The Reliquary Archive

Concerning the Valkyrie Who Descended

And upon the second day of the tenth year, the heavens opened.

The sky did not part gently.

Nor did it welcome what emerged.

The firmament broke.

The clouds fled.

The sun vanished.

And all beneath looked upward.

For something had come.

The surviving records disagree concerning the number.

Some claim twelve.

Others claim seven.

The oldest texts insist there was only one.

A single Valkyrie.

A single judgment.

A single blade.

What all accounts agree upon is this:

War ceased.

For the first time in ten years, armies forgot their enemies.

Kings forgot their crowns.

Demons forgot their hatred.

And all looked skyward.

Witnesses described wings vast enough to eclipse the sun.

Armor forged from silver fire.

Eyes without mercy.

A face untouched by age.

And a spear that carried the wrath of the heavens.

Thus did the Valkyrie descend.

And wherever her feet touched earth, death followed.

Entire battalions vanished.

Siege engines shattered.

Fortresses fell silent.

The mighty were struck down beside the weak.

No distinction was made.

No plea was answered.

No surrender was accepted.

For the Valkyrie was not sent to negotiate.

She was sent to end.

Thus did fear spread across the world.

For kings may be killed.

Empires may fall.

Even Demon Kings may bleed.

But what weapon exists against heaven itself?

None could answer.

Thus did armies scatter.

Thus did cities close their gates.

Thus did prayers multiply.

Yet among all who witnessed her descent, one alone did not retreat.

One alone marched toward her.

The King of Votis.

The records claim their first battle lasted seven weeks.

Though battle may be an insufficient word.

Mountains broke.

Rivers changed course.

Entire forests vanished.

The dead were beyond counting.

And still neither prevailed.

The Valkyrie did not fall.

The King did not kneel.

Thus ended the First Meeting.

And all who survived believed the matter settled.

They were mistaken.

For the Valkyrie returned.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time seeking only one opponent.

Each time descending where the King of Votis stood.

Some called this divine purpose.

Others called it obsession.

Neither explanation satisfied those who witnessed it.

For strange things began to occur.

The Valkyrie slew armies.

Yet spared the King.

The King butchered nations.

Yet spared the Valkyrie.

This contradiction troubled many.

Particularly the heavens.

For it is written that a weapon which refuses its purpose becomes something else.

And the oldest surviving fragments suggest the Valkyrie had begun to change.

Though how.

And why.

The texts do not yet reveal.

The final passage of this Canticle survives only in damaged form.

Its meaning remains debated.

Yet it is preserved here exactly as recovered.

And upon the field of Yemining they met for the third time.

And neither sought victory.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the Battle Beneath Yemining

And it came to pass that upon the Plains of Yemining the King of Votis and the Valkyrie met for the third time.

The first meeting had ended in devastation.

The second in uncertainty.

Thus all who gathered believed the third would end in death.

The kings of the world assembled.

The generals of nations watched.

Even the heavens are said to have turned their gaze downward.

For surely now judgment would be rendered.

Surely now one would fall.

Thus did the armies gather.

Thus did the banners rise.

Thus did the earth tremble beneath the weight of expectation.

And when at last the Valkyrie descended, silence followed.

No trumpet sounded.

No war cry answered.

Only stillness.

For all knew they stood in the presence of legends.

The records state they fought from sunrise until moonrise.

Blade against claw.

Spear against fang.

Heaven against earth.

Neither yielded.

Neither retreated.

Neither prevailed.

Yet it is not the battle that survives within the oldest accounts.

It is what occurred between the blows.

For witnesses reported strange things.

The Valkyrie spoke.

The King answered.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Words exchanged amidst slaughter.

Questions asked amidst ruin.

Conversations held while armies watched in confusion.

Many believed it a trick.

Many believed it a taunt.

Yet those nearest to the battle described no hatred in their voices.

Only curiosity.

As though two creatures had finally encountered something equal to themselves.

This troubled many.

For Battle Demons understood hatred.

The heavens understood judgment.

Neither understood curiosity.

Yet curiosity continued.

Thus did the meetings multiply.

The Valkyrie descended where the King marched.

The King altered campaigns where the Valkyrie appeared.

What began as battle became expectation.

What became expectation became ritual.

And what became ritual slowly transformed into something no surviving record names directly.

