On the distant world of Avalon, where the skies shimmered with twin moons and the land thrived under the benevolence of unseen gods, the village of Maria prepared for the annual harvest. This was not merely a season of reaping; it was an ancient tradition, a sacred pact between the people and the goddess of the harvest. To ensure continued prosperity, young women from the village were sent on a perilous pilgrimage to the northern temple, crossing treacherous swamps and encountering creatures that demanded tolls of both coin and courage. It was a journey of faith and a rite of passage, one that separated the innocent from the knowing.
Among the chosen was Sweiza Serif, the farmer’s daughter. She was young, excitable, and filled with dreams of grandeur. One day, she would become a revered handmaiden of the goddess. For now, she merely hoped the journey would be less dull than the previous years.
As dusk settled over the village, five knights stood assembled before the crowd, their armor glinting under the torches. They were tasked with safeguarding the three chosen maidens. The villagers murmured prayers, eyes filled with both reverence and worry. It was said that should the pilgrimage ever fail, the land itself would wither, cursed by the goddess’s disfavor.
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That night, beneath the shelter of a dying fire, Sweiza scribbled furiously into her diary:
The food was awful, as usual. Some say last year’s pilgrimage was cursed. If that’s the case, then I’ll be the one to fix it. After all, I plan to become a handmaiden. A noble cause, no? Also, I overheard the knights talking. They’re crude and insufferable. One of them is cute, though. - Sweiza.
“SWEIZA!”
Her heart leapt from her chest as she slammed the diary shut, the pen tumbling from her grasp. She turned, eyes wide, to find a knight standing over her, his visor raised just enough to reveal a smirk.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, arms crossed. “You should get some sleep. We leave at dawn.”
Sweiza huffed, gripping her journal tight. “I was about to.”
“Right. And maybe put that away. Prying eyes and all.” His gaze flicked downwards, and she followed it—straight to the hearts and the rather unfortunate sketch of Lester, her childhood friend.
Her face burned. “I—!”
But the knight was already walking away. Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue, she stuffed the diary into her pack and turned over to sleep.
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The night stretched on.
Sweiza woke once to hushed voices, the knights gossiping about the villagers. Rolling her eyes, she fell back into uneasy slumber.
Later, she woke again, staring at the sky. Sleep evaded her, and stray thoughts filled the silence.
Why do we have to sleep at the village’s edge? Traditions can be so stupid. I wonder if they’re naked under all that armor. No, wait, Lester better not be running around naked again…
An owl’s hoot shattered the quiet. Slowly, its head twisted—too far, too impossibly—until it was staring at her upside down. A shadow passed over its eyes, and it darted away, vanishing into the darkness. A shriek followed from the distant swamp, something neither bird nor beast.
A chill wrapped around Sweiza’s spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself into an uneasy sleep.
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Sweiza stirred once more, groggy and dazed. The night had stretched endlessly, and yet, dawn was already approaching. A sliver of red bled across the horizon. She sat up, blinking the exhaustion from her eyes, only to find herself face to face with Lester.
He grinned. “Guess you’re really going, huh?”
She scowled. “You weren’t here last night.”
“Had things to do.”
“Like what? Stealing?”
“Preferably a kiss.” He puckered his lips dramatically.
“Forget it.” She clamped a hand over his mouth, shoving him back. He merely winked and pressed a small note into her palm.
“For you. Good luck.”
He bowed with exaggerated flourish before disappearing into the waking village. Sweiza sighed and tucked the note away for later.
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The journey began under gray skies. The path wound through the foothills, bogs stretching endlessly on either side. The knights moved in practiced formation: one in front, one in the rear, and three walking alongside the maidens.
Half a day’s travel led them deep into the swamp. The knight on point paused, stepping forward cautiously. He drove his sword into the murky water. Silence. He stabbed again.
Bubbles rose to the surface.
The reeds rustled. The water turned red.
The knight withdrew his sword, slick with blood. A fish, its scales dark and alien, clung to the blade, its mouth twisted in silent agony.
He held it up. “Do not fall in.”
A shiver ran down Sweiza’s spine.
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The rain came soon after, drenching them in a relentless downpour. They trudged forward, their makeshift shelter collapsing twice during the night. Sleep was fleeting.
When morning came, they pressed onward. The road stretched long, the air thick with moisture and something unseen. Something watching.
By evening, they reached the temple.
Sweiza had dreamed of this moment. The golden halls. The flames that did not burn. The goddess’s presence. But the moment of triumph turned bitter.
Valkyrie descended from the heavens, clad in radiant armor, her voice a commandment.
“Three shall be chosen. The rest shall serve in devotion.”
Sweiza was not among the chosen.
The temple glowed gold, and those deemed worthy were knighted into the Valkyrie’s ranks. Sweiza stood among the unchosen, her dreams crumbling. She had given everything, suffered through the pilgrimage, and yet—
That night, she sat outside the temple, staring at the stars.
A shadow emerged from the darkness.
“I am Valkyrie,” the figure intoned. “Why do you sit alone, child?”
“They are not my friends,” Sweiza muttered.
“If they are not, then why travel with them?”
“To gain favor with the goddess.”
The figure stepped closer. “Do you know why this tradition exists?”
“It is all we know. Without it, the land will die.”
A cruel chuckle echoed through the night. “Legends fade. Truth is buried. The land is not what you believe it to be.”
Sweiza shivered. Something about the figure was wrong. Its presence, its voice.
She blinked, and it was gone.
A wolf howled in the distance. The moon loomed overhead, and sleep finally took her.
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The nightmares came then, twisting reality into cruel mockery. Shadows stretched unnaturally. A throne of ice rose from nothingness. A god of tricks and nightmares grinned at her suffering.
“Your fate is sealed,” he whispered, his breath cold against her ear. “Now, let us see if you survive.”
Sweiza screamed as the shards of ice tore through her flesh.
And then she awoke, gasping for air, a lance pressed against her throat.
Valkyrie loomed over her.
“Your trial is not over.”
Sweiza trembled, knowing, at last, there was no waking from this nightmare.
Sweiza’s consciousness wavered as the cold floor pressed against her cheek. The golden hall flickered, the flame of the brass lamps distorting as if reality itself were struggling to remain intact. Her breath came ragged and shallow.
“On your feet, elf.”
The voice was sharp, commanding—without patience. Sweiza froze, her body stiff with resistance.
“NOW!”
A force unseen dragged her upright, her knees scraping against the ornate rug as she was turned to face the exit. The grand doors loomed ahead, but something whispered at the edge of her awareness. Slowly, she twisted back toward the thrones.
