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    Valkyrie ? Chapter XXI ? Transition


    Time went on. 274 a.CR. Much has happened in the last few years. A prolonged civil war was averted, but the reconstruction of the Empire, constant new sabotage actions by the remaining rebels, as well as the eradication of the corrupt network that infested the Union Palace kept everyone at court busy. There have been quite a few executions in the recent years. Fake advisors, corrupt captains, treacherous nobles … they all had to take the fall. But now, soon, a Valkyrie would die. Cecilia II. Not because she did something wrong. On the contrary. It was because of the code.


    She would not fall. She would rise instead.


    Valkyries have a maximum age. The codex is clear: it states that Valkyries must leave this sphere when either their emperor dies, he abdicates, or they turn 40. Cecilia was now at this point. She would soon turn 40, and with that, "Ascension" awaited—the transition into the afterlife, where she would prepare the way for her emperor and her fellow sisters to follow.


    For the Valkyries, this was not an execution. Not a punishment. It was the greatest honor, and their goal. Every Valkyrie knew that one day this would be her fate, and a logical consequence if she wouldn''t die a warrior''s death before. Cecilia served her emperor long and faithfully. But now her youth was fading, and so it was time to go.


    Thessia''s religion is complicated, more so than its political landscape even. While a warrior''s death is the ultimate preference, it is believed that everyone enters the afterlife in the form in which one leaves the world. No one knows what awaits there. But it would take some time to regenerate one''s form over in the afterlife; to reach the best state there. Mortal wounds would heal faster than old age, but nonetheless, the Valkyries had to enter it in a form as perfect as possible. Because of this, a Valkyrie''s transition into the afterlife had to happen through a so called "white method"—an execution where the body would not be damaged. As tradition has it, this is naturally done by being slowly raised and asphyxiated through the gallow—a much more painful method than being hanged by falling and having the neck snap. But such is the way of things.


    No one said that Ascension would be painless. It is a gruesome spectacle, and for many from outside Thessia it is a barbaric and savage tradition. Yet it has its purpose. It is a bittersweet reminder of the fragility of time—a warning from old times to the Emperor and the Empire itself; The Empire must constantly renew itself if it wants to survive, or it will find itself in the same situation as 274 years ago again. Ironically, this code is fixed and can not be reformed. No matter how much the Emperor loved his Valkyries and wanted to keep them with him, he had to follow this codex. He had to summon Cecilia to him. And with a heavy heart he had to tell her it would soon be time.


    Taking the news with calm and reverence, Cecilia then was draped in the death dress—a third piece of garment Valkyries would wear once Ascension is ripe. It was a shimmering garment that rippled with threads of blue, white, and gold—the natural colors of the Empire. It looked even more georgous than the armor she had worn for decades, and even more so than the parade uniform. It was soft yet regal, a cloak of fate woven for her last journey.


    As protocol demanded, she would spend her last days in this dress, speaking little and focussing on deep prayers and farewells. The glory of the Valkyries’ past and the gravity of their future swirled around her in a heavy yet sacred atmosphere. In these final hours, she would unite her spirit with divine purpose.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    When the day approached, on Cecilia''s 40th birthday, each Valkyrie gathered to pay homage, whispering encouraging words tinged with sorrow. Seraphina felt the ache of loss already manifesting in her heart, a preemptive grief for her sister-in-arms. They exchanged silent glances, reminiscing about battles fought side by side, and all the special moments they shared with each other in their service to the land and the Emperor. Soon, those moments would become echoes, fading into the tapestry of memory.


    As noon crested the horizon, the sun standing at its firmament, the time for Ascension arrived. Like the sun, Cecilia stood tall, her sisters closely behind her. Servants busied themselves around them, preparing the ceremonial area where the gallow awaited. The presence of the Emperor, his family, so many nobles from all over the world, and such a large number of servants and soldiers … it added an incredible air of reverence. They all wanted to pay their respects to one of the greatest warriors of their time.


    Approaching the gallow felt surreal, as if time had slowed. Seraphina could not make out a flicker of nervousness within Cecilia. She had been trained to embrace this, indoctrinated to perceive it as the greatest honor to serve in death as she had in life. There was resolve in her eyes as she stepped forward, her wonderful dress shimmering across the sunlight like a beacon calling her home.


    With grace she approached the noose, her breath steadying amidst the gathering. And as the noose was put around her neck, the world itself seeming to hold its breath. Cecilia closed her eyes momentarily, putting her hands into a prayer position, and for a minute there was total silence. With this, the ceremony had begun. When she opened her eyes after this long minute, she broke the silence by reciting the vow she did over 20 years ago. "My Emperor …", she started, "… In life and beyond, I am bound to serve. I am yours, now and forever …". Then she continued her vow from back then in an updated form: "You guided me. I have sworn to serve you in this world as best as I could, and so I did. I believe we all made a change. I will now continue to do so in the afterlife. Hail, my Emperor, Konrad the Sixth, glory upon you forever!".


    There were murmurs and whispers. It was an incredible tense atmosphere. Serene, beautiful, but yet so sad. Many couldn''t take it, and they began to cry. The Emperor himself retained his composure, his eyes cloaked behind deep shadows. Only schooled eyes could make out just how much he was suffering.


    Then, perfectly akin to protocol and with haunting beauty, Cecilia sang—a melody laced with devotion, a hymn of mourning, but also one of deep praise and love for the Emperor and Thessia itself. It was her farewell, a final tribute to the life she had lived. Seraphina and the other Valkyries joined her in this song, and it was moments like these ones … everyone would remember forever.


    Cecilia''s hands were bound respectfully behind her back, and the noose was tightened. No matter how well trained she was—her body''s instinct will fight what was to happen now. The other Valkyries continued to sing as Cecilia was raised, ascending both symbolically and figuratively. Her body began to fight, and her face became distorted and blue. Ascension was a slow and cruel practice, and as the other Valkyries were tasked to uphold the serene atmosphere through their melody, the images of what everyone had to see was anything but.


    It took minutes, time stretching like an infinite dawn, but eventually Cecilia''s last fight came to an end. When she ceased struggling, her face began to radiate a sense of calm again. She was gone … her soul elevated into the afterlife amidst the chorus of the Valkyries.


    Silence cloaked Seraphina as she looked to the ground. Her own ascension was still a decade away, but the thought of it now felt heavier, laced with the awareness of the flesh she would have to surrender. An unshakeable shadow loomed in the corner of her mind—the knowledge that this honor, an eternal embrace of servitude, came only after the greatest of sacrifices. Would she be as brave as Cecilia had been? Would she be prepared to let go?


    Seraphina was 30, with the latter half of her service in this world still ahead of her. But the older she got, the more she felt time flee. Yet, she knew one thing: as the echoes of the ceremony faded into the ether, surrounded by her onlooking sisters, all of them vowed to continue their service as best as they could.


    "We will honor you, Cecilia. You are not forgotten."