I'm so sorry, guys. I think this'll be the last chapter I'll be able to upload before I leave for my trip. *ducks as axes, pipes, and white flags go sailing past head* I'm SORRY! But I won't have WiFi where I'm going (not telling you where; don't want any of you hunting me down), and so I won't be able to publish ANYTHING. But I will still be thinking of you all, and I promise to upload like crazy when I get back. I don't have school this Monday, so that's when I'll be doing all my uploading (getting back late Sunday). Until then, please enjoy this latest chapter!

Red lined Anya's vision as she found her normal clothes and dressed. Storming down the stairs, she grabbed her knife and put it into her boot top. She just barely registered that all the standing water in the house was bubbling dangerously, mirroring her anger.

She grabbed a cloak and pushed open the door. At her fierce glare, the newly-fallen snow melted into a walkway, and Anya marched out.

"Sister!"

Looking up, a little of her fury eased when she saw Iceland on the back of the water dragon that she had no doubt created in her sleep. Spreading her hand out, she called the dragon down lower so Iceland could jump off safely.

Once he righted himself, he ran to her, sobbing. "S-Sister, they're-they're all g-gone!" he cried. "Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway, they were-"

"Taken," Anya finished darkly. "And I know who did it." Standing up, she stared out at the forest. "I know you're out there! Show yourself, fire harpy!"

The sudden blaze of fire blinded them, but when their eyesight returned, the harpy was standing there, looking murderous. "I am Rosaria," she growled. "You killed my sister."

Anya shielded Iceland with her body and cast a steely-eyed gaze at her. "You kidnapped my family. Care to bring them back before you go to rejoin your sister?"

The harpy's face twisted in a look of sick glee. "Oh, but I did not take them. Master did that on his own."

"After you foolishly released him," Anya gritted out. "How could you have doomed the world to such a fate over something as petty as this?"

"PETTY?!" Rosaria's eyes flashed, and Iceland whimpered from behind Anya. "You MURDERED my SISTER!"

"After she murdered an innocent woman!" Anya shot back. Her old fury returned, and the snow around melted and became a large wall of water surrounding them, trapping the fire harpy.

The predator, however, did not look concerned. "You foolish mer!" Fire burned in the palms of her hands. "Master made sure you could not defeat me! Only the Valgt can kill me!"

"Well, that's just too bad."

As fast as lightning, Anya had drawn Spejl and was at her throat. "I am the Valgt. Enjoy your life in hell."

The look of horror remained on the hag-like face, even when Anya had severed her head.

The water turned back into snow, and Anya sheathed Spejl. Turning back to her little brother, she saw a look of astonishment and awe on his face. "Y-You're the-"

"Yes. And I fully intend to kick Rethos's ass all the way from here to the end of the universe.

"But first, I need my sword."

*Chosen*

Standing at the water's edge, Anya stared down into the inky-black depths where her weapon lay. Closing her eyes, she held her hand out and summoned the sword from its watery grave.

The water boiled once again, and the light once again blinded her, but she heard the casket set down at her feet. When she opened her eyes, Anya knelt down and opened it. Tusmørke laid there just as the last time she had seen it, but now, the circumstances far graver.

Picking up the swords, she brought the hilt to her lips and whispered, "My family is in danger, Tusmørke; are you willing to fight with me?"

In response, Tusmørke pulsed in her grasp. Anya took a deep breath. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Wait!"

Looking up, Anya saw Crystal floating in the water, looking worried. "You're going to fight Rethos, aren't you?"

Anya nodded solemnly. "I'm the Valgt; it's my destiny."

"Not yet, you aren't." When Anya gave her a quizzical look, Crystal smiled ruefully. "You'll need to be a mermaid for that."

Immediately, Anya knew what had to be done. "You'll have to turn me, won't you?"

Iceland looked alarmed. "But-But- you won't be able to see me…or court Denmark!"

Crystal shook her head. "Since she's the Valgt, the curse won't matter. Soon, when she defeats Rethos, we'll all be to inter-mingle."

Anya knelt down in front of her mother. "Let's get on with it."

The other woman nodded, and cupped her hand. Filling it with seawater, she brought it up to Anya's face and tipped it into her mouth.

The salt water burned her throat, but it was instantly cooled by the chill that ran through her body. Anya gasped audibly and trembled violently at the sensations. Her vision blackened, her senses dulled, and her body fell limp on the rocks.

The chill gave way to pain and Anya let out a little whimper. Vaguely, she felt Iceland's hand on her and she anchored herself on that.

Finally, everything came back to her, and she sat up groggily. Opening her eye, she realized that everything had sharpened distinctly. Sounds were crisper, and her vision was filled with high-quality images of everything. Her nose caught every little smell, and her limbs felt stronger than ever.

Iceland's timid little whimper caught her ears and she turned to him. "Yes, Iceland?"

Minuscule tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. "Are you alright?"

She gave him a small reassuring look and pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, Iceland. I'm alright."

He buried his head in her shirt. "Emil," he said, his voice muffled. "I want you to call me Emil."

Anya ruffled the hair on the back of his pale-colored head. "Very well, Emil." Cautiously, she stood and cracked her bones. "Well, then. I'd say I'm ready."

"Not quite."

Anya looked over, and saw her mother moving away the wolf-skin in the casket, revealing silver-and-gold armor perfectly tailored for a woman. The chest plate was silver with a gold cross on the front, and Anya felt Tusmørke pulse at her side. Within seconds, the armor appeared on her, clinking into their appropriate places. She looked down at herself, experimentally moving around. The armor fit as easily a second-skin, and the metal weighed almost nothing to her.