Two figures sat before her. The young man’s smirk curled like a serpent, golden robes shifting like liquid sunlight. Beside him, the regal woman radiated an unyielding authority, her silver eyes boring into Sweiza’s very essence.
“Youth and beauty,” the man murmured, tracing a finger along his throne’s armrest.
“Age and wisdom,” the woman intoned, her voice a solemn decree.
The silence stretched, taut and unbearable. Then, the man’s smirk faded.
“You fail, Sweiza.”
A chill lanced through her spine.
“A fate far worse than death awaits you,” the woman declared, her voice reverberating through the vast cathedral.
The shadows behind the thrones deepened. A figure emerged—Valkyrie.
The woman raised a single hand. At her gesture, Valkyrie reached up, unfastening her helmet with deliberate slowness.
The face beneath was no face at all. Hollow sockets stared back, a skeletal grin locked in eternal mockery.
Sweiza stumbled back, but the weight of unseen chains bound her limbs. The room warped. The golden glow dimmed, twisting into an eerie, flickering red. The scent of incense curdled into something rancid, something rotting.
She looked down at her hands. The flesh was gone. Ivory bone gleamed under the sickly light, her fingers moving though no muscle remained. The horror set in like a physical blow.
She screamed.
The world shattered.
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She awoke in a void of shifting colors, her breath heaving. But she was not alone.
Valkyrie loomed over her, the tip of her lance hovering just below Sweiza’s chin.
“It would do you well not to stir the wrath of the gods,” Valkyrie intoned. “You are but an elf—a child in the grand design.”
Sweiza clenched her teeth, fighting the tremor in her voice. “I don’t want to be Valkyrie anymore.”
Valkyrie withdrew the lance with an almost dismissive motion. “That is too bad.”
The weight of those words settled on Sweiza’s shoulders. This was no trial she could reject. No path she could abandon.
Valkyrie turned, sheathing her weapon. “Do you have any questions?”
Sweiza opened her mouth, but nothing came. Her thoughts tangled, her defiance withering under the weight of exhaustion.
Her vision blurred. Darkness overtook her once more, swallowing her whole.
Sweiza’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in a vast hall, unlike anything she had ever seen. The walls, seemingly forged from swords and stone, twisted unnaturally into the shape of a great palace. Torches flickered in their sconces, casting erratic shadows across the animated tapestries that adorned the walls. They moved—figures playing out scenes of battles and stories unknown to her. The windows revealed an unfamiliar night sky, alien stars winking down at her from beyond this strange castle.
By one of the massive arched windows stood a man, his back turned to her, peering through a brass telescope. His hat was unlike any she had seen, and his long trench coat seemed woven from starlight and parchment. Without turning, he spoke.
“Ah yes, young lass. What brings you here?”
Sweiza hesitated. “Should I be afraid of you?”
At that, he turned, adjusting his round spectacles, his expression twisting into a scowl.
“What have those morons been doing to you?” he muttered, exasperation lacing his voice.
She had no answer, her thoughts still sluggish from the relentless trials she had endured. Before she could form a coherent response, a sudden gust of wind sent a chill through the room, and Valkyrie materialized from the air before them. Without hesitation, she swung her lance at the man.
With a mere flick of his wrist, he caught it.
“That wasn’t called for,” he said flatly.
Flames erupted from his free hand, a burst of crackling fire searing through the air as he launched it toward Valkyrie. The scent of burning oil and charred metal filled the chamber as Valkyrie stepped back, undeterred. She bowed slightly, sheathing her lance before leaning in close and whispering something into the man’s ear.
His expression shifted from irritation to mild surprise. He turned his gaze back to Sweiza, adjusting his glasses once more.
“Sweiza, is it?” he said aloud, as if testing the name on his tongue. He wrinkled his nose. “What the hell kind of name is that?”
Sweiza recoiled slightly, unsure how to react. Valkyrie remained silent.
The man rubbed his chin. “You’ve been through quite a bit already, haven’t you?”
Before Sweiza could answer, Valkyrie corrected him. “She has completed three trials.”
“Three?” His brow furrowed. “That’s out of order. I’m normally closer to the last of the roundup.”
His way of speaking was strange—too casual for someone who stood within a castle of swords and shifting stars, too familiar for a stranger.
“Well then,” he sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll try to make this brief. You are in for a very long night, Sweiza.”
Her lips parted slightly, her disbelief evident. This man spoke as though he were some benevolent scholar, utterly unfazed by the madness she had endured.
He leaned toward Valkyrie again, his voice dropping into hushed whispers. Sweiza could only make out fragmented words, spoken rapidly, before he turned back to her. His face twisted in bemusement.
“Oh gods,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhaled sharply and looked at her with something between amusement and pity. “You’re an idiot.”
Sweiza shrank in place, her pride stinging from the blunt remark.
“I’ve met a few like you before,” he continued, tapping his fingers against his coat. “They usually end up as priestesses or temple scribes. Not Valkyries.” He turned to Valkyrie. “You can go. I’ll handle this one.”
Valkyrie bowed, stepping into the shadows. “Thank you, sir.” And with that, she disappeared into the oblivion beyond the torches’ glow.
The man extended his hand toward Sweiza. She hesitated, unsure of what he intended, but he grabbed her hand with both of his and gave it a firm shake.
“You don’t know this yet,” he said, “but you are undergoing the trial to become a Valkyrie.”
Sweiza’s stomach twisted into knots. She shrank further, her mind reeling.
“Don’t be so shy,” he chuckled. “Everyone has a path they follow. I chose the role of scholar. Although I’m quite good at fireworks.”
A small flame danced between his fingertips before vanishing in a puff of smoke.
“I can’t read your mind,” he added, “so if you have questions, speak up.”
Sweiza swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”
“Douglas,” he replied smoothly. “Scholar of Adavan. Chief Scholar, really.”
“I don’t understand you.”
He smirked. “Then let me explain.”
With deliberate steps, he began pacing, hands clasped behind his back, his voice shifting into the practiced rhythm of a lecturer.
“You are from Dawez, a continent largely untouched by intellectual progress. Your village, Maria, is backwater. No education system, no access to the outside world—everything you know is built upon tradition. Compared to most people, you are, frankly, an idiot.”
Sweiza shrank again, biting her lip to keep from lashing out.
“See? That’s the problem,” he mused. “You don’t even question it.”
He paused, adjusting his glasses once more. “You have angered the gods, and now they are punishing you. This is your trial. If you pass, you will become a Valkyrie.”
