Restoration: Cursed Memories(Book 2)

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Chapter 5: Where it All Began(Bonus Scene(Part 6))

Two meeting ever so long ago, a demon and deity growing to be the best of companions. Hearts dancing in the bliss of the wind, soaring through the endless sky. Even if it is a somber morrow, those friends facing it together. Nightfall coming at hand, that joyful energy of the village fading with it. Malice of blackness revealing, from deep inside, massive wings of darkness expanding. That being ascending into the air, flying around the village, searching for their next victim. Long hair in reflection of the night, eyes daring as the sea, a Valkyrie cladding in armor of darkness. That inn on the far side of the village, from within, Cyra standing at the exit of the room. Her demon sword on the lower half of her back, long and broad, a blade of darkness with a bone for a hilt. Those ancient symbols brightly burning, unrest coming from it.

Standing behind her, that old friend evermore of uncertainty. Valor wishing for her in taking a rest, that demon being in no condition in facing an enemy of such a level. No matter so, that deity well in awareness of her at this point. An illness will never keep down a demon, smaller in power they may be, but a race living their lives on the field of battle. That young woman loathing those conflicts, but never turning away from aiding her old friend. Glancing back to Valor, both nodding in agreement towards each other. Turning her attention onward, reaching her hand forward, gripping the handle of the door.

That maiden pulling it open, walking through it first. Valor scratching the back of his head with his right hand, slightly looking down. Concern deep inside of him, a heart wishing for another option. Even so, that old friend leading her own way forward. Slowly shaking his head from left to right, following behind the maiden. Closing the door upon his leaving, Cyra and Valor soon standing outside of an inn. Thick the air is feeling, almost sickening to breathe. Unrest within the surroundings, Valor’s heart at an unrest. A Valkyrie this may be, but this negative energy ever so repulsive.

“Careful...this enemy seems to be in a class of their own...” Valor grinning in some unease.

Hearts evermore unsettling, this darkness blanketing the village. Sorrow filling the night, voices screaming through. Those countless echoing through the young woman, agony incomparable. Turning her attention to the sky, Cyra squinting her eyes. Feathers of blackness descending, blanketing the land. Valor looking above, stepping away. That Valkyrie revealing herself, those eyes of the sea calmly resting upon the two below. The battle maiden extending her blade, landing just above the ground, six black wings spreading afar.

“Valkyrie, why do you collect the souls of these humans? You are far outside your station,” Valor taking a step forward.

Those from ever so high, battle maidens of Odin. Beings descending from the highest of heavens, searching for souls of worthy warriors. A common role in place, those many hoping for acknowledgement. Even so, these actions in contradiction of her role. One seeking the souls of others, fear plaguing a village. Inhabitants fearful of the night, an intrusion upon the basic rights of another. That Valkyrie resting her vision upon her hand, merely chuckling. That response evermore unnerving, Cyra resting her vision on those wings, feathers of blackness burning into the darkness.

“Ah Valor, I have been waiting for my moment to reap your soul. Yours is just what I need to instigate Ragnarok,” her eyes are serious upon him.

Those words coldly rushing down the spine of the deity, his heart racing inside of his chest. One trying to contemplate the rationality, a Valkyrie seeking souls for a most unsettling game. A war ever so large, so many moving into place. Chaos around every end, suffering unimaginable. A massive conflict between all of the worlds, countless driving to their knees. This situation being far more dire, Valor desperately thinking. That old friend being in more danger than normal, this wind chillingly hitting against the two. That wheel of fate turning, three meeting in a battle of importance.

“Ragnarok?” Cyra looking towards Valor.

“Twilight of the Gods. A war that will rage throughout all of the Nine Worlds...and at the end, in the wake of the chaos...only one will rule supreme...” Valor uneasily explaining.

Twilight of the Gods, chaos raging through. Countless engaging in war, those of the Nine Worlds all playing in that game of chance. Unnerving this is, Cyra turning her attention back to the Valkyrie. Those eyes of crimson and azure meeting with the other, malevolence clashing against one another. A devil capable of standing their ground against a deity, this drawing the attention of the battle maiden. Reaching her hand back, Cyra gripping the hilt of her blade. Extending her weapon afar, that demon sword Lævateinn, one of the seven treasures of the worlds. That blade crying out, that pressure of the young woman intensifying.

“Lævateinn, so you are the chosen wielder of that sword, one of the seven treasures,” the Valkyrie states more seriously.

