Gyrfalcon's Keep Hope is lost

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Leaving @Thyra at the entrance to the cave, Asvoria ventured further within, seeking an open space in which she could comfortably settle. She did not know how long this would lost, but it would be nothing so short and sweet.

Head upon the floor, soft words were whispered from her lips.

Æsir. Vanir. Hear me.

Careful, eager pleas. The ears of the gods and goddesses may not be near—but alas, she sought them still. To hear her and answer, even if it be with answers she did not want to hear.

Where does my future lie? Where must I be... ? Who must I be... ? To see this through?

To see it all through. The rebirth of the old way. The welcoming of those more that would come, if any. Solveig would, as Thyra promised. But this trio would not be all.

Before she could escape it, Asvoria was pulled down; sucked into darkness. There were things she would see. Three things, to be exact. Things the old gods had planted for her. All in the right order.

Firstly, a deep cavern resting in a separate sprouting of mountains across a woven field of trees. The temple.

Secondly, a tight knit assembly of wolves. Thyra was in view, as was her mother, Solveig. And so many more! Some older, some younger. Children, even, yipping and circling their parents legs. Filled wombs with more children to come. The new clan. And at the center of it all, Asvoria.

Thirdly, lastly. A tall stone with a pattern of letters written upon it. They were of a familiar meaning. The description of home. And the name of which they would call themselves.

Gasping, her eyes flew open. The images of the things she had seen floated in mind, so vivid and plain. The gods had given her their answer. But they were good things. Blessings, even! Leaving had truly been in her best interest, as she had been led here to fulfill the gods destiny for her. And now, she would see it done, just as they commended it to her.