02/03/2026 - 03/03/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

Between Frost and Flame

Ice wraps around your body like a hug without an embrace. It is rigid, unyielding, so cold it forces your joints to ache in a way you’re unfamiliar with. The portal wastes no time tearing you through it, hurling headfirst into a violent winter storm unlike anything you have ever known. The passage is mercifully short lived, and just as quickly as the portal swallowed you it spit you out. With a rather jarring impact that took your breath away, you are spilled unceremoniously onto the edge of a frozen lake. You grunt, scrambling against the ice to pull yourself onto all fours as your body protests the sudden return of gravity. You squeeze your eyes shut, nose scrunching as you wince through the pain. A sharp brisk shake of your coat sends clumps of snow flying free from your fur, though the cold you feel is still immediate and unforgiving.

It’s only then that you notice your breath, thick and pale as it coils from your muzzle drifting upwards towards the sky. The cold here is different. Even a coat as dense as your own offers you little defense against Niflheim’s harsh bite. Here you give yourself a moment to breathe, to let the world around you come back into focus.

Dusk hangs low over the land in front of you. Stars pepper the sky, shimmering behind broad strokes of aurora that stretch across the heavens. Colors bloom through the clouds, ribbons of light dancing in harmony with one another as they drift peacefully. You’re standing beside a frozen lake, though the ice is not a smooth surface like you would expect. It spirals inward, etched in a slow deliberate pattern that resolves at the lake's center. There, beneath the ice, frigid waters churn faintly, flowing with a soft blue light. The portal to the Inbetween perhaps? You swallow, stepping back instinctively. Whatever dragged you through once will not have that chance again. Even if you went back into the Inbetween where would you go?

You take a moment to reflect back on the beast you saw in the void. Massive, armored, and volatile. You have never encountered anything like it before, and the moment alone sets your hackles on edge. What was Nightfall doing? Speaking of night, it was closing in. With it will come temperatures you are certain you are not prepared to endure. Shelter at this point is a necessity, not a luxury. You lift a single paw to move forward when a twig cracks behind you.

Your ears pin back as you spin, heart immediately hammering in your chest, only to find yourself face to face with a massive direbear, her pelt as white as the snow itself. Before you can brace or bare your teeth, the Brunnrekka gasps and hops backwards rather gracefully, one enormous paw pressed tight to her chest.

“Oh near!” she exclaims, her voice soft and polite, wholly at odds with her intimidating size. “You’re a Felvarg!” she continues, eyes lighting with an unmistakable fascination. “Unlike any I’ve ever seen!” She circles you now with an unfiltered curiosity, lowering her head to inspect your tail before ducking beneath you as if expecting to find something hidden there. You remain frozen, bewildered even, until the great beast lets out a gentle laugh and retreats a step.

“Oh, goodness — please forgive me,” she says rather quickly. “I’m still not accustomed to seeing your kind here in Niflheim.”

So it is Niflheim. You suspected as much, but lately you’ve learned better than to trust assumptions alone.

“My name is Nimue,” she adds, already rummaging through a satchel slung at her side. “It’s going to grow much colder soon. Please, take this.” Nimue drapes a fur woven cloak over your back, the warmth immediate and welcome. It was almost as if magic was woven within. “I have a hut not far from here,” Nimue continues kindly, “You’re welcome to join me, if you wish that is.”

Exhaustion settles into your bones. The past few days blur together in a way that made rest feel far more welcome than you anticipated. While cautious, you choose to follow Nimue. The walk carries you across a wide winter expanse until shapes of a town emerge from the snow. The huts are spread far apart, built into the land itself. Caves, hollows, and stone burrows shaped in a way that they were built around nature instead of through it. More modern structures have been added atop them, blending tradition with necessity. Culture, the Brunnrekka believe, is something meant to be preserved.

