Long, sharp shadows fell on the palisade of the Skjoll settlement as the sun faded behind the endless forest. Ingvar, called Raven's Eye, leaned against the spar of his spear, glancing out to sea, where boats swayed in the blue twilight. He was one of Chief Egill's toughest warriors - young, but already known for his courage and cunning. That evening, the entire settlement gathered in the main square. Amidst the murmurs and quiet conversations stood out the voice of Ylva, a shieldmaiden who feared no man or sea. "They say that on the Far Isle lies gold that not even a berserk dares to touch!" - she exclaimed, clutching her axe and braiding her flaming hair into a braid. The men shouted playfully but respectfully - Ylva had a heavy hand and a loyal heart. Chief Egill brought a map made of yellowed leather. 'This is the path through the mists - whoever sails there must be ready for anything. Ingvar, Ylvo, I choose you and four more whom I trust." A chill ran through the circle; no one laughed at the expedition anymore. The next day at dawn, the six Vikings pushed the slender boat out into the black waters of the fjord. Ahead of them swelled a thick fog in which the distant calls of seagulls and, as if from under the water, the deafening echoes of drums could be heard. Ingvar squeezed the hilt of his sword, and Ylva looked up into the misty sky: a black raven was swooping over them, as if trying to convey something. As night fell, the mist thickened so that they could not see the tips of their own noses. Suddenly the boat shook, as if something huge had emerged from beneath the surface.... Everyone froze - there was a glow, an ominous light by the side of the boat, and from the mist came a laughter like no one had ever heard. Silence fell for a moment, and then it all began.