The Valkyrie’s Ghost

Author's Notes:Welcome to the fully edited edition of The Valkyrie's Ghost. This 15 plus part epic first appeared as 01 - The Valkyrie's Ghost (Beta) back in early November 2025. It's a slow burn romance with a twist or three in the opening chapters. When I first released it, my grammar and spelling were... let's call them adventurous. Before I bothered, fine, begged, an editor to touch this thing, I wanted to know if the story itself had any legs.

Turns out it did.

Your steady votes between 4.7 and 4.9 absolutely floored me. I'm honored, humbled, and maybe still a little stunned. So I went hunting for editors and somehow convinced two phenomenal humans to take on this monster of a manuscript. Dimitri and Dee, you are legends.

A quick reminder as you dive in: every character and event in this story is a product of my imagination. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely accidental. This tale does explore foster families and childhood trauma, and I've done my best to treat those themes with respect and care.

And just so we're clear, if you're looking for a three page whirlwind where the two lovebirds immediately start checking out the bees (yes, those bees), this is not that story. This one takes its time.

To all my readers: settle in, get cozy, and enjoy The Valkyrie's Ghost.

PHD

Chapter 01

Lysandra ValeSaturday, December 6thBridges to Brilliance: STEM for Rural Youth GalaCeleste Bartos ForumNew York Public LibraryNew York City, NY

Lysandra Vale

Saturday, December 6th

Bridges to Brilliance: STEM for Rural Youth Gala

Celeste Bartos Forum

New York Public Library

New York City, NY

A thump on the microphone echoed around the towering elegance of the Celeste Bartos Forum of the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building of the New York Public Library. The crowd quickly fell quiet as they awaited the start of the program. A familiar New York personality looked around the hall before he leaned into the microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the man in his early forties with warm olive skin said. His athletic build was plain through his well-tailored, designer tux. His short, dark hair was beginning to welcome small flecks of silver, and his brown eyes showed excitement to start the introductions. "I am Dante Ramirez, and you may know me as DJ onCity Currentsfound on PBS New York or listened to my podcastCode Switch: STEM Stories from the Margins."

The MC masterfully navigated the applause of the crowd.

"When Ms. Vale reached out to me to invite me to join her in this fundraiser, I was intrigued," DJ offered with a smile. "Why would a professional athlete want to invest so much time in something as mundane as generating a non-profit foundation for rural public schools to access STEM opportunities? She flew to New York, we had a nice lunch at a deli, and she shared her story. I hope you didn't bring your check books, ladies and gentlemen, but I walked out of the deli agreeing to serve as master of ceremonies at no cost, bought five tickets for my wife and three daughters, and made a modest donation." A chorus of laughter echoed in the dome of the library's Great Hall.

"Now, I want to warn Lysandra that the nice introduction she provided me to give tonight was summarily shredded by a person I was bribed to withhold the name of, but will confirm it is from someone on her management team." DJ held for the laughter. "In 2016, the world was introduced to Lysandra Vale of Tulsa, Oklahoma, when she became the first athlete to be awarded the National Gatorade Player of the Year in both basketball and track & field.

"Ms. Vale selected the University of Oklahoma at which she was a four-time All-American in basketball and was awarded the Naismith Women's College Player of the Year Award three consecutive years. The Oklahoma Sooner Woman's basketball team made the Final Four each year she was enrolled and won the national championship in 2017, 2018, and 2019." He paused for a round of applause. "She holds NCAA records in points per game at 34.1 and triple-doubles at 68. She had seven quadruple-doubles with points, assists, rebounds, steals, and in three games she had double digits in points, assists, rebounds, steals, and blocks.

"Lysandra not only excelled on the court," DJ continued. "In her four years of track, she earned twenty-three NCAA Championships in the 100-meter, 200-meter, 400-meter, long jump and pole vault. She holds NCAA and American Records in all five events. She was named the Collegiate Woman Athlete of the Year in 2017, 2018, and 2019, and she graduated with a 3.9 GPA with a master's in Kinesiology and a minor in International Studies."

DJ paused and quipped, "What an underachiever."

"We all know that was just the opening act of her athletic journey. After a lengthy negotiation with the USA Women's basketball team and track team, Lysandra Vale became the first athlete to compete in both sports during the Tokyo Summer Olympics. Well, she did all right." The Grand Hall exploded into laughter and applause.