Her frustration boiled over. “I don’t want to be Valkyrie anymore! Just send me home!”
Douglas sighed, shaking his head. “That’s too bad. You’ve only completed three of twelve trials. You have nine more to go before you are released from your duty.”
The weight of his words settled onto her shoulders, crushing her into silence.
“It’s your humility they seek,” he continued. “You need to endure.”
“Just send me home,” she whispered.
“I can’t,” he replied, offering a crooked smile. “Besides, I so rarely get company.”
At that moment, Valkyrie materialized once more, stepping between them.
“This trial is over,” she declared. “If you have further questions…”
Sweiza had none.
“So be it.”
Douglas turned, striding toward the great window. “Shall we be going?”
Sweiza opened her mouth to protest, but the ground beneath her cracked apart, and once again, she fell into the abyss.
A massive city of white limestone stretched endlessly before her, its towers adorned with creeping ivy and lush gardens spilling over their edges. The horizon blurred under the weight of its splendor, a place she had only heard of in half-whispered legends. Some of her people had journeyed here, but none had ever returned with stories.
Valkyrie stood before her, watching with unreadable eyes.
“Do you wish to ask me anything, young one?” Valkyrie’s voice carried an almost taunting lilt.
Sweiza crossed her arms, the weight of exhaustion pressing against her, yet her frustration burned brighter. “Yeah, why don’t you just disappear? Or better yet, end yourself?”
The air seemed to tighten around them. Valkyrie did not so much as blink.
“I surrendered my right to death long ago, in service to the greater cause.”
Sweiza scoffed, her tone sharp. “That’s not what I—” She exhaled harshly, her fists clenching. “You are insufferable. Just let me go! I don’t need you! I don’t need any of this!”
Valkyrie’s expression darkened. “You should be mindful of your words. There are consequences far graver than death.”
“Good! Maybe I’ll finally get what I want,” Sweiza spat.
Valkyrie studied her for a moment longer before turning away, her presence fading into the golden haze of the distant towers.
Sweiza stuck her tongue out at her vanishing figure. “Coward.”
She spun on her heel, muttering, “I don’t care if I’m stuck in this place.”
A low, amused chuckle echoed behind her. “Such a foul mouth for a child.”
A cold dread laced her veins. She turned sharply, but before she could react, pain lanced through her thigh. A second, harder blow struck her ribs, and she crumpled, her breath ripped from her chest. Strong hands seized her, dragging her to her feet. Shadows swirled around her vision as consciousness slipped away. A voice whispered in her ear, its words curling like smoke.
“You are hardly innocent.”
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Pain. It came in slow waves, dull at first, then sharp enough to make her fingers twitch. Her body felt foreign, a husk weighed down by ache and filth.
She was bound. The rough bite of rope burned against her wrists. The air was thick with sweat, damp earth, and the coppery tang of blood.
Some say there are fates crueler than death. Until that night, Sweiza had not believed them.
Once, she had been steadfast, proud—her future set in stone by the traditions of her people. Until the night she was captured. The first blow had been a warning. The second, a punishment. The rest… something else entirely.
By dawn, she had pleaded for death.
Valkyrie appeared in the doorway of her cell, her figure illuminated by flickering torchlight. Sweiza stirred, barely conscious, her lips cracked, her voice a rasp.
“Kill me.”
Valkyrie hesitated for only a moment before turning to leave.
Weak fingers found purchase in her cloak, tugging feebly. “Please.”
It was not desperation. It was surrender.
Valkyrie glanced down, something unreadable crossing her features. Then, to Sweiza’s surprise, a small, almost pitying smile ghosted across her lips.
“You will endure worse than death, young one.”
Sweiza’s grip trembled but did not loosen.
“You will learn caution,” Valkyrie murmured. “And respect.”
A slow, defeated nod was all Sweiza could offer.
“Stay here.” Valkyrie straightened, her gaze shifting past the cell’s bars. “I have business to attend to.”
A flash of light erupted from her lance, carving an opening in the wall. With effortless grace, she stepped through, vanishing into the night.
Then, the screaming began.
The air thickened with the scent of burning flesh. The wails of men turned to gurgled gasps, then silence. Sweiza lay still, listening as the world beyond her prison cell was reduced to ruin. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with the cold realization of what awaited her.
She had been a priestess in training, dedicated to the old ways. But she had strayed. She had broken the sacred vow of purity before her fifth pilgrimage.
She was no longer a priestess. No longer a pilgrim.
Just something… hollow.
Her body sagged against the cold stone. This trial—this nightmare—was worse than death.
Footsteps returned. The shadow of Valkyrie passed over her once more.
Sweiza’s vision wavered. She barely felt herself slipping away again. One last whisper escaped her lips before the darkness swallowed her whole.
“Help me… please.”
Sweiza awoke in a vast garden, its foliage vibrant yet alien. Towering trees swayed with an unseen force, and enormous ferns whispered secrets as they bent away from her path. The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filled the air, yet something felt terribly wrong.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Recognition struck like a dagger. This was the temple of her people’s pilgrimage, the sacred ground she had dreamed of reaching since childhood. But something was different—twisted. The garden was alive in ways beyond nature’s intent.
At its center sat a woman of plant-flesh, her form composed of woven vines, leaves cascading like hair, and a dress stitched from the petals of unknown flowers. Her boots were gnarled wood, rooted yet flexible, as if she had simply grown from the throne of thorns she occupied.
Golden eyes, ancient and unyielding, fixed upon Sweiza.
“Humility is your virtue,” the goddess intoned, her voice rustling like wind through branches. “You are steadfast in your traditions, yet blind beyond them. You are a child, unfit for priesthood, unworthy even as a handmaiden.”
A cold weight pressed into Sweiza’s chest. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees, words forming on her tongue before the goddess silenced her with a raised hand.
“You reject all beyond your faith. You wield passion without restraint. Humility, child, is something you must learn.”
“Wait! Please, I never meant to—”
“You are banished from my garden and temple forever.”
The words fell like a death sentence. Sweiza’s breath hitched. “But I—”
“Leave. Now.”
The command struck her like a blow. She scrambled to her feet, bowing deeply despite the humiliation burning inside her.
“I am unworthy of priesthood,” she admitted, voice trembling. “I have shamed my goddess. I am a weed in your garden.”
She turned, bowing once more before fleeing. The vines and shrubs closed behind her, sealing her exile with finality.
Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled through the darkened path, the weight of her wasted years crushing her. Three years, lost. Three years for nothing.
