Chapter 4 - Mother Riho (Divine POV / Lore)

  30 minutes earlier, at the start of Vala’s awakening…

  Standing at the edge of the divine pool, I watch the still water, tension pressing into me as my child’s transformation approaches. Beside me, my father, the immovable Kuraokami, remains as silent and watchful as ever—an ancient dragon embodying both strength and wisdom. A short distance away, Freyja, Goddess of War, Love, and Valkyries, observes with a calm enthusiasm, an unusual but oddly reassuring presence in this moment.

  “Little Dragon.” My father’s voice, resonant and deep, breaks the silence. “This child is unusual, but they are of our bloodline. In time, I will accept them fully. The foundation for their inheritance ritual has been laid, but the power converging here is immense—beyond what the child can bear alone. As their mother, this duty falls to you.”

  I acknowledge my father’s trust, understanding the deeper intent behind his words. This ritual could unfold without my involvement, yet his design grants me a role that bridges the divine and the familial—an invitation to bond with my child as they step into their legacy. With a sense of anticipation, I extend a tendril from the divine pool, guiding it with precision toward the ethereal image of my child.

  Freyja leans in slightly, a spark of humor in her eyes. “It seems they felt that. Quite the reaction.”

  “Goddess Freyja.” My tone is frosty, though not without respect. “You are here uninvited, yet you act as if this concerns you directly. Speak your intentions plainly.”

  “Demigoddess Riho,” she counters with warmth, unfazed by my tone. “I am here precisely because it does concern me. Your child is set to become part of my realm, and as the Goddess of the Valkyries, I have come to lend my strength. Perhaps for personal reasons as well.”

  Her smile seems genuine, yet as the topic shifts to my child, I feel a frown forming at her interest in them.

  “Skuld has already sensed the child’s first response—a cold sensation, likely from linking to this place. That confirms the initial phase was a success.” Freyja’s tone turns more businesslike, perhaps picking up on my mood.

  Our interaction feels like a game of calculated moves and countermoves. Freyja has foreseen our fates intertwining, while I walk forward without the clarity of her vision. A flicker of frustration stirs within me, but I temper it with practicality.

  “Freyja, you see the future and understand the significance of Mist’s place in my life. This child… is a miracle in every sense of the word, bridging two worlds, two bloodlines. But they have suffered because of my gamble in pursuing this path. Will they find happiness? Or will their existence be shadowed by the consequences of my choices?”

  Freyja’s expression softens, though her gaze remains unwavering. “Their path will not be an easy one, Riho. But they will find joy, companionship—even love—in time. There is one meant for them, though neither yet knows it. Had I interfered with the nature of your pregnancy, this future would never have taken shape. You would have lost your bond, and I would never have come to know my future daughter.

  Now, as you forge this connection, I can help fortify the Valkyrie line while you deepen their ties to this divine pool.”

  I listen carefully, measuring her words. They offer some comfort, yet I guard my response.

  “Your answer would satisfy most,” I say bluntly, “but I am not ‘most.’ Seer, reveal what fate has in store for them.”

  Freyja’s gaze deepens, her expression troubled. “Their fate is woven from both light and shadow, and the trials ahead will be as unforgiving as they are necessary. The path will test them, but they possess the strength to defy even our foresight.”

  “Then I will see that their training shapes them for centuries, not mere decades,” I reply, my own instincts aligning with her words. “What I lack in foresight, I make up for in vigilance. Had your answer been lacking, Freyja, I would not entrust you with my child.”

  As we speak, I observe Mist as she catches our child with rare tenderness. Freyja’s smile reflects my own hidden fondness, though it fades as she raises her hand. With a gentle touch of divine energy, she brings my child into slumber. Mist carries them to her bed, and the vulnerability she reveals speaks to the shift within her.

  “Mockery,” I murmur, almost to myself, the realization striking like a slap. “She humored me, accepted my lineage, but never truly believed.”