As you pass, whispers ripple through the cold. Brunnrekka pause to stare. A few Yggdravixen ride atop their backs or trail alongside their companions, glancing your way with equal curiosity. Nimue’s hollow greets you with warmth. She quickly presses a warm drink into your paws, followed by a hot meal that had been simmering over an open fire. Moss and hanging herbs line the walls, filling the space with a grounding and earthy scent. Here in the safety of Nimue’s hollow, you could almost forget winter raged just outside. She prepares a place for you to rest, insisting you may stay as long as you need.

But just as Nimue settles you in with your warm meal, the door bursts open. Aurora stumbles inside, breathless and wide-eyed. “So it’s true,” she blurts out, slamming the door shut behind her. “They said anotherfel had entered Niflheim.” News travels quickly here apparently. “I’m sorry for leaving you before,” Aurora says, already pulling up a chair beside you. “But there is something you need to know.” She pushes your meal aside and spreads several maps across the table, their edges are weighted with stones. Sketches are not just of the island but also of the creature you recognize instantly. Seeing it sketched here on parchment causes your stomach to tighten. “Nightfall is building a monster,” Aurora says grimly. “And she intends to unleash it upon Ulfrheim in a matter of weeks. Somefel used eosteric energy, giving her the power she needed to finish it.”

Your brows furrow with confusion. When you ask why Ulfrheim hasn’t been warned, Aurora’s expression darkens. “The portal I used was sealed by Neebo,” she explains. “He feared for the safety of his kin. To my knowledge, there is no way back.” She exhales slowly now in defeat. “I’ve been searching for a Brunnrekka named Grimara. I finally found a lead last night. I planned to leave at first light. Nimue, who had overheard the name had paused her tidying to glance over uncomfortably. You caught the discomfort in her gaze before looking back to Aurora when she spoke once more, “It’s fortunate you arrived when you did.” You narrow your eyes at Aurora. “Try not to be too upset that you’re stranded on a foreign island… with no clear way home.”

Objective:

Depict or write your Character within Nimue’s hollow in Niflheim. The hurt is carved deep into stone and root, warmed by a steady hearth whose fire throws soft light across the moss lined walls. Bundles of herbs and flora hang from wooden beams overhead, as they trail down and weave within the stone cobbled walls. Furs and woven blankets are layered along each alcove, offering warmth and safety from the frigid temperatures outside. Here, sheltered from the bitter cold, your Felvarg is given a moment to rest and reflect.

Reward:

1,500 Felcredits, 1x Chest of War, Peace, Power, Knowledge, 5x Aloe Vera, 1x Bloomwake Sigil*, 2x Missing Page: Restoring Niflheim, 1x Yellow Snowball, 50% Chance for 1x Bear Totem*

Optional:

Include Nimue resting nearby to be entered into a raffle for a chance at scoring 1x Lost Brunrekka Cub

02/01/2026 - 02/28/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

Tether of Fate

Early morning settles gently over the forest you find yourself traversing within. The mist lingers low between the treeline, thin and pale, clinging to roots and fallen leaves alike. Beads of dew delicately wrap around the many ferns and moss-softened stones, catching the first rays of morning sunshine as it filters through the canopy above. Spring is threatening to take hold of Ulfrheim, flora and herbs spouting eagerly from the once chilled earth. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a bird calls out once before falling silent again, almost as if it were waiting for the forest to wake and sing a song of echo back.

The forest smells damp with cold soil, mingling with the foliage that sprouts alongside it. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, trapping the crisp morning air within your lungs where you hold it hostage for as long as your chest can bear it. When you finally exhale and open your eyes to take the forest in, something catches your eye.

At first glance it looks like nothing more than sun on spider silk, a trick of the eye as the day blankets down upon the damp forest floor. It’s a faint shimmer close to the ground, weaving between the many roots and low bushes that line the many trees that surround you. But when the light shifts again, the shimmer holds unnaturally. A narrow glowing thread lies just ahead, pale gold and gently swaying, as though stirred by the same breeze that moved the leaves overhead.

