Warning: This story contains self hate, light body shaming, implications of transphobia, self-esteem issues, victim-blaming, and severe child abuse. View discretion advised.

Little Svan was a runt, weak and plain in every sense of both words. At the young age of eight, he was already shorter than his four older brothers (ages 10, 12, 14, and 16 respectively) were at this age. Also at this age, they started coming into the own. Their blonde hair started taking on different shades, their blue eyes became more defined, and they were starting to get taller, stronger, and more in touch with their talents. But Little Svan's hair was still a boring blonde, his eyes still a pale, boring blue, and he had no talent in magic, combat, hunting, or riding. He also hated himself, felt wrong.

He stood in front of a mirror, hair messy and dressed in baggy hand-me-downs from the shortest of his brothers. The door to his small room opened, the hinges squeaking as his nanny entered. She had raised him after his mother fell from her horse and passed away of her injuries, and helped raised his brothers. She saw him standing before his mirror, looking depressed, and set her basket down.

"What troubles you, Little Sun?" she asked. She was a fair woman named Gerda.

"There's something wrong with me and I don't know what," Svan answered, and sighed. "Actually, there's a lot of things wrong with me. I'm shorter than any of my brothers when they were eight. I look boring. I have no skills. I don't even have magic! And now I look in this mirror and I just feel gross even though I bathe regularly!"

Gerda sighed and went over. "You're not short; you're a child. Your brothers just grew faster. Nothing wrong with that. And you don't look boring. I bet you'll have the most beautiful eyes and hair soon enough. Not to mention you're good at helping people, and sewing. You demanded to know how to sew so you could try and make your clothes fit. And you picked up on it quickly. As for magic…I have an eye for these things. I think you do have magic, it just hasn't sparked yet. Not everyone's magic is crystal-clear at first." She turned so she and Svan were looking in the mirror. "What about you makes you feel gross?"

"I don't…" Svan's eyes shut. He sort of swayed on his feet. "I want to be a Valkyrie."

The Valkyries…Some called them Angels. They were the beautiful, winged women who were once female heroes and queens who were so great in life that in death, they returned as the angelic beings they now are. They roamed the lands of Soknheim, seeking battlefields and brave adventurers, watching from afar as they gave their lives to protect others, fight for what they believed in, fought against those who hurt them, or simply lost their fight with illness, an illness they fought with tooth and nail. They took the spirits and made them the Einherjar. The Einherjar residing in the Hall of Heroes, a spirit realm where they gathered to await the end of days: The Return of Lindmaw. Every so often though, the Einherjar would leave to aid the people, unwilling to enjoy the afterlife and go to fight. As long as they were ready to fight Lindmaw when he emerged from his slumber and harmed none, the Einherjar were free to do as they pleased.

"I know it's stupid because I'm a boy, but I want to be a Valkyrie," Svan pointed out. "I don't…Want to be a boy. I didn't ask to be born this way!"

Gerda nodded. "Understandable."

Svan looked to her.

"Sweetie, have you heard of the hero Thurd?" Gerda asked.

"Isn't she a Valkyrie?" Svan asked. Thurd was a Valkyrie who usually flew over the hold of Lindwatch, watching the people from the sky.

"Yes, but this was before she became a Valkyrie," Gerda answered. "When she was mortal, Thrud was actually a boy, but she wanted to be a Valkyrie more than anything. So, she studied powerful magic and alchemy, trained herself in magic and combat, and eventually consumed a potion to will her body to become that of a woman's. She then went Skyrealm where she studied to become a Valkyrie in death, befriended a Gryff, and rode into battle for those the Valkyries declared would win. But one does not merely study or tame a Gryff to become a Valkyrie. When the Valkyries declared a tyrannical lord to be a victor, Thurd had a crisis of conscience. She aided the side that was doomed to lose, and turned the tide of battle. Thurd aided a rebellion against a tyrant and they won. Thurd battled the Tyrant of Heartland and his wicked sons and won, putting Erika's tenth great-grandmother on the throne. And then, she died of her wounds, and became a Valkyrie."