"The world was shocked when in track & field a 23-year-old woman won an amazing seven gold medals. She was the first person to win gold in both trackandfield. She set three world records in the 100, 200, and 400-meter and an Olympic record in the pole vault. She also anchored the US Women's 4x100 and 4x400 relays. The US Women's basketball team also won gold, with Lysandra averaging the most points and assists in the tournament.

"The scary thing is that she was able to defend all eight of her gold medals in the 2024 Paris Olympics, replacing the Soviet Union's Larisa Latynina's nine gold medals in the 1956, 1960, and 1964 Olympics to be the most decorated female athlete in Olympic history." Ramirez smiled as the raucous applause rolled from the audience.

"It was a shock to no one when Lysandra was selected as the first pick of the 2022 WNBA draft by the Seattle Storm, a team that had a core of their championship team retire in 2020. Ms. Vale was named Rookie of the Year, selected to the All-WNBA First Team, and voted onto the All-Defensive First Team. The Seattle Storm made the 2022 playoffs behind her stellar performance. In 2023, Lysandra earned MVP, Finals MVP, Defensive Player of the Year, and the Storm won the WNBA Championship. She and her team were able to replicate that in 2024 and 2025," DJ offered.

"Earlier this fall, journalist Janine Elmore wrote a cover story for People Magazine. She suggested that Lysandra Vale is the greatest athlete since Jim Thorpe." As DJ Ramirez uttered the wordPeople Magazine,the screen behind the stage displayed a 40-foot copy of Lysandra's People cover. "I must agree with her. Please stand and welcome the world's greatest athlete: Lysandra Vale."

The audience stood and exploded into a cacophony of applause dotted with cheers. A statuesque woman at the center table stood and seemingly glared, smiling, at two of her table mates, who both scurried over to hug the woman. As they approached, all observers became aware of the sense of scale between the three.

A spotlight flared to life and settled on the trio. The tallest was dressed in a midnight navy gown that hugged every curve. The light reflected off the thousands of silver sequins embroidered into the fabric like a work of art. The structured bodice circled her chest, leaving her shoulder naked to the night. The bright light offered the audience a glimpse through the sheer fabric of the dress to showcase the devastatingly long legs that were lithe and athletic. A pair of leather pumps with a modest two-inch heel peeked from below the hem of the dress, which puddled around her feet.

The three women were smiling, and the taller bent down to place a chaste kiss to each of the other two women's cheeks before she began her walk to the stage. Each stride would enticingly flash the audience a glimpse of the sculpted leg that looked more like the work of legendary artisans than real flesh and blood. The woman's light blonde hair was woven into an intricate braid in honor of some Norse deity, her bright, turquoise eyes gleaming with nervousness and excitement. With the agility of Athena, the woman danced up the stairs and walked across the stage to the welcoming emcee.

Those in the audience familiar with DJ Ramirez's 6'1" height were stunned to silence as the woman stood a good six inches above the PBS host. A radiant smile appeared, and she ducked to hug DJ. After a shared word, they broke apart. He approached the podium and took hold of the microphone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Lysandra Vale." DJ repeated and then stood to the side, joining in the applause.

Lysandra----------

Lysandra looked across the library's massive grand hall, amazed at the turnout of four hundred guests, each donating two thousand dollars per plate. She beamed her brightest smile and walked hesitantly to the podium. As the audience persisted in the standing ovation, she felt the damp palms signaling her unease at this part of her life, but she reminded herself that with her time and a bit of discomfort, the foundation received an $800,000 donation. She took a deep breath.

Her clear voice rang through the stone walls of the forum. "Thank you."

It was a full four minutes more when the contributors' applause calmed, and she could start her discussion of the plight of rural schools and the lack of opportunities for the students they serve. A slide deck behind her provided the visuals of the desperate needs many rural schools face. She announced that her corporate partner Nike was going to match any private donations that they received.

Thirty minutes later, Lysandra Vale was at the signing table with a line that weaved around the room and into the hallway. Her manager, Octavia Cross, and publicist, SiSi Morrow, managed the incentivized event. They would accept donations and purchases of memorabilia that they would take to Lysandra to personalize and sign.