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Reality fractured. The world around her twisted like shattered glass reforming into endless shapes. Her body felt foreign, warping between fleeting sensations—heavy, weightless, whole, broken. Consciousness wavered until, at last, she found herself standing in a chamber of shifting geometry. The walls twisted between squares and rectangles, reshaping as though unsure of their own form.
A low hum vibrated through the air as a metallic sphere drifted toward her, its surface pulsing with an inner glow. It hovered before her, studying her with an intelligence beyond understanding.
“Do you have questions, young one?” the sphere inquired, its voice resonating from all directions at once.
Sweiza’s hands clenched into fists. “I have been rejected by the goddess of my people. I am nothing.”
The sphere whirred, tilting slightly. “Perhaps. Yet in the vast tapestry of existence, even the smallest events are mere threads in a greater weave.”
Sweiza exhaled shakily. “I have no questions.”
The sphere pulsed once. “As you wish.”
It sped away, vanishing into the shifting walls. The chamber dissolved, reality folding in on itself once more.
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Sweiza's vision blurred, colors bleeding into one another until she found herself seated at an impossibly long table, its polished surface reflecting candlelight from unseen sources. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and exotic spices, the feast spread before her overflowing with golden goblets, steaming breads, and delicacies she had never seen before.
A disembodied voice resonated through the hall. “Do you hunger?”
Sweiza hesitated, then shook her head. “No.”
“Do you thirst?”
Her lips were dry, but she forced the answer. “No.”
The table shimmered, as if acknowledging her response, but the feast remained untouched. The barren hall transformed—empty walls adorned themselves with ancient banners and tapestries depicting stories she could not understand.
A familiar voice—Valkyrie’s—sounded from behind her. “Eat, child. You have earned it.”
Sweiza turned slowly. Valkyrie stood tall, the ever-present glow of her armor giving her an ethereal presence. Sweiza swallowed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle deeper in her bones.
“I’m tired,” she murmured.
Valkyrie’s gaze was unreadable. “Do not make demands of the divine.”
Despite her defiance, her body betrayed her. She reached for the food, the warmth of the meal filling a void she hadn’t realized was growing. With each bite, the soreness in her limbs faded, the ache in her heart dulled. By the time she finished, a strange warmth filled her chest, and she felt almost… happy.
She turned to Valkyrie with a hazy grin. “You must be hungry too.”
Valkyrie said nothing. The scenery shifted, fading into darkness.
“Wait,” Sweiza called out, reaching for something—anything.
Valkyrie’s form reappeared before her. “You were hungry, weren’t you?”
A pause. Then, softly, Valkyrie answered, “Sometimes.”
And then she was gone.
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Sweiza gasped as she was dropped onto an unfamiliar surface. The ground beneath her was neither stone nor wood, but something sleek and metallic. The air crackled with energy, the scent of storm and steel mixing in an unfamiliar symphony.
Lightning carved through the sky, striking the towering mast in the center of the platform. The force rippled outward, humming through unseen circuits before dissipating into the air. It happened again. And again. The rhythm was unnatural, calculated.
She stumbled forward, reaching the platform’s edge, expecting to see endless ocean. Instead, a sea of clouds stretched beneath her, rolling and churning like waves in a storm.
Her breath caught. She was in the sky.
She wandered aimlessly, past strange, seamless doors and glowing runes etched into metallic panels. Windows revealed glimpses of unknown machinery, mechanisms pulsing with hidden energy. She hesitated at one of the doors, a soft light beckoning her touch. With no other choice, she placed her hand against it.
The door slid open.
Inside, a family sat around a dining table. They turned in unison, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.
A woman shrieked, lunging toward a panel on the wall. The door slammed shut before Sweiza could step inside.
“I didn’t mean—” she stammered, her voice lost in the sterile air.
A quiet voice murmured behind her. “If that was your intent, then no harm was done.”
She turned sharply to find Valkyrie standing behind her, unshaken as ever.
Sweiza scowled. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me.”
“I cannot appear before you when your face is to a door.”
Her frustration flared, but she let out a breath. “Where are we?”
“A weather station,” Valkyrie answered. “One of many that shape the world’s balance.”
Sweiza stared into the endless sky. “Is this where you live?”
“No.”
“Then why am I here?”
Valkyrie finally turned to her, eyes steady. “One would think it obvious. You have passed your trials as a handmaiden. Now, you will be trained as Valkyrie.”
Sweiza felt her chest tighten. “I don’t want to be Valkyrie.”
Valkyrie said nothing. She simply walked ahead, and with no other choice, Sweiza followed.
Sweiza’s reluctance did not deter Valkyrie. Their path led them to a stairway shaft, where a hovering orb emerged from the darkness. It pulsed with a red light, scanning Valkyrie first before turning its attention to Sweiza.
A high-pitched chirp followed. Then, another scan, this time accompanied by an irritated buzzing noise.
“She’s with me,” Valkyrie stated firmly.
The orb hesitated, chirping again. It darted in front of Sweiza, its movements erratic, as if uncertain. Another scan, another buzz.
Sweiza frowned. “What’s going on?”
Valkyrie didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she placed a hand on the orb, causing it to beep indignantly before floating back. “It doesn’t recognize you,” she finally said. “Which is odd.”
Sweiza rolled her eyes. “So? Maybe I failed whatever weird test it’s running.”
Valkyrie’s gaze was unreadable. “No. If you had failed, it would not hesitate to remove you.”
A shiver crawled down Sweiza’s spine. “Remove me?”
Before she could demand clarification, the orb let out a final pulse of energy. A sharp crackle filled the air, and in an instant, pain seared through Sweiza’s body. She barely had time to yelp before collapsing into darkness.
“Absolutely brilliant,” Valkyrie muttered, shaking her head.
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When Sweiza finally awoke, her surroundings had changed drastically. The walls shimmered with a soft, ethereal glow, and the air carried the faint hum of unseen machinery. Strange glass tubes lined the corridor, filled with drifting lights that pulsed like captured stars.
She pushed herself up, groaning. “Great. Another weird place.”
A chorus of chimes rang out as small floating orbs whirred past, scanning her with rhythmic beeps. This time, the sounds they emitted weren’t the same harsh warnings from before. They were… excited?
Valkyrie stood nearby, watching impassively. “Welcome back.”
Sweiza groaned. “You zapped me again, didn’t you?”
Valkyrie ignored the accusation. “The orbs have re-evaluated your status. You have been granted an automatic pass due to… an administrative oversight.”
Sweiza blinked. “I failed upwards?”
