Líf and Lífþrasir
The First Sprout
You stand on the new earth, a world of powdered basalt and gray sky. The great stillness of the end remains. But you are not seeking the end; you are seeking the *beginning*.
Your eyes, now accustomed to the twilight, scan the monochrome landscape. You seek the impossible: a single spark of life, the cradle that survived the world's end. A whisper rises from the damp earth, a riddle of survival:
Not with fire, but with morning dew, I sustained.
Two seeds of the new world, 'Life' and 'Will-to-Live',
Within my hidden heart, I kept them from the wolf's sieve.
I am the secret grove, the wise one's hoard."
Name this cradle of life:
The Grove of Mímir
The wind stills. You have spoken the true name: Hoddmímis holt. The Hoard-Mímir's Grove. It was not a place of battle, but of wisdom and preservation.
Here, protected by the mists of memory, Líf and Lífþrasir (Life and the Will-to-Live) endured the great winter and the final fire. They fed on the morning dew, waiting for the world to be cleansed.
You have found the source of the new world. The sprout is not just a plant, but a promise. The dawn is coming.
Witness the New Dawn