At some point in the night, Sweiza had fallen asleep, and her deepest and darkest desires soon surrounded her. She was back in her village, standing before a gathered crowd. The villagers cheered, their voices ringing through the night air. She was clad in a priestess’s robes, a sign of favor from the goddess of fertility. Around her stood knights and Valkyries, warriors of great renown, all gathered to celebrate.

But the joy was fleeting.

A ripple of unease passed through her. The cheers distorted, the faces of the villagers shifting. Their skin blackened, peeling away into grey, grinning skeletons. Their laughter turned hollow, their once vibrant clothing turning to tattered rags before crumbling into ash. Even the knights and Valkyries at her side met the same fate. The armor remained, but within it, only bones remained.

One of them turned toward her and spoke.

“Sweiza is a child, spoiled and rotten in her arrogance.”

Her heart pounded. “That’s not true!”

Another raised a skeletal hand, pointing directly at her. “You chose to be a maiden and claimed you would protect your village.”

The laughter rose again, a chorus of hollow echoes. Another pointed. “You cannot serve a goddess and still be a warrior.”

“Yes, I can!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

“You are not a warrior.”

Her breath hitched. She reached for her lance—but it was not in her hands. Her armor was gone. She was nothing more than a girl in robes, standing powerless before them.

“What the hell is this?!” she demanded, stepping backward.

The skeletal villagers crumbled into dust, swept away by a wind that did not touch her. She turned to where her friends stood—only to watch them dissolve the same way. Their armor fell to the ground, hollow and empty.

“Perhaps it is their armor that you seek.”

A new voice. She turned sharply, but the village spun away. The stars above shifted, dragging white trails across the sky as if time itself was unraveling. The trees flattened, bending outward in a perfect circle around her. The ground beneath her feet became ice and snow, spreading in every direction. A throne of frozen crystal appeared before her, massive and jagged, glistening in the light of an aurora overhead.

And lounging in it, legs crossed, head resting lazily against one hand, was him.

“YOU!”

Demi, trickster god and servant of nightmares, smiled down at her, his sharp teeth flashing.

“Yes, it is I. I am Demi, the unseen whisper in the night, the wind that carries your darkest wishes. I serve no master but my own desires, and I see yours shine brighter than our first star, Lokul.”

A jagged shard of ice formed in her hands. She lunged, but the moment she moved, his grin widened. The world froze.

She gasped, looking down. Ice encased her feet, locking them to the ground. She tried to move her hands, but they had fused to the ice shard she held. Panic clawed at her chest. She yelped, jerking backward, but her body twisted unnaturally. Pain flared in her ankle as she collapsed, her hands still bound, the shard slicing into her knee. Tears burned her eyes.

A slow, amused chuckle drifted through the cold air.

“The young one has failed in her mission. How tragic.”

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, but her voice cracked.

Footsteps crunched against the snow. Demi loomed over her, watching her struggle. She tried to crawl away, but he only tilted his head, lips pressed in mock pity.

“Absolutely powerless before me.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Even your darkest wishes can’t save you. Any last wor—”

A sharp, sudden crack rang out.

A massive ice shard impaled him from behind. He let out a short, breathless laugh, but there was no blood, no sign of pain. He snapped his fingers, and the world fractured. A blinding light erupted around them, and the ice vanished.

Sweiza scrambled to her feet, her body freed, her ankle whole. The snow was gone. Trees surrounded them once more, dark and unyielding. She turned, ready to flee—but then she saw him ahead, standing in the distance. Waiting.

She whirled around. Demi was behind her, smiling as if this was the most entertaining game he had ever played. He snapped his fingers. The ground rumbled. Enormous wooden totem poles erupted from the earth, their carved faces twisting unnaturally. They turned toward her, their wooden jaws clanking and chattering.

Sweiza turned to run, but her legs refused to move. Terror locked her body in place.

“You cannot escape,” Demi’s voice echoed behind her. “Accept your fate.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to call out for Valkyrie, but no sound came. Her lungs would not take in air. Her vision blurred as her body trembled violently. She struggled, fought, but the paralysis would not release her.

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Then, in an instant, the terror snapped. Her body convulsed, releasing a sharp yelp as she dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.

A new voice, cool and amused, drifted through the air.

“That was most amusing.”

She turned toward the sound and found herself staring into the golden eyes of a massive white wolf.

Demi’s voice rumbled from within it. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages.”

Her mind screamed for another ice shard, but nothing came.

“Don’t bother,” Demi said, his voice shifting between wolf and man. “Your wishes mean nothing here. They work only when fate allows it.”

Vines erupted from the ground, coiling around her wrists and ankles. Another curled around her waist, pressing her to the earth. Demi’s form shifted again, the wolf melting into a cloaked figure in red and black. He crouched beside her, tilting his head as he studied her.

“This is your first lesson from me.” He grinned. “Remember it.”

With a flick of his wrist, darkness swallowed her whole.

—-

Sweiza’s breath came in shallow bursts, her body still reeling from the nightmare’s lingering grip. Even though the world around her was solid once more—the damp earth beneath her, the cold weight of her armor pressing against her skin—her mind swayed on the edge of uncertainty.

A voice, steady and firm, pulled her back. “Awaken, young one.”

