Sadly I do not own Valkyrie Profile, or the characters found in the wonderful game. No profit is being made from this fic, I just like to dabble in Square Enix's playground.

----Michelle

The full moon hung heavy in the sky, shining it's pale light onto the forest below, a soft glow of illumination that did little to lighten the darkness. Torches hung in their metal staves, set at three feet intervals, lighting a path that led deeper into the forest. The stone road glowed with the light of the flames, and footsteps echoed as they walked across the rocks. It was the sound of many walking, a small procession of people, dressed in dark clothing, blending into the night.

There was a solemn feeling over the crowd, many heads were bowed down, expressions sad but determined. There was weeping among the women in the crowd, mothers huddling closer to their daughters, holding onto their arms for comfort's sake. And scattered among the crowd was warriors, men and women armed to the teeth, expression serious as they herded the people through the woods.

There was no resistance from the people, though some turned mutinous glares on the warriors. But they had no weapons, no fighting skills, knowing they stood little chance of winning against the warriors, even in a fair fight. So they walked in silence, allowing themselves to be driven forward, step by step.

Ahead of the people, were several women, their heads held up high, proud, haughty expressions on their faces. They surrounded a woman, a mere slip of a girl, who was dressed in flowing white, sheer silk that draped across her arms, and dragged across the forest floor. She looked as sad as the villagers, but she kept her head up, refusing to allow her eyes to fill with tears. Even in the dim light, her hair shined, that golden mass standing out among the villagers. It had once been her pride and joy, that hair of hers, but now it was nothing more than a curse. She had been chosen for hair, for her eyes that were a liquid blue, chosen as suitable for the warrior's dark deeds. Her name was Alana, and she was about to be made into a sacrifice.

Even now she reflected on how this had come to past, thinking on the last few days of her life. Coriander was her home, and it was a simple village. They were poor, and did not have much, their riches coming from farming the land, but they were a happy village. Never knowing the touch of war or violence, living a happy, peaceful life for the last eighteen years. Until they came.

They arrived as though out of some nightmare, speeding through the village on horseback. Laughing cruelly, and cutting down the men who tried to stand up to them. Pitchforks and shovels made woefully inadequate weapons against swords and magic. Blood was spilled, whole rivers of it, the bodies lining the streets, women and children panicking, screaming in horror.

It could have been worse, the men could have turn their lusts onto the women, but they held back from the sport of rape, choosing instead to gather up all the women. A man came then, dressed in dark armor. Blood was a dried stain on the metal, the red rusted away to a dirty brown color. He wore a helmet that had pointed horns, making him look like a devil. He walked up and down the rows of women, stroking his pointed black beard, eyes critical.

Alana had thought he was to have first dibs on the women of Coriander, and in a way she had been right. He would suddenly reach forward, jerking a woman up against his chest, fingering her hair. Another would be grabbed, and he would force open her mouth, counting out her remaining teeth. A frown would color his face, the man not finding what he was searching for.

He looked ready to give up, when suddenly his hands were on her, dragging Alana out from her mother's protective embrace. He pulled at her robes, yanking back the hood, and gasped to see her golden hair. He smiled, flashing yellow stained teeth at her, hand reaching to caress her cheek. Alana had reacted in a fit of anger, snapping her teeth at his finger tips. He drew back but not before she got first blood, the devil warrior throwing her to the ground.

His men advanced on her, spears being trained, ready to do her in. Alana did not cry out in fear, keeping her blue eyes trained on their leader. He raised a hand, ordering the men to stop. And then the women had came, lovely beauties, with cruelty in their eyes. They had helped Alana to her feet, touching her skin, caressing her hair. She was led away, under armed escort into one of the villager's homes. There she was stripped of her garments, bathed and cleaned by the women, her hair and skin being anointed with oils and perfumes. A gown finer than anything she had ever seen was given to her, Alana marveling at the feel of it's silk material.

She was fed all kinds of food, Alana trying to refuse, but her stomach growled at the sight of the fine meal spread out before her. So she dined, even as her mind whispered that she was being fattened up like a pig before slaughter. She thought she had been chosen to be the bride of the devil horned warrior, at the very least she thought to be made his slave. Instead she learned the horrible truth, she was to be sacrificed to the God Odin in hopes of granting the warriors much needed luck in their battle against Crell Monferaign.

She had barely reacted to the news, almost relieved that the warrior would not lay his filthy hands on her. Her mother was a different story, ranting and raving like a madwoman upon hearing the news. She had pulled at her hair, falling to her knees, weeping openly though the warriors laughed and jeered. Alana tried to tell her mother that it would be all right, but the woman was inconsolable.

