Ragnar stopped just outside the line of spears.
He didn't raise his hands. Didn't rest one on a weapon. He simply stood — one-eyed, carved in storm and rune, his wolf-marked pack beside him like omens of blood and fate — and let silence draw tight around every throat.
A guard commander, knuckles white around his spear, finally found his tongue.
"Halt! Who walks into Vargr land beneath alarm horn without sending herald?"
Ragnar's head tilted slightly, his gaze falling over the guard as one might appraise a tree in his path — not hostile, but certain he could break it if required.
Eivor stepped half a pace forward, but Ragnar's hand lifted just enough to still her. Hakon remained unflinching. Brynja's grin bordered on feral anticipation. Sigrun watched everything with the stillness of a seer who already knew the outcome.
From the raised platform, Thane Viggo Stormhand called out, voice rough with disbelief trying to steady itself.
"Name yourself… if you dare speak a ghost's name!"
The pack stood motionless.
Then Ragnar spoke.
His voice was deep, scarred like old oak struck by lightning, yet unwavering — and it carried.
"I am Ragnar Vargrson," he said, left eye like a frozen sea under thunderclouds. "Born of Clan Vargr, trained in your pits, bled in your trials, declared dead without proof, accused without right."
Murmurs rippled in waves.
Ragnar continued.
"I return beneath the laws of this clan. I bear a right unfulfilled."
A tense pause.
Then a door from the main hall opened.
Two figures emerged, walking with authority and wary conviction.
Earl Gunnar Vargr — broad-shouldered despite age, beard streaked silver, expression iron.
Earl Ivar Hrafn — lean, sharp-eyed, walking like a man aware that a single misstep might wake wrath or god.
Viggo bowed his head as they stepped forward. Astrid joined them, her blue eyes fixed first on Sigrun… then on Ragnar, unreadable emotion beneath discipline.
The crowd parted like snow cracking under heavy boots.
Earl Gunnar's voice rang out, weighted by command.
"You claim the name Ragnar Vargrson," he said. "A name declared dead three winters past."
"I was not dead," Ragnar replied. "Only hunted."
Earl Ivar's gaze sharpened. "By law, a man declared dead cannot stand unless he proves identity and right. What claim brings you from exile?"
Ragnar did not blink.
"I claim Holmgang."
A shock passed through the crowd like lightning through dry wood.
Earl Gunnar's expression hardened. "Your enemy named?"
Ragnar's voice cut clean:
"Eirik Sigvaldsson."
A hiss ran through the onlookers — some in disbelief, others in dark recognition.
Earl Ivar exchanged a glance with Gunnar. "Eirik Sigvaldsson is now Thane, raised by vote and war deed. To challenge him, you invoke not a petty duel, but judgment by blood."
Ragnar did not waver.
"I challenged him three years ago — for false witness, sabotage, attempted murder."
Silence. The accusation hit the ground like a thrown axe.
Earl Gunnar's jaw clenched — "The claim was never resolved due to your… disappearance."
"Then let it be resolved now," Ragnar said. "In the circle of Holmgang — where lies die and truth bleeds."
The Earls conferred briefly in low tones, knowing full well: by law, they could not deny a man who still lived his right to complete a sanctioned challenge.
Earl Ivar turned back. "If we grant Holmgang, you must name your terms — your price should you stand victorious."
Ragnar nodded once, as if he had known this moment would come long before stepping from the woods.
He listed them, each like a hammer-blow:
"If I win:
Eirik Sigvaldsson dies beneath my blade as law decrees.
My name is restored, my honor cleansed.
My pack — Eivor, Brynja, and Hakon — stands declared free warriors of this clan, not oathbreakers nor outcasts.
I take his rank and land — I rise as Thane in his place.
Before clan and law, I name my Mate — Eivor Caldersdottir of Clan Hrafn — and none shall challenge her claim or seek to bind her differently.
And when it is done, I speak further with both Earls — for this Holmgang is not an ending… but a beginning."
Silence followed — not empty, but heavy enough to bend breath.
Earl Gunnar's eyes narrowed, searching Ragnar's for some sign of hesitation or greed and finding only inevitability.
Earl Ivar's gaze shifted to Eivor, who returned it unflinching.
Astrid looked shaken — not with fear, but the realization that the boy who once trained beside her mother's friend had returned as something else entirely.
Viggo Stormhand exhaled slowly, recognizing a warrior who had survived the grave and returned not for survival, but for ascension.
Finally, Earl Gunnar Vargr declared:
"By ancient law, Holmgang is granted.
The circle will be prepared.
The Thane shall answer the call.
And before gods and men — truth will bleed."
The crowd erupted in gasps, murmurs, and raw disbelief.
Ragnar did not smile.
He merely inclined his head once — the gesture of a predator acknowledging open hunt.
And somewhere in the depths of Vargr Hold…
A single name was whispered in dread.
"Eirik…"
For the Wolf had returned.
And now there was nowhere left to run.