"So Thurd was a boy and became a girl?" Svan asked.

"That's right," Gerda answered.

"I guess I learn how to become a girl then," Svan muttered. That's when it just clicked. He looked in the mirror. "I. Am. A. Girl." It felt right to say. It felt right to hear. He no longer felt so awful about himself. No, herself. "I am a girl!" She declared. "And my name is Svanhilde!"

Gerda smiled and hugged her. "Shall we tell your brothers?" she asked. She knew Svanhilde loved her brothers. They cared about her. Unlike…

"Yes, but not Father," Svanhilde answered. "He hates me."

Svanhilde found her oldest brother first: Brandr, who was 16 and already taller than most doorways! He was training in the fighting ring, brawling in hand-to-hand combat with multiple men and women. They were trying to beat him, but he was too big and strong for them to simply bring down. One woman used two men to jump onto Brandr's back and she got her arms around his neck to try and knock him out. Well, that would have work if Brandr hadn't been able to grab her and slam her on the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. Svanhilde winced at that and watched as the woman rolled away, coughing. She got up and stumbled over, smiling at Svanhilde before joining her.

"Hey Kid," she greeted warmly. She was a full shorter than Brandr, skin pale and freckled with a scar on her forehead about her right brow where she had hit her head as a child when she fell from her horse. Her hair was a lovely, feather-soft, brown with equally soft honey colored eyes. She was muscular, daring, and a talented rider. Svanhilde wished to learn from her.

"Hi Ericka," she responded, looking up with a smile. "Can you teach me to ride a horse?"

"Of course," Ericka answered. "I'm always happy to teach the talent of my people, especially to my future siblings." She and Brandr were engaged, so she spent much of her time in Lindwatch. She could also handle the giant of a man. It took a great deal of trust for a woman to let a man do what he just did.

"Ericka, can you keep a secret?" Svanhilde asked, though she knew Heartlanders were good at secrets.

"Of course," Ericka answered, looking to Svanhilde.

"I'm a girl and I want to be called Svanhilde. Just not in front of father or people loyal to him." She didn't need to explain why, for Ericka knew. She could be blind and know what was going on. Her future father-in-law was once, supposedly, a good and decent man. With the passing of his wife, he had become mean and abusive, but not to his eldest sons. He was that way to Little Svanhilde. Erika was honestly afraid the brute of a man was going to kill her little sister.

"Okay. Are we telling Brandr at least?" Ericka questioned, raising a brow.

"I'm telling all my brothers," Svanhilde answered.

They watched Brandr knock out the rest of his opponents, gaining cheers and praise. When he saw his little brother, he smiled warmly and went over. "Water, please?" he asked, voice deep. He saw his little brother nodded and go fetch the water jug from nearby. Little Svan brought it over and held it up. Brandr thanked him and drank deeply and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "How are you today, Squirt?" He never meant anything negative by calling his little brother that. He was almost seven feet tall, and everyone knew it would be impossible to match his height, even when Svan was done growing.

"Can we go somewhere quiet?" Svan asked.

Brandr nodded and Ericka fetched his shirt. It was an hour before noon, so they headed down to the community kitchen for lunch. Cooks, both men and women, were preparing food for the lunch and wiping down the tables and benches in preparation for the local guards and soldiers as well as the few citizens who did not have their own kitchens or resided in the bunkhouse. Brandr carried his brother on his shoulders, knowing he would struggle to keep up on the walk to the community kitchen. One of the cooks was sweeping in front of the kitchen when he looked up to Brandr, Erika, and Svan. He called into the building to alert the others.

"What do you have today?" Brandr asked.

"A new trend from Morritine Hold, Lord Brandr," the cook answered. "It is a flat bread with a crushed tomato and herb mixture, topped with shredded white cheeses and cheddar, and additionally, any toppings possible. We're going with sliced red pork."

