People moved with that bold, rhythmic confidence so uniquely Viking—hauling nets, trading goods, hammering blades at open forges. Children darted between buildings, shrieking with laughter, their bare feet kicking up dust. The air buzzed with warmth and purpose.
This was home.
I hadn’t just lived here—I hadthrivedhere. Led here and loved here.
A wave of emotion slammed into me as memories ripped through the armor I’d built over the years. I remembered the taste of mead on my tongue. The warmth of a shared bed. The sound of laughter around the firelight.
And then—I saw her.
Zara.
She strode across the village square with the same grace I remembered, her long hair dancing on the breeze, her eyes set with quiet resolve. Time hadn’t touched her—not in the way it had ravaged me. She was just as I remembered. Beautiful. Alive.
I moved to run to her, call out, and take her in my arms—but my body didn’t follow. My legs wouldn’t move. I was frozen, like the earth had turned to iron beneath my feet.
I looked down, heart hammering.
I could see myself, faint, translucent.
A ghost in my own past.
The air passedthroughme, and though I reached out, my fingersnever touched the wind. I was here, and not here. Present but unmoored from this world.
Zara walked past, only steps away.
I wanted to scream her name, to tell her everything—that I had returned, that I was sorry, that I would give anything to have it all back.
But when I opened my mouth, no sound came. No breath. No voice.
Only silence.
And then—him.
A younger version of myself, hale and strong, jogged down the dusty road. A child rode on his shoulders—Freya—and three others ran beside him, laughing. My children.Ourchildren.
He caught up to Zara, grinning, and slid his arm around her waist like he’d done a thousand times before. She turned and kissed his cheek. Freya reached for her mother, and younger-me handed her over with a warmth and joy I could feel in my bones.
I stood there, watching.
And broke.
That’s me.
And those are my children.
A life I once lived.
A life I’d lost.
A life I could see—but never touch again.
My heart felt like it would burst. Pain surged through me like a tidal wave—silent, invisible, but all-consuming. It wrapped around my soul and dragged me into everything I had lost.
They were right there—Zara, the children,and I—just a breath away. I could see the glint of the sun in their hair, hear the laughter that once filled my home. But when I reached for them, my hands slipped through the air. Always just out of reach. Always just beyond grasp.
“Zara,” I tried to whisper, my voice strangled, my soul begging.
But she didn’t hear me.