The oldest scribes refused to write the word.

The priests declared it blasphemy.

The Demon Kings declared it weakness.

Thus was the matter left unwritten.

Yet the evidence remains.

For during the Fourth Meeting the Valkyrie spared him.

During the Fifth Meeting he spared her.

During the Sixth Meeting neither struck a killing blow though both possessed opportunity.

And by the Seventh Meeting, witnesses claimed they no longer seemed surprised to see one another.

This alarmed both heaven and earth.

For a weapon that hesitates ceases to be a weapon.

And a Demon King who refuses victory ceases to be understood.

Thus did suspicion spread.

The Valkyries questioned their sister.

The Demon Kings questioned their rival.

Neither received answers.

For answers require understanding.

And understanding had not yet come.

Only longing.

Though none recognized it by that name.

The final surviving fragment of Yemining remains damaged beyond recovery.

Only three lines endure.

These are preserved exactly as discovered.

And the King laughed.

And the Valkyrie remained.

And all who witnessed this knew something had gone terribly wrong.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the Seven Weeks of Blood

And it came to pass after Yemining that war continued.

For kings remained ambitious.

Demons remained violent.

And the heavens remained silent.

Thus did armies march.

Thus did banners rise.

Thus did blood continue to nourish the earth.

Yet the nature of the conflict had begun to change.

For wherever the King of Votis traveled, the Valkyrie appeared.

And wherever the Valkyrie descended, the King was soon found.

Many considered this coincidence.

The wise did not.

For coincidence may occur once.

Perhaps twice.

But not seven times.

And not for seven weeks.

Thus began the period now remembered as the Seven Weeks of Blood.

Though the title itself is disputed.

For blood had flowed long before those weeks.

And blood would flow long after.

Yet something else flowed beside it.

Something unnamed.

Something forbidden.

The first week ended with a battlefield.

The second ended with another.

The third ended much the same.

The dead accumulated.

The kingdoms mourned.

And still the King and Valkyrie met.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The old accounts claim they spoke more with each passing encounter.

Though none could hear the words.

The scribes complained.

The priests worried.

The Demon Kings grew suspicious.

For each meeting ended as the others had.

Neither dead.

Neither victorious.

Neither willing to explain.

Thus did rumors spread.

As rumors always do.

Some claimed the Valkyrie sought to understand the nature of demons.

Others claimed the King sought to mock the heavens.

Neither explanation survived scrutiny.

For those who observed closely noticed strange details.

The Valkyrie ceased descending upon distant battlefields.

Instead she appeared only where the King marched.

And the King began altering military campaigns without explanation.

Entire armies changed direction.

Entire invasions halted.

Entire wars paused.

All because of reports that a silver-winged figure had been seen elsewhere.

This behavior confused his generals.

It terrified his enemies.

And it enraged the other Demon Kings.

For kings may be reckless.

Kings may be cruel.

But kings do not abandon advantage.

The King of Votis did.

Repeatedly.

Thus suspicion deepened.

And heaven took notice.

For it is written that the Valkyries were forged for purpose.

And purpose leaves little room for distraction.

Yet distraction had taken root.

The Valkyrie no longer descended with the certainty of judgment.

The King no longer fought with the certainty of conquest.

Both had become altered.

Though neither yet understood how.

The oldest surviving account from this period was discovered within a ruined monastery.

The final page remains stained beyond recovery.

Only a single passage survives.

And it is preserved here exactly as translated.

Upon the forty-ninth day, the King ceased speaking of victory.

And the Valkyrie ceased speaking of duty.

Neither understood what had been taken from them.

Nor what had been given.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the River Promise

And it came to pass during the latter years of the Tenth War that the King of Votis vanished.

For three days he was absent from his armies.

For three days his generals searched.

For three days his enemies rejoiced.

Yet none found him.

Thus did confusion spread throughout the lands.

For the King was not known to disappear.

Nor was he known to hide.

And many believed some calamity had finally befallen him.

They were mistaken.

For the King had not been taken.

He had simply gone elsewhere.

The oldest surviving accounts claim he traveled alone.

Without guards.

Without banners.

Without armies.

He journeyed northward until he reached a river whose name has since been forgotten.

There he built a fire.

And there he waited.

Whether he expected her arrival remains disputed.

Yet all surviving records agree upon one truth.