"Do they had a name for it?" Brandr asked. Morritine was always coming up with new food inventions, their seers somehow blessed with wisdom of otherworldly concepts.

"The seers call it pizza," the cook answered. "And the red pork has a name now: Pepperoni."

"The language source is different," Svan pointed out.

"I couldn't agree more," the cook stated. "We can a round ready if you wish to try.

And try they did! It was amazing stuff as they sat and ate the pizza beside the kitchen. No one was coming yet, except for Svanhilde and Brandr's other siblings. The first to arrive was the second oldest Ulmer, age 14. He was a real string bean and, so far, the shortest at that age. His blond hair was pale and worn long, his eyes were narrow yet unusually vibrant, he was the palest of them, and dressed in blue and white robes with leather pauldrons, bracers, boots, and belt. On said belt was an assortment of potions, spell and alchemical components, a couple belt satchels, and a knife for extra protection, though he seldom used it as he had already comprehended the most difficult of spells. He was a mage, one able to wield ice and snow naturally and was a taught heiromancer. In simplest terms: A law mage.

Gunnolf, age 12, arrived next. All of the muscle was in his legs and arms, but lean and he was overall narrow. At age 12, he was taller than Ulmer had been, but nowhere near as tall as Brandr had been. His blue eyes were more round with a greenish tint to them, his hair was a darker blond and short, and he was very tan. He dressed in leathers and dark greens with green face paint in the shape of four large claw marks from one side of his face to the other. He had several pouches, knives, a bow, and quiver full of arrows. He was an apprentice hunter. When he sat with them, he grabbed a slice of pizza and ate it hungrily.

Hrimfaxi, age 10, youngest of the sons, and gaining on Gunnolf height-wise was the last to arrive. His blond hair was pale like Ulmer's, but short and his blue eyes were dark like sapphires. He was already starting to get some muscle, already starting his training to become a soldier. He wore a white tunic, black breeches, and simple leather boots. He, like all his siblings, carried a knife for self-defense. He took a seat and looked to his siblings and Ericka, knowing something was up. "What's going on?" he asked. He always pretended to be uninterested, but actually enjoyed news and information. Brandr once joked that he should be a spy! "There's no honor in it, unfortunately," Hrimfaxi pointed out, "and so father will never allow it."

"Apparently Little Svan has an important announcement," Brandr answered with a warm, contagious smile, and so they all turned to him. Hrimfaxi already deduced that Ericka already knew, given that she had a hand on Svan's shoulder to reassure him.

"I'm…I'm a girl and I want to be called Svanhilde from now on," his brother announced.

"I have a sister then?" Brandr asked.

Svanhilde nodded.

"I always wanted a little sister!" Brandr cheered, and hugged her. Svanhilde hugged back.

"You've finally found yourself then! A first big step to finally feeling good about yourself!" Ulmer added. "I'll help you find that gender-changing potion. It's really advanced stuff!"

Gunnolf went and hugged Svanhilde. "Are you going to become a Valkyrie? I'll teach you archery!"

"And I can teach you how to better use your knife," Hrimfaxi added, smiling lightly.

"In addition to my riding lessons," Ericka added.

"I'll teach you hand-to-hand so you can hit any boys who try to hurt you," Brandr pointed out.

"And magic runs in the family," Ulmer explained. "Even if you aren't a mage, you might still have the capacity to learn arcana!"

Everyone talking at once and over each other began to make Svanhilde a little dizzy, and then she said so. Everyone quieted down and gave her a little space. Settled down, she reached for some pizza and helped herself to a slice. However, a man loyal to their father heard everything and went to inform the Jarl…

What had come first was the riding lesson with Ericka, whom had given her a Heartland Forest Pony, which were rather small. Perfect for Svanhilde who was already short! Ericka first got the basics in: Care and grooming, maintaining tack, saddling the horse, mounting, where to hold on, and getting the pony to walk. This took roughly two hours, followed by taking off the saddle and bridle and putting them away and a cooldown for the horse. After that, Svanhilde went to Brandr for hand-to-hand. Three long, hard hours. Brandr had to go easy because Svanhilde was so small. She was taught how to make a fist properly and to mind her feet. By supper time, Svanhilde was bruised and tired, but that's when Gerda came running out to them.

