Chapter 3: Wings of Fire
Her blade gleamed above him, pulsing with divine energy. The woman who once sang him lullabies now stood as an executioner.
Fen couldn't move.
The firelight flickered off her face—his mother's face—twisted not with anger, but absence. As if the soul behind her eyes had been scraped away, replaced with something cold and ancient.
"Mom…" he choked out, the word trembling from his lips.
Her blade came down.
Instinct kicked in.
He rolled sideways, the blade slamming into the earth where he'd been a heartbeat ago. Sparks erupted. Stone cracked. Fen lunged backward, barely keeping hold of his axe. He stumbled over wreckage and ash, mind spinning.
This isn't her. This can't be her.
But her voice shattered his denial.
A low growl escaped her lips—not words, but something beneath them. A whisper lost in thunder.
"Fennn…"
He froze.
She took another step, staggering slightly. Her hands shook. Her wings flickered.
Something inside her… was struggling.
"Mom?" he asked again, breathless.
The Valkyrie screamed—raw, wild—and charged.
Fen lifted his axe just in time. Metal met metal in a flash of light and pain. The impact launched him through what remained of a stone wall. He hit the ground hard, coughing blood, ears ringing.
He rose to his knees.
Everything burned.
Every bone ached.
But deep inside… something else stirred.
The pendant he wore—the one he'd taken from the ruins of their house—glowed faintly. A warmth spread through his chest. A voice, far older than his thoughts, echoed in his mind like a distant howl:
"Do not run. You were not born to flee."
Fen gritted his teeth, and stood.
The air around him shifted. His breath came out as steam. His muscles tensed, veins glowing faintly beneath the skin. The axe in his hand suddenly felt lighter—like it wanted to be wielded.
The Valkyrie screamed again and leapt at him.
But this time, he met her halfway.
Their weapons clashed. Fen struck low, then pivoted, dodging her sweep, burying his axe into her side. She roared in pain. The magic holding her form shimmered, faltered.
And for a moment, she dropped to one knee.
Her eyes—just for a second—flickered back to normal.
"F…Fen…" she whispered.
He stepped forward, tears running freely now. "Mom. I'm here. I'm—"
But the moment shattered.
Lightning surged around her again, and she screamed in rage, launching him back with a burst of pure force. He hit a charred tree, vision swimming.
And then… she hesitated.
She stood, shaking, blade trembling in her hand.
Her lips moved—but instead of a scream, a sob escaped.
Fen fell to his knees, sobbing into the dirt, surrounded by the broken pieces of his home—and the ruins of the only family he had left.
Her eyes, for a heartbeat, softened.
"Mom…?"
The storm within her faltered. Her blade wavered. Her lips parted.
And she spoke—quietly, like a memory trying to survive.
"…Happy birthday, Fen."
The words hit harder than any strike.
He took a step forward. "Mom, I—"
But she cut him off, her eyes wide with fear—not for herself, but for him.
"Run."
Before he could respond, a screech split the sky. More Valkyries descended—five, maybe six—wings outstretched, blades drawn, closing in fast.
Fen's mother—still half-Valkyrie—threw out her arm and screamed, unleashing a bolt of lightning at the others, slowing them for just a moment.
"Run, Fen!" she cried.
He staggered back, breath caught in his throat. The ground shook behind him. He turned and ran, stumbling through fire, over broken fences, past the fallen.
Then, above it all, he saw him.
Floating in the sky—arms crossed, white cloak fluttering, was a man.
His presence was crushing. Regal. Calm. Merciless.
A descendant of Baldur.
He watched Fen from high above like a hawk circling a wounded hare. He didn't strike. Not yet. Just watched.
"there you are pup," the figure muttered, unheard over the roar of chaos.
Fen didn't stop. He ran.
Through flame and smoke. Past ash and ruin.
He didn't look back.
But he knew the hunt had begun.