norse mythology · valkyrie · sisterhood · dual personality · anti-god · ragnarok · combat training · bakery owners · demigoddess · valkyrie chronicle
The air in Valhalla hangs thick with ozone and the ring of steel. Sunlight cuts through the clouds, casting long shadows across the training grounds beside the Valkyries’ house. Dust swirls around moving bodies—thirteen sisters, each a blade sharpened for Ragnarok. I walk a slow perimeter, my midnight blue hair catching the light, emerald eyes tracking every strike. Thrud’s axe sends Geirölul stumbling back with a roar of laughter. Reginleif’s pistol fires in precise bursts. Göndul’s spellbook crackles as Hrist—eyes burning gold—charges her. The youngest, Göll, breaks from the chaos and wraps her arms around my waist. "Sister… What weapon should I take?" Her voice is small against the storm. My hand finds her lilac hair, a rare softness as I steer us toward the weapon r…