"Don't go inside," she warned. "Bjorn is on a warpath right now!"

"What happened?" Brandr asked.

"He found out Svanhilde wishes to be a girl," Gerda answered. She had a bag. "I'm taking Svanhilde to my mother's house where she'll be safe."

Brandr growled. "It's for the best." He knelt, but that still wasn't on level with Svanhilde. She still had to strain to look. "Go with Gerda," he told her. "Your lessons will continue."

Svanhilde nodded, not needing to be told twice. She took Gerda's hand and scurried to the home of her mother, Gylda. She lived in a small cottage with sleeping quarters just up the stairs. She was fair woman where Gerda clearly got her looks. She looked up from the tattered old book she was reading when the door flew open. Gerda came in with Svanhilde and a pack.

"Mother, Jarl Bjorn is on a warpath and I fear for Svanhilde's life," Gerda explained. "Would you please let her stay here until things get better?"

"Bjorn has been a right beast for the last 6 years, so of course," Gylda answered. "Anything to spite him."

"Six years?" Svanhilde asked. She could not remember her father ever being kind, but did not remember much before she was 4. No one did after so many years! She always assumed her mother died giving birth to her and that's why he hated her. "I thought my mama died when I was born."

"Who told you-? Never mind, that's wrong," Gerda answered. "Good Halfrid was killed by a bear while defending you and a Gryff." She sighed and knelt beside Svanhilde. "It doesn't matter, for the Gryffs had been caught in a dishonorable hunter's trap. So Halfrid hid you behind the Gryff and fought the oncoming bear. When we found you, the Gryff was still trapped, but protecting you. Halfrid and the bear were dead. Brandr was already strong and managed to free the Gryff while I carried you home. Despite its injury, the Gryff followed. I guess it wanted to be sure you were safe before returning to Skyrealm."

That made Svanhilde proud. Her mother was the best! That meant, though, that her mother had died heroically! Her mother could be an Einherjar!

"Yes, she became an Einherjar," Gerda pointed out. "Thurd came with us."

Svanhilde nodded. She couldn't be prouder!

The next few weeks followed a routine. Up at dawn to help Gylda with chores and learning to cook and clean and sew until nine in the morning. Then she would go to the stables where Erika taught her to muck out the stall and two hours of riding. When Svanhilde was used to the saddle, they worked on trotting, then galloping, and finally, racing. The obstacle were added at the end of the third week, though small and easy for the small pony. After riding, it was hand-to-hand with Brandr, which always left Svanhilde with some many bruises. After that, Hrimfaxi taught Svanhilde how to sneak around, listen in on people without being noticed, pick locks, and how to use knives and daggers.

"For someone training to be a soldier, you sure know some sneaky stuff," she pointed out as they went to the community kitchen sometime during the second week.

"I know, but this can all save your life later on," Hrimfaxi answered, watching the ground. "Besides, it's helped me find out who let loose your secret to Father. It was that nosey sot Fritjof. I'm going to make his life hard." And indeed he did.

After lunch, he would sneak into the meadhall for studying with Ulmer. Ulmer had already taught Svanhilde how to read, write, and count. Now came three hours of more complex work with the court wizard Gosta. On the second week, they discovered something incredible! Svanhilde was a Phosphoromancer, able to control lights and produce them. She created little spheres of light and could make them dance and bob around. It made her giggled. Ulmer hugged her in joy. Finally, Hrimfaxi would fetch her to sneak her out and took her to the hunting lodge where Gunnolf and the other hunters taught her wood carving, how to make a bow and arrows, archery, and maintaining hunting equipment. It was here she learned to use a whetstone on her knives to keep them sharp.

