The rising sun painted orange reflections on the water of Lodhr Fjord as Hjalmar, the fisherman's son, climbed the dew-glistening grasses of the hillside with a sweeping step. Behind him, panting quietly, followed Freyja, whose hair resembled copper heated in a forge. They were also accompanied by Sven, always keeping slightly behind, looking intently to the sides. It was supposed to be a day of seabird hunting - nothing more. But already from early in the morning, the sky above the fjord was being torn apart by strange noises: something between a swish and a deafening murmur. The Vikings, even the oldest ones, were silent when they heard them, looking anxiously at the shadows running across the water. "Maybe it's a dragon?" - Freyja half-jokingly whispered, but her eyes glittered more than usual. Hjalmar shrugged his shoulders, although he himself felt a shiver run up the back of his neck. Sven stopped suddenly and pointed towards the cliffs. Something metallic flashed among the dense mists, uncommon at this time of day - too regular to be rocks. They trudged slowly through the wet moss and tangled junipers. As they came closer, a fragment of an old boat like none they had ever seen appeared before their eyes: decorated with carvings depicting long snakes and birds with outstretched wings. "Look at these inscriptions ... They resemble runes, but I have never seen such," Freyja said, touching the damp wood with her fingers. Suddenly, a muffled sound came to them from inside the boat - as if someone was whispering in there. A chill pierced all three of them. Hjalmar looked questioningly at his friends. They all knew they had to go inside and see what lurked in the shadows of the old boat. They stopped just before the entrance when a figure emerged from behind the mist, with a sealskin hood and eyes as bright as glaciers. The newcomer did not say a word, but his gaze seemed to invite the young Vikings inside the wreck....