Someone had taken mercy on the screaming woman, slamming the hilt of his blade into the back of her head. Alana had watched expressionless as her mother's eyes rolled back in her head, the woman slumping forward into the dirt. People stepped over her, the warriors eager to begin the procession. Forced forward on sword point, the villagers of Coriander began their journey. Deeper and deeper they were taken into the forest, until at last they reached an abandoned temple.

The stone building was badly in disarray, pillars toppled over, the plaster walls bearing numerous cracks. Weeds and moss grew along the walls, and cobwebs hung in the corners. The roof had collapsed, letting the moon's light into the center most room. It was there that the parade came to a stop, the people gathered to one side of the cavernous room.

Alana didn't put up a fight, allowing the women to guide her forward without incident. The priestesses led her to the pool of water, her dress floating up and away from her body as she sank deeper and deeper into the water. Soon she had to thread water with her hands, straining her slipper covered toes to touch the bottom of the pool. A raised dais floated on a platform in the center of the cold water, Alana urged towards it's stairs.

Dripping wetly, she climbed, and saw a stone altar placed on the dais. She couldn't make out the color, but she was positive there was blood on the stone. The whole place reeked of death, and she despaired to think she would die here. At least I will see the moon. She thought, glancing up to the sky. She felt comforted to see it, grateful that such a beautiful sight would be her last.

She was barely aware of chains being put on her ankles and wrists, the priestesses securing her to the altar. Loud splashing was heard, and she turned her head, seeing the devil horned warrior wading through the pool. He had shed his armor, clad in leather jerkin, and he held his sword up over his head, careful to keep the blade from getting wet.

Alana watched him as he climbed the stairs, making his way towards her. The priestesses parted, allowing him entrance into the circle they had formed around the altar. He looked at Alana, eyes roaming over her body. She stared defiantly at him, even as he brought his sword forward, placing the tip of it between her breasts. Alana held back her gasps, determined to not give him the satisfaction of her screams. She would die with dignity, ascend to the heavens without even a whimper on her lips.

And yet...as he pulled back his sword, a grin of pure cruelty on his face, she felt a twinge of fear. Please. She thought, a whispered prayer to whatever deity would listen. I don't want to die...

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the sword skewer through her chest, trying to block out the sounds of the priestesses' chanting. Sound seemed to fade, the murmur of the crowd going silent, even her heart seemed to stop beating. And then she heard it, and it was strange...of all the things she could have heard in her final moments, she never imagined she'd hear bells. But there they were, ringing out, and then a collective gasp was heard.

She heard an odd sound, a whoosh through the air as a body went flying. Alana opened her eyes at the sound of a splash, and she frowned confused. The warrior was gone, and the priestesses huddled together, staring at something. Alana tried to sit up, her chains clanking, and she heard the sound again, an explosion this time following the whoosh.

"What's going on?!" She cried out to the priestesses, but they merely shook their heads, voices stolen away by fear. There were screams, the villagers and the warriors, panicked shouts followed by the stampede of feet. She turned her head and saw people fleeing the temple, but only the ones from Coriander made it out the doors. The warriors were struck by golden blazes of light, piercing their armor, striking through to their hearts.

She frowned, not understanding what was happening, and then she saw HIM. He was floating in the air, a sack of arrows across his back, an ornately designed bow in his hands. He placed arrow after arrow against the strings of his silver blow, and as he released the projectiles, they glowed with power. Shining, gold shafts of light that struck and killed the warriors who had attacked her village.

When the last warrior fell dead, then the man turned, and she gasped to see the malevolent anger in his green eyes. He glared at the priestesses, and for a second aimed an arrow at the cowering women. They fell to their knees, begging and pleading for their lives, and he hesitated. With a gruff nod of his head, the floating men spared their lives, allowing the priestesses to flee the dais.

He watched them splash through the water, knocking each other over as they attempted to flee. Alana struggled against the chains, hearing them clink together, holding fast against her attempts to break free. The sound drew the man's attention, and she paled, fearing what he would do. Instead his expression softened, green eyes looking relieved as he gazed upon her. A hint of a smile curved his lips, and he began walking towards her, feet stepping across the air as though it was solid stone.

"Stay back!" Alana shouted, hating the fearful tone that was in her voice.

"Shhh...it's all right..." He said soothingly, coming ever closer to her. "You're safe now...Alicia..."

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To Be Continued...

Michelle