Carve a Future

The snow began to fall on Kael’s dark hair,
and in that hush, the prophecy grew still.
I saw the blade that waited in the pass,
the shadow that would rise from Magnus’ will.
But love had carved a new path through the frost,
a thread of fire where only ice had been.
I took his hand and felt the future shift,
the vision breaking like a frozen stream.
No longer bound to watch the jarl fall dead,
I saw us standing on a different hill,
our breath a cloud, our voices one with wind,
the ravens circling but not drawing blood.
So let the gods rewrite their ancient scrolls,
let Berengar believe I am a curse.
I am the storm that changes every course,
the dream that wakes and makes the world reverse.
And when the snow‑clad pass at last appears,
I will not kneel to what the runes have said.
I’ll stand beside him, shield and blade and heart,
and carve a future from the dying light.