"Some are born with it, some must find it for themselves," A young boy's voice scares the living hell out of you as you walk through the woods.
You nearly jump out of your skin as you whip around, axe in hand and blood pounding in your ears. Your trembling eyes land on the small figure of an 8-year-old boy, one that you vaguely recognize as he sits against a tree.
Aki Runson turns his head to meet your stare. His silver eyes stare at you with an unseeing gaze, giving no clue to his feelings or intentions. It unnerves you greatly, as it does all the other children of the valley.
"W-what are you talking about?" You hiss, sweat dripping down the back of your neck.
"Fylgjur, we all have one," a raven almost as big as Aki lands beside the undersized boy, "yet few see them."
You eye the raven — no, fylgja — its eyes boring into you almost as intensely as its master stares at nothing. You feel small, as if it was judging your every move and action.
Flekkr growls, low and deep, the first you've ever heard him make that noise. It's a warning, a promise of violence.
The raven doesn't seem to care, which only makes your heart beat faster.
"You want to see them." Aki's voice is a complete deadpan, no inflection at all. "You will need to conduct the Spirit-Seeing Eye, a ritual of seidr."