Brynhildr pricked the tip of her finger with the ritual dagger adorned with sacred amber, letting three droplets of blood fall into the silver chalice of meadowsweet mead. In harmony with her mentor, she added her lyrical song to thevardlokkurwhich would summon the Goddess ofSeiðrwhom they both worshipped.
“Freyja, golden-eyed goddess, hear our plaintive call.
Wings of swans and winds of fate,
Guide our hearts, attend us now.
Reveal the threads the Norns have woven,
Show the path that we must take.
Freyja, golden-eyed goddess ofseiðr,
Appear before us now.”
Through the open window, a ray of sunlight streamed into the chamber, pooling onto the polished floor. As Brynhildr watched in wonder, a shimmering female form descended on the shaft of light and floated into the sunlit room. With a whoosh of wings and a whirl of wind, the ethereal glow evolved into the golden-haired goddess.
Tall and lithe, her falcon cloak unfurled around her, the brown and grey feathers gilded by the golden sun, tinged with iridescent blue fire. Beneath her majestic cloak, a velvet gown of deep violet glimmered like amethyst gems. Elegant swans, embroidered in golden thread, adorned the low gathered neckline and the fluttering sleeves which swept the floor like graceful wings.
At the base of her slender throat, the amber teardrops of theBrísingamennecklace danced from an intricately wrought, glittering golden chain. Like a captured sunrise, its radiant glow set Freyja’s long, cascading blonde locks aflame. And when the goddess’ amber eyes met Byrnhildr’s,seiðrmagic sparked and sizzled in her veins.
“From the shining fields ofFólkvangr, long I have watched you grow. Once a beloved babe, now a spirited shieldmaiden. At last, we finally meet.” Freyja’s silken voice was smooth as her velvety gown. “Child of shadow and flame, eighteen summers have brought you to this hour. I have come to bestow upon you a trio of enchanted gifts—not merely to celebrate the day of your birth, but to herald the fate that awaits you among the valiant…and the Valkyries.”
Freyja’s falcon cloak rustled, the iridescent feathers shimmering as brilliant light radiated from beneath the layered plumes. Within the cloak’s luminous depths, a sliver of golden fire emerged as the goddess withdrew a long, gleaming scabbard containing a magnificent sword. The golden leather of the elaborate sheath was inlaid with amber gems and etched with intricate runes. “Sólfalkr—the Sun Falcon,” Freyja murmured, sending shivers up Brynhildr’s shaking limbs. “Forged in sunlight, tempered in flame. No mortal enemy may endure its strike.” With solemn reverence, the golden goddess placed the sheathed sword across Brynhildr’s damp, open palms.
Heart pounding, mouth parched, she accepted the glorious weapon and slid the gleaming blade free.
A falcon-winged guard crowned the sun-kissed steel. Falcons in flight were etched along the length of the enchanted blade, shimmering as if alive. Set within the ornate pommel, a large amber gem carved with the head of a fierce falcon glowed like molten gold.
As Brynhildr gripped the leather-wrapped hilt—intricately tooled with falcons, suns, and runes— warmth surged up her sword arm, like sunlight infusing her blood. She tested the weight with a twist of her wrist, stepping back to slice the air in a fluid, effortless strike. The sword moved with her perfectly, already attuned to her rhythm. “It flows with me,” she whispered with hushed awe.
An otherworldly glow illuminated Freyja’s amber eyes. “As it was meant to.”
When Brynhildr strapped the sheathed sword at her waist, Freyja presented the second gift. “Falkskjöldr, the Falcon Shield.”
From inside her feather cloak, the goddess withdrew a round ashwood shield, painted with a sweeping falcon in full flight. Its glorious wings were outstretched, a sunburst radiating behind the raptor as if it soared from the sun itself. A glittering rim of golden metal encircled the outer edge, etched with a repeating triad of runes that shimmered like living fire. Amber gems shone between the markings, their golden glow pulsing like the heart of the sun falcon.
Brynhildr recognized the trio of interlocking runes along the metal rim.
Algiz, for protection.
Tiwaz, for valor.
AndGebo, a sacred gift from the goddess.
She acceptedFalksjköldr,her fingertips reverently tracing the runes, sensing the thrum of power and the divine favor which would shield her in future battles
Gripping the handle, she rotated the shield to heft its weight, pivoting as if in a dance of combat. A current rippled up her left arm, the spirit of the shield pulsing in rhythm with her own pounding heart. “It hums with power…”she murmured, breathless. “And itknowsme.”
Freyja’s golden eyes glimmered as she reached once more into the depths of her feathered cloak. “My final gift to you, shieldmaiden of flame, isFalkhjarta— the Falcon Heart.”
From the folds of her shimmering cape, the goddess withdrew a golden corslet, shaped to fit the contours of a woman’s body. Wrought from golden metal that glistened like sunlight, a magnificent falcon with unfurled wings and amber eyes stretched across the gleaming breastplate. Behind the glorious bird, a radiant sunburst of inscribed runes and inlaid amber gems pulsed with tangible power.
Brynhildr’s breath caught as Freyja offered the corslet to her.
Tentatively, she traced the polished surface, marveling at the flawless craftsmanship. When her fingertips brushed the amber gems and inscribed runes, they flared beneath her touch.
“Let me help you.” Yrsa’s reassuring voice calmed Brynhildr’s quavering heart as thevölvaguided her trembling arms into the enchanted corslet.