It was seventy-nine minutes, over two hundred people, and a million selfies later when the last guest, a seven-year old girl, who stood amazed at Lysandra's height, was coaxed around the table for a hug from the athlete. The proud parents allowed Lysandra to pull the girl into her arms, and both took a flurry of photos. The little girl hugged Lysandra's neck and then scurried back around the table, full of excitement to tell her Daddy that Lysandra was way taller than him. Lysandra collapsed, smiling, into a chair the library had provided, pulled her left heel off, and massaged the ball of her feet.

"These are hateful torture devices," Lysandra shared with Octavia and SiSi.

"Now, now, Lysandra," a woman in a green gown with luxurious copper red hair styled in loose waves smiled. "Us normal women need to add an inch or four to our legs."

"SiSi, you're wearing four inch heels?" Lysandra asked dubiously.

"How else can I get to 5'10?" SiSi Morrow asked with a chuckle. "That makes me still eight inches shorter than you."

"How are you still standing?" Lysandra groaned as she slid the shoe back on and started the same process with the other foot.

"Practice, babe. Practice," SiSi chirped. "Besides, this is my work shoe. You work in a basketball high-top."

Octavia stepped over, zipping up an executive satchel. "Lysandra, you are amazing. Beyond the per plate donations, the Mayor of New York shared that he was donating the space, the catering company is only charging food and supply costs, and you had over three hundred donations that ranged from..." She pulled out her phone, long fingers sliding and tapping on its screen. The 5'10" woman had a marathoner's body, thin and athletic. Her ash blonde hair was styled in a bob without a strand out of place, and her ice blue eyes were bright with excitement. "$17.32 from an eight-year-old's piggy bank to $3 million from a law firm who was looking for a charity before the end of the year. All said and done, you were able to add $7,323,874. If Nike matches, your first fundraiser is nearing $15 million." Lysandra was stunned but slipping on her shoe, she stood and celebrated with her two closest friends.

Octavia turned to Lysandra. "You have another ninety minutes of hobnobbing. We just need to head to Astor Hall and the post-dinner reception." The business manager looked serious. "There is an open bar, so you may encounter some drunk idiots. Don't put up with shit. We hired twenty off-duty police officers. Just yell and they will quietly remove anyone who gives you any problems."

"Gotcha," Lysandra replied, "but I need to find a restroom."

"SiSi, why don't you run to Astor Hall and reassure everyone Lysandra is on her way?" Octavia suggested.

"Tootles," the redhead quipped as she sashayed her way towards the reception.

"Do you need company?" Octavia hefted the leather handbag.

"Nope, take your pirate's booty to your treasure chest, Captain Hook," Lysandra teased. "But after you point me in the right direction."

The ash blonde smiled and gestured to a hallway opposite of the way to the reception. "Be safe. See you in a few." She followed the pathway SiSi cut moments earlier.

Lysandra walked with her purposeful stride, the urgency of her bladder reminding her not to dilly-dally. The sound of her pumps on the marble floors echoed around the room, a few servers still bussing the tables nearby. Her mind raced with the possibility of these fundraisers and the implications for the foundation.

She turned the corner and happened across a chaotic scene. Plastic, yellow signs signaled wet floors and a man in tan coveralls with a New York City Library hat pulled down low on his head frantically mopped at a spreading puddle of water. The woman's bathroom had a piece of yellow tape stretched across the door, announcing it was closed.

She cursed, as her bladder was not pleased, and walked over to the janitor. "Um, excuse me."

The worker continued to stab his mop at the water, keeping his back to her. "Yea, what can I do for ya?"

"Where is the closest restroom?" Lysandra asked with all the patience her body could offer.

"There are a pair on the fair side of Astor Hall that are open for the event." He paused and pointed down the way she came, "About ten minutes that way." He returned to his mopping. "If you're in a hurry, you can find a smaller staff restroom down this hallway. Just ignore the sign, everyone will understand." He paused again and pointed down a darker corridor. "Two minutes that way." He wordlessly lifted his mop and crushed the water into a large, yellow bucket.

Lysandra looked both ways and, after consulting her bladder, headed down the dark hallway to the staff restroom. Her long, urgent stride cut the two minute walk in half. She entered and was happy to see the light spark to life automatically. She headed to the back stall and did her business.

A softclangechoed, and she paused. She listened for something else, but there was nothing. She pulled off the toilet tissue and finished, standing. She easily looked over the stall, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Thewooshof the auto flusher startled her.

