The shadow of the clouds glided slowly across the jagged rocks as Björn, a young berserk with iron-coloured hair, watched the mists swirl over Odin's fjord. All around him camped his team: the sarcastic Olaf, the always quiet Rune and the unpredictable, skilful Astrid. It was summer, but the cold wind brought the smell of storm and sea salt from the north. Chief Eirik, bearded and powerful, jerked out his giant horn and spoke: - 'At dawn we will sail where no one dares to go - he pointed to the rocky shores to the east. - Treasures, ancient gods and glory are within reach. The team toasted with mead and laughter rang out, but a shadow of anxiety danced in Astrid's eyes. Björn noticed the look in her eyes, but did not inquire. Everyone had their reasons for paddling through the icy water in the morning. Night soared on black wings. The fire hissed and two ravens circled above the fjord. At dawn, when the chief reached for the iron amulet - he did not find it. His face clouded over. - Who dared touch the symbol of our strength? Immediately there was a silence full of tension. They noticed that the footsteps led towards an old, mossy path where it was rumoured that fearless warriors had once perished. Rune straightened up suddenly and pointed his finger at something among the rocks - a small silver pendant that had never been seen before. Björn clenched his fist on the axe. They all looked at each other, feeling the tension grow with each passing moment. Was this a harbinger of someone foreign? Or was it the work of someone from their own team? Wordlessly, they moved towards the path, unsure of what awaited them among the shadows of the ancient fjord, ready to face whatever hid beyond.