A demon sword in possession by a devil, a legendary weapon of the gods. Countless falling in its presence, even in a state of pity, that sword holding infinite potential. Hearts at an unrest, witnessing that Valkyrie looking into the sky. That crimson moon shining its beautiful light down upon the land, Cyra thinking on the words of the battle maiden. A sword choosing its wielder, this weapon being with her for many years. One being close like family, supporting her through the harshest of times. More so than this, her sword being one of the seven treasures, this catching her interest. Valor walking in front of his old friend, extending his arm afar. Those eyes of his evermore serious, that demon sword holding far too much value.

“That weapon, you will never get ahold of,” Valor glaring at the Valkyrie.

One seeking the souls of humans, wishing for the Twilight of the Gods. A find most worthy, the wielder of the demon sword Lævateinn, a most pleasureful turn in events. No matter so, this unrest within the air. That demon catching the interest of the battle maiden, darkness clashing against each other. Demons ever so weak on their own, a race in resistance to the harshness all around. Despite this, something more resting within the depths of that young woman. Lævateinn crying out, merging its own darkness with the devil.

“Lævateinn huh...I will be taking that off of your hands,” she glares at Cyra.

Darkness bathing the village, agonizing it is. Cyra evermore in a state of weakness, this pressure crushing down upon her. That demon sword repelling the surrounding malevolence, crying out for all to hear. That young woman staking her blade into the ground, trying to hold onto her breath. A demon in the face of a deity, her eyes evermore of unease. Valor glancing back to his old friend, this situation turning for the worst. Her illness dulling her capabilities in this battle, a Valkyrie possessing far too much darkness within them. Lævateinn thickly extending malevolence, shielding the young woman.

“Cyra, leave here...” Valor warning.

“That is not an option,” her voice extending uncertainty.

Those eyes of the deity trembling, his heart at an unrest. Those living on the field of battle, carving their own way forward. A point of no retreat, that heart rising to the challenge at hand. One loathing the field of battle, no matter so, learning of the necessity. That god facing in the direction of the Valkyrie, well in awareness that everything is residing upon the young woman’s resistance. A demon sword holding infinite potential, a condition most unsettling. That Valkyrie proudly raising her blade, those wings of blackness spreading afar. Valor gripping his katana by the hilt, slowly unsheathing it with his thumb.

“Come you foolish beings! Show me your pitiful resistance!” she rushes at them like a bullet.

Enduring the crashing wind, that enemy closing in upon the two. Eyes at an unrest, hearts desperately racing. Immediately unsheathing his weapon, Valor colliding his katana into the blade of the Valkyrie. An icy mist extending, blanketing the area. That young woman desperately trying to catch her breath, slowly calming herself. Removing Lævateinn from the ground, her vision upon the two ahead. That Valkyrie easily pushing against Valor, a low level goddess growing evermore powerful. That god stepping away, his vision of unease.

“Those souls...you’re devouring them...!” Valor states in some hesitancy.

Those souls screaming from within the Valkyrie, Cyra holding the side of her head. Her heart at an unrest. That battle maiden turning her attention towards the demon, this development catching her attention. A devil capable of connecting to the souls of those that are no more, every step of the way, something new turning up. That god glancing back to his old friend, witnessing her in such pain. Deeply thinking, this battle being far too much for her. A Valkyrie collecting the souls of the dead, empowering herself. One sinking into the blackness of the abyss, grabbing hold of an even higher power.

“An interesting devil you are,” the Valkyrie states more seriously.

Valor sweeping his blade off of the ground, that Valkyrie clashing against him. Those eyes meeting with the other, pulling away from one another, that deity dashing away from the inn. The death goddess pursuing him, closing in by the moment. Cyra shaking away the striking pain inside of her head, dashing onward. Valor holding his stance, the Valkyrie nearing the god by the moment. Cyra rushing in front of her old friend, intercepting the assault, her blade vertically facing to the ground. That impact immensely crashing against her weapon, Cyra skidding back upon her feet. Devastating malevolence escaping the death goddess, staggering it is. Cyra holding her position, shaking away that influence. Lævateinn crying out, that energy of the Valkyrie and demon sword resonating with each other.

“Cyra! You have to get out of here! This is far too much for you to handle!” Valor warning.

That young woman slightly hanging her head low, well in awareness of this foe. One far above her standing, that death goddess infinitely more powerful. No matter so, this blood inside of her rising to the challenge at hand. One loathing the field of battle, wishing for there to be no more. A simple adventure turning into a nightmare, that darkness steadily emanating from her. A mere collision vibrating her body, slowly inhaling and exhaling, shaking her head from left to right. That deity resting his vision upon her, his eyes of confusion.

“I can run as far as I would like, and I am certain she will find me,” Cyra calmly states.

“Right you are, there is not a place you can hide that I will not find,” the Valkyrie faintly smiling.