A slip of paper materialized in Valkyrie’s hands. She handed it to Sweiza.
“What’s this?”
Before she could read it, the surrounding orbs chirped loudly, and an explosion of confetti rained down. Sweiza coughed as colorful paper flitted around her hair and shoulders.
Valkyrie exhaled sharply. “Keep it safe. But now is not the time for celebration.”
The orbs immediately shifted into clean-up mode, swirling to collect every scrap of confetti before vanishing down the corridors. Sweiza could only gape.
“You people are so weird.”
Valkyrie ignored the comment. “Your next trial begins now.”
“Wait, I—”
Another pulse of energy struck her before she could finish, sending her plummeting into unconsciousness once more.
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She awoke to the rhythmic crash of waves. The air was thick with the scent of salt and something metallic. The ground beneath her was firm, yet strangely fluid, as if stone and steel had been fused together in some unnatural way.
As her vision cleared, she realized she was standing on the deck of a massive ship. Not just one—an entire fleet stretched before her, thousands of vessels moving in perfect synchrony. Above, smaller crafts zipped through the air, their engines humming with restrained power.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind her. Turning, she was met with a towering knight clad in seamless armor. His glowing yellow eyes locked onto hers, unblinking, his presence both imposing and eerily still.
“You are one of three chosen from twelve,” the knight stated. His voice was deep, metallic, and inhuman. “Defended by three, chosen for twelve. You will accompany us.”
Sweiza hesitated. “What if I don’t want to?”
“You will comply.” The knight’s tone did not change. “Or force will be used.”
She gulped. “Cool, cool. Totally voluntary.”
Without another word, the knight stepped onto a glowing emblem on the deck. A pulse of energy surrounded them, and in an instant, they were transported to another ship. Then another. And another.
Sweiza stumbled, the constant shifting making her stomach churn. She had lost track of how many ships they had jumped across before she finally spoke up. “Do you have a name?”
The knight paused. “I am one of seven, third fleet, naval origin. I am your escort.”
Sweiza sighed. “That’s not a name.”
“I do not require one.”
They continued onward, the jumps becoming routine, exhaustion settling into her bones. Finally, she stopped walking.
“Wait! Wait! STOP!”
The knight immediately obeyed. “State your issue.”
“I’m tired.”
A long silence. Then, the knight tilted his head. “Humans require shutdown for seven hours. You are inefficient.”
Sweiza groaned. “Then why didn’t we just teleport to the final ship?”
The knight shifted slightly. “I can transform and carry you.”
Sweiza blinked. “What.”
Before she could react, his form twisted, reshaping into a hovering machine of metal and light.
Her jaw dropped. “WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THIS SOONER?!”
She stomped up and punched his hull. A terrible mistake.
The knight reformed into his humanoid shape. “Because you did not ask. And it is forbidden during your trial.”
Sweiza clutched her bruised fist, glaring. “You’re messing with me.”
“No. You must endure hardship.”
“Why do you even talk so much?”
His yellow eyes gleamed. “I rarely get to.”
Despite herself, Sweiza found her frustration ebbing. She actually liked this strange, overly literal knight.
They finally arrived at a towering structure atop one of the largest ships. She barely noticed, distracted by the absurdity of their conversation.
“I bid you farewell, human.”
Before she could respond, the knight transformed once more and launched into the sky, vanishing in a streak of light.
Sweiza watched him go, blinking. “What a bizarre creature.”
With a deep breath, she turned toward the imposing doors ahead.
Her trial was far from over.
The door to the tower yawned open, its mechanics groaning as if reluctant to grant her passage. The space beyond was a maze of staircases, some stretching endlessly skyward, others plunging into unseen depths, twisting like the tangled limbs of a great beast. There was no sense to it—no order, no structure. It was as if the architecture itself resented logic.
A sentinel materialized in front of her, its sleek frame standing taller and broader than the others she had encountered. Unlike them, this one had an almost polished finish, its glowing yellow optics narrowing in what could only be irritation.
“To your left and up.”
Sweiza glanced toward the staircases. “Which one?”
The sentinel tapped its metallic foot, arms crossed in an almost human-like gesture of impatience. “Up and to your left. This is not a difficult concept.”
She scowled. “Listen, tin-can, when the stairs look like they were designed by a madman with a grudge against gravity, it kind of is.”
The sentinel simply pointed again. “You are delaying the process. Move.”
Before she could argue, it stepped forward, nudging her—not roughly, but with a firm insistence that sent her stumbling onto the first step. She shot it a glare, but the sentinel was already walking, its footfalls clicking in perfect rhythm as more of its kind joined them, their glowing optics unblinking.
Sweiza glanced over her shoulder uneasily. “Why are they following us?”
“They are not,” the sentinel said. “They have their own tasks.”
“So why do they all look like they’re about to judge my life choices?”
The sentinel did not answer.
The climb was silent save for the occasional mechanical chirps and the rhythmic hum of the sentinels’ movements. At one point, Sweiza misstepped, pitching forward. Before she could hit the ground, the sentinel caught her by the arm and yanked her upright with unsettling ease.
“Your servos appear faulty,” it remarked. “I recommend immediate recalibration.”
Sweiza yanked her arm back. “Excuse you! I’m not some wind-up doll!”
The sentinel did not acknowledge her protest. Instead, it gestured to the top of the stairs, where a massive chamber awaited.
The throne room was not what she expected. There were no golden banners, no opulent displays of power—just rows of strange, glowing instruments, devices that resembled compasses but pulsed with shifting, erratic energy. The walls were vast windows, revealing the endless sky beyond, stretching farther than she thought possible.
Swords lined the walls, mounted between the strange devices, as though battle and navigation were one and the same.
A firm hand settled on her shoulder, and she let out a startled yelp. The sentinel beside her barely reacted, instead pointing across the chamber to a massive figure seated upon a throne of metal and circuitry.
This sentinel was different.
Larger. Painted a deep crimson, adorned with intricate engravings that shimmered faintly in the low light. And, most baffling of all, it had a distinct metal beard and mustache.
Sweiza stared. “What the hell?”
The sentinel beside her made a noise that sounded suspiciously like amusement. “He can be.”
“What?!” She turned sharply. “Was that sarcasm? Did you just develop sarcasm?!”
“He is on holiday when he is drunk.”
Sweiza pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hate this place.”
Before she could vent her frustration, the sentinel gave her a firm shove forward. She stumbled, turning to argue, but the escort had already vanished. She was alone before the crimson sentinel, who had remained perfectly still—except for its optics, which locked onto her the moment she stepped forward.