She slid the lock back and pulled the door open. She took a tentative step and stopped. She didn't hear anything. She promised the bathroom gods that she would accept Octavia's offer of company in the future. She stepped to the sink, turned on the tap, and reached towards the soap.

It was her peripheral vision that caught the shadow, and she looked to see a dark shape in coveralls appear behind her. A bear-like man with a bushy beard leapt at her and wrapped his large, rock-hard arms around her, pinning her arms to her waist. Her eyes went wide and something from her past triggered a rage she had never felt before. She raised her right foot high enough that she felt her Elie Saab $11,000 dress rip at its leg slit and then focused all her power into the assailant's right foot.

The sound of tree limbs snapping was followed by a ragged gasp of pain. He abandoned his grasp and groaned. The second she felt her freedom, she took one step and, using the mirror, pulled her right arm forward and with all her might swung her elbow backwards at the man's left eye. She would have missed if he hadn't instinctively bent to tend to his injury. Lysandra felt a jolt of pain and the collision of bone on bone as the man was knocked backward. Thecrackof his head hitting the tiled wall echoed in Lysandra's ringing ears.

The massive would-be attacker collapsed on the floor, his leg twitching. She took a step back, realizing he was between her and the door. Her mind convinced her that he was playing the opossum. The rage returned. She pulled her leg back and, with all her strength, she launched her foot forward into the assailant's groin. She felt the give of soft tissue and he cried out. With his agony distracting him, she scrambled around him and bolted out the door. Her designer shoes slapped the floor and echoed in the halls of the library. She screamed for help, and as serving staff streamed out of the forum, she stopped at the entrance of the first bathroom she had tried and found the signs, mop, bucket, water, and custodian gone. She froze, screamed for help a second time, and hurried to stand with the servers.

Chapter 02

Octavia CrossSunday, December 7thCrossLine Media Strategies375 Hudson Street,New York City, NY

Octavia Cross

Sunday, December 7th

CrossLine Media Strategies

375 Hudson Street,

New York City, NY

An exhausted Octavia Cross sat at her ultra-modern desk-it was as much a statement as a functional workspace. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep. Her heart sped at just the memories of shouts for the police and rumors that Lysandra was attacked. She had used every tactic to force her way through the library staff and police lines to get into the Celeste Bartos Forum. She walked with her head up, eyes scanning the colossal space, and finally found Lysandra sitting on the stage surrounded by men and women wearing the NYPD's blue. When Lysandra's eyes found hers, the athlete moved gracefully, and with five long strides, the WNBA player swept the smaller woman into a bone-jarring hug.

"I was attacked," Lysandra said coldly, almost without emotion. "I hurt him pretty badly. I think there might have been a second person involved."

"I am so sorry, Lysandra," Octavia whispered. "Are you okay? Do you need medical attention?"

"I might have a bruised elbow, but other than that, I'm just fine," she said as she pulled away and looked into her manager's eyes. "Next time, you're going to the women's restroom with me, got it?"

Octavia recognized the forced humor and looked into Lysandra's troubled, almost lifeless eyes. "I am sure you are fine. Let me see if we can get Jaya over here, and I will find SiSi."

Back in the present, Octavia closed her eyes and blanked out the night and the terror she had felt. She reopened the arrest report-she had been able to sneak a copy from an old lover she had on the force. The attacker's name was Daniel Royce Hadley of Flat Gap, Kentucky. The report had a photo of his driver's license. Her heart began to race as the report listed Hadley as six-feet-two-inches and two-hundred-forty-pounds of body builder. Photos of him posing at an event were included as references, and she flipped to the back pages to view them. Shit, how did Lysandra shut him down? In the photos, he was slicked with oil and posing to highlight the definition of his muscles.

She picked up the second folder. This incident report was from the Seattle Police Department. On the same night of the New York City attack, two men in ski masks had climbed Lysandra's Seattle estate's fence and graffitied her home. She thumbed through a series of photos that captured the dark red paint with small drips and runs. It reminded her of blood oozing from an open wound. Each of the messages was a misogynistic statement belonging in the 1800s, not the 2000s.Barefoot and Pregnant, Stay in the Kitchen,andKnow your Place Witchwere the kinder of the thirteen statements sprayed on glass, brick, wood, and metal surfaces of the house's exterior.