The Embergift

In the time before Jón's journeys, the fires of Helgabyr burned low. The hearths gave heat but no spirit, light but no life. The meals were warm but awakened nothing in those who ate them.

The Dream of Fire

Jón knew that true fire lived not in wood or coal, but in the breath of dragons and the blood of the earth itself. Something was missing—a spark drawn not from timber, but from the bones of mountains.

In dreams, the embers of Helgabyr whispered to him. They sang with voices of flame and smoke. They spoke a name: "Eldgjá"—the "Fire Chasm," where crimson flames danced eternal beneath ancient stone.

"Where the mountain bleeds / and stone burns / lies the fire of the first dawn / bright as the sky before day."

The Journey

Jón journeyed there alone. Through valleys of steam and winds that tasted of ash, he came to the burning heart of Eldgjá, where fire-spirits danced in endless revelry.

No water could quench them, but in their dance, their joy had turned to liquid flame, flowing in streams that could ignite the soul and wake the spirit.

The Gift

Jón danced with the fire-spirits, matching their wild steps until his feet burned and his heart blazed. They demanded his breath for their chorus. He gave them instead a taste of his spiced mead, and they let him pass, singing.

In the depths of the fire chasm, Jón found it: Not mere flame, but living fire, dancing red, singing with forgotten power.

The Return

He took but a spark. Enough to kindle, not consume.

And when he returned to Helgabyr, his feast that night brought warriors to song and dance in equal measure, their spirits finally awakened by the taste of true fire.