It brightens when the sun breaks through the many branches above, only to dim when the clouds pass over, even still never vanishing entirely. Curiosity pulls you closer. With each step, the air seems to grow warmer. This light is no illusion. It burns even brighter now as you approach, more defined, hovering just above the forest floor.

For whatever reason, you feel compelled to follow it. A pull that can only be described as inevitable. Carefully you weave through the many towering oaks, the mist of the morning thinning. The sunlight above is growing stronger, spilling now freely into a small clearing ahead that wraps the edge of the mountainside like a visor. The thread is glowing brighter than ever now, its warmth pressing back against you like touching a flame without being burned. The thread rises slightly, pulling forward and upward, until it disappears into a ray of brilliance that is blinding the clearing.

The only shape you can make out is a shadowy figure. They are still, framed by the rising sun behind them, their shape dark against light. The details of the figure blur before vanishing in the glare, leaving only a subtle outline. The thread leads straight to them, burning steady and unyielding as if bursting from their very chest.

Whatever this light was meant to guide you to, whatever moment it was meant to lead you towards, it led you here. Fate in its purest form.

Objective:

Depict or write your character following a faint, shimmering thread of light that trails close to the ground. Show them tracing it to its origin, interacting with the light, or aiding the character it is attached to.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 1x Long Lost Treasure, 5x Flora, 1x Berry Bush, 1x Fertility Potion, 1x Precious Gems, 1x Bloomwake Sigil

Optional:

SOULMATE BONUS: Added reward if the thread leads to your soulmate, further confirming your bond. 50% Chance for 1x Ink of Fate

02/03/2026 - 03/02/2026 | 11:59:59PM IST

Hverfa

There comes a moment in everyfel’s life when they learn what it means to lose something important to them. Something that matters so deeply and that was taken without warning. This kind of pain leaves a mark so familiar that it binds all living things together. Unseen but always felt, the grief dives deep within the heart, carving out cavities that never truly heal and left in their wake are scars that linger as painful reminders of what was lost that can never be recovered.

As you navigate your way through the field of soft violet flowers deep within the Shrine of Freyja, you find your thoughts lingering on one such scar. The air surrounding the shrines felt heavy, as if it were filled with painful memories. The flowers yield to each pawstep creating a soft pillowy ground. In the distance, an ominous pale mist snakes along the ground swallowing the flowers one by one until it inevitably covers the entire meadow. The shrines that were once visible, now feel so distant by comparison and a sense of unease settles behind your ears. You were being watched.

The unease causes you to pause for a moment, to ground yourself within the mist. In front of you, something begins to stir as a dark figure forms and slowly approaches you. Suddenly, the mist pulls back revealing Hverfa, an ancient snow leopard with horns tucked gently around her temple. Her eyes, white and devoid of any pupil, lock onto you with cold predatory intent. Calm and calculating, Hverfa leads you through the mist to a large shrine unlike any you have seen here before. Most shrines within the Shrine of Freyja depict a proud sitting Felvarg, but this one depicted a Felvarg curled over in sorrow. At the base lay a small basin with a single incense that quietly burned, its smoke fusing with the surrounding mist.

Hverfa quietly observes as you study the shrine, her tail flicking in curious anticipation. Although no words are spoken between you, her intentions are clear. Your grief had clung to you like a scent and she followed the trail recognizing that there was something left unfinished. The shrine she has led you to is not one of worship or celebration, but one of mourning. This was a place to process and venture beyond the grief, to lay it to rest. Should you turn away and refuse to face it, your sorrow will be hers to claim. She will strip it from your memory, proudly wearing it on her pelt for all to see.

Objective:

Depict or write your character sitting with Hverfa in quiet reflection at the Shrine of Freyja.

Reward:

1,000 Felcredits, 1x Shrine, 1x Freyja’s Keepsake, 3x Flora, 3x Mushrooms, 1x Bloomwake Sigil