**Chapter 1: The Fateful Voyage**

The wind whipped through Iduna's hair as she stood at the bow of the ship, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She had set sail for Ahtohallan, determined to understand the mysterious powers of her daughter Elsa. The wise words of the ancient myth, "The river of truth flows through Ahtohallan," echoed in her mind, and she felt an unshakeable sense of purpose. Iduna's husband, Agnarr, stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, offering comfort and support. As the sun began to set, dark clouds gathered on the horizon. The crew scrambled to adjust the sails, but it was too late. A fierce storm rolled in, tossing the ship about like a toy. Iduna clung to the rail, her knuckles white as the waves crashed against the vessel. Agnarr shouted orders to the crew, trying to keep them safe, but the storm was too powerful. In the chaos, Iduna was swept overboard. She felt a rush of water, and then she was alone, clinging to a piece of debris. She kicked and paddled, fighting to stay afloat. The storm raged on, and Iduna's thoughts were consumed by fear and despair. She thought of her daughters, Elsa and Anna, and her heart ached with worry. As the night wore on, the storm slowly began to subside, leaving behind a eerie calm. Iduna's exhausted body began to succumb to hypothermia, but she refused to give up. She clung to the debris, her mind fixed on survival. Just as the sun began to rise, Iduna spotted land. She summoned every last ounce of strength and kicked her way towards the shore. The waves washed her up onto the sandy beach, and she lay there, spent and grief-stricken. Iduna's thoughts drifted back to Agnarr, and she wondered if he had survived the wreck. A sob escaped her throat as she thought of her family, and the uncertainty of her future. As she lay there, Iduna noticed that her hair, normally a rich brown, was now matted and tangled from the sea. She vaguely remembered braiding it into a coronet braid before setting sail, a habit she had developed as a young woman. The braid had come undone, but she recalled the gentle touch of her hands as she styled it, a small comfort in the midst of turmoil. The sound of voices carried on the wind, and Iduna turned to see a group of villagers approaching her. They were dressed in simple, yet practical clothing, and their faces were etched with concern. Iduna tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse from the saltwater. The villagers gathered around her, speaking softly and trying to comfort her. One of them gently lifted her into his arms, and Iduna felt a sense of relief wash over her. She was safe, for now. As they carried her away from the beach, Iduna caught a glimpse of the wreckage from her ship, and her heart sank. She knew that Agnarr had not survived, and a wave of grief washed over her. She buried her face in the villager's shoulder, and wept.