She came.

As the sun surrendered itself to dusk, the Valkyrie descended beside the water.

No armies accompanied her.

No heavenly host followed.

No command had summoned her.

Yet she came.

Thus did they meet.

Not as enemies.

Not as conqueror and executioner.

But as two souls beyond the reach of all others.

The surviving accounts claim neither spoke for some time.

The river carried the burden of conversation.

The fire carried the burden of warmth.

And the stars carried witness.

For there are moments so fragile that words themselves become unwelcome.

Thus did silence reign.

And neither found reason to break it.

It is written that the King offered her wine.

The Valkyrie did not understand the gesture.

Yet she accepted.

It is written that he laughed.

The Valkyrie did not understand the reason.

Yet she remained.

And among all surviving records, this detail appears most frequently.

She remained.

Not because duty required it.

Not because heaven commanded it.

Not because war demanded it.

She simply chose not to leave.

This fact troubled many later historians.

For choice was not believed to exist within a Valkyrie.

And yet the evidence persisted.

Thus did the night deepen.

Thus did the river flow.

Thus did the world continue unaware that history had begun to change.

The oldest fragment recovered from the River Canticles survives only partially.

Time has damaged much.

Yet one passage remains clear.

And it is preserved here exactly as translated.

And the King asked her what she desired.

And the Valkyrie possessed no answer.

For no one had ever asked.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the Last War

And it came to pass that the world learned what heaven and demon-kind had long suspected.

The King of Votis had changed.

Thus did whispers become rumors.

Thus did rumors become accusations.

Thus did accusations become certainty.

For the King no longer sought conquest with the hunger of former years.

Victories were won.

Yet territories remained unclaimed.

Enemies were defeated.

Yet survivors were permitted to flee.

Entire kingdoms surrendered.

Yet their people remained alive.

This behavior troubled the descendants of Nox.

For mercy had never been counted among the virtues of Battle Demons.

And what demons cannot understand, they inevitably fear.

Thus did the other Demon Kings gather.

The Lords of Ash.

The Tyrants of Bone.

The Butchers of Rivers.

The Crowned Monsters of the Age of Blood.

And among them arose a single accusation.

The Valkyrie had weakened him.

The heavens spoke differently.

Yet their conclusion remained the same.

For the Valkyries observed their sister and found uncertainty.

She descended less often.

She lingered longer.

And when she returned, questions followed.

Questions became concern.

Concern became judgment.

For heaven possesses many virtues.

Understanding is seldom among them.

Thus did both sides reach the same conclusion.

The King had become compromised.

The Valkyrie had become corrupted.

And therefore both must be corrected.

Thus began the Last War.

Not between kingdoms.

Not between armies.

But between certainty and choice.

The descendants of Nox marched upon Votis.

The heavens withdrew their favor.

Old allies became enemies.

Ancient oaths shattered.

And the world once again learned the cost of fear.

For the Last War eclipsed all that came before.

The mountains burned.

The rivers boiled.

The forests screamed beneath marching armies.

Entire nations vanished between one sunrise and the next.

And still the King fought.

Still the Valkyrie descended beside him.

Still neither abandoned the other.

Though all the world demanded it.

It is written that seven Demon Kings marched against Votis.

It is written that three Valkyries were sent to recall their fallen sister.

It is written that neither effort succeeded.

For the King remained.

And the Valkyrie remained.

Thus did the war deepen.

Thus did the dead multiply.

Thus did history approach its breaking point.

The oldest surviving records from this period become fragmented thereafter.

Entire pages have been removed.

Entire chapters have vanished.

Many believe these omissions deliberate.

For the final surviving passage contains no account of battle.

No record of strategy.

No tally of the dead.

Only a warning.

And it is preserved here exactly as recovered.

And the King beheld the ruin of his people.

And for the first time since his youth, he wept.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the King Who Chose His People

And it came to pass in the final days of the Last War that Votis stood upon the edge of extinction.

Its cities burned.

Its fields blackened.

Its rivers carried the dead toward the sea.

The banners of rival kings surrounded the Empire from every direction.

And the heavens watched.

For all believed the end had arrived.

Thus did the people gather.

The old.

The young.

The wounded.

The forgotten.

Those who had once praised the King.

Those who had once cursed his name.

All stood alike before destruction.