That wind all around, a heart never relenting. Escaping being of an impossibility, that Valkyrie having her eyes on a prize. That deity despising this situation, one wishing for any solution. No matter so, this battle being well underway. A Valkyrie seeking the souls of many, Ragnarok being her goal. That demon sword providing a most promising opportunity, even so, this devil evermore different. Valor walking up to the side of his old friend, both glancing to the other, nodding in agreement. Even if the chances are minuscule at best, no matter of the turmoil, two facing it together.

“Well then, if you are finished with your farewells, I believe I will add you both to my collection,” the Valkyrie calmly states.

Hearts meeting in this endless wind, darkness bathing a village. Inhabitants living in fear, a demon most of interest. That malevolence of the Valkyrie crushing down on her enemies, Lævateinn crying out, pushing against the terrifying energy. The battle maiden rushing onward, her speed evermore intense. That death goddess locking onto the maiden, approaching by the moment. Valor rushing onward, immediately appearing before the Valkyrie, his katana meeting her blade once more. That icy mist flowing through, thickening even more within the area.

Cyra locking onto her opportunity, that devil dashing around the Valkyrie. The death goddess glancing back, witnessing that demon approaching from behind. Turning her attention to Valor, those eyes of the battle maiden expressing much confidence. Valor’s heart at an unrest, Cyra rushing in, swiftly launching an uppercut. Extending her gauntlet, the Valkyrie blocking the assault. That impact tearing away at the surrounding area, those eyes of the young woman slightly widening. The death goddess pushing against both of them with ease, connecting those finer points.

“I see now, you two work better as a team. Though, there is a fatal flaw in working so close together,” the Valkyrie calmly speaks, faintly smiling.

Two ever so close, a bond forming so long ago. Hearts uniting within the wind, emotions dancing in the bliss of the other. Companions in sync, tackling the harshest of conflicts together. Alone they may be weak, but together those two proving quite a formidable duo. Even so, a fatal flaw it is. Exceptionally well they are as a team, but their morale relying on each other’s well being. That Valkyrie well in awareness of this, taking out one meaning a victory for her. Her vision locking onto the weaker one, those wings of blackness expanding far and wide. Cyra and Valor taking a step back, that goddess ascending into the air, resting her vision down below.

“Defeat one, and both will falter. In battle, one must hold no emotions!” the Valkyrie mightily raising her voice.

Hearts at an unrest, two working ever so close. A flaw most fatal, powerful they are together, but exploitable apart. Emotions ever so deep, feelings residing far inside. Those evermore of a hindrance, no matter so, blissful it can be. Malevolence swirling around the Valkyrie, that darkness of the battle maiden stretching for many distances. Intense the pressure is, that force crushing down on Cyra and Valor. Strength within their bond, but also a weakness in itself. Two hearts connecting, a most unlikely meeting so long ago.

“She is correct...working so close is beneficial, but it comes at a terrible price as well...” a stern expression extending from the maiden.

Emotions riding in the field of battle, two ever so close. This in itself being a weakness, even so, those hearts embracing their experiences. Valor glancing in the direction of Cyra, his eyes at an unrest. That Valkyrie’s vision setting on her target, taking advantage of any opportunity. Directing her blade at Cyra, those eyes of the death goddess upon the young woman. Escape of an impossibility, a devil withstanding this influence of the Valkyrie. Her heart at an unrest, that resolve rising to the challenge at hand. Feelings forever deep, one reaching her hand out in this game of chance that is life.

“I will begin with you, the weaker link,” the Valkyrie declaring.

Beating deep within her chest, that young woman taking a step back, bracing herself. Lævateinn crying out, that sword meeting her resolve in kind. Valor resting his vision upon Cyra, witnessing a pure white energy emanating from her body. That aura reacting to the demon sword, the death goddess taking notice of this development, her expression growing stern. An unusual power rising from inside of the devil, that death goddess bearing witness to this. Standing upon her side, Cyra proudly directing Lævateinn at the Valkyrie. Hesitation being no more inside of her, those eyes of confidence. Unsettling this is, that demon sword tapping into something deep within her.

“Come then Valkyrie, the true battle begins now,” her voice chillingly striking down the spine of the death goddess.

A demon amongst demons, one holding infinite potential. Ever so weak they are, but one rising beyond those normal limitations. That posture of the young woman, her tone evermore commanding. This development catching the interest of the battle maiden, Lævateinn evermore a valuable weapon. A blade tapping into the latent abilities of its wielder, bringing a calamity upon the battlefield. That death goddess extending her blade, taking caution of the devil. That young woman evermore different, unnerving this is upon the Valkyrie.

“You will be a most worthy catch,” the Valkyrie states a bit more seriously.


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