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Oft have I called to Vikaldr, the Gray Father, but the Long Night drinks all pleas. Perhaps he listened in silence. In that emptiness, I took my place in the shieldwall. I stood. Without hope. Without light. But I stood. I have seen my kin on the pyre, seen the oathstones cast aside. Madness. Men swore false oaths with clean hands. Knife-hearted women spoke of love. The hearthfire--a memory. But I stood. I remember my kin--those men of war who came before me--iron-blooded fathers who looked past the veil. I hold to their path in the Long Night. The world mocks my oath. Still I hold. Where now is the place for the man of honor? For the true shield-brother? I am Fjolvak Ice-Eyes. The Aions have cursed and gifted me to see, to know. I am the truth-speaker, though the blind curse me. In the Long Night, all things rot. And men flee truth like wolves from fire. Hear my tale, if you will. I do not speak to please. I speak because I have looked into the void. And I have seen what comes. And I stand.

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