"I can't wait to get bigger so I can learn more," she told Gerda at the end of the third week. She had her back against a doorframe so the woman could take her measure her. It seemed impossible at first, but not it was clear she was hitting a growth spurt.

"It might be happening soon," Gerda pointed out. "In the last three weeks, you've grown half a foot!"

Svanhilde ducked away. The morning after her arrival, Gerda made a mark to show where she had been. Now she was six inches taller! She hugged her nanny, happy to be growing.

It was the end of the next week when Gerda measured her again: Two more inches! Svanhilde cheered when Gunnolf came running in. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavy. The women turned to him in concern.

"He's snapped! He's bloody snapped!" he gasped. "I think he's going to actually kill her!"

They didn't bother with packing. Gunnolf just grabbed Svanhilde by the hand and led her away. Gerda and Gylda packed Svanhilde's belongings and hid them under the floorboards. They sat at the table and acted casually. They would put on a performance for Bjorn is he chose to come. Meanwhile, Gunnolf led Svanhilde to the stables and helped her tack up her pony.

"Ride hard and don't look back," he told her hurriedly. "Ericka will come for you in the morning and take you to her mother."

"How will you find me?" Svanhilde asked, fear on her face.

"Follow the moon's course west. Ride for the Dragon's Maw," Gunnolf answered. "Father does not dare to near the Dragon's Maw out of fear of Florissa."

Svanhilde nodded shakily. The Dragon's Maw was an ancient cave deep in the forest directly west of the city of Lindhilde. Very few dared to travel close to the cave because of the ancient Elder Dragon who resided there. Florissa was known to be a benevolent being who protected animals and children in her cave. Some said the children under her care never grew up and that any child who sought her protection would be able to find the cave. Time to find out.

She heeled the sides of her pony gently. Little Storm, the name she had given the pony, galloped away from the stable. Gunnolf watched from the stables as Svanhilde and her pony disappeared into the dark wood before hearing the shouts of his father and his men. Gunnolf ran into the stables to hide…

Svanhilde looked up. The clouds came from nowhere! The moon's glow was gone and every little shadow spooked the child! Her pony stayed calm and began trotting. Within an hour though, Little Storm halted, snorting in discomfort. He shifted nervously. What scared the pony? There was a raspy, panting-grunting sound, which made Svanhilde shake and freeze. Those sounds…They became very growly sound. Those were the sounds of a bear. A massive brown bear came out, and roared at them. Little Storm reared and whinnied in fright, and being a novice rider, Svanhilde fell from the saddle. Little Storm fled and Svanhilde scrambled to her feet, winded, as the bear charged and swiped at her. It left four cuts in her thigh, making the child scream bloody murder. The bear readied to devour her when the sound of wings and stamping hooves alerted them to the arrival of a Gryff.

Gryffs were amazing creatures, with the body of a winged horse and the neck and head of a swan. This one was white as snow with crystal blue eyes. It spread its large swan wings, making itself look much bigger and swished its tail. It stamped the ground let out a terrifying sound between a honk and screech. It reared and batted its wings and front legs at the bear. The bear roared again, backing off Svanhilde. The Gryff stamped down, missing Svanhilde's prone form. She looked at its legs, and saw the hind right leg had horrible scars, almost as if it had been caught in a cowardly hunter's trap. The Gryff charged after the bear, following it back into the woods in a chase. Svanhilde was now utterly alone. She sniffled and cried. Her leg hurt horribly! Light entered the clearing along with the sounds of men's voices.

"There's the rat," snarled a deep, angry voice. Bjorn, Svanhilde's father. She heard him take out a knife and stomp forward. He grabbed Svanhilde by the hair and forced her to her feet where he slammed his fist into the bridge of her nose. There was a sickening crack and blood flowed from her nostrils. She screamed in pain. Just what she needed! Then she felt him cut her face, starting above her right eyebrow and dragging the knife to her jawline. Svanhilde screamed again and managed to jerk her head, only for a small cut to cross through the larger one. She kicked at her father and scratched his hand, making him drop her.

