She was untouched, her human mortality unchanged. When blackness cloyed once more, the healed maiden woke in a strange place. The light was violent and slow to fade and made the army tremble. Woden agreed, and together they gave up lightning to cleave through the ether and strike the dying maiden. Freya, the female god, whispered that they should take her courage and preserve it for eternity because it was so precious. Bravery and will had marked her entire life, but the light ebbed with death and they mourned it. They stirred and looked down upon the maiden, seeing in her eyes courage burning bright. But her scream had woken two nearby gods sleeping together through a brutal, wintry decade. The beating of her own brave heart was killing her. The arrow had pierced through metal, then barely through her breastbone, just enough that her heart met the point with each beat. She screamed in fury the arrow punctured the center of her armor, the blow sending her flying back. The winds howled, whipping her hair, but she heard the twang of the bowstring unleashed. Her dented breastplate swallowed her small form. Still, an arm shot out to raise a sword against the oncoming legion. The Origin of the Valkyrie Into the blood-splattered snow, the lone warrior fell to one knee and shuddered with weakness.
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