The Birth of Brynja
Spring Equinox, One Year Later
Eydís cradled the newborn against her chest, eyes wide with wonder as Brynja’s skin, soft as newly opened apple blossoms, caught the dawn’s first light. Silmar knelt beside them, his rough hand gently tracing the petal shaped markings on Brynja’s tiny hand. Eydís whispered, “She is the bloom… the quiet shrine the prophecy spoke of.”
Silmar smiled softly. “The bearer of the tome. Our hope in this changing world.” Eydís looked up, eyes shining with resolve. “She will heal the fractures we cannot see… and remind us that even in withering, life endures.”
Nearby, grandparents Sígrun and Hrafn nodded knowingly, their faces touched with both pride and a hint of foreboding. Sígrun murmured, “The cycle begins anew with her.”
Hrafn added, “And the thorn will follow, as sure as the crimson moon rises.”