Then, its voice rumbled through the chamber, deeper and heavier than the others she had heard.
“Young Valkyrie. What is it you wish?”
“I am NOT a Valkyrie!” she snapped.
The sentinel did not hesitate. “Soon to be, young Valkyrie. What is your wish?”
Sweiza clenched her fists. “Do I get to see one of seven of—”
“Your application has been submitted. Due process must be observed.”
She groaned. “What are you?”
“I am a machine.”
She exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I got that part. Are you male or female?”
“We are seven.”
She frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
“One is a gender. Two is a gender. Three is a gender. I am three of seven of—”
“Okay, okay! I get it!”
“Our society is determined by social caste.”
Sweiza threw up her hands. “Why do I even bother?”
The crimson sentinel leaned forward slightly. “You interrupt too much.”
She crossed her arms. “You talk too much, old man.”
The chamber trembled as a deep, booming laugh erupted from the machine. Across the room, the other sentinels abruptly halted their tasks. A strange clicking filled the air—like an entire chorus of machines whispering in sync.
The crimson sentinel let out another resounding laugh. The clicking crescendoed before stopping all at once. The other sentinels returned to their work as if nothing had happened.
Sweiza swallowed. “What… was that?”
“In your tongue, impatience.”
She squinted. “You’re telling me they just threw a tantrum because you laughed?”
Another chuckle, quieter this time. “You humans assume too much.”
“I’M AN ELF!”
“You are sentient.”
Sweiza let out a strangled noise. “I am so done with all of you.”
“Understandable.”
She blinked. “Wait. What?”
“You are inefficient, easily fatigued, emotionally reactive, and complain excessively. Your frustration is logical.”
“…That was the most backhanded agreement I’ve ever heard.”
“Do forgive me,” the sentinel mused, though its tone suggested no actual remorse. “But we have kept you long enough from your next trial.”
Her frustration was cut short as he gestured toward the far end of the chamber.
Her stomach twisted.
Valkyrie stood waiting.
“Valkyrie, wait! I don’t want to go!”
Her plea carried no weight. Valkyrie only shook her head before turning away.
The crimson sentinel let out one final, amused chirp.
And then the world shattered.
----------------------------------------
When Sweiza opened her eyes again, she saw stars streaking across the night sky. She frantically checked her hands. Flesh and bone. No metal. No servos. She exhaled in relief.
Then, she looked around.
She stood in the heart of a ruined town. Buildings, long abandoned, loomed in the darkness. A chill crawled up her spine as a sound echoed in the distance.
Something was moving.
Then, footsteps behind her.
Her blood ran cold.
Her next trial had begun.
Sweiza turned sharply, heart pounding, but there was nothing. Just the ruins, stretching endlessly into shadow.
She spun again. Still nothing.
A cold sweat dripped down her back. The silence was worse than the threat of something tangible. If she could see it, she could fight it. But this? This was different. The ruins themselves felt alive, like a predator biding its time.
An owl hooted in the distance.
She jumped, pulse spiking. The sound shouldn’t have been frightening—just an owl, right? But here, in this forsaken place, it felt like a warning.
Her body refused to stay still any longer. She turned on her heel and ran.
The streets twisted and stretched before her, an endless maze of crumbling buildings and collapsed archways. She turned corners, ducked under fallen beams, sprinted down alleys—only to find herself right back where she started. The structures shifted subtly, the angles different, the paths unfamiliar, as though the ruins were watching her… playing with her.
She skidded to a stop, breath ragged. “A maze?”
She didn’t understand. None of this made sense.
“Valkyrie?! HELP ME!”
A whisper of wind, and then Valkyrie was before her, standing in perfect stillness, her presence as unwavering as ever. She bowed slightly, as if summoned to court rather than a nightmare.
“What is your desire, young one?”
Sweiza swallowed hard. “What is this?”
Valkyrie tilted her head. “You stand in the ghost town of a once-great civilization. Long ago, they sought to defy time itself, experimenting upon their own flesh in the pursuit of eternal life.”
Sweiza’s stomach twisted. “And?”
“They succeeded.”
That single phrase chilled her more than the cold night air.
Valkyrie continued. “At the cost of their humanity, they now exist only as creatures of the night.”
Sweiza’s throat was dry. “Gargoyles?”
“Yes,” Valkyrie confirmed, then added, “And then some.”
A heavy silence stretched between them.
“They are mindless things, roaming without purpose. Some, if their will was strong enough in life, retain the shape of men. But none approach you.”
That should have been comforting, but the way Valkyrie said it—so absolute, so final—only made her more uneasy.
Valkyrie then regarded her with an almost curious tilt of her head. “This trial was never meant to be taken at night.”
Sweiza blinked. “What?”
Valkyrie nodded toward the ruins. “This place was meant to be faced under the sun’s watchful gaze. At night, the forces that linger here become… unpredictable. It was an error in the process that led you here now.”
Sweiza frowned. “So what does that mean for me?”
Valkyrie exhaled softly. “You pass.”
The ruins dissolved into darkness before she could fully process her relief.
----------------------------------------
She awoke gasping, the heat pressing in from all sides.
“An inferno?”
Sweiza blinked against the glaring heat. The landscape before her was split in two. To her right, rivers of molten rock snaked between jagged mountains, great plumes of smoke choking the sky. To her left, an ancient civilization stood in stark contrast—monolithic statues, pyramids, and strange, towering spires stretching toward the heavens. Sands cascaded like waterfalls from cliff edges, shifting unpredictably between golden dunes and deep, unforgiving pits.
The air itself was unstable, humid one moment, bone-dry the next, the winds shifting unpredictably as if the land couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.
Valkyrie stood beside her. “Our world’s greatest civilization—built from nothing.”
Sweiza turned to her, squinting through the thick haze. “Valkyrie… is this hell?”
Valkyrie did not answer immediately. Instead, she stepped forward, motioning for Sweiza to follow. “I will walk with you for a time. But we must hurry. The outskirts are prone to acid rain. If you are caught in it, you will not survive.”
Sweiza hesitated, then caught a whiff of sulfur and burning stone. “Valkyrie, are we in hell? Why am I being punished?”
“The answer to both your questions is no.”
That didn’t make her feel any better.
She trudged after Valkyrie, glancing at the massive ruins dotting the landscape. “Why would anyone live here?”
“You can see that for yourself.”
Sweiza frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
Valkyrie did not elaborate. She simply walked, and Sweiza had no choice but to follow.
