(Chapter 8)
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The camp still smoldered as dawn crept on the horizon. Knights moved about with steady purpose, patching armor, gathering provisions, and readying mounts for the journey across the sea. Yet amid the rhythm of preparation, one figure sat apart—Azre, her blade resting against her knees, her gaze fixed on the rising sun but seeing little of it.
Enix approached, his hands full of gear he clearly had no idea what to do with. He lingered, shifting the straps clumsily, before finally setting the bundle down near her with a heavy thunk.
"You, uh… you look like you're about to fight the sun itself," he said, trying for levity, but his voice carried a nervous edge.
Azre blinked, then gave a small, weary laugh. "And lose."
They sat in silence a moment before Enix fidgeted and muttered, "I'm… not great at this. The whole comforting thing. Usually, I just polish my armor and hope the world sorts itself out."
Her lips curved, but her eyes remained distant. "And does it?"
He tugged too hard at a strap, cursed as it snapped, and shrugged. "No. But maybe that's the point. We stand anyway."
Azre gave a faint smile, but her eyes were distant. The battle with Holon still clung to her, its shadows etched into her thoughts. "You weren't there in the forest, Enix. You didn't see what he did to us."
Enix straightened. "Then tell me."
Azre hesitated, hands tightening on the leather of her belt. "When we chased those shadow phantoms into Ethille… it was a trap. Holon was waiting. He showed us illusions—memories twisted into daggers. I saw my mother… alive. Smiling. Calling my name. And then I watched her die all over again." Her voice broke faintly, the words trembling on her lips. "It was cruel, Enix. Cruel in a way no blade could ever be."
Enix shifted, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Azre…"
But her words spilled faster now, like a wound finally bleeding free. "When I broke through his illusion, something inside me shattered. I saw my mother's light—felt it surge into me. My body wasn't my own anymore. My blade felt heavier than the world itself. I became… something else. Something I don't understand. A Valkyrie. And Holon saw it too. He knows."
Her hands trembled, and before Enix could step closer—Azre swayed.
"Azre?" His voice rose in alarm.
Her breath came ragged, her vision warping. The ground tilted beneath her feet as if the earth itself had been pulled away. Her chest tightened, her limbs numbing, her heart hammering against a sudden void in her stomach. The edges of the world bled to black.
The last thing she saw was Enix's face, wide with fear, his hand reaching desperately toward her.
Then—nothing.
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When Azre opened her eyes, she was standing. Yet no ground supported her, only endless black stretching in every direction. A suffocating silence pressed in, thick as tar.
Her breath echoed too loudly in her ears. She wasn't alone. She could feel it.
Then the memories came—bleeding out of the dark like cracks of glass.
First, Garin. He sat lazily atop the blood-stained altar where she had slain him, lips curved in a mocking smile. His hollow eyes locked on her as he leaned forward, whispering, "You should have joined me, Azre. Even now, you carry the same curse. Look at you… lost."
His voice broke into cruel laughter before dissolving into mist.
The scene shifted. A bed. A frail figure lying beneath a white cloth, chest rising faintly with the last traces of breath. Her mother. Azre's knees buckled, her throat burning with grief as she reached—but the image withered to black before her hands could touch.
And then came the worst.
Her comrades—every knight of the Purge—strewn across the ground, broken, lifeless, their blood soaking the soil. Their blades lay beside their hands, useless. At the center of it all—her father, Eldhar, still gripping his sword though his chest was pierced through.
"No…" Azre's voice cracked, tears stinging her eyes.
Her head snapped to the last image. Enix, slumped forward, blood pouring down his side, his eyes dimming as he whispered her name one last time.
"ENOUGH!" Azre screamed.
And then—she looked down.
Her hands were drenched in blood. Her blade slick with crimson. Her breath caught as the sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the unseen floor.
A whisper coiled around her ears.
"You're the one who killed them all…"
Her heart stopped.
Then the laughter came. Jagged, wicked, reverberating through the void like shards of broken glass.
Holon.
His voice was venom. "Your light is not salvation—it is a curse. Every soul you protect will die by your hand. One day, Azre, you will see the truth."
She fell to her knees, hands clutching her head as the laughter tore into her. The darkness pressed closer, her own guilt dragging her under.
And then—
A soft hum.
A glow appeared before her, faint at first, then swelling into a brilliant orb of light. Its warmth brushed against her skin, soothing, familiar. A voice she knew—gentle, steady—echoed from within.
"Azre… do not yield."
Her breath shuddered. Tears blurred her vision as she reached out, desperate. Her fingers brushed the orb—and the light exploded, searing away the black.
She closed her eyes against its brilliance.
When she opened them again—
She was lying in bed, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving. Around her, every knight stood in a circle, faces carved with worry. Enix was at her side, his hand hovering near hers but too hesitant to touch.
"Azre," he whispered, relief trembling in his voice.
The chamber was silent. The air heavy with unspoken questions.
And though she was awake… the echo of Holon's laughter still lingered faintly in her ears.
The light still lingered in her chest, warm and steady, even as her eyes adjusted to the familiar faces around her. The knights held their silence, but Enix leaned closer, his gaze sharp with worry.
"Azre… what happened?" he asked quietly.
Her lips parted—but her voice faltered. Because she knew. That voice in the dark, the one who had cut through Holon's torment, wasn't just her imagination. It wasn't her mother's ghost this time.
It was something older. Greater.
As the memory of the orb's glow returned, the whisper echoed in her ears once more—clearer now.
"I am the light that once walked this world, the blade that ended kings and shattered gods. Through you, I awaken. Through you, I remember."
Azre's blood chilled. Her fingers curled into the sheets.
It wasn't just her mother's light she carried. It was the Valkyrie herself.
The ancient warrior spirit bound to her bloodline—sleeping, waiting, now stirring.
Azre's breathing quickened, her heart torn between awe and terror. She wanted to speak, to tell them, but the words lodged like stone in her throat. How could she say it aloud? That she wasn't just their comrade—not even just their captain.
She was the vessel of a forgotten war-goddess.
Enix reached for her shoulder, grounding her. His voice was firm, steady, though his eyes searched her face like he sensed the storm within. "Azre. Whatever you saw—it doesn't own you. You're still you."
But even as he said it, Azre knew it wasn't true. Not completely.
For in the deepest corner of her soul, the Valkyrie's voice lingered, low and certain, carrying both promise and threat:
"And soon… they will all see me."
Azre's breath came in ragged bursts, the Valkyrie's words echoing like a curse in her chest. Vessel. Blade. Awakening.
Then—cutting through the silence—a voice slithered into her mind. Holon.
"I saw it, Azre. In the cracks of your soul." His tone was velvet and venom. "The wings, the light—it was never yours. You are merely its cage. A cage that will break."
Azre's hands trembled, her chest rising and falling as Holon's voice still echoed within her.
"Your light was never yours. And when it breaks… you'll be the one who destroys them all."
Her gaze lingered on her palms, as if she might see the curse etched there. The flicker of light beneath her skin felt foreign, wrong—like something alive, watching her from within.
Then—
A sharp knock rattled the chamber door.
Enix straightened, startled, just as the door opened and Captain Viera stepped inside, her face pale and voice clipped with urgency.
"Eldhar… and you, Lady Azre—urgent news." Viera's voice cut through the chamber, her words quick, heavy with dread. She drew a breath, then delivered the strike:
"The cult of Trinity has begun their move in Arvalione. People are vanishing—just as they did in Arcaun."
The room froze.
Azre felt her heart pound, the last whispers of Holon's laughter still clinging to her mind.
Two shadows now loomed over her—
the truth of the Valkyrie within…
and the Trinity's rising tide.