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1759 The Sigil © 2025 by Stéfano Castellanos is licensed
under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0. To view a copy of this license, visit
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1759 - THE SIGIL - EP 3.
(
The Koppang Mysteries -
)
Impenitent Series.

1. EXT. NORWEGIAN VILLAGE – NIGHT – JANUARY 3, 1759

A cold winter night. Snow falls softly. Faint screams echo

from a nearby farmhouse.

2. INT. FUGLESAND HOUSE – BEDROOM – NIGHT
A modest room of wood-paneled walls. Flickering candlelight
dances across the worn floorboards. A fire crackles. A woman
labors in childbirth, her cries breaking the stillness.
, exhausted but radiant, cradles her newborn
AASE FUGLESAND
boy. The infant lies pale, barely breathing. The ,
MIDWIFE
silent, watches with knowing eyes.

AASE
(whispers, trembling)
He’s so small… so silent.

The baby lets out a faint, fragile breath—then stillness.

AASE
(softly, tears falling)
May your soul know love… our love,
always. As you ascend to God’s grace.
My Ole… my loving boy.

CUT TO:

3. INT. ELIAS PÅLSSON’S WORKSHOP – NIGHT
, a weathered but kind-faced carpenter, carves
ELIAS PÅLSSON
into the underside of a small drawer for a finely crafted
desk.
INSERT – THE INSCRIPTION:
( )


Til min søn Ole Eliassen
2.
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(
Fuglesand. Den 3. Januarii 1759.

Maatte du kende sand

Kjærlighed,hæderligt Arbejde og
)


god Helse.
(
Translation: " To my son Ole

Eliassen Fuglesand January 3,

1759. May you know true love,
)


honest labor and good health."
Five young men—his sons—work quietly nearby, ages ranging
from 13 to 25. The room is filled with the soft sounds of
carving, sanding, painting. An air of solemnity hangs over
them.
Elias fits the drawer into place. A woman enters. She only
shakes her head.

WOMAN PEASANT
He is with God now.

ELIAS
Amen.

BROTHERS
Amen.

4. EXT. STREET OUTSIDE – EARLY MORNING.
Snow still falls. Elias stands with his eldest son outside
the workshop. A NEIGHBOR approaches—gruff, well-dressed, the
air of a man used to getting his way.

NEIGHBOR
(gruff)
You’d burn it? That’s no desk for a
dead boy.

ELIAS
It’s more than wood.

NEIGHBOR
To me, it's a settled debt. I'll send
for it.
Elias nods. No words left. They part.

CUT TO:

5. INT. HILDE'S FARMHOUSE – DAY (ATNA)

Sunlight filters through gauzy curtains. The home is rustic

but warm. The antique desk stands alone, waiting.
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HILDE RASMUSDATTER
Here to pick up the desk?

ESTEBAN
Yeah, that's what the trailer's for.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
Come on in. It's inside.

6. INT. HILDE’S LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
Esteban runs his fingers along the smooth, timeworn surface
of the desk. It’s old-fashioned, but beautifully made and in
good shape. Hilde pulls open a small central drawer and peers
inside.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
(reading)

"To my son Ole Eliassen Fuglesand

January 3, 1759. May you know true

love, honest labor and good health."
Look
.
She hands the drawer to Esteban. He takes out his glasses and
squints.

ESTEBAN
Where. I don't see it.
Hilde frowns and takes it back.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
That's strange. (frowns) It's gone.

ESTEBAN
(confused, murmurs)
Seventeen fifty-nine…?
As he utters the year, a sharp, piercing pain jolts through
his arm. He winces. Hilde doesn’t notice—she’s already at her
purse.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
Wait. I took a picture.
She pulls out her phone and scrolls.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
Look for yourself.
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She holds it out. Esteban takes a breath, composes himself,
and looks.

ESTEBAN
I see it. (quietly) Never doubted you.
1759. Does it belong to your family?
Wouldn't you want to keep it?

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
No, we are moving abroad. Selling the
farm. My husband is Australian. We
have a home there. We can't take that
big old thing with us. It belonged to
my great-great-grand uncle.
(pulls out phone, sends payment)

ESTEBAN
OK. I'll transfer the money now.

A moment later— BEEP — the Vipps payment goes through. She

looks at her phone.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER

(looking at her phone, surprised)
Your last name… it doesn’t sound
Spanish. You said you’re from
Colombia?

ESTEBAN
My father was English. My mother was
Colombian.

HILDE RASMUSDATTER
I see. My son is outside he'll help
you load it.

ESTEBAN
Thanks.

