The fjord had never been so quiet.
Not in sound — but in watchfulness.
Every gust of wind across its surface felt like breath on a neck.Every ripple like the blink of a great, unseen eye.
And still, Astrid had to lead.
Preparations for the Binding spread like desire:
Saunas were scrubbed in silence.
Bread was baked with salt water.
Couples began pairing off… but not always with their lovers.
The Binding was not about loyalty.
It was about choice.Here. Now.
In the eyes of the fjord.
Elinor moved through it all like smoke — seen, inhaled, never held.
She no longer questioned Astrid's leadership aloud.
But her eyes burned with something ancient and furious.
One night, she came to Astrid's cottage uninvited.
Astrid opened the door before the knock.
"Elinor."
"You've made your choices," Elinor said, stepping inside. "Now I'll make mine."
She didn't wait for a response.
She took Astrid by the waist.Pressed her against the wall.Kissed her like a challenge — hard, full of teeth, mouth open like a scream held too long.
Astrid didn't stop her.
But she didn't melt, either.
Elinor pulled back, lips glistening.
"You won't erase me from this."
Astrid's voice was steady.
"I don't need to. You're doing that yourself."
Elinor's hand moved to her thigh. Upward.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Astrid didn't move.
And that was her answer.
Elinor stepped away. Not rejected — just… released.
"You're afraid of what I know," she said, adjusting her coat.
"No," Astrid replied."I'm afraid you think knowing is the same as belonging."
Elinor's expression cracked. Just slightly.
Then she was gone.
That night, Astrid found Åse on the hill overlooking the fjord. The elder sat cross-legged, hair loose, a bowl of cooled ash in her lap.
She looked up.
"You need to hear the truth," Åse said.
Astrid sat beside her.
"The first Binding didn't end in unity. It ended in banishment."
Astrid turned, stunned.
Åse's voice dropped.
"One of the bound broke their vow the same night. Slept with someone else. Lied to the fjord with their body."
Astrid whispered:"And what happened?"
Åse looked at the water.
"They were swallowed. But not drowned. Not lost."
She leaned in.
"They were written out."
The story chilled Astrid's spine.
To be erased by the very myth you had tried to become…
It was worse than death.
Back at her cottage, Astrid opened the red book.
A new sentence appeared — not hers.
"To bind is not to keep. It is to name what you are willing to lose."
Below it, blank space.
The pen trembled in her hand.
And she finally wrote:
"I choose the truth.Even if it means I'm next."