Chapter 8
Beginning of the Journey
As they stepped through the door and out into the cool, evening air, the worries and questions that had filled the room seemed to recede, if only for a brief moment. The door closed behind them with a gentle thud. Freya and Alron found themselves outside, enveloped by the gentle darkness of the evening. They walked in silence, the soft sound of their footsteps mingling with the quiet whispers of the night breeze. As they continued on their path, Alron noticed a change in Freya's demeanor. Usually cheerful and outgoing, she now walked silently, her usual buoyancy replaced by a quieter, more pensive mood. Alron, observing her silence, broke the quiet with a gentle question. "Freya, are you okay?" His voice was filled with genuine concern. Hearing Alron's voice, Freya snapped out of her contemplative state. She turned towards him, a forced smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice just a bit too strained. "Just... a lot on my mind, that's all." "I know it's eating at you, Freya," Alron said softly. Freya's voice trembled as she admitted, "I... I overheard what you and the priest were talking about." Her words were barely above a whisper, a mixture of fear and determination in her tone. "I know it's not good," she confessed. "I overheard what the priest said about his time... the way it's slipping."
Alron moved closer to her side, the shock still evident on his face. He instinctively placed his hand on her shoulder, offering comfort in his usual way. Freya, her expression a mix of determination and frustration, gently withdrew from Alron's touch. Her voice was firm as she spoke. "No, not right now," she said, her voice tinged with urgency. "It's related to Set's ruins and the elf. I just know it." "you and my uncle and aunt are the only ones keeping me alive i dont have anyone else to keep me here. please just help me fix this... somehow... just somehow". Her words were swallowed by tears, her emotions overwhelmed her. She crumpled, burying her face in her hands, the weight of her despair palpable. Alron stood beside her, his heart aching at her vulnerability. He gently placed a supportive hand on her back, his eyes soft with sympathy. "I understand," he reassured her, his voice filled with tenderness. "I'll help you. Somehow, we'll find a way to fix this. I promise." Alron's vow was more than just a comforting cliché; it was a heartfelt promise born from his deep affection for Freya. He cared for her deeply, and seeing her in pain was like a wound to his own heart.
He continued, his voice both firm and gentle. "We'll do this together, Freya. We'll figure it out. I'm here for you, always." Her sobs subsided a bit, her tears still flowing, but her breath steadier as she clung onto Alron's words. Her voice trembled softly as she spoke, her words laced with a hint of defiance. "You swear?" Alron responded without hesitation, his voice steady and true. "I swear," he affirmed. "I will always be by your side, helping you, supporting you. And we will figure this out together, no matter how hard it gets. You're not alone in this, Freya." "Then just do one thing, let us go to set's ruins... bring the elf's amulet with you too.... the time disease.... it has to be connected to those ruins somehow" Freya said with a weird determination in her tone. Alron nodded, understanding Freya's intuition. "Alright," he agreed. "We'll go to the ruins and bring the amulet with us. I trust your instincts, Frey. Let's see what we can find there." With Alron's agreement, a small flicker of hope returned to Freya's eyes. She wiped her tears, still trembling slightly but her resolve strengthened by Alron's unwavering support.
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thank you," she said softly. "Let's go. Before it's too late." As they walked towards Alron's house, a flicker of guilt crossed over Freya's face. She suddenly remembered the unfinished chore of watering the crops, but the urgency of their current mission seemed to dwarf everything else. Alron, sensing her momentary distraction, lightly touched her arm, bringing her back to the present. "Don't worry, the crops can wait," he said reassuringly. "Let's focus on the task at hand." The silence between them hung heavy in the air as they continued their journey towards Alron's house. The absence of their usual cheerful banter was replaced by a shared sense of determination and quiet dread. Alron, noticing Freya's intense focus, occasionally glanced at her, but he refrained from speaking, understanding that she needed time to gather her thoughts and prepare herself for the task ahead. Alron's mother stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Freya's arm. "We're here for you," she said, her own eyes betraying a motherly concern.
Finally, Alron's small house came into view, its familiar silhouette appearing out of the gloom. They slowed their pace, almost subconsciously, as they approached the front door, their mission seemingly more real now that they were here. Alron's mother, her voice tinged with worry, addressed Freya directly. "I heard about your uncle's health." Her words hung in the air, creating an even more somber atmosphere in the room. Beor, his voice gruff yet caring, chimed in, "If you or your aunt need anything, you come to us, alright?" His words were earnest, a reminder of the support system they had in their tight-knit community. Freya's heart warmed at Beor's words, but her mind remained sharp and focused on their mission. She nodded, a brief flicker of gratitude passing over her face. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice quieter than usual. In that moment, the weight of her emotions and fears overwhelmed Freya once again. Without a second thought, she stepped forward and embraced Alron's mother like a daughter would her own mother, seeking comfort and familiarity in the older woman's arms. Alron, sensing the emotional moment unfolding between Freya and his mother, quietly excused himself and entered his room. His mind was still focused on the task at hand, the urgency to find answers gnawed at him.
He quickly rummaged through his belongings, looking for the elf's amulet. As his fingers closed around the cold, enchanted object, he allowed himself a brief moment to center his thoughts. With the amulet secure in his hand, Alron took a deep breath, steeling himself for the upcoming journey to Set's ruins. He glanced back at Freya and his mother, their embrace still ongoing, and a pang of protectiveness and determination