[END SCENE]

7. EXT. ESTEBAN’S DRIVEWAY – DAY
Esteban stands at the back of his trailer, trying to maneuver
a massive . The drawers are already inside —
antique desk
fourteen in total — stacked carefully on the porch.
The desk itself is solid wood, heavy, awkward.
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Esteban braces, lifts, pulls — it doesn’t budge. A male voice
speaks.

MAN (O.S.)
Hey! Need a hand?
Esteban looks up. A MAN in his early 40s, light build, kind
eyes, in a thin, sweat-damp t-shirt. He’s casual, easy.

ESTEBAN
Yes. Thank you.
They both lift. Grunting. Step by step, they carry the desk
toward the house.

MAN
You got it?

ESTEBAN
Yes.
They get it up the stairs and on the large porch. They put it
down.

MAN
Nice piece. You don’t see
craftsmanship like this anymore.
(looks at the drawers on the porch)
Are those all the drawers?

ESTEBAN
Yes. 14 in total.

MAN
Amazing how things were built to last
back then.
Esteban cleans his sweat with the bottom of his t-shirt.

ESTEBAN
Do you live nearby?

MAN (CONT’D)
The Cora house.

ESTEBAN
Very Victorian.

MAN
Yeah, I guess.
6.
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ESTEBAN
Hold on. I'll get us some water.

MAN
Please.

8. INT. ESTEBAN’S HOUSE – RESTROOM – MOMENTS LATER
On
Esteban walks into the restroom and takes his t-shirt off.
his bare chest, , is the same dedication the woman
tattooed
who sold him the desk claimed it was on the back of the small
drawer.
(
Til min søn Ole Eliassen

Fuglesand. Den 3. Januarii 1759.

Maatte du kende sand Kjærlighed,
)


hæderligt Arbejde og god Helse.
(
Translation: " To my son Ole

Eliassen Fuglesand January 3,

1759. May you know true love,
)


honest labor and good health."
It is tattooed right on his chest and where he felt the pain
when he took the small drawer in his hand. He is pensive.

MAN (CALLING OUT)
Hey — come see this!
Esteban reaction is quick. He grabs a buttons up shirt from
his hamper and puts it on. Quickly grabs a jar of water and
two glasses. Walks out to the porch.

9. EXT. PORCH

MAN (CONT’D)
There’s a metal piece here. Like a
latch or something. My ring caught it.
He presses gently — and a flips out from a
speculum mirror
hidden compartment.

MAN (CONT’D)
Look at that. Someone really loved
this desk.

(SOFTLY)
ESTEBAN
It was made for a boy named Ole. He
died at birth.
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MAN (LOOKING UP)
So you know the history of this desk?
Esteban shakes his head — confused, distant.

ESTEBAN
No. I don’t. The woman who sold it
told me...
A pause. Esteban softens.

ESTEBAN (CONT’D)
I’m Esteban.

MAN
Niklas. Call me Nick.
They shake hands. Esteban’s shirt shifts — just enough for
the to show again. Nick notices. Gently touches the
tattoo
cloth open, reads it out loud.

NICK (READING SOFTLY)

"To my son Ole Eliassen Fuglesand


January 3, 1759..."

A strange glint of light bounces off the mirror.

NICK
Where is the light coming from? Did
you see that? On the mirror.

ESTEBAN
No. I didn’t. See what? (Beat) How
about you come by later? It was a long
drive. I really need to relax.

NICK (SMILES)
Ah, Oh. Sure.

ESTEBAN
You've been great help, Nick. Thank
you.

MAN
You're welcome, Esteban.
Nick heads toward the door. Esteban stands still. He touches
the place on his chest — the message etched into him without
ink.

FADE OUT.
8.
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10. EXT. RURAL ROAD OUTSIDE STAI– EARLY MORNING
A silver 1998 VOLVO 240 sits at an angle in a wet ditch, rear
tires still spinning faintly in the mud. The front end is
crushed beneath a massive NORWEGIAN RED BULL—its hindquarters
draped across the hood like a sack of meat. The bull is
trapped between a huge tree and the car.
One HOOF has punched straight through the shattered
windshield. The interior is spattered with MUD, FECES, and
blood. The smell of manure and antifreeze hangs heavy in the
cold air.
Plastic bags, gloves, empty soda cans, vodka bottles,
chainsaw, coffee bags, sweaters, and tons of bills, and
supermarket newspapers mashed against the dash. An OLD RAG
dangles from the rearview mirror like a limp flag of
surrender.
Inside, EINAR and RUTH BJERKAN sit slumped—faces bruised,
necks bent at unnatural angles. Einar’s hand still grips the
wheel. Ruth’s body is twisted sideways, her arm pinned
beneath the collapsed glove compartment.
SFX: Police radio chatter. Distant crow caw. A door slams.
Two patrol cars roll to a stop. A FIRE TRUCK arrives just
behind. steps out, jaw clenched.
OFFICER INGRID STENBERG
adjusts his hat, and surveys the scene.
OFFICER DAG ANKER

OFFICER INGRID STENBERG
(approaches the car, calm but alert)
Two inside. Male driver. Female
passenger.
She peers in. Shards of glass crunch underfoot.