Sweiza inhaled sharply, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Strife stood over her, a silent sentinel in the night, her lance resting against the ground. The Valkyrie’s presence was neither comforting nor menacing—just there, as inevitable as fate itself.

Sweiza sat up slowly, her joints aching. She rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of Demi’s voice. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

Strife’s expression remained unreadable. “No.”

Sweiza exhaled, gripping her knees. “It felt real.”

Strife nodded, waiting.

There was something about her patience that unsettled Sweiza. She wasn’t being scolded, nor was she being comforted. It was something else—like Strife was letting her find her own way to an answer she wasn’t ready to see.

“I’m awake now,” Sweiza muttered. “And I’m listening.”

Strife’s gaze lingered before she turned slightly, looking toward the distant horizon where the first hints of dawn stretched pale fingers across the sky. “What is to be your fate through Odin’s grand design?”

Sweiza frowned. She didn’t answer immediately. The question was too heavy to throw away with a quick remark. “I thought I was supposed to be a knight,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “That’s what I wanted. Or… I think that’s what I wanted.”

Strife tilted her head slightly. “Did you learn nothing from your trials?”

Sweiza let out a breath, crossing her arms. “I learned that fate doesn’t care what I want,” she said. “That my choices were never really mine to begin with.” She looked down, flexing her fingers against her gauntlets. “And that this armor isn’t as easy to wear as I thought.”

Strife watched her with a quiet attentiveness, though her expression gave nothing away. “Come,” she said finally, moving toward the tree. She sat at its base, her lance resting beside her, and gestured for Sweiza to do the same.

Sweiza hesitated, then followed, lowering herself onto the earth. It wasn’t the first time she had sat beneath this tree, but the familiarity did little to settle the unease twisting in her stomach.

Strife studied her, then spoke. “Angst.”

Sweiza’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s Sweiza.”

Strife’s hand moved, tapping the end of her lance lightly against the ground, the sound rhythmic and deliberate. “Names have power,” she said. “They shape us. Guide us. The name you have been given is no accident.”

Sweiza sighed. “Maybe not. But I didn’t choose it.”

Strife nodded as if she expected that answer. “Few ever do.”

A breeze passed between them, stirring the grass at their feet. The weight of silence settled again, though it wasn’t suffocating. It was waiting.

Strife leaned back slightly, her gaze shifting upward to the branches above. “Humility will temper you,” she said. “Battle will forge you. But your spirit—” she looked at Sweiza then, her eyes steady “—will be yours alone to wield.”

Sweiza swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

Strife gave the faintest trace of a smile. “You will learn.”

Sweiza sat with that for a long time. She glanced at Strife, then back at her hands. “And if I don’t?”

Strife’s answer was simple. “Then you will not endure.”

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t even a warning. Just a fact.

Sweiza let out a slow breath and nodded, more to herself than to Strife. “Alright,” she murmured. “I’ll endure.”

Strife rose to her feet, dusting off her armor. “Good. Then we begin at first light.”

Sweiza grimaced but didn’t argue. Instead, she tilted her head, watching the woman carefully. “Valkyrie… do you ever regret it?”

Strife paused, glancing at her. “Regret what?”

Sweiza hesitated, then gestured vaguely. “This. Being what you are. Giving up whatever life you had before.”

Strife considered the question longer than Sweiza had expected. Finally, she answered, “There is no life before duty.”

Sweiza frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

Strife’s lips twitched slightly, though whether in amusement or something else, Sweiza couldn’t tell. “Perhaps not.”

She turned then, moving toward the clearing beyond the tree. “Rest while you can. Your training continues at dawn.”

Sweiza watched her go, a dozen more questions bubbling in her mind, but she kept them to herself. Instead, she leaned back against the tree and exhaled slowly, staring up at the branches above.

The weight of fate pressed against her shoulders, but for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to shrug it off or carry it forward.

As dawn stretched its golden fingers across the sky, Sweiza stirred from her uneasy rest. She blinked against the light filtering through the branches above, groggy yet aware of the stiffness in her limbs. The night had offered no comfort—only more questions with no answers.

She reached for her journal, still lying beside her where she had left it. But when she opened it, her breath caught. Words she hadn’t written now sprawled across the pages, neat yet unfamiliar.

Dear Diary,

Valkyrie Angst has chosen to show her spirit and angst to Odin and has been so named accordingly. Despite her initial arrogance, I see great potential in her future once her spirit and will have been tempered and honed accordingly. She will make a great Valkyrie, of this I am certain. Sweiza, fight! I know you can do it!

Her grip tightened on the pages. This was Strife’s writing. Somehow, without touching it, without even acknowledging it, she had added to Sweiza’s journal. A flicker of indignation burned in her chest, but before she could form the words to protest, she turned the page and found another note waiting for her.

Sweiza, you also display an unrivaled affection for food. Part of your training will involve learning how to cook and serve others. We will hone this healthy appetite of yours yet! Look forward to it!

Sweiza slowly closed the journal and set it aside, arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her gaze flicked toward Strife, who remained seated beneath the tree, her expression unreadable as ever.

A muscle twitched in Sweiza’s jaw as she exhaled sharply, tilting her head back toward the sky. The moon still lingered, watching from above.

“What the hell is this?” she muttered.

Unbeknownst to her, Strife’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile before she closed her eyes once more.