  Beside me, Freyja laughs, soft and knowing, her voice laced with amusement. The silence that follows feels deliberate, a rare acknowledgment of the bond we share in this moment, watching Mist in her prayer.

  She prayed to me first?” Freyja’s smirk appears, her tone both playful and curious, as though she already knows the answer. “Did that surprise you?”

  A flicker of annoyance stirs, but before I can fully process it, a second prayer reaches me—this time, directed to me by Mist. The warmth in her intent resonates, catching me off guard, yet I steady myself, absorbing the sentiment before returning to the ritual.

  Refocusing, I align my energy with Freyja’s as she joins me, her presence subtle but firm. Together, we weave our forces—each movement deliberate, each tendril vital—as we synchronize with the essence unfolding before us.

  Reaching a crucial point, I extend a single talon toward Freyja. She places her hand over it, a silent accord passing between us. Together, we undertake the delicate task of reshaping the body’s essence—converting its excess into mana, preserving only the purest elements needed for the transformation ahead.

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  Her soul appears before us, an ethereal vision of the being she is to become. Dark hair flows around her like a silken halo, framing a face untouched by the cares of the world. She stands tall, her features noble, her expression serene. Every element of her form speaks of strength, elegance, and the promise of a beauty that will transcend even the immortal realm.

  “She’s extraordinary, even in this nascent state,” Freyja observes, a trace of awe breaking through her usual composure. “As she reaches her ascendance, even my power may pale in comparison to her potential.”

  I nod, a fierce pride swelling within me—one I allow myself to share openly with the goddess. “A mother’s view may be biased, but she will surpass us in time. I would wager on it.”

  Freyja arches a brow, her voice laced with amusement. “I do not need to wager on what I can already see. But as for your mysterious bet… perhaps one day, my own daughter will stand as her equal. You have my help now, and I trust we will meet again on this shared path.”

  The intricate dance of energies continues as we guide the elements to merge seamlessly with her spirit. With each passing moment, her form takes shape, aligning with the earthly realm. Yet deep within, the Valkyrie’s mana core begins to awaken—an otherworldly reservoir meant to expand as her strength grows.

  For now, she will appear as any other human—her true nature concealed, the transformation gradual. Freyja and I work in tandem, refining the mana pool and strengthening her bond to her Valkyrie lineage, ensuring she is prepared to wield power beyond mortal comprehension.

  “Freyja,” I murmur as we near the final stage, “if there is any wisdom or guidance you wish to pass on, now is the time. Her bloodline awakening will reveal more, but she needs a foundation.”

  Freyja’s response is immediate, her words gentle yet firm. “I have already placed what she needs within her. Skills and instincts will surface with each trial, but she already knows how to wield herself as a Valkyrie—in both body and spirit.”

  Satisfied, I nod. “Then it is time to proceed with her naming and the final phase of the ritual.”

  Freyja’s curiosity flickers, but she remains silent. I sense her respect for the gravity of this moment—one long-prepared between my father and me, a plan that bridges divine purpose with familial love.

  Within my child’s dreams, I shape a vision of my own realm, a reflection of this divine space. A tranquil pool within the dreamscape, tethered to its counterpart in the Divine Realm. It is no more than an illusion, yet under my influence, it gains substance. As the connection between realms solidifies, control over both spaces becomes mine.

  The realm is small, but it is mine to share with her—a timeless sanctuary where I may guide her in ways the mortal world cannot. Here, I will forge a bond that transcends lifetimes.

  “Your child’s dreamscape,” Freyja notes, observing as I complete my vision. “Time here is nearly limitless—an hour stretched to the very edges of what the mind can conceive. Every lesson, every skill you impart will reach depths no mortal time could achieve.”

  She smiles, her approval warm and sincere. “And you will see her grow as she could not in the mundane world. Your plans are thorough, Riho. When the time comes, I would seek this for my own child.”