OFFICER DAG ANKER
(joins her, voice low)
That’s Einar and Ruth Bjerkan. From
Tørberget. Retired sheep farmers.
They both stand still. The grotesque silence does the
talking.

OFFICER INGRID STENBERG
(stern)
Looks like they hit the bull from
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behind. Might’ve been grazing under
the tree—poor visibility. Bull goes
up, comes down... right through them.

OFFICER DAG ANKER
At night, they’re like boulders. Shit
himself all over them.
Dag gestures with a grimace. The scene is foul. The bull’s
stomach is ruptured. The air reeks. He circles the car.

OFFICER DAG ANKER
No skid marks. No sign of braking.
(beat)
They never saw it.
He pokes through the clutter inside the car—cups, wrappers,
rubber boots.

OFFICER INGRID STENBERG
All this trash... it’s like they were
living out of it.

FIRE FIGHTER STENBERG
(grunting, examining the bull)
We’ll need to winch it off. Rear hoof
went straight through. She wasn’t
belted in. Probably thrown forward on
impact.

OFFICER DAG ANKER
(into radio)
Dispatch, confirm Code 4. Two
deceased. No foul play. Request
coroner and large animal removal.
He pauses, then lowers the mic.

OFFICER DAG ANKER
Poor old farts. Went out the same way
they lived—buried in crap.

OFFICER INGRID STENBERG
(snorts)
10.
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That’s one way to skip the nursing
home.
They both stare silently for a moment.

FADE OUT.

11. EXT./INT. THE VINE AND VIXEN – EARLY EVENING – 5 PM
The Vine and Vixen glows in the soft spring light. A
charming, red-brick building lifted straight from the English
countryside and dropped into Koppang. Rustic beams. Slate
roof. Wooden tables scattered outside under string lights.
Laughter spills from every corner.
The sign swings gently overhead:

“THE VINE AND VIXEN – Coffee · Waffles · Chocolate · Drinks”
Kids run across the gravel, dodging chairs and legs.
Someone’s dog barks from a bicycle trailer. Steam rises from
coffee mugs and plates of food.
The town is here.

12. EXT. PATIO – CONTINUOUS
leans in like a hawk to a pair of gossiping women,
MAGDA (60)
her teacup untouched.

MAGDA
Well I heard the hoof went the
through
windshield.
(beat)
Straight into her chest.

TURID
Einar knew he should’ve given up
driving. He had vertigo.

LEA
Vertigo? you said? I wonder, would he
be going up or down? (laughs)
Imagine... dying under a pile of cow
crap.

MAGDA
Well at least it was local produce.
They giggle, eat their cakes, and sip their tea—like good
women who just buried half the town.
11.
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13. INT. PUB SECTION – CONTINUOUS
sits alone at the bar, broad-shouldered, quiet.
JAN PÅL (50s)
One of the biggest wood distributors in the region, but you'd
never guess from his low profile. He nurses a flat white,
lost in thought.

ESTEBAN
Pensive, are we?

JAN PÅL
Hey! Just thinking... if I had this
coffee at home, dropped some good
whiskey in it, and let my cozy chair
do the rest...

ESTEBAN
Oof, if they heard you say that,
they'd leave. (beat) I just crawled
out of a long nap myself.
Jan Pål glances around, a small smile forming.

JAN PÅL
Liv invested. Gave many a job.
I provide the whiskey.

(GRINNING)
ESTEBAN
This place was needed.
(then, catching the phrasing)
Wait... ?
you

(WITH A SHRUG)
JAN PÅL
What, you thought I just hoarded
lumber?
(glances at him)
You’re one to talk. You’re the one
with a lawyer for a wallet.
Esteban hesitates, half-laughs.

ESTEBAN
Who told you that?

(SIPS HIS FLAT WHITE)
JAN PÅL
No one needed to. You just did.
(pauses)
You’re the fourth partner, I knew it.
12.
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Silent, but not invisible.
Esteban leans on the bar, mock-scandalized.

ESTEBAN
Oldest trick in the book.

JAN PÅL
Not difficult. The music selection
here is the same one you have at home.

