Stone Circle Way down inside honey, you need it,

Cole listened with the quiet intensity of a man who had seen enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. The accent was thick, words strange, but he caught the rhythm, enough to understand the weight behind them. This Draugr wasn’t bluffing. He didn’t need to. The blood still fresh on his maw.
He gave a single nod. Didn’t flinch when the name Odin was spoken, nor when those sun-scorched eyes turned to him with something like warning. Cole had seen worse men than this—but not many. And not recently.
Draugr, he repeated gruffly, the name thick on his tongue. Reckon that’s a strong name.
His gaze drifted to the stone circle. It stood like a spine carved from the earth. Old. Powerful. He knew better than to question a man who’d claimed it with blood.
You hold it now, he said simply. No challenge, no fear. Just fact. Ain’t my place to argue what your gods will. His voice, low and rough, carried no judgment. Just the grit of hard-earned respect.
But he didn’t move forward. He didn’t cross the line. Not yet.
I came to see, Cole added after a pause, his tone unreadable. Now I have.
He flicked his ears toward the steinvardr ( as he called it ), then back to the man before him. Whatever boys came before—weren’t mine.