Aliases: The Quiet Flame, The Völva, Witch of the North Sea
She was Atlantean: born in the northern enclaves, what is now called Denmark.
Mortals called her völva. Seer. Witch. Prophet. They didn’t have the words for what she truly was.
She saw further than anyone I’ve ever known. Into people. Into patterns. Into what was coming. She was one of the few I had met who remembered Atlantis before. Not just the fall, but the flowering.
We trained together. We laughed together. She carried an iron staff carved with runes no one else could read, not even Merlin. Said they weren’t for speaking. They were for holding back the dark.
At Stonehenge, she stood her ground. When the Barghests came, she died trying to save the world. The world barely remembers her. A northern witch with a staff and a crown of bones.
But I remember her as my friend.
