Chapter 2: The Thunder Maiden
The wind screamed through Littleroot, no longer a quiet town, but a battlefield. Fire roared from shattered rooftops. Walls collapsed like paper. Screams echoed in the smoke—men, women, children—scattered and fleeing.
And at the center of it all, Fen stood, eyes wide, axe in hand.
He sprinted over broken cobblestones, dodging falling beams and flaming debris, until he reached what was left of his house. The roof was gone. The doorway cracked. And in the ruins, standing tall and unmoving, was a Valkyrie.
Ten feet of thunder-forged steel, lightning sparking at her fingertips. Her wings slowly unfolded, feathers pulsing with energy. Her gaze locked onto Fen like a hawk on prey.
His heart stopped.
"Where is she?" he breathed. "Where's my mother?!"
The Valkyrie didn't speak. She stepped forward, raising her blade—jagged and glowing—and struck.
Fen blocked it with the haft of his axe. The force of the blow sent him skidding backward, boots digging furrows into the dirt. His arms screamed in pain—but he didn't fall.
He'd trained for this. Not in a castle, not in any warrior school—but in the woods, alone. Every day since he was ten. Watching town guards spar. Mimicking soldiers at the training camps. Cutting trees, climbing cliffs, running until his legs gave out.
He learned not to be perfect—but not to be weak.
He gritted his teeth and swung his axe.
The blade clanged off her armored leg, leaving a dent. She turned, growling low, and lunged again. Fen dodged. Slashed. Stepped inside her range and struck her ribs hard—too hard for a normal boy.
She staggered.
But then, she roared and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him into the air.
His vision blurred. Her strength was overwhelming—inhuman. His feet kicked helplessly. The world dimmed.
"No…" he rasped. "Not yet…"
With the last of his strength, he raised his axe and slammed it down on her helmet.
Once.
Twice.
CRACK.
The third strike hit home. The helm split with a burst of sparks, and fell away.
Fen dropped to the ground, coughing. He looked up.
And froze.
The Valkyrie's face was visible now, framed in lightning-wreathed hair. Her features, though changed and hardened by magic, were familiar.
His voice broke. "...Mom?"
She stood there, unmoving.
Her eyes—once so warm—were now pale and hollow, glowing with unnatural energy. She didn't speak. She didn't blink.
He backed away, shaking. "No… no, no, this isn't real…"
But it was. His mother—Altha—was one of them now.
Another lightning bolt tore through the sky, striking another home nearby. Screams filled the air as more Valkyries descended, tearing through anything and anyone.
Littleroot was dying.
And Fen… was too stunned to fight.
She stepped forward. Slowly. Her blade rising again.
He couldn't lift his axe. Couldn't breathe.
Tears streaked down his face as he whispered, "Mom… please…"
But the Valkyrie before him no longer recognized her son.