They weren’t all in one place. Not just one village. Not one temple.
The traces of the thread show up across all the Northlands and beyond.

Denmark. Sweden. Norway. Iceland. Even the Isle of Man.

Some were buried on ships. Some on high mounds. Some with wands that burned through the fire and still survived. The question isn’t just who they were. It’s why they were there.

Why bury her on the hill outside the village?
Why place her staff beside her bones?
Why does her grave sit beside the old trade road… or the sea?

This is not a page of inventory. This is a map of memory. This is where the thread touched down.

​

Fyrkat – Denmark
She was buried in a longhouse, not a grave. That alone speaks loudly. The staff she carried was made of iron and shaped like a serpent. A pouch with henbane seeds sat beside her. Tools. Trance tools.

Why here?
Fyrkat was a ring fortress. A military site. A place of order, strategy, and power.
So what was she doing there?

Was she there to bless a campaign? Or to unravel the plans of another?
Sometimes I wonder if she traveled alone… or if the war called her.

​

Oseberg – Norway
Two women. One older, one younger. Buried in a ship, dressed in silk and linen, surrounded by ritual tools and carved animals. There was a cart in the ship—decorated, ceremonial.
No swords. But this was not a soft burial.

Why here?
The fjords run like veins through this land. Oseberg sat at the edge of a world between sea and soil.
She wasn’t hidden. She was set to sail.

Was she being honored? Or sent off to continue her work elsewhere?

​

Kaupang – Norway
A merchant town. A place of trade, travel, and flux. Her grave held imported goods, beads, and a staff like the one found at Fyrkat.

Why here?
She was at the crossroads. Not in a village. Not in a temple. A völva among traders. Maybe she followed the ships. Maybe she read the winds. Or maybe she was the one they came to see.

​

Hårby – Denmark
A small town. A grave with a blue dress, a brooch, and a wand. Modest, but intentional.

Why here?
Not every seeress needed gold to be remembered. Sometimes the staff was enough. I wonder was she the village’s only threadwalker? Did she choose the quiet life, or was she all they could afford?

​

Köpingsvik – Öland, Sweden
An island burial. A staff, a ring, the remains of sacrificed animals.
She was given food for the journey.

Why here?
Öland was a sacred place long before this grave. People say the air still feels different there. Maybe she chose it. Maybe the island called her.

​

Birka – Sweden (Grave Bj. 834)
The staff in her grave was bent—like it had been ritually broken. Her jewelry was high status. She may have worn a headdress.

Why here?
Birka was a city of warriors and traders. If she walked those streets, she knew how to read more than bones.

Was the broken staff a sign of power returned? Or power feared?

​

Ketilsstaðir – Iceland
A volcanic land. Her grave held a curved staff and animal remains. She was laid with care, far from others.

Why here?
Iceland is isolation and intensity. To live there is to know the land’s moods. Maybe she was the land’s voice. Maybe her silence kept the lava sleeping.

​

Echo and Invitation
These are just the ones we’ve found.

The North was full of threadwalkers.
Not all of them were buried with staffs.
Not all of them were buried at all.

But these places, they hold something.
They show us how far she reached.
How far she was carried.
How many hands once honored her… or feared her enough to lay her down carefully.

If you stand where they lay, be still.
The ground remembers.