13:55, February 28, 2284

  Oslo Starport, Terminal 8, Gate 5C, Oslo, Norway, Nordic Commonwealth territory

  The din of chaos filled Terminal 8 as Sigrún and Harald burst through the maintenance tunnel's exit, emerging into a scene of barely contained panic. Emergency lights cast an eerie red glow across the sea of faces – families clutching children, elderly couples supporting each other, students like herself with terror in their eyes. The air held a bitter chill where the climate control had failed in sections of the terminal, another casualty of the recent budget cuts.

  "Pappa, look!" Sigrún pointed to the departure board, its display flickering erratically. Most flights showed 'CANCELLED' in angry red letters, but a few still blinked with 'BOARDING' status. Her heart leaped when she spotted one: Flight OS-2284 to Copenhagen.

  Through the terminal's vast windows, she could see the silhouettes of defunct fusion reactors in the distance, their cooling towers dark against the grey February sky. Once proud symbols of Nordic innovation, now silent monuments to broken promises. A group of Bergen refugees huddled near the window, their clothes still bearing the employee patches of the decommissioned Western Fjord Power Station.

  "Der har vi det," Harald muttered, his weathered face set with determination as he guided them through the crowd. "Copenhagen first, then we can arrange transport to—"

  A bone-chilling screech cut through the air. Dark shapes wheeled against the sky, their wings casting strange shadows over the cracked solar panels that lined the terminal's roof. The creatures they'd fled from in the city had followed them here.

  "They're spreading faster than I anticipated," Harald said, his voice tight with worry. "The entire eastern corridor may already be lost."

  Near the currency exchange booth, a digital billboard cycled through old advertisements – luxury cruises to the Realm of Divines, terraform tours of Venus, private shuttles to Osram. The prices still displayed in Norwegian Krone, though most transactions now required Atomic Dollars or Imperial Yuan. A reminder of their nation's waning influence.

  Military personnel and security officers formed a barrier near the main entrances, their weapons trained on the doors. Many wore mismatched gear – some in standard Nordic Commonwealth gray, others in borrowed Alliance blue. Through gaps in the crowd, Sigrún saw bodies strewn across the floor – both human and those monstrous things. Blood smeared the polished tiles, some of it seeping into cracks where maintenance had been neglected.

  "Draugs." Harald's grip on her hand tightened. "Humans infected with the Nucleus Virus."

  "What's this virus do, Pappa?" she asked as they passed by the scene, the metallic scent mingling with fear and sweat.

  "Too much to describe," he shook his head, leading her past a shuttered café where a sign apologized for closure due to "supply chain issues."

  They pressed forward through the crowd, Harald's presence creating a small bubble of calm in the chaos. His other hand remained raised, ready to cast protective spells if needed. The Pendant of Mánagrát felt warm against Sigrún's chest, its blue jewel pulsing faintly with each step.

  A woman's scream pierced the air. One of the bat-like creatures had smashed through a window near Gate 3, showering the crowd with glass. The window's anti-breach forcefield flickered weakly before dying completely. As people scrambled away, Sigrún saw the creature clearly for the first time – leather-like wings stretched between elongated fingers, eyeless head swiveling as it searched for prey.

  "Himmel og helvete," she whispered, frozen in place.

  Harald pushed her behind him, his voice rising in the familiar cadence of spellcasting: "Fulmen Argentum!"

  Silver lightning crackled from his hands, striking the creature. It shrieked and fell, its wing membrane smoking. But more shapes appeared at the broken window.

  "The gate, Synne! Run!"

  They sprinted toward Gate 5C, where harried flight crew were trying to maintain order as passengers crowded the boarding bridge. A security officer stood at the checkpoint, his rifle trained on the windows.

  As they approached the gate, a familiar voice called out from behind.

  "Professor Omdal! Sigrún!"

  They turned to see a tall young man staggering toward them. Sigrún's breath caught in her throat.

  "Sven?"

