Welcome to Inkscribes!

Galdrabók

---

     The fire cast a harsh glow across his face, but he refused to look away. His only hope to be cured from this Endlessness was going up in flames. Having tracked the book for four centuries it finally lead Kol to this library, half a world away, in a war torn country.
     Why was it even here? He couldn't figured it out, he only knew that someone moved the book as if they wanted to keep it from his reach.
     Kol rubbed his hand against his chest. The ancient Icelandic ruins craved there by the Godi of his village were meant to help his people against the invasion of a tyrant King. But as the years wore on and the fight seeped out of his people, Kolbjorn; as his people knew him, was no longer needed.
     Years of being bathed in the Icelandic magic of The Galdrabók, cemented his soul to his body and pushed him adrift in time. The Godi stopped practicing the old magic and when his condition was discovered it was already too late.
     The Galdrabók was gone.
     That book wouldn't burn here.
     Clenching his jaw, Kol took a step forward and the fire blazed higher, the flames licking at his skin.
     It was his only hope.