Iceland looked at his older sister in awe. "That's so amazing," he murmured. "You look really good in armor."

Anya slipped Tusmørke's scabbard cord around her waist. "I agree." She glanced at Iceland. "But you don't have any armor."

Tusmørke pulsed yet again, and armor clinked into existence on Iceland. Anya hummed her approval, and with a flick of her head, two daggers popped into existence at Iceland's side. "That's better."

She turned back to her mother. "Will you be going, Crystal?"

Crystal shook her head. "I've never fought before. I wouldn't be of any use to you." Her eyes misted over. "But I want you both to be safe. Please come back."

Anya nodded. "We will, and the other countries will be with us."

A howl sounded through the bay, and Anya turned around. Fenris stood at the beach, his pack behind him. He bounded over and came to a halt in front of Anya. He looked up at her, his blue eyes penetrating hers, and then he bowed in front of her, showing that he would serve her no matter what happened. She knelt in front of him and scratched his ears. "Thank you, Fenris," she whispered to him. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Suddenly, the water around them churned violently, and an enormous dragon, a flesh-and-blood one, rose up from the depths of the bay. Though Iceland yelped and Crystal gasped, Anya stared up at the beast fearlessly. Sunlight glinted off its golden scales, and it aimed its red-eyed gaze back at her. Opening its mouth, a thick, gravelly voice rolled across the bay.

"You are the Valgt, are you not?"

"I am," Anya replied.

The dragon threw his head back and laughed. The sound was like two rocks grinding against each other. "The masters did not tell me that the Valgt was to be female!"

Controlling himself, he bowed his head to her. "I am Aiman. A thousand years ago, two masters saved my life, and I wished to repay them. They were making that sword for the Valgt and they asked me if I would be willing to assist the Valgt in their quest to destroy Rethos. I agreed, and they put me in a deep sleep at the bottom of the bay, only to wake when Tusmørke called to me."

"I am Anya," she proclaimed, bowing to him as well. "This is my little brother, Emil, and my friend, Crystal." She squared her shoulders as she spoke. "The rest of my family has been kidnapped by Rethos, and I fully intend to rescue them."

Aiman cocked his head at her. "And one of them is your beloved?"

A heavy blush threatened to present itself on her face, but she forced it away. "Yes."

The grinding rocks came back, and she winced slightly. "Very well, then! I have always had a weakness for sweethearts; even if you were not the Valgt, I would gladly offer my services."

Rising fully up out of the water, Aiman crawled onto the rocks and shook off the remaining water on his hide. Anya was splattered, and watched in amazement as small fins on her forearms poked through her armor. But as she dried, the fins disappeared, and she cracked a small smile. "That's amazing," she murmured.

"It is your mer blood," Aiman explained. "Whenever you get wet, that is what will happen."

He laid his head down. "Climb on my neck, all of you," he commanded. "We will fly to Rethos's castle as fast as we can."

The whispering of people nearby caught Anya's attention and she looked up. The village people were all standing on the cliff, looking into the bay with awe. A thought struck her. "They don't know about what's happened," she mused aloud. She turned to Aiman. "Can you hover in front of that cliff for a little bit as I tell them what's happened?"

"But of course." He flapped his wings, almost sending them tumbling off-balance.

"Excellent."

Crystal gripped Anya's hands tightly once more. "Be safe," she said again, sounding teary. "I love you like you're my own daughter; please come back."

"I will," Anya said, and quickly hugged her mother. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. "I have to go now."

"Good luck!"

And with that, Anya scurried to Aiman and climbed on his neck in front of Iceland and Fenris. "Fly up there," she told him.

He complied and as he rose, the people screamed in fear. However, Anya leveled her gaze at them and spoke loudly and clearly.

"People of Denmark, you should know me as Anya the Merchild. But now, you will know me as Anya the Valgt." A murmur ran through the crowd, but she did not stop there. "I have seen in my dreams that Rethos has been released and that he has captured Lords Denmark, Norway, Finland, and Sweden. Iceland escaped his clutches and he returned to give me the news." Fire burned in her eyes. "Rest assured that they will all return; I will fight to my dying breath to bring them back if necessary. But above all else, I will kill Rethos and bring an end to the fear of his return!"

A joyous yell rose up through the crowd, and Anya turned Aiman in the direction of where Rethos had last been seen. Fury simmered beneath the surface of her skin, forcing her fear of heights away from her conscious. 'Rethos, you better be prepared for me, because I will be coming…

'And I'm going to raise absolute hell for you.'

*Chosen*

Denmark let out another yell of pain. He was chained to the wall in the dungeon of a fiery castle. And his captor, Rethos, thought it would be amusing for him to be tortured with liquid fire being forced down his back. He could already tell that this cruelty would most definitely leave scars, deep ones. "Why are you doing this?!" he screamed at his captor. "I don't know anything about the Valgt!"

The shadow figure stroked what would have been his chin thoughtfully as he stared into a fire pit. "Oh, I am well aware of that," he informed Denmark silkily. "Obviously, you didn't know you were even courting the Valgt. But no matter."

As he writhed in pain, Rethos showed the image of Anya and Iceland riding a golden dragon over the sea in the fire. "Your beloved is playing right into my hands." A twisted smile formed on his face. "And you will be unable to save him as you watch him die."

Denmark could only let out another scream of agony as his torment continued, and pray to whatever God was out there that Anya would be protected.

WOW, I'M SO MEAN! But, hey, it'll give you something to think about while I'm gone~. And why does Rethos say "him"...? Yeah, not telling you! You'll just have to stay tuned~!

Review!