Two months had passed since the tragic events that had shaken the village. In the midst of the tranquil forest, a small, secluded house had become Guto and Frøya's sanctuary.
Within the cozy confines of their forest dwelling, Guto's solitary training echoed softly against the wooden walls. The weapons and training equipment that once adorned the interior now stood as silent witnesses to the dedication he had poured into his training.
Guto's transformation was evident in the subtle definition of his physique, a testament to the relentless exercises he undertook both inside and outside their forest home. His vibrant hair, grown longer over time.
Frøya, a steadfast presence in Guto's life, had not changed significantly in appearance. She often prepared meals with ingredients sourced from the forest, and the scent of herbs and spices filled the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
Amid the serene forest, Guto was deeply engrossed in his solitary training. His movements were fluid and precise as he practiced his combat techniques.
As he executed a particularly intricate maneuver, the wooden door of the house creaked open, and Frøya stepped onto the porch. Her presence went unnoticed for a moment as Guto continued his training, lost in the rhythm of his movements.
Finally, with a graceful spin, he came to a stop and turned toward Frøya. His vibrant purple hair was tousled from the exertion, and sweat glistened on his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and regarded Frøya with a warm smile.
"Frøya," he greeted her, his voice a touch breathless. "What brings you here?"
She returned his smile, though her expression carried a hint of concern. "I couldn't help but notice that you've been training tirelessly for weeks now," she said softly. "I thought it might be a good time for a break."
Guto nodded in agreement and walked over to a nearby table, grabbing a cloth to wipe his face. "You're right," he admitted. "I've been pushing myself hard, but I can't afford to let my guard down, not with Throel out there."
Frøya's gaze turned serious as she stepped closer. "I understand, Guto. But there's something else we need to discuss."
He arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her somber tone. "What is it?"
She motioned for him to join her on the porch, and they both took a seat on a weathered wooden bench.
"It's about those flasks we found on the train," she said, her words punctuated by a sigh. "No matter how much we've tried, we haven't made any progress in deciphering their contents or purpose. It's as if they're locked behind a wall we can't breach."
Guto leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "You're right," he admitted, his frustration mirroring hers. "They remain a mystery. And without knowing what's inside, we can't fully understand the threat they pose."
Frøya's eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope as she continued. "I might have a solution, Guto, but it won't be easy. We'll need to go back to the city, where I can access resources and people who might help us unlock the secrets of those flasks."
Guto's brows furrowed in contemplation. Returning to the city was a risk, as it could expose them to Throel's reach.
After a moment of silence, Guto nodded resolutely. "Sure, I think we have waited long enough for things to cool down. So when do we leave?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of Frøya's lips, her determination unwavering. "As soon as possible," she replied. "I'll make the necessary preparations, and we'll head back to the city together."
With their decision made, Guto and Frøya knew that their journey was far from over. The mysteries surrounding the flasks awaited them in the city's depths.