Somewhere past the last breath, the Norse promised, a rider in bright wings is already coming for you.
The valkyrie was the other half of a violent faith: not only the one who chose the slain, but the one who welcomed them. She lifts the worthy dead off the field, carries them over the trembling rainbow road, and in Valhalla she fills the horn and hands it down a table of heroes who will fight all day and feast all night until Ragnarok calls them out for the last battle. Terror on the field, honor at the door.
It is the oldest bargain in the north: earn your death, and be received as though you mattered.
Caught here mid-flight in full color, spear and wing. Printed heavy on garment dyed cotton, for the ones who plan to be received, not just remembered.