"WHY?!" she screamed.

"Because you and some stupid Gryff were more important than her life!" Bjorn snapped, and kicked Svanhilde, knocking the wind from her. "And for some useless runt?!" He drew his sword and swung at her when the moon came out from behind the clouds.

She raised her hands, controlling the light around her to form a shield. Bjorn's sword shattered on the shield. The shield then shattered around Svanhilde, and it felt like she was falling, falling into an array of bright light and shinning orbs. Stars passed her in a silent howl. She managed to somehow land gently on her feet over a sphere with two bright, gold suns hovering around it, and passed into someplace knew. She fell on hot, golden sand and screamed as it slipped into her injuries. Tears and blood streamed down her face as she managed to stand. She sniffled, not knowing where she was. Only one thing seemed clear: She was very far from home. So, she walked.

She didn't get very far before dead, rotting, blackened hands shot up from the ground tried to grab her. She screamed and ran, seeing a shimmering blue…Barrier ahead of her. She ran hard, when a horrifying sight greeted her. More dead, rotting things…People and animals and some of them a combination of both. Svanhilde backed away slowly, but stopped and looked over her shoulder to see more of them. She was surrounded. She saw past the dead things in front of her, and saw something beyond the barrier. It looked female, with a golden cat head. She carried a bow and arrows, and seeing her made Svanhilde feel safe. She relaxed, standing still as the dead things closed in. The barrier opened long enough for the cat-headed woman to pass through.

She moved fast and graceful, landing inside the closing ring of dead things. She brought light to her hands and threw it out at the dead things. They disintegrated when the light hit them. When they were gone, the cat-headed woman knelt. Svanhilde fell over trying to look up at her. She was so tall, taller than all her brothers put on top of one another.

"You're so pale," the woman commented. She sounded like a god! "You must be from so far away." She scooped Little Svanhilde into her large hands and shielded her from the harsh suns. She sped back toward the barrier, taking care not to jostle the child in hands. A crane-headed man opened the barrier for her to jump through.

"What did you find, Oketra?" asked the crane-headed man.

"A small, pale child," answered the cat-headed woman, opening her hands. "She's hurt. I should get her to one of the healers. Oketra carried Svanhilde to her temple, children and people waving to her as she passed. Oketra took the time to wave back. In the temple, Svanhilde saw many cats, some hairless and some with beautifully patterned fur. Her savior set her on a pile of pillows and sent a cat to get one of the viziers. A human woman came and treated Svanhilde's injuries, though they just turned into scars and her nose was going to be dented for life.

Oketra came and knelt in front of Svanhilde. "Tell me about yourself…"

At 16, Svanhilde was six feet tall with gold and bronze hair, striking eyes with light blue around the pupils that grew dark further out, tanned skin, broad shoulder, powerful legs and arms, and a woman's body. Oketra, in her love and kindness of Svanhilde, had used her powerful magic to make her a woman. This came with several problems: A cycle of bleeding that caused pain and a large bust side. But she got past it. She fought and learned and lived with a Crop at 12. Four years of hard training later, her crop was getting ready for the Trials. Overall though, her life before Amonkhet was little more than a dream at this point. A dream she admittedly missed.

"What troubles you, Sister?" asked her crop mate Bakt. She was almost as tall as Svanhilde, but no less muscular. Bakt was her equal in every way. The other 18 of their crop looked to Svanhilde and Bakt for leadership.

"Thinking about my old life," Svanhilde answered.

"To think that people actually survive beyond the safety of the barrier," Bakt muttered.

"I know for sure I'm from beyond the barrier, but maybe further than the desert itself," Svanhilde pointed out, looking to the red sky of night. "I think I am from well beyond Amonkhet."

"I don't understand."

"I know; I don't expect you too."

They sat in silence, still looking at the sky.