They crossed bridges—one spanning a river of magma, its heat blistering, then another over a flowing mass of sand that moved like water.
Sweiza gawked at the shifting grains beneath them. “How is this even possible?”
“It is not mere sand,” Valkyrie answered. “A mixture of water, mud, and fine dust, bound together by forces beyond your understanding.”
Sweiza stared at the dunes beyond. “And beyond that?”
“A jungle.”
“What?”
Valkyrie nodded toward the horizon. “Beyond that jungle is your home. The land where your people pray to the goddess of the harvest for prosperity.”
Sweiza’s breath caught. “And beyond that?”
Valkyrie’s voice was quiet. “This.”
Sweiza had never considered what lay beyond her homeland. She had never even thought to ask. But now, seeing it, she was struck with awe—and a strange, creeping dread.
Sweiza stood in an open field beneath a storm-torn sky. The air crackled with static, and the earth beneath her boots felt unstable, shifting as though it might give way at any moment.
Valkyrie stood before her, spear in hand, her presence a steady contrast to the chaos in the air. Her gaze, unreadable as always, locked onto Sweiza as if waiting.
Sweiza’s fists clenched. “I’m sick of this.”
Valkyrie tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation to continue.
“You keep throwing me into these nightmares—these trials,” Sweiza spat. “And for what? To prove I’m strong? To shape me into something I never asked to be?”
“You misunderstand.”
Sweiza let out a bitter laugh. “Then make me understand!”
Valkyrie took a single step forward. The movement was small, but it sent a ripple through the storm, the very air bending under its weight.
“You fight what you refuse to see.”
The words hit something deep in Sweiza’s chest, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She shook her head. “Shut up.”
She lunged.
Her first strike was wild, driven by frustration rather than skill. Valkyrie sidestepped easily, letting her momentum carry her forward.
Sweiza spun and threw another punch. Again, Valkyrie was gone before the blow could land.
Rage burned in her veins. “STOP DODGING ME!”
She pivoted, driving her foot into the ground and launching herself forward, aiming for Valkyrie’s center. At the last moment, Valkyrie moved—not away, but toward her.
A hand caught Sweiza’s wrist mid-swing, stopping her with unnatural ease.
The world slowed.
Valkyrie met her eyes, unwavering. “You cannot fight what you refuse to understand.”
The moment shattered. Sweiza was thrown back, weightless, her vision flooding with light.
Thunder arose in the distance as they approached the massive crystal structure. Its surface pulsed with ethereal light, shifting between shades of violet and deep blue, as if alive. The sound of grinding stone echoed through the valley as an enormous gate descended before them, granting passage into the ancient depths.
Sweiza hesitated at the threshold, glancing back. The sand dunes in the distance were shifting unnaturally, collapsing inward like an unseen maw devouring the land. More pressing, however, was the gate behind them—it was already rising again, sealing them inside.
She turned sharply to Valkyrie. “What’s going on?”
Valkyrie’s expression remained unreadable, though there was a rare glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “We are sinking beneath the sand.”
Sweiza’s stomach clenched. “I don’t want to die!”
“This civilization lives both above and below the ground,” Valkyrie explained, walking forward without hesitation. “Their existence shifts with the weather and the will of the land. Gaze in awe, young Sweiza.”
For the first time, Valkyrie smiled—not her usual knowing smirk, but something genuine. It was a fleeting moment, but enough for Sweiza to realize that Valkyrie was more than just a harbinger of fate. There was something else beneath the surface.
They moved through towering corridors lined with statues, each one standing solemnly beside vast archways. A deep violet rug stretched down the length of the hall, leading them toward a grand chamber in the distance. The sight stirred something within Sweiza. It was familiar. Too familiar.
Her eyes widened as realization struck—this was almost identical to the golden hall she had stood in during a previous trial. Another trial.
A man seated upon an ornate throne clapped slowly as they entered, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space. His presence was imposing, though his expression remained unreadable.
“Well done,” he said simply.
Sweiza barely had time to process the words before the floor beneath her feet shattered.
----------------------------------------
She fell. Faster than she thought possible, yet it felt endless, as though gravity itself was toying with her. Wind howled past her ears, and though she braced for impact, none came.
Instead, her descent slowed until she was suspended midair, drifting weightlessly in a vast expanse of shifting lights and patterns. Streaks of energy pulsed past her, illuminating a massive structure in the distance. As the light settled, she realized it was not just a building—it was a statue, a colossal figure carved from stone and metal, its presence commanding the very space around it.
Then, it spoke.
Its voice was not a sound, but a force, vibrating through the void like a crack of thunder. “Ask your questions, young one.”
Sweiza opened her mouth but hesitated. What could she even ask? Nothing made sense. The trials, the visions, the gods—
Her eyes narrowed. No. She had one question.
“Return me to my village. NOW.”
Before the statue could respond, Valkyrie materialized beside her. Her presence was calm, unwavering.
“Odin will do no such thing, young one,” she said. “You have been chosen, as have two others from your village. You will do the bidding of Odin.”
Sweiza felt a chill race through her veins at the name.
Odin. The accursed one. The god who had unraveled time and space, bending the universe to his will. And now, he stood before her.
“I don’t want to die!” The words tumbled out of her in a choked sob.
Odin’s laughter was mechanical, deep and electric, shaking the very air around them. “You speak as if I am punishing you.”
Sweiza said nothing. She couldn’t. She was trapped, ensnared in something far greater than herself.
Then, the words she least expected reached her ears.
“You’ve passed, young one.”
Valkyrie smiled—truly smiled this time—before bowing to Odin and stepping away.
Sweiza’s mind reeled. Passed? How? Why? She had fought, she had screamed, she had refused every step of the way. Surely, this was a trick. Surely, the malevolent being before her wasn’t simply letting her go.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded.
Odin’s eyes gleamed. “Your dedication, loyalty, and devotion—young Sweiza Serif of the backwater village. You are full of angst and embody it well. Show it to the world in servitude under me.”
“You ass!” she spat, rage overtaking fear.
Odin’s laughter rumbled once more, but this time, the space around them shifted. The darkness peeled away, revealing a vast city of impossible architecture—great spires of metal and stone twisting into the heavens, roads of shimmering light stretching into infinity.
“Since you have no questions, I will tell you of your place in the universe,” Odin declared. “I am the supreme being, ruler of all. The accursed one who hung from the tree of life, Ymir. I hold the knowledge of all things, the fruit of wisdom resting in my grasp. And as per the traditions of your village—and the choice made by y-o-u-r-s-e-l-f—you are bound to servitude under me. You will comply.”
