Got a lot of good feedback on the last chapter. This is kind of a preview for the next one. I think it can stand as its own chapter right now, but I wanted to share it with you guys.
Brynhildr could remember her first moments of life. So vivid were these memories that they seemed to rip her from the present and place her back nearly six years ago. The very second in which she was created, forged into the being that exists today—the tapestry of her life woven with only a single act.
She had confessed to her parents about an interest in girls. A feeling which had confused the young Valkyrie since she was capable of realising it for herself. Brynhildr asked about these emotions in an endeavour to further unravel this mystery which plagued her. There was no possible way she could have foreseen the reaction her words evoked.
The anger that stirred in her father as her mother wailed and threw obscenities in her direction caught the Valkyrie by surprise. The first blow came as a shock, causing her ears to ring along with the burn that fist imparted on her cheek. Her father screamed about how she could have done this to them? How she would burn for all eternity for her sins.
Brynhildr did not know how to respond. She could only understand how their reaction pained the young girl. There was not enough experience she possessed to see the reason behind their outburst. She was terrified of it, of them.
This family had been a loving one for as far back as the girl could reach. They had never shown any sign of this abusive nature, which they presented now. It made Brynhildr's heart ache with pain, thinking she had done something so egregious, it could not be forgiven. She was afraid God would torment her for all eternity by casting her into a fiery abyss.
As her mother continued to cry out for forgiveness from that god, her father grabbed Brynhildr and carried her into another room. The girl fought back as hard as she could, but could not ever hope to break free from the man's grasp. His hands were rough, and he disregarded the bruises left on Brynhildr's arms.
He threw the lid to a wooden chest open and forced Brynhildr inside. She pleaded not to be punished for her actions, sobbing as she fell to her knees. The tears pouring off her cheeks went unnoticed as another blow rocked against her face. It nearly knocked her unconscious but gave her father a chance to finish what he started.
Brynhildr watched as the lid slammed closed, sealing her within this sarcophagus. The sound of the latch fumbling and a lock clicking ensured there was no way out. Even if she pushed against the lid, it would not budge no matter what.
And thus, Brynhildr began screaming. Terrified of the confined space she was imprisoned within, there was nothing left for her to do. A child could not react any differently—such an endless screaming in her panic. The kind of screaming that made your throat and even lungs burn.
She did not know how much time passed inside the sarcophagus. Minutes. Hours. Weeks. Even months. Brynhildr could not distinguish between them as she was left alone. In the darkness, there was not a reference for her to make against.
The claustrophobia became maddening. It served to amplify the terror the girl was under every second she remained. There was no room to even stretch her legs, and so she was forced to curl up in the fetal position.
Her screams went unnoticed as the box was picked up and moved from its original position. She could feel it moved onto a vehicle, but by that time, the girl was not capable of discerning reality from a hallucination. The hours or days in which she was confined, slowly whittled away at her mind. Without food or water, her body began suffering, and her brain could not function properly.
As she fell asleep, Brynhildr began having visions. The first time since locked away inside the sarcophagus, she dreamt.
She awoke in a world so beautiful, so expansive, that it struck one dumb. Brynhildr kneeled in what seemed to be an endless field of rolling wheat stalks. She basked in the gentle warmth of the twilight sun. It's glow casting a golden light down upon everything.
In the distance was a mountain range—two on either side of this field, sequestering it within a vale. Atop the highest peak of this formation was a castle—no singular building surrounded by high walls, but a city of gold. Millions of gothic-styled buildings with tall pointed steeples covered nearly half of the visible ridges. Skeletons thousands of feet tall guarded this city, standing as unwavering sentinels with spears in hand.
Brynhildr took in the sights of this world with such eagerness that she nearly fainted from its beauty. Getting lost in this picture, she did not notice a man standing next to her. The first thing she did see was a hand offering to lift her onto her feet.
That hand belonged to a knight. A man who was a statuesque chiselled demigod. So noble of bearing, so perfect. He seemed to be an animated marble masterpiece. His golden hair and eyes glowed under the light of the sun. He offered Brynhildr a gentle, friendly smile that made her heart leap.
The thought of being acknowledged by a man of this calibre when she was nought but an insect in his presence was an honour. A sign of respect from this soldier to the young Valkyrie.
Those who stood at his side were all in their own way perfect. One of them, an angel whose feathered wings radiated with a purity unknown to Brynhildr. The rest, so gallant and virtuous that Brynhildr did not know how she could ever hope to stand as their equal.
This place was her dream—the thing she desired above all else.
That dream was broken as the sarcophagus rocked violently. Brynhildr snapped awake, realising where she continued to reside. Her breathing was slow, deliberate and no longer panicked. Her heart refused to race out of fear.
She had somehow caught the dream. It smouldered in her heart as the knight passed it onto her. His passion, obsession, and anger joined her own.
Brynhildr Valkyrie had been born anew.
Her heart burned with anger few could ever contemplate. The feeling of betrayal at the hands of those who were supposed to protect her. The knowledge that she'd been shunned by others because of who she was.
The rage of being locked inside of a box.
It all forged Brynhildr into a being, which took on these feelings gleefully. A Valkyrie whose heart burned brighter than any other. Who would wash away the boundaries forced upon her with a flame.
All to ensure the Golden Lord could create a new world. One meant for her to exist within freely, and to thrive among those who cast away their humanity for something greater.
Hope you guys like this! I'll have the full chapter out later this week!