  Sven Solheim had been her classmate, her would-be suitor according to their friends, though she'd never returned his affection. But the Sven before her now was hardly recognizable. His handsome face was contorted, skin mottled with patches of brown scales. His right arm had lengthened unnaturally, fingers fused into what looked like talons. And from his back, two bulbous protrusions pulsed beneath his torn sweater – the beginning of something that wasn't human.

  "What have you done, Sven?" Harald's voice was cold steel.

  "What you refused to do, Professor," Sven replied, his voice oscillating between his normal timbre and something deeper, almost guttural. "Saving our people."

  Harald stepped forward, positioning himself between Sven and Sigrún. "By becoming a Draug? Madness!"

  Sven's laugh was hollow, edged with pain. "The Alliance, the Imperium, the Directorate – all treating our homeland like a playground! Dumping their Helionite in our waters, exploiting our people. Is it madness to retaliate? To protect our home?"

  "Through what, mass murder?" Harald challenged.

  "Evolution," Sven corrected, his half-transformed face twisting into something resembling a smile. "The Nucleus Virus transforms. Elevates. With these Radi-Mons, we'll reclaim Scandinavia and build something stronger from the ashes."

  Sigrún stepped forward, heart hammering against her ribs. "Sven, this isn't you…"

  His eyes – still blue, still human – found hers, softening momentarily. "Sigrún," he said, her name almost a prayer on his lips. "I did this for us. For all Nordlings! Come with me."

  "You're killing innocent people," she said, her voice breaking. "Children, families…"

  "Casualties of rebirth." Sven replied, though guilt and regret flickered across his face. "Our people suffer as foreigners seek to erode our culture. It's time to awaken and fight back!"

  "You've been speaking to the Hivemind, Sven," Harald interrupted, his hands already tracing the beginning of a spell.

  "The Hivemind has given me a new identity. Seen my potential," Sven's expression hardened. He looked past Harald to Sigrún. "He sees yours too, Sigrún. I can smell it on you. The power in your bloodline." His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. "Like moonlight and frost."

  Harald's eyes widened in alarm. "Fears and resentments cloud your judgement, Sven. Now's not the time —"

  "From this day forward, I am Skarn!" Sven roared, the sound inhuman. The protrusions on his back burst through his clothing, revealing the beginning of tentacles, glistening with fluid. "Soon, my Fenris Horde shall claim the Crystal, and become the harbingers of salvation."

  Sigrún flinched. "Crystal? What crystal?"

  "Secrets that could make us new masters of the Five Realms." Sven hissed. "Secrets we were meant to know."

  Around them, the chaos in the terminal intensified. More windows shattered as those bat-like creatures forced their way in. From the main entrance, humanoid monstrosities resembling Sven's form – Draugs, Harald had called them – began to pour in, tearing through the defensive line of security personnel.

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  "Tickets!" the gate agent demanded as they approached. Her professional demeanor was cracking, fear evident in her trembling hands.

  Harald produced their documentation with remarkable calm. "Two for Copenhagen. Omdal, Harald and Fjeld, Sigrún."

  The agent barely glanced at their credentials before waving them through. "V?r s? god. Skynd dere!"

  They had almost reached the bridge when Sven's voice rang out again.

  "She stays with me, Professor!"

  Sigrún turned to see Sven lunging toward them, his movement unnaturally fast. One of his emerging tentacles shot forward, whipping through the air toward her. Harald raised his hand, eyes narrowing in concentration.

  "Scutum Lunaris!"

  A silver barrier materialized between them and Sven, the tentacle bouncing off its surface with a sound like a cracking whip. Sven snarled, his face contorting further, less human with each passing second.

  "She belongs with her own kind," he growled. "Her true kind!"

  "Sigrún, board the plane," Harald said, his voice steady despite the strain of maintaining the barrier. "I'll be right behind you."

  "No, I'm not leaving without—"

  "H?r p? meg!" His voice carried the sharp edge of command she rarely heard. "I need to buy you time."

  A massive tentacle slammed against the barrier, causing ripples of silver light. Sven's partially transformed face appeared behind it, pressing close enough that Sigrún could see the remaining human parts of his features contort with desperation.

