I turn.
And I stop breathing.
They’re still there.
The shadows. The army. The thousands upon thousands of souls that materialized while I was facing the God.
But now — with my wings still humming, with the alignment still singing through my blood — I see them differently.
At the front: my shadows. Mynamedshadows.
Walter hovers, pulsing violet — brighter than I’ve ever seen him, his strange light flaring in recognition. Mouse sits sentinel beside him, panther-sized and ancient. Bob’s massive form anchors the line, sharp-edged and proud, flanked by Patricia with her glowing notebook and Finnick who’s somehow doing a slow clap even now. Linda and Steve and Carl hold formation behind them.
They have presence. Weight.Personality.
They’re not just shadows.
They’re Valkyries. True Valkyrie souls who chose to bind themselves to my line centuries ago. My sisters.
And behind them—
Eds.
Thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands. So many they block out the dying light. So many they’ve swallowed the plateau and the mountain and everything beyond.
Just… Eds.
Faceless. Identical. An endless sea of shadow forms that blur together into a cosmic backlog. Souls who couldn’t pass through when the Gate closed. They’ve simply… waited. Instinct holding them here. Patient in the way only the dead can be patient — without awareness, without suffering, justexistinguntil the door opened again.
The contrast almost makes me laugh. My named shadows — distinct, fierce,real— standing guard over an army of… Eds.
They stretch back across the plateau, down the mountain, into the valleys below. So many the snow has disappeared beneath them. So many I can’t see where they end.
And every single one of them is bowed.
The named shadows at the front — Bob’s crisp salute, Patricia’s respectful incline, Mouse’s ancient nod.
And behind them, a wave of Eds all doing the same thing. Bowing. In that vaguely synchronized way that suggests they’re not entirely sure what’s happening but everyone else is doing it so they probably should too.
The kind of bow you give to royalty. To saviors.
To someone you’ve been waiting for.
“Holy shit,” Finn breathes.
Then, quieter, tugging on my wrist like an excited toddler at a parade: “Kaia… there are SO. MANY. EDS.”
Torric swears in a language I don’t recognize.
Aspen says nothing, but I feel his awe crash through the bond like a wave.
Malrik steps closer. Not speaking. Just there. A solid presence at my shoulder.
“They’re bowing to him,” I whisper. “The God. They’re—”
“No.”
The voice comes from behind me. Close now. Closer than before.