Sweiza trembled with fury. “You are no god. You’re nothing but a tyrant who plays with the lives of mortals!”
Odin’s gaze burned into her. “Perhaps you have changed your mind.”
“I have.”
Valkyrie was beside her again, her tone softer but laced with something Sweiza couldn’t place. “You are a selfish girl, Sweiza.”
Sweiza clenched her fists. “I didn’t ask to be punished, Valkyrie.”
“Oh?” Valkyrie mused. “And here I thought Valkyrie was a knighted maiden—brave and strong. One who upholds truth, virtue, and justice. One who brings good deeds to the people of this world. You, who were chosen.”
Sweiza turned to Odin, fury burning in her chest. “Why don’t you go f—”
Odin’s eyes flared red, and his voice thundered, drowning out her words. “Watch your tongue, child. I can show you what true terror is. The trials you have faced are but a taste of what is to come.”
“I don’t want to be Valkyrie.”
Two figures materialized beside her—two maidens clad in armor, each bearing different designs than what she had seen in her village. Their voices rang in eerie unison.
“Sweiza is a child.”
“You are a disappointment to your village.”
Sweiza stiffened, unable to challenge her own kin.
Odin’s voice rang out once more. “Yet young Sweiza Serif still holds loyalty.”
“My loyalty is to my village,” she muttered.
“Then so be it.”
Dark indigo and black armor, lined with gold, materialized around her. The weight of it pressed into her shoulders, suffocating.
“Your name henceforth is ANGST.”
“No—”
The world around her shattered.
She landed, breathless, at the outskirts of her village. The wind was still, the night eerily quiet. For a fleeting moment, she thought it might have all been a dream.
Then she looked down.
She was still in the armor. On her shoulder, embroidered in gold, were two words—Sweiza on one side.
Angst on the other.
Valkyrie appeared before her, expression calm yet firm. “You will perform sentry duty for your village. In time, you will understand how foolish you were to defy Odin.”
“I will do no such thing,” Sweiza snapped. “My duty is to my village. That’s what I chose.”
Valkyrie’s smirk returned. “Is it?”
A surge of electricity ripped through Sweiza’s body.
She screamed.
Sweiza’s breath came in ragged gasps as the last crackle of electricity dissipated through her limbs. The world around her was still, but her heart pounded like a war drum. The weight of the armor pressed against her shoulders, a tangible reminder that no matter how much she protested, her fate had already been sealed.
Valkyrie stood before her, unmoved, her lance grounded like an extension of her own being. “If you move beyond the borders of your village, you will understand what true pain and agony is.”
The words sent a chill down Sweiza’s spine. A warning. A threat. A promise.
Without thinking, she lunged. Her new lance—hers now, apparently—felt awkward in her grip, but she aimed it at Valkyrie anyway, fueled by sheer defiance. Valkyrie stepped aside effortlessly, as if she had anticipated the attack before Sweiza had even thought to strike. With a swift motion, she swung the broadside of her lance against Sweiza’s back.
The impact sent Sweiza sprawling onto the dirt, knocking the wind from her lungs. Coughing, she turned onto her back, only to find Valkyrie standing over her, the tip of her weapon pointed directly at her throat. There was no malice in her expression—only patience.
“Do you have any questions, young Valkyrie?”
The title stung, but Sweiza forced herself to remain defiant. She turned her head away from the weapon, swallowing her pride. “No…”
“You defy Odin and lie to Valkyrie.”
“I’m not li—”
The lance inched closer, close enough that she could feel the energy pulsing from it.
Valkyrie exhaled, withdrawing her weapon. “I will be performing sentry duties with you. Should you have any questions during that time, I will be at your service. I suggest you get some sleep—you have been through a rough day.”
She turned away. “Good night—Angst.”
“My name is Sweiza!” she snapped, scrambling to her feet. The armor was heavier than she’d expected, making her movements sluggish.
Valkyrie didn’t turn back, but her tone remained even. “Then prove it.”
Sweiza clenched her fists, biting back another retort. She did have one question, though, and despite everything, curiosity won over frustration.
“What is your name?”
Valkyrie finally turned, just slightly, and for the briefest moment, there was something almost human in her gaze. “I am known as Strife.”
Sweiza frowned. “What?”
Valkyrie’s lips twitched, amused. “You are the Valkyrie known as Angst. I am known as Strife. I am pleased to both work and meet with you, Sweiza.”
“No, that’s not wh—”
“If you wish to know my true name, earn my respect first.”
Sweiza bristled. “Well, I—”
“I am tired, Angst. Please allow me to sleep.”
“I will.” The words left her mouth begrudgingly.
Strife bowed slightly, planting the base of her lance into the ground before her. “Thank you.”
With that, she strode to a nearby tree, slid down the trunk, and closed her eyes. Within moments, she appeared to be asleep.
Sweiza crossed her arms, staring at her for a long moment. There were a thousand things she wanted to say, but none of them would change her situation. And that, more than anything, irritated her the most.
“Absolutely ridiculous,” she muttered.
----------------------------------------
She reached into her pocket, pulling out the folded note Lester had given her. Unfolding it, she immediately scowled.
“YOU!”
It wasn’t instructions or even words of encouragement. It was a crude drawing—Lester holding up a peace sign, grinning, with a scribbled message beneath: ‘Autograph pls.’
Sweiza groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I hate him.”
----------------------------------------
Later that night, under the dim glow of the moon, she sat alone, pulling out her diary. The ink felt heavier on the page than usual, as if every word she wrote cemented her fate.
Dear diary, today I met the god of creation—Odin. He is not as menacing as the legends describe. He is far more malevolent with his sense of humor. I have been given no choice in my fate, yet here I stand, bearing a name I despise, branded by a tradition that no longer follows its own rules.
Valkyrie—Strife—when she isn’t insufferable, is exactly as the stories say. Regal, unyielding, a force of nature. And yet, there is something else. A flicker of something beneath the surface. I don’t know if she is my enemy, my teacher, or something else entirely. But it looks like she is stuck with me.
I hate this name as much as I hate the ritual of Valkyrie. I did not ask for this, and yet here I am. Bound by laws older than my village. Bound by my own choice, and yet not a choice at all.
At the very least, my duty is to my village. Even if there have been no threats for two centuries, even if Odin’s games make no sense, I can hold onto that. I can be useful.
I can only wonder what fate—and Odin—have in store for me. But for now…
Lester had better be taking care of my stuff while I’m gone!
Love, Sweiza.
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END CHAPTER ONE