  "Sigrún!" Sven called out, his voice fluctuating between familiar and monstrous. "Don't let him send you away. You belong here, with your own kind!" His human hand pressed against the barrier, fingers splayed. "Remember what we discussed in Advanced Psionics? About the potential sleeping in Nordic blood?"

  Harald's hands were already moving in complex patterns as he spoke an incantation she didn't recognize: "Scutum Lunaris Maximum!"

  The barrier expanded, encompassing the entire boarding area. Sven slammed against it again, reality seeming to ripple where he struck. Two more tentacles emerged from his back, probing the barrier's edges for weaknesses.

  "Ask your pa about Europa, Sigrún!" Sven called out, voice deepening to a rumble as his jaw extended. "Ask him about the Jokull! About what he's been breeding in those labs!" One tentacle found a weak spot, pressing through until Harald reinforced that section with another spell.

  "Pappa, what's he talking about?" Sigrún asked, confusion mixing with her fear.

  "Lies and half-truths!" Harald's face remained impassive, focused on maintaining the barrier. Sweat beaded on his forehead as Sven's assault intensified.

  More Draugs were converging on their position now, drawn by Sven's rage. Their rotting flesh and jerky movements sent waves of revulsion through Sigrún. Behind her, the gate agent was frantically urging the last passengers onto the plane.

  "He's protecting you from your destiny!" Sven's remaining human eye fixed on her while the other had already transformed, glowing with an otherworldly light. "Alliance, Imperium, whichever! They all fears us, Sigrún. They'll never let us reach our full potential!"

  "Pappa, please," she begged, tears stinging her eyes. "Come with me now."

  Harald turned to her, his face softening for just a moment. "I'll take the next shuttle, min kj?re."

  He pressed something into her hand – a small crystal vial filled with shimmering liquid. Behind him, Sven had managed to work three tentacles through the barrier, forcing Harald to divide his attention.

  "Keep this safe. Take it to Thorin H?ggsson at Lund University. He'll understand."

  A tentacle whipped past Harald's defenses, grazing his shoulder. He grimaced but maintained the barrier. Sven's transformation was accelerating now, his business attire splitting as his body expanded.

  "The experiments your father's been hiding," Sven growled, bones audibly cracking as his chest broadened, "they could save our people! The Crystal could—"

  "Enough!" Harald's voice boomed with authority. Silver energy pulsed from his hands, pushing Sven's tentacles back. "Sigrún, go! The vial – take it to Thorin. Tell him 'M?ne kaller p? m?ne' – Moon calls to moon."

  "But Pappa—"

  "There's no time, Synne." The childhood nickname caught in his throat, heavy with memory. His eyes flicked to Sven, whose transformation was nearly complete, then back to her. "The vial. The pendant. Both must survive."

  Sven's roar shook the terminal windows. "She could be magnificent, Harald! Like I!" His chest had split open, revealing chitinous plates beneath. "I'll show her what we can become together!"

  Two more tentacles breached the barrier. Harald grunted with effort, silver light blazing from his hands as he forced them back. His fingers brushed the Pendant of Mánagrát at her throat. "Keep both safe. Promise me."

  "I...I..." her lips parted, but no more words came.

  "The pendant is more important than you know," Harald continued urgently, even as Sven's assault intensified. "As long as it glows, I am alive and with you. Do you understand?"

  Sigrún nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. Behind Harald, Sven had risen to his full height, his transformation nearly complete. Other Draugs were pressing against the barrier now, drawn to their leader's power.

  Before she could protest further, Harald gave her a gentle push toward the boarding bridge. "Go, Synne. Jeg er glad i deg." The same words he'd say after tucking her in as a child, now heavy with final weight.

  "Jeg er ogs? glad i deg, Pappa," she whispered back.

  "You're meant for greater things!" Sven's voice had deepened to something barely recognizable. All five tentacles struck the barrier simultaneously, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the silver light.

  The last thing she saw was her father raising both hands, silver light gathering around him as he faced Sven and the approaching horde. More passengers rushed past her onto the bridge, blocking her view.