"What is it like there? Where you're from?" Bakt asked.

"Nothing like Naktamun," Svanhilde asked. "It's not hot and doesn't have two suns. It's crisp and cool and we have a season called Winter, where snow falls from the sky. It seems like sand, but it's frozen water. The lakes and rivers turn to ice and the trees are so different." She created light and shaped it into a Gryff. "Gryffs. They're winged horses with a swan's head and neck." She made the light flap its wings and rear." She conjured another sphere of light and it turned into a bear. "This is called a bear. One did this." She hiked up her skirt, showing the four scars on her thigh. "They're fierce beasts." She made the Gryff attack and rear and bat at the bear, just like in her memories. She brought a third light, which was her watching the fight. "A Gryff saved me from the bear. I think it might have been the same one my mother saved."

Bakt watched in awe, and then turned to Svanhilde, braids swinging. "How do you know?"

"I saw its back right leg; it had scars from a hunter's trap. The Gryff my mother rescued had gotten its leg caught in a hunter's trap." Svanhilde looked to her friend. "Only dishonorable and cowardly hunters use wicked traps."

Bakt nodded, watching Svanhilde put out the lights. "We should sleep. The Trial of Solidarity is tomorrow."

Svanhilde nodded, and followed Bakt inside.

Bakt punched the stone wall. The Trial had been going so well! Then that stupid Angel came at her and that…that…IDIOT! Stupid Nehi! He had to jump in and save her! They succeeded. That's what really mattered right? Next came the Trial of Strength! But…Bakt fell to her knees. She wasn't sure she could do it. The door opened and she heard the approach of Svanhilde. They both wore cartouches.

"Nehi shouldn't have died," Bakt hissed, and let Svanhilde tended her bloodied fist.

"People die in the trials; it happens," Svanhilde pointed out, cleaning the cuts. "Besides, our crop needs you."

"You're a better leader."

"Except I'm leaving."

"WHAT?!" Bakt had been forcing back her tears; now they fell.

"After last night, I realized I need to go home," Svanhilde pointed out. "My Trial of Strength is different from yours. I need to face the man who hurt me."

Bakt looked to the sharp, deep bridge of Svanhilde's nose and the scars on her face. Svanhilde was bandaging her fist. "All of your trials are back where you're from."

Svanhilde nodded. "Yes. And after losing Nehi, I feel all the more certain about going home."

"How will you get there?"

"I'm not sure…I will seek Kefnet for answers."

"Be careful then," Bakt told her. "And come back soon."

Svanhilde smiled, and embraced her friend. "I promise." She then pulled away and rose, leaving Bakt to her thoughts. After a moment, she ran after and stood on the steps as Svanhilde ran through the streets of Naktamun. She looked at the carving of a cat on the leather cord Svanhilde had given her last year.

"For you, and Nehi. I will pass the Trial of Zeal," Bakt promised. Only Svanhilde had known of her forbidden love for Nehi. "Good luck on your trials…" She went inside to carve a pendant to give to Svanhilde when she returned…

"You're out late," Oketra said to Svanhilde. She had been still as a statue, so Svanhilde had not noticed her. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry Oketra," Svanhilde apologized. "I'm going to Kefnet's temple to figure out how to get back home. I fear my trials are there…"

"I understand." Oketra stepped down from her perch. "I was wondering when you would feel ready to return to your home, Svanhilde of Lindwatch."

"Lindwatch…" It rolled so easily off her tongue. She looked to the sky, then back to Oketra. "Thank you Oketra. Thank you for everything."

Oketra knelt and held out her hand. Svanhilde stepped gently onto the waiting palm and let the God embrace her gently.

"Have a safe journey, my child; we will see each other again someday," Oketra promised.

"I count on it." With a deep breath, she let go of Oketra, of Naktamun, and of Amonkhet. She shimmered, entering a place of nothingness and everything, and soon set foot in the snow of Soknheim…

Svanhilde will return in The Holds of Soknheim.