I am a valkyrie.
“Then keep training,” Sensei says, lowering his katana. “Remember, the sword isn’t just for battle; it’s a mirror of your soul. It reflects the choices you make, the path you decide to walk. Only you can choose where that path leads.” Kazuki steps closer, his fingers tracing the blade’s edge, as he whispers the word “Kairoth.”
Ancient runes along the katana’s surface ignite with a soft periwinkle glow. The blade shrinks swiftly, down until it’s no longer than my pinky finger. The handle transforms into elegant and delicate wings. Kazuki gently fastens the tiny katana on a chain before putting it on my neck.
“Say this word whenever you want it close and hidden.” My fingers softly trace the tiny blade, my legacy.
48
Avilyna
TWIN FLAMES
Kazuki finally callsan end to the training. After handing me my assignments, he surprises me with a rare show of leniency. Permission to skip his class this week, as long as I stay on top of my personal work.
“We’ll resume Monday,” he says.
I can’t help the small, genuine smile that escapes before we turn toward one of the exits. But it fades as we pass the mural. It’s the only touch of darkness in this otherwise sacred place. The valkyrie on the wall cuts a sharp contrast against the temple’s aesthetic. Wings soaked in blood, dripping down, pooling at her feet. Arms outstretched, her gaze fixed, commanding, daring you to look away. Read me, hear me, a warning of the dark days to come.
In the realm of Elgar, one day darkness will reign,
A fallen angel shall awaken from its dream.
With wings of fire and a heart burdened with plight,
Its blood shall wield power to set things right.
Through the veil of time, its return is foreseen,
To restore the balance and mend what has been.
With each drop of its blood, evil shall be undone,
And the stolen peace of Elgar shall be won.
So mark this prophecy, let its words resound,
For the lost valkyrie's return shall be unbound.
With its blood as the catalyst, evil shall cease,
And the harmony of Elgar shall find its release.
“What does it mean?” I whisper.
Kazuki doesn’t answer right away; he stares at the mural for a long moment, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the valkyrie’s bloodstained wings. Then he speaks quietly, as if choosing every word with care.
“As I said, you’re the daughter of the late Queen and King of Kallahan. Daughter of the strongest valkyrie the realm has ever known, and promised to the most powerful elf seen in centuries. A match made in heaven, even if they weren’ttwin flames. Your blood is sacred.” It makes sense that Sensei Sato had guessed who I was. He knew I was coming, not me per se, but a valkyrie. Yet, it doesn’t answer the question behind the meanings of these sacred words.
If one of the oldest and wisest voices in this court doesn’t have the answer… Then maybe no one does. Maybe whatever they imply was lost to time or hidden for a reason. And that’s the real danger of a prophecy. It’s never about what it says. It’s about what no one understands, until it’s too late. People cling to words like that; they twist them, turn them into gospel. Build thrones and wage wars based on the meanings they want to believe in; doing so, they shape the world around them. Not through truth, but interpretation, a gamble with fate. Only time will tell whether the Gods really carved their will into the stars or if we’ve all been chasing false truths.
‘Not twin flames.’The word tugs at something buried deep, carrying weight. From the way he said it, it sounds a lot like aderived word forsoulmates, but I know that’s not right, not even close. It’s greater, I can feel it.
“Twin flames?” I don’t need to explain the question; Kazuki gets it instantly. His response is the classic trademark of skeptics.
“Haven’t you been paying attention in history class?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just keeps walking, eyes forward. While I drag myself up the stoned stairs, muscles aching, breath catching. I don’t bother hiding the soft grunts that escape me; I’ve earned them.
“Every being is born from the fire of Aetheria,” he begins. “The soul, as the mundanes call it. That flame is split in two, and that split creates twin flames.” Kazuki pauses, looking at something I can’t see. “Finding your flame, though,” he adds quietly, “is rare.” I let the thought settle.
