You swore at the pyre to finish his voyage. Now the oath is written on your skin.
At the funeral pyre of Chieftain Hallvard, no one would step forward to finish his last voyage, so you
did. Now the oath burns on your wrist and pulls you west, and a hearth-fire that has burned for three hundred winters
is yours to carry.
In the Kaldmark, oaths are not just words. They have weight, and they have teeth. Gather a crew that never wanted you,
cross a sea that swallows ships, and learn exactly what you swore to before it costs more than you can pay.
