The market square buzzed around me, a cacophony of voices and clinking coins, but all I could hear was the steady thud of my own heartbeat as Torin Varg's words lingered in the air. *I've come for the amulet. And I think you know where it is.* His voice carried a weight that made the fjord winds seem tame, and those piercing blue eyes—sharp as the ice in the glacial cave—held me in place like a rune-bound spell. I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face and send him back to wherever he'd come from, but the aurora's whispers had gone silent the moment he spoke, and that scared me more than his presence.
I stepped back, my boots scuffing the packed earth, my hand tightening on the knife at my belt. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, keeping my tone flat, though my pulse betrayed me. The villagers nearby cast curious glances—old Marta haggling over a fish, young Erik chasing a stray dog—but none approached. They knew better than to meddle with me, the girl with the cursed gift.
Torin didn't flinch. He stood tall, his dark auburn hair catching the golden light of the midnight sun, the runic tattoo on his forearm faintly visible beneath the rolled sleeve of his coat. It pulsed once, a subtle glow that mirrored the aurora overhead, and I wondered if he felt it too—the pull, the magic, the weight of something ancient. "You're lying," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "The spirits told me you'd know. They've been guiding me here for weeks."
My stomach twisted. The spirits hadn't spoken to me about any amulet, not directly, but the man's voice in the cave—calm, commanding—flashed through my mind. *He's near. The seeker. Find him.* Was this what they meant? I shook my head, forcing the thought away. "If the spirits are talking to you, they're wasting their breath. I don't have your amulet, and I don't want your trouble."
He studied me, his gaze lingering on the silver beads in my braid, the scar on my palm where I'd gripped a rune too tightly as a child. "Trouble's already here," he said. "And it's not just mine. There's a darkness following me, Eira. Something older than this village. If we don't find the amulet, it'll find us first."
Before I could respond, Sigrid's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Enough chatter, you two. Inside." She emerged from the crowd, her staff tapping the ground, her eyes darting between us with a mix of irritation and wariness. She gestured toward a narrow alley leading to her hut, a crooked building tucked behind the market stalls. I hesitated, but Torin nodded and followed her, his long strides eating up the distance. I had no choice but to trail after, the whispers starting to creep back into my mind—faint, urgent, like the rustle of leaves before a storm.
Sigrid's hut was dim, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and burning sage. The walls were lined with shelves of bone fragments, rune stones, and jars of strange powders I'd never dared ask about. She motioned for us to sit at a rough-hewn table, her movements stiff but deliberate. I took a chair, keeping my knife within reach, while Torin settled across from me, his coat brushing the floor. He didn't seem fazed by the hut's eerie atmosphere, but I caught the way his fingers flexed, as if ready to draw a weapon of his own.
"Speak, boy," Sigrid said, leaning on her staff. "What's this amulet you're chasing?"
Torin's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he spoke, his voice measured but laced with something raw—guilt, maybe, or regret. "It's called the Varg Amulet. It belonged to my family centuries ago, before the curse took hold. My ancestors were rune-casters, like you," he added, glancing at Sigrid, "but they meddled with powers they couldn't control. The amulet was their anchor, a focus for their magic. When it was lost, the curse spread—shadows that hunt, voices that torment. I've been tracking it since I was old enough to hold a blade."
I frowned, my fingers tracing the scar on my palm. "And you think it's here? In Vinterhavn?"
"I know it is," he said, his eyes locking with mine. "The spirits confirmed it. They led me to Tromsø first, then here. They said a girl with the aurora's gift would help me find it."
My breath caught. The aurora's gift. That's what they called it in the village, a polite way of saying I was touched by something unnatural. I wanted to tell him to leave, to take his curse and his amulet and get out of my life, but the whispers surged again, a chorus of *yes, yes, yes* that made my head throb. I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to block them out.
Sigrid watched me, her expression unreadable. "The girl's gift is a double-edged blade," she said to Torin. "She hears the dead, but they don't always tell the truth. If the amulet's here, it's hidden deep. The spirits might know, but they won't give it up easy."
Torin leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Then we'll make them. I've dealt with worse than restless ghosts to get this far."
I glared at him. "We? There is no we. I'm not dragging myself into your mess because some spirit pointed you my way."
He didn't argue, but his gaze didn't waver. "You will when the shadows come. They're already close. I felt them last night, clawing at the edges of my dreams."
A chill ran through me, and I remembered the figure in the cave—the tall man with dark hair. Was that a shadow? Or something else? Before I could ask, Sigrid slammed her staff on the table, the sound echoing like thunder. "Enough! You'll both go to the cave tonight. The aurora's strong there, and the spirits might reveal more. But Eira, you listen close—if those shadows are real, they'll follow him. You decide then if you walk away."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes silenced me. She knew I couldn't resist the cave, not when the whispers were this loud. Torin nodded, as if her command settled the matter, and I hated how easily he accepted it. Hated how a part of me wondered if he was right—if the amulet, whatever it was, tied us together.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I returned to my cottage, carving new runes to calm my nerves, the knife slipping more than once as the whispers grew into a dull roar. By evening, the village quieted, the midnight sun still blazing, and I met Torin at the cave's entrance. He carried a leather satchel slung over his shoulder, and his coat was unbuttoned, revealing a dagger strapped to his side. The sight of it made my stomach knot, but I said nothing as we stepped inside.
The bioluminescent ice glowed brighter than before, casting eerie shadows on the walls. I knelt to trace a ward, my fingers trembling, while Torin stood watch, his eyes scanning the darkness. The whispers started almost immediately, a flood of voices overlapping—*the amulet, the amulet, it's near*—and I gritted my teeth, focusing on the rune. Then the air shifted, a cold draft that shouldn't have been there, and a shadow moved at the cave's edge.
Torin drew his dagger, the blade catching the ice's light. "They're here," he muttered, his voice tight.
I stood, my knife in hand, the whispers screaming now. The shadow took form—a tall figure, featureless but for eyes that glowed like embers. It lunged, and I reacted, slashing at it with the rune-etched blade. The shadow recoiled, but another appeared, then another, circling us like wolves. Torin fought beside me, his movements precise, but there were too many.
"Eira!" he shouted, grabbing my arm as a shadow's claw grazed my shoulder. Pain seared through me, and the whispers turned to a wail. I stumbled, but his grip held me up, and for a moment, our eyes met—his filled with determination, mine with fear.
The ice pulsed, and a voice cut through the chaos, clear as a bell. *The amulet is in the lighthouse. Find it, or the shadows will take you both.* Then the shadows vanished, leaving us panting in the silence.
I pulled away from Torin, my shoulder throbbing, my mind reeling. "The lighthouse," I said, my voice hoarse. "That abandoned one by the harbor."
He nodded, sheathing his dagger. "We go tomorrow. Together."
I wanted to argue, to tell him I'd go alone, but the weight of his words—and the shadow's touch—told me this was no longer my choice. The amulet, the curse, the seeker—they were all tangled in me now, and the midnight sun offered no escape.