under fur coats. Sixten walked along the narrow path, looking around at the wet rocks. He was the son of Thorr, one of the bravest warriors in the village, but his own adventures had so far not ventured beyond the forest boundary. Astrid trotted right behind him, holding the bow she had learned over the years to use better than many an adult warrior. They were both familiar with the area, but today they had decided to go all the way to the far northern cliffs, where no one from their village walked. - Do you think there's really something there? - whispered Astrid, glancing at Sixten. - 'At night my father spoke of a ship that crashed into the rocks. 'Maybe we'll find some runes, maybe weapons...' - he replied with a glint in his eye. They continued walking among the scrub until suddenly they heard a sound like the rustling of sails. The whirlwind carried muffled sounds and the waves beat against the cliff wall. After a few minutes, they reached the very edge. A mist was coming from below, thick as milk. Then Astrid noticed something among the mossy stones. It was a piece of metal, dark and ornate, protruding barely a few centimetres above the ground. Sixten knelt down and began to dig it out. After a moment, a small blade was in his hands, with designs carved on it that were completely different from those he knew from their village. - This is not ours... - whispered Astrid in disbelief. At the same moment, just beneath their feet, the ground trembled slightly. From the mist came a strange sound reminiscent of echoes of old drums. When they looked over the edge, they saw a faint shadow moving by the water, too shapely to belong to a seal and too large to be just an illusion. Sixten squeezed the blade he had found tighter. He knew that from this point on, their expedition would no longer be a mere excursion. Astrid took a step back, watching with fear and fascination at the same time. Something was approaching from the depths of the mist....