  The pride I feel at her acknowledgment is tempered by a quiet longing as I reflect on the twenty years I have lost. Yet through this timeless space, I will reclaim them a thousandfold.

  “This is for my daughter, whom I will see walk this path and beyond. The years missed will be repaid in timeless hours.”

  I stand at the edge of the divine pool, my form shifting to match my daughter’s race—a form I rarely wear, shaped by the traits I once used for my human guise, some of which have passed to her. She inherits my black hair, but beneath, streaks of silver run through it—a gift from Mist, a mark of her Valkyrie blood. But unlike my dark eyes, hers shine a vibrant blue—Mist’s legacy, brilliant and unmistakable. She is neither fully me nor fully Mist, but a fusion of us both. She will never be a dragon, but our resemblance is enough. In this form, I stand between my heritage and hers.

  Here, I draw her consciousness—not binding it, but allowing her to enter freely, as she chooses. She appears, clad in the traditional Miko garments that mirror my own. As she steps forward, her gaze drifts to the pool, her expression calm as she studies our forms side by side.

  “Greetings, child,” I say, my voice gentle. “I am Riho, your birth mother, daughter of Kuraokami, and wife of Mist. This is my realm, a place within your dreams where we may speak freely. In time, we will train here, and we will grow closer, but for now, let us begin with your name.”

  I raise my hand, tracing symbols in the air, each one a mark of the connection binding us. “I, Demigoddess Riho, in the name of Kuraokami, hereby name you Vala, Unnamed from the Twelve. Daughter of the Valkyrie Mist, granddaughter of Skuld from the Six They Named.”

  Through the bond, I feel my father’s silent assent—a gift unspoken yet felt. Freyja’s acknowledgment is there, too, though I remain surprised that she would allow one of her Valkyries to serve another deity so fully.

  As the ritual nears its end, I sense my father’s presence recede, a quiet blessing passed to the next generation. His pride—his love—reaches me, though he remains distant, granting me the space to be a mother, a guide to Vala.

  Her eyes search mine, curiosity flickering across her expression as she processes the words I have spoken. I allow her this time, patient, knowing that here, time is abundant—that every answer can unfold in its due course.

  She stammers softly, “Daughter? Vala? Demigoddess Mother Riho? Kuraokami?”

  I take her hand, guiding her to the edge of the pool, where our images rest side by side, reflected in the stillness. She sways slightly, and I hold her close, steadying her as she gathers her thoughts.

  A laugh escapes her, light and uncertain. “So, the bloodline awakening failed, and I… I died?” She gazes up at me, her tone caught between disbelief and relief. “Heaven isn’t what I expected, but it’s… it’s good to see you, Mother.”

  I smile, though my tone remains measured. “No, Vala. You are alive, and what you see now is real, though we stand within a dream realm I created to guide you. Your reflection here shows your true form, as you will see when you awaken.”

  Understanding dawns in her eyes, softening her expression. “So… I’m dreaming, but I’m also seeing the truth? This body is real, and you… you’re really my mother?”

  “Yes, my daughter.” The words come naturally, carrying a sentiment I had not fully anticipated. “This realm is our sanctuary, where we will meet. I have shared memories that will guide you, instincts that will awaken as you need them. When you return to the waking world, you will find yourself within a thin shell of ice—a protective layer formed during your transformation. Your family awaits you, and please, greet Mist on my behalf.”

  I allow a gentle smile as she nods, her gaze brimming with quiet determination. The promise in her expression is one I cherish, though I know challenges lie ahead.

  “Return to them,” I whisper, feeling her presence begin to fade as she stirs. “And when you are ready, visit the shrine. Bring your mother, Mist, with you. We will meet again soon.”

  As her consciousness drifts back to the waking world, I am left alone by the pool, the remnants of our encounter resting in the tranquil silence. This may not have been a perfect meeting, but it was a beginning. A bond, once fractured, begins to mend as I look forward to our next encounter.