ESTEBAN
Clever. Where's Liv? Shouldn't she be
here now?
They look around. wipes chocolate off his lip.
TITO
The gossip corner outside is stuffed with cake and scandal.
Kids dart between tables.
ELIANA sells snacks for the llamas and donkeys out back.
Esteban suddenly touches his chest—absently at first. His
fingers pause. The has changed into a . He looks
mark scar
down. It’s shaped like a .
sigil

14. INT. ESTEBAN’S HOME – NIGHT
Esteban closes the front door behind him. His four dogs trot
to greet him.

ESTEBAN
Hey, darlings. Give me a sec.
He pets them absently and moves straight into the study—no
hesitation, just quiet intent. The sits near the window.
desk
He flicks on a lamp. Shadows pull back. He crosses the room
like a dart and heads straight to the . Slides
central drawer
it open. Nothing. He pulls it out completely. Turns it over.
The
inscription is back.
(“To my son Ole Eliassen Fuglesand
January 3, 1759.
May you know true love, honest
labor, and good health.”)
Esteban exhales through his nose. Kneels down. Runs his
fingers beneath the desk—searching. Nothing. He unbuttons his
shirt. The is still there. Suddenly— in his
scar sharp pain
lower abdomen. He staggers, grabs the arm of the sofa. His
scar burns—not hot, but . He
cold

Metal left in snow.
gasps—eyes wide, breath shallow. He notices blood on his
crotch.
13.
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ESTEBAN (IN PAIN)
AAH!

15. EXT. FUGLESAND FARMHOUSE – NIGHT – 1759 (FLASHBACK)
Wind howls through the trees.
A , buried in snow.
small farmhouse
A lone in the window.
candle flickers
From inside: a woman’s . Then— .
cries silence

16. INT. BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS – NIGHT
, young and slick with sweat, cradles a
AASE FUGLESAND
in her arms.
stillborn infant
His skin is pale. Lips blue. No sound. She sobs. Rocking.
Murmuring to him.
From the shadows— appear. Their
THREE WOMEN Cloaked. Hooded.
faces hidden.

FIRST WITCH (O.S.)
The soul is still warm. Still here.

AASE (BARELY AUDIBLE)
(weeping)
He never cried.

SECOND WITCH
There is another. Enveloped in his
secundines.
Aase stiffens. Pain tightens her face. Her hands fly to her
belly—another .
wave of agony

17. EXT. STONE CIRCLE – MOMENTS LATER
A formed from rock.
crude altar
Ole’s small body lies inside a ring of .
pine needles and bark
The witches —rhythmic, rising. A fire
chant in Old Norse
crackles. The air pulses. They gather and stir them
ashes
into a steaming . Aase, weak and half-conscious,
bowl of broth
is propped up between them. One witch holds the bowl to her
lips.

THIRD WITCH
Drink. Or lose them both.
Aase drinks.
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18. INT. VISION REALM – UNKNOWN SPACE
A surge of lifts from beneath him,
Darkness. Then dust. earth
swirling around. Esteban’s body , caught
rises off the ground
in it.
Whispers. Old Norse. Spanish. English.
Familiar and foreign. All at once.
Suddenly—
A FACE.
A , right in front of him.
witch Close. Cloaked.
Her face is etched in dirt, her eyes like glass shards.

FIRST WITCH
That witch ain’t here.
She can’t see, find, nor trace.

You’ll be next.
Dust upward between them—like a veil ripped in half.
explodes
Esteban stumbles backward— And comes face to face with a
wall
.
of pure ice Still. Glowing. Towering.
Within the ice, —faces? Souls? He can’t tell.
shapes move
He steps closer—hand raised—then:
A VOICE. WARM. FAMILIAR.

MODESTA (O.S.)
Those bitches can’t touch you, my
Ebbie. You are .
too powerful
Esteban turns. His stands behind him.
grandmother
—early 70s, small, powerful, alive in spirit. She
Modesta
radiates light—not glowing, just . Esteban
unmistakably real
stares. His breath catches.

(SOFTLY)
ESTEBAN
Bita?...
She steps closer. Eyes fierce. Protective. Proud.

MODESTA
Go back!
¡Ahora!

(Now!)
He hesitates. She yells, sharp and clear—

MODESTA (CONT'D)
NOW!!
15.
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19. INT. ESTEBAN’S STUDY – NIGHT
Esteban gasps awake—collapsing to his side.
His dogs react
, the youngest, spring toward the
instantly. RIO and KENJI
door—ears up, muscles tense, ready to defend. , the
MELCOCHA
oldest, remains by Esteban’s side. She doesn’t bark. She
—low, constant.
whimpers
Her eyes never leave him. She knows. licks Esteban’s
TROCO
hand, tail still, sensing distress.
Esteban clutches the . It’s no longer
scar on his chest
cold—just . Then—he sees the on his crotch. His
present

blood
breath falters. His gaze meets Melcocha’s—just for a second.
Then he faints. She nudges his chest once with her nose.
The room stills.
Outside, the wind has stopped.
The house is quiet again.
The
lightbulb flickers.
Then—
darkness.

CUT TO BLACK.
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