Back at the Norse mansion, the music had faded.
The laughter, the clinking glasses, the political smiles — all of it had dissolved into silence.
Only the mansion remained.
Lara was invited to stay the night, and she agreed. It wasn't unusual, and it wasn't the first time. She had slept here a few times before.
But tonight felt different.
Tonight, she noticed things.
The second-floor hallway stretched long and regal beneath a white ceiling dotted with pen lights that cast warm gold over the polished tiled floor.
Oil paintings lined the entire wall — portrait after portrait of the firstborn sons of the Norse bloodline in ornate frames carved with intricate crests and battle insignias.
Generals. Commanders. War strategists.
Men who carried power in their gaze even centuries after their deaths.
They stared down the hallway like silent sentinels guarding a legacy built on blood and victory.
Lara walked slowly. She didn't just pass by them.
She studied them.