For death makes equals of all things.

And the King beheld them.

He saw the farmers.

The soldiers.

The mothers.

The children.

The countless lives entrusted to his rule.

And he understood at last the true cost of kingship.

For a throne is not built upon power.

It is built upon responsibility.

This lesson arrives too late for most kings.

Yet it came to him.

And thus did he make his choice.

The surviving records claim the Valkyrie opposed him.

The surviving records claim she begged him to flee.

The surviving records claim she offered to stand alone against heaven and demon-kind alike.

Whether these accounts speak truth remains disputed.

Yet all versions agree upon one certainty.

The King refused.

For there existed no victory beyond that day.

Only sacrifice.

Thus did he prepare.

Not for conquest.

Not for glory.

Not for survival.

For ending.

It is written that he laid aside his crown.

It is written that he removed the symbols of office.

It is written that he walked among his people one final time.

The old accounts claim many failed to recognize him.

For they expected a monster.

Instead they found a man.

This detail appears repeatedly.

The scholars remain uncertain why.

The answer may be obvious.

For monsters are remembered.

Men are mourned.

Thus did the final battle begin.

The heavens descended.

The Demon Kings advanced.

The world itself seemed determined to witness the end.

And at the center stood the King of Votis.

Alone.

The records become fragmented thereafter.

Entire passages are missing.

Entire pages have been torn away.

Yet enough remains to reveal the outcome.

The King did not retreat.

The King did not surrender.

The King did not kneel.

Thus did he fight.

And thus did he fall.

Not for empire.

Not for ambition.

Not for legacy.

For his people.

The descendants of Nox would later call this weakness.

The heavens would later call it tragedy.

History would later call it sacrifice.

Yet none of these words fully describe what occurred.

For the King achieved something neither gods nor demons had ever expected.

He was remembered.

Not because he was feared.

But because he was loved.

The final fragment survives only upon a single damaged page recovered from the ruins of Votis.

The author remains unknown.

The ink is faded.

Yet the words endure.

And they are preserved here exactly as recovered.

And when the King fell, the people wept.

And when the people wept, the heavens fell silent.

And the Valkyrie screamed.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the Waiting Song

And it came to pass after the Fall of Votis that the Valkyrie vanished.

No command recalled her.

No heaven received her.

No battlefield witnessed her descent.

Thus did the world search.

And thus did the world fail.

For she did not journey to kingdoms.

Nor did she return to the halls above.

Instead she entered the forest.

The forest now called Greymont.

And there she remained.

The oldest records claim she arrived upon the seventh day after the Fall.

The newest records claim she arrived upon the seventh year.

The truth has been lost.

Only the waiting remains.

Thus did the Valkyrie make her dwelling beside a spring hidden within the heart of the forest.

There she sat.

There she watched.

There she listened.

And there she waited.

The seasons passed.

The kingdoms changed.

The generations died.

Yet still she remained.

This troubled many.

For Valkyries were not fashioned for patience.

Nor grief.

Nor longing.

Such things belonged to mortals.

Yet the evidence persisted.

Thus did pilgrims seek her.

Thus did scholars pursue her.

Thus did kings attempt to find her.

Few succeeded.

And fewer returned unchanged.

For the forest did not welcome visitors.

The forest merely tolerated them.

It is written that those who reached the Heart Spring often found the Valkyrie seated upon a stone beside the water.

Neither sleeping.

Nor speaking.

Nor praying.

Simply waiting.

As though she expected footsteps to emerge from the trees at any moment.

As though centuries possessed no meaning.

As though promises could outlive death.

Many attempted to comfort her.

Many attempted to reason with her.

Many attempted to persuade her to abandon her vigil.

None succeeded.

For the Valkyrie had made a choice.

And choices, once made, become difficult things to escape.

Thus did the years become centuries.

Thus did the centuries become legend.

And legend became song.

The first account of the Singing survives only in fragments.

Its author remains unknown.

Yet similar descriptions appear throughout the ages.

A voice carried upon moonlit winds.

A melody without instrument.

A sorrow without end.

Travelers reported hearing it deep within Greymont.

Hunters heard it among the trees.

Wanderers heard it beside the spring.

And all described the same feeling.

Not fear.

Not danger.

Longing.

As though the song mourned something beautiful.

As though it waited for something absent.

