She’s perceptive. Too perceptive.
I push forward before she can pry at my armor.
“You were never supposed to be alone,” I tell her. “The Valkyries were a balance to this world, not just warriors, not just ferriers of the dead. You weren’t meant to fade.” I pause, inhaling deeply. “And yet, you did.”
Kaia’s shadows pulse faintly, curling closer to her body. She doesn’t speak.
So I continue.
“When the war came, the realms were divided,” I say, my words careful, measured. “Absentia had already begun to collapse from the inside. Your people were fighting, but they were outnumbered. We—” My throat tightens. I force myself to keep my tone even. “We tried to help.”
Kaia tilts her head slightly, and I brace for the inevitable.
“You failed.”
The words shouldn’t sting. I’ve told myself this story so many times, relived it more times than I can count. But hearing it from her lips? From the one I couldn’t save?
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
I don’t tell her how many times I searched for her, only to find more of her people dead. I don’t tell her about the nightmares, the battles, the screams that still echo in my head. I don’t tell her that even then, I felt something—the bond, the ache of what was lost—even though I didn’t understand it at the time.
Instead, I give her the facts.
“The realms surrounding Absentia saw what happened. They saw an entire people eradicated. And they made a vow—never again.”
Kaia’s fingers twitch at her sides, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“The seers from the eastern realms foresaw it,” I continue, shifting my stance. “That one day, the last Valkyrie would return, and when she did, she would either restore balance—or unravel it completely.”
Kaia exhales slowly. “And you believe it’s me.”
“I know it’s you.”
She lets out a breath that isn’t quite a laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Because fate has already decided for me, hasn’t it?”
I don’t respond.
Because I don’t know what to say.
I’ve spent centuries waiting for her. But I’ve also spent centuries convincing myself that this was inevitable. That I was inevitable.
She takes a slow step toward me, tilting her head slightly. “You’re telling me this like it’s just a history lesson.”
I hold her gaze. “It is history.”
Her lips press together. I can see her working through her thoughts, sifting through my words, picking apart what I won’t say.
But I won’t give her more than this.
I can’t.
She turns back toward the mountains, shadows still moving restlessly around her, as if they too are unsatisfied with my answer.
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of coming rain.
She speaks without looking at me. “And the berserkers?”
I exhale slowly, my jaw tightening. “They disappeared with your people.”
