TBATE: CAERA | VALKYRIE ASCENSION

Chapter 1: Senna Vitra

SERIS VITRA'S POV:

I stand on the balcony, my gaze fixed on the sprawling city of Sehz-Clar below. The wind is sharp and cold, but I hardly feel it. My mind is trapped in the memories of the war that ended just months ago—a war that claimed thousands of lives. A war I was a part of as Scythe of Sehz-Clar. The title feels heavy now, like a chain around my neck.

What did we gain from it? Land, titles, a fleeting sense of power—nothing that justifies the oceans of blood spilled. I close my eyes, but the images are seared into my mind. Fields turned into graves, and villages were reduced to ashes. The screams still echo in my ears, the faces of the fallen flash before me. They called it a victory, but all I see is loss.

I turn away from the night sky and step back inside. A map is spread across the table, detailing the territories we took from Vechor. My fingers hover over it, tracing the lines that define our new borders. Each line represents a battle, each inch of land paid for in blood. The highbloods celebrate, their greed sated for now, but at what cost? They look at this map and see gains. I see ghosts.

I am Seris Vritra, Scythe of Sehz-Clar, and yet I feel powerless. I was supposed to be a protector, a force of strength for our people. But all I've done is play into the hands of those who see this world as nothing more than a game. The Sovereigns—they sit above us, watching from their thrones, treating our lives as pieces on a board. They pit us against one another and push us into these wars, all to satisfy their twisted need for control and entertainment.

I clench my fists, the anger rising again. How many more must die before they're satisfied? How many more wars will they orchestrate, all in the name of their so-called order? I've seen it all—the manipulation, the lies, the sacrifices. The nobles play along, eager for whatever scraps of power the Sovereigns toss their way. They're blind to the fact that they're nothing but pawns in this endless cycle of violence.

But I see it. I see the truth. And I refuse to be a pawn any longer. I refuse to let them dictate the fate of our world. The war with Vechor may be over, but the battle is far from done.

As I stand there, grappling with the weight of my thoughts, a sudden shift in the air catches my attention. I turned my heart racing, just in time to see a figure ascending from the darkness below. The figure floats effortlessly, drawn by mana, and lands gracefully on the balcony beside me.

The figure is cloaked in shadows, their disheveled hair catching what little light there is. The disarray of their appearance—hair unkempt and clothes in disarray—gives them an otherworldly quality. They hold something tightly within a blanket, the edges of the fabric peeking out, revealing a small, mysterious bundle.

My breath catches in my throat. Instinctively, I reach for my weapon, but something in the figure's demeanor stops me. There is a desperation in their eyes, a silent plea that resonates with the turmoil I feel. I see the blanket moving slightly, the form inside it shifting.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice sharp but tinged with fear. "What is this?"

The figure doesn't immediately answer. Instead, they slowly unfurl the blanket, revealing the contents within. I see a small, fragile baby, wrapped tightly in the fabric. The sight is so unexpected that for a moment, I am rendered speechless. The baby's eyes, wide and innocent, seem to peer directly into my soul.

The figure's gaze meets mine, and I can see the fear and urgency reflected there. Then, the figure speaks—a voice so familiar it sends a chill down my spine.

"Seris!" she says, her voice barely above a whisper, but the familiarity is undeniable. My heart skips a beat as recognition floods in. "Please, protect my child."