It is not hard to know what’s going on in Beqanna. The lands were pulsing with anticipation – the tension flowed through the air like a river cutting rock. There was no secret that new things were on the horizon – big things. Changes that would rock the earth beneath them. Eight, ever so lucky, had the power of magic. He could feel the tectonics shifting below them, he could taste the skies clouding over, there was almost nothing that could be hidden from his grasp.
So when you, dear Lagertha, stepped on the Tundra soil and snatched up Nihlus – there was no surprise for him. A small twinge in his brain, and the image of Nihlus appeared – chivalrous and blasé as only a growing young man could be. And you, by his side, scuffling him off into the night, away from the home he had chosen and the men he stepped in beside as brethren.
Now, Eight has never been a very fatherly figure (Nihlus could certainly vouch for that) – but all men have duties. And I suppose one of his was to watch over what new spawn he had. Who takes a child from their chosen home? And for what reason? None the less, the child of a magician, and from the juvenile Mountain king. And so he went, traveled to the Amazons to hunt you down.
He does not intrude over the border. No- Scorch and he had not made a treaty yet, and he would not step on any toes just yet. In fact the queen had right up and left, with not an answer to Eight’s question or a conclusion to the diplomatic trip. So instead, Eight stood at the edge and sent a call into your mind. Lagertha, it’d do best for us to talk. He shields himself, making him and his thoughts invisible to any other besides the warrior woman he sought.

∞

and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in