  "Final boarding call!" a crew member shouted, already moving to seal the door.

  Sigrún tried to turn back, but the crowd pressed her forward. "Pappa!" She fought against the flow of people, elbowing past a businessman, ducking under outstretched arms. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest – every instinct screaming to return to her father's side.

  Through gaps between people, she caught fragmented glimpses: Harald's silver lightning cutting through smoke and shadows. His barrier holding as more Draugs gathered around him. Sven's body continuing its grotesque metamorphosis, tentacles fully emerged now, lashing out with increasing strength.

  "The Crystal will awaken, Harald!" Sven's voice had devolved to something inhuman. "Join my crusade. Or perish!"

  "Indeed, the Crystal will awaken one day." Harald said as he finally faced Sven. "But not for you."

  A massive explosion bloomed from somewhere deeper in the terminal. The barrier flickered. Debris rained down. In that moment of chaos, Sigrún broke free from the crowd. She lunged toward the closing door, her father's name torn from her throat – a sound of pure desperation.

  "PAPPA!"

  Strong hands caught her waist – flight crew, pulling her back. She struggled wildly, reaching out as if she could somehow bridge the growing gap. Through the door's window, she saw the silver dome waver. Her father stood alone at its center, light pouring from his hands as he faced the horde. Their eyes met one final time.

  "Please," she begged the crew, her voice breaking. "He's my father – I can't leave him—"

  The bridge door sealed with a pneumatic hiss. Through its small window, Sigrún saw the silver dome collapse as smoke filled Terminal 8. Her father was nowhere in sight, and where Sven had stood, there was only a towering, monstrous silhouette disappearing into the chaos.

  "Do you have a death wish, girl?" An elderly woman pulled at her sleeve. "Get away from the door!"

  She pounded against the door until her fists hurt, screaming her father's name.

  "Someone stop her before she breaks the seal!" A man in a business suit snapped, though his voice cracked with barely contained panic.

  "La henne v?re," another passenger said softly in Norwegian. "Let her be. She's lost her father."

  The crew had to physically guide her to a seat, her legs barely supporting her weight. Even then, she pressed against the window, searching desperately for any sign of him in the chaos below.

  "First Bergen, then Trondheim, now Oslo," someone muttered. "Where will we go when there's nowhere left?"

  "The Alliance won't take us," another voice responded bitterly. "Not after what happened in Stockholm."

  "And I'd rather die than setting in that shithole they call 'the Imperium'." more voices.

  But Sigrún said nothing. Her fingers clutched the crystal vial, tears streaming down her face as Oslo Starport – and her father – disappeared beneath clouds of smoke and snow. The last glimpse of her homeland vanishing like a nightmare swallowed by fog.

  "My grandson's still in there," an old man whispered, his weathered face pressed against another window. "Working security. He wouldn't leave his post..."

  The Pendant of Mánagrát grew cold against her ivory skin, its blue light fading to darkness. Sigrún's heart seemed to stop as the glow vanished completely. Her father... gone?

  But as the shuttle broke through the cloud cover, other passengers gathered closer, watching in wonder as the pendant flickered back to life – not the steady pulse of before, but a faint, flickering light, like a distant star struggling to shine through fog.

  "Look!" A young woman pointed at Sigrún's chest. "Is it one of the psionic jewels?"

  "A sign perhaps," the elderly woman who'd pulled her from the door said quietly. "That not all hope is lost."

  "Or just another pretty light to guide us nowhere," someone countered from the back.

  Sigrún closed her eyes, clutching the pendant and vial to her chest. Each beat of her heart seemed to echo with the same plea: Pappa, pappa, pappa. Her last connection to him now reduced to this faint, pulsing light as the shuttle carried her away from everything she had known.

  She pressed her forehead against the cold window, whispering words she'd said a thousand times before – after nightmares, during storms, in moments of childhood fear when his presence had always been her anchor: "Kom tilbake til meg, Pappa. Come back to me."

  But only the engine's drone answered as Oslo disappeared behind them, swallowed by darkness and snow.