CHAPTER 1: ROOTS OF VALKYRIA

The first light of dawn gilded the highest spires of Valkyria, setting the city aglow like a jewel nestled in the cradle of the world. Below, the circular tiers of the Castanic capital descended in graceful curves – districts of pale stone and living wood, bustling market squares still stirring to life, tranquil temple gardens heavy with dew, and the grand amphitheater where songs of creation were still sung. But at the very heart, rising with impossible majesty, stood the World Tree, Yggdrasil’s Echo. Its colossal trunk, veined with silver and deep emerald, pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light that seemed to breathe in time with the city itself. Its canopy, a vast tapestry of shimmering leaves in hues of gold and jade, stretched high enough to brush the underbellies of the morning clouds. This was Arborea’s heart, Valkyria’s shield, and the source of the light that held the encroaching shadows of the world at bay.

On a wide training ground near the city’s inner wall, the rhythmic clash of steel shattered the morning calm. Hera, her short, asymmetrical blonde hair plastered to her temples with sweat, moved with the fierce grace of a hunting falcon. Her rune-glaive, Stormbringer, was a blur of silver and blue light as she parried, spun, and struck. Each movement was precise, economical, fueled by the focused power humming in her runes. Her light beige skin glistened, her pointed ears twitched at the sound of her own harsh breaths, and her expressive eyes, usually warm with humor, were narrowed in concentration. The off-white fabric of her Valkyrie attire clung to her slender frame, the star-shaped embellishments catching the light.