Choosers of the Dead |17,132 PCS|

an ethereal light. She wore armor of silvery feathers, each one glinting with hues of blue and violet, as though capturing fragments of the northern lights. Her eyes, sharp and fierce, scanned the battlefield below. Souls drifted up from fallen warriors, their final breaths echoing through the air as faint whispers. Her purpose was clear: to choose the bravest among them to ascend to Valhalla, where they would prepare for the great battles of Ragnarok.
As she extended her hand, an unexpected figure emerged—a warrior, gravely wounded yet holding onto life, defying death with every shallow breath. His gaze met hers, unyielding, and something stirred within her, a spark she hadn’t felt in eons. There was a fierceness in his spirit, an unbroken defiance even at the edge of death. She felt herself drawn to him, an unfamiliar warmth tingling beneath her armor. But she hesitated, for such choices came with consequences she was forbidden to face.