As though it remembered.

Thus was it named the Waiting Song.

And thus did the tale spread throughout the world.

Mothers whispered it to children.

Soldiers sang it beside campfires.

Old men recited it from failing memory.

And every telling ended the same.

The Valkyrie waits.

The King does not return.

The song continues.

Yet the oldest surviving fragment concerning the Waiting Song contains an unusual addition.

One many historians dismiss.

One preserved here regardless.

For the duty of the Reliquaries is preservation.

Not judgment.

Thus is the fragment recorded exactly as recovered.

And the Valkyrie waited.

And the forest remembered.

And the spring endured.

And one day the song shall cease.

For no promise remains unanswered forever.

The remainder of the text has been lost.

Concerning the Kingdom Yet Unborn

And it came to pass that the scribes of old grew fearful.

For they had seen many kings.

They had witnessed many empires.

They had recorded the rise and fall of countless thrones.

Yet among all futures revealed to them, one vision caused even the oldest prophets to tremble.

Thus they sealed their testimony in gold.

Thus they buried it beneath stone.

Thus was born the Gold Reliquary.

And these are the words that remain.

In the age beyond ages,

when the bones of kingdoms sleep beneath the earth,

when rivers have forgotten their names,

when crowns have become dust,

there shall arise a city upon the ruins of another.

The city shall be called New Heaven.

And it shall stand where Nox Aurelia once ruled.

The towers of the old city shall not be destroyed.

They shall be consumed.

The streets shall remain.

The walls shall remain.

The bones shall remain.

Yet all shall belong to another kingdom.

For New Heaven shall be built upon the skeleton of the world that came before.

And the old city shall become its foundation.

The prophets asked:

Who shall rule this kingdom?

The answer came not as a voice.

But as a wound.

A mark.

A name written in fire.

Vesper Moretti.

And the heavens grew silent.

For even the stars knew that name.

And it was revealed that he would not inherit his throne.

Nor would he seize it through conquest alone.

For the throne of New Heaven had been waiting.

Patient.

Empty.

Hungry.

Since before the first kingdoms.

Since before the first crowns.

Since before the first lie.

And when the appointed hour arrived,

the throne would remember its king.

Yet the prophecy spoke of another.

A shadow cast across history.

A king long dead.

A king whose blood still echoed through the ages.

The Greatest Demon King.

The Last Crown of Votis.

The Beloved of the Valkyrie.

The King Who Chose His People.

The King Who Died So That Others Might Live.

The King Whose name was swallowed by time.

And the prophets beheld a terrible mystery.

For they could not tell where one king ended and the other began.

They saw a throne.

Then two thrones.

Then one.

They saw a king in ancient furs crowned in blood.

Then a king in black standing among towers of steel.

Then both.

Then neither.

And the prophets cried out in fear.

For history and prophecy had become the same thing.

The Valkyrie appeared beside them.

Her wings carried the dust of forgotten wars.

Her armor bore the scars of ten thousand battles.

And she stood waiting.

As she had always stood waiting.

As she would always stand waiting.

The prophets asked:

“What do you await?”

And she answered:

“The return of my king.”

Then was revealed the final terror.

The greatest secret hidden within the Gold Reliquary.

For the Demon Kings of old believed strength alone ruled the world.

Yet one king would rise above all others.

Not through slaughter.

Not through conquest.

Not through fear.

But through devotion.

For he would possess that which no Demon King had ever mastered.

A kingdom worth dying for.

A people worth protecting.

A throne worth carrying.

And a Valkyrie who never stopped waiting.

Then the prophets saw the world itself bow.

They saw banners stretching beyond horizons.

They saw cities kneeling.

They saw kingdoms joining willingly.

They saw roads connecting continents.

They saw New Heaven become the greatest kingdom ever known.

Larger than Votis.

Larger than every empire before it.

A kingdom of ash and memory.

A kingdom of loyalty and judgment.

A kingdom ruled by the Marked Sovereign.

And beneath the final page of the Gold Reliquary,

written in a hand no scholar has ever identified,

there remains a single passage.

A warning.

A promise.

Or perhaps both.

“When the waiting ends,

when the Wolf kneels,

when the Axis turns,

when the king remembers,

New Heaven shall open its gates.

And the world shall know its Sovereign.”

Thus ends the Gold Reliquary.