Moonlight fell across the frozen bay like a narrow blade. The sea was silent, as if even the waves were holding their breath to hear the oath that was coming. Bjorn stood in the shadow of an old drakkar on the shore, bear fur on his shoulders and his father's short axe in hand.
Eleven more warriors gathered around the fire. Some wore broken armor, some had bandaged hands, but all carried the same hunger in their eyes: never to be alone, never to be forgotten, never to be scattered.
"Tonight we do not forge names; we forge fate. Our shields may be separate, but our oath will be one."
Astrid used a bone-handled knife to cut each palm. Blood was gathered into a single horn. Ragnar drank first, then passed it to Helga. When the horn reached Bjorn for the final drink, the fire roared high, the wind shifted, and ravens rose from the coast in one dark wave.
Then Bjorn carved the rune ᛟ into the ground with his axe. "This rune will be our endurance," he said. "Even if our halls fall and our chiefs die, this name will remain."
Near midnight, enemy torches appeared on distant hills. For a newborn clan, the first trial had come too soon. They could have fled. They could have hidden. Instead, they formed around the fire and locked shields.
The first clash was brutal. Bjorn was wounded in his left shoulder, Helga's shield split in two, but the line did not break. When Astrid struck a flanking raider, the tide turned. By dawn, only one banner flew above the shore.
From that day forward, the cove was called Oath Bay. Vikings of Yggdrasil was spoken there for the first time, and there it won its first victory against fear.