A vision unfolded upon the calm surface.
She glimpsed Sigurd at the helm ofÚlfalkr,the magnificentdrakkarwhich herfaðirhadgifted himas Champion of theSólhjarta Tournament.The blue-grey fur of hisBlárúlfrcloak shimmered in the golden sun. Behind him, the deep blue sail—bearing the fierce head of an enormous silver wolf—snapped in the salty wind.
Kveld Knightwolf stood beside the mast, where he had carvedthe triplebindruneinto the deck, joining her soul to Sigurd, the ship, and the sea.
Its power pulsed in rhythm with Brynhildr’s pounding heart.
He is sailing home with King Álfr, Queen Hjördis, the Sjórúlfar…and all the warriors who pledged their swords to serve him.
Amidst the fivedrakkarbearing the Wolf King and his elite Sea Wolves back to Sjóborg, Brynhildr spotted Eyvindr Waverunner at the helm of Sigurd’s other ship,Úlfdreki.Thesnarling wolves carved into the wings ofthe deep blue dragon at the prow glimmered silver in the golden sun.
As if he sensed her watching him, Sigurd gazed up at the sky.
Seiðrscorched her skin and seared her soul through the Mirrored Sea.
“Whenever you wish, you may come here to watch him,” Kára murmured into Brynhildr’s ear, bringing her back to the shore at the base of the curved cliff. “Soon—once yourmóðirhas strengthened yourseiðr, and you have learned to read runes with me and interpret battle strategies with Skögul —we shall come here together as the Laguz Triad. For you to select your first slain.”
Skögul gripped Brynhildr’s shoulder. “Come— your golden armor awaits. It’s time we begin our training.”
* * * *
As two moons quickly passed—each day filled withseiðrlessons, rune readings, battle strategies, and brutal physical training— Brynhildr adapted to her new life as a Valkyrie.
Every morning afterdagmál, she studiedseiðrwith her goddessmóðirin the Amber Hall, followed by rune readings with Kára in the stone cottage, her skills far surpassing those she had learned from Yrsa. Afternoons were spent alongside Skögul, training with weapons in her golden armor, observing battles unfold in Midgard through the Mirrored Sea, with Brynhildr applying her new knowledge to foresee and predict the threads of fate throughseiðr. Each evening, the three triads of Valkyries shared meals with Freyja inSessrúmnir.
The Valkyries of theKaunTriad—Göndul, Róta, and Skeggjöld—were ominous with their long black hair braided with bloodied bones, pale skin blackened with runes and carved with gruesome scars. Amber eyes like molten embers, they wieldedseiðrthough fire, foreseeing battles and selecting the fiercest warriors for Valhalla. On dark winged horses, blackswan wings flaring with fury, they tore through Midgard, their piercing battle cries screeching like Odin’s ravens.
TheAlgizTriad consisted of Sváfa, Hildr, and Herfljótur. They wieldedseiðrthrough herbs of the forest, which they also used to heal and protect humans wounded in battle whose fated death was not yet foreseen. Their long hair ranged from the palest beige, like ashwood, to deep chestnut brown, and their leather armor was dark green like the forest and the herbs through which they readseiðr.Unlike the blonde hair and white swan wings which distinguished theLaguzTriad, or the black locks and feathered cloaks which marked theKaun, the trio of brown-haired Algiz Valkyries wore grey swan wings, their muted hue in harmony with the forest.
One morning, after an especially intense lesson that left Brynhildr still gasping for breath as sparks sizzled through her veins, Freyja spoke to her across the table in the Amber Hall ofSessrúmnir.“Asdóttirof the Goddess ofSeiðr, your divine knowledge now exceeds that of all the other Valkyries.” Amber eyes aglow like the gleaming gems of theBrísingamennecklace at the base of her swanlike neck, Freyja fixed Brynhildr with a mesmerizing stare. “Seiðrmay bend the web ofwyrd, but only at terrible cost. The threads of your fate are tightly entwined with your Sea Wolf. Indeed, that is why you have risen as a Valkyrie. But be careful,kæra mín. Neither the Norns nor the gods are forgiving.”
As a shiver of foreboding sent shards of ice through her limbs, Brynhildr nodded and returned to her stone cottage. Staring out her window into the Mirrored Sea, she wondered why she had been chosen as a Valkyrie and how her power ofseiðrcould bend the web ofwyrd.
Each day, she lovingly cared for Himingdrápa, cleaning the pristine feathers of his elegant wings, brushing his glorious silken mane, offering him crunchy apples from the abundantorchards inFólkvangr.Under the guidance of herLaguzTriad sisters, she practiced riding him, learning to swoop and dive in preparation for her upcoming first trial in Midgard.
She also groomed Gyllin, feeding her falcon fresh fish from the fjord, sometimes accompanying her as the peregrine hunted in the dense forests.
Though the Valkyries resided in stone cottages near the Amber Hall ofSessrúmnir,the endless expanse ofFólkvangrheld peaceful villages whichsheltered the souls of those who had died for love. As they had done in life, farmers tilled fields and harvested crops, sharing their bounty with others. Fishermen hauled in fresh catch from the fjords; carpenters built and repaired wooden huts where families were reunited in death. Millers ground wheat, bakers baked bread, tanners worked leather, and blacksmiths forged tools and weapons. Potters shaped bowls and cups, women wove linen and wool, and the Valkyries returned from Midgard bearing silks, spices, and silver—sometimes even a precious object of personal value.
Brynhildr vowed to find the perfect wolf sculpture.
So a symbol of Sigurd could be with her inFólkvangr.
One morning, as she and Kára prepared to read runes in her cottage, Bynhildr remarked with sorrow, “MybroðirAtli does not dwell here.”
Pride and compassion shone in Kára’s pale blue gaze.“He died with honor—a gleaming sword in his mighty arm, a battle cry on his bearded lips.” She smiled softly at Brynhildr, her teeth shimmering like perfect pearls. “A warrior as fierce as Atli is always marked for Odin. He now feasts with theAllfatheramong theeinherjar.”
Just as he always wanted. A warrior’s death and the glory of Valhalla. Like my broðir, my childhood dreams have also come true. For now I ride as a Valkryie—yet my heart, body, and soul yearn for Sigurd.
* * * *
Each day, after rune readings with Kára, Brynhildr followed the grassy path down to the pebbled shore and watched him through the Mirrored Sea.
He was training his new warriors with theSjórúlfar,preparing for an upcoming voyage to Sweden, where he would avenge hisfaðir’sdeath by slaying the treacherous King Lyngvi of Götaland.
Sigurd had acquired a third ship,Úlfhrafn—the Wolf Raven. Its golden sail, bearing the head of a fierce blue wolf, combined the vibrant colors of their two sigils. The golden hue represented Brynhildr as the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden of Hrafnfjall, and the deep blue wolf symbolized Sigurd, the Sea Wolf who had knelt before his golden Valkyrie.
The sight stole her breath, singed theouroboroson her skin, and squeezed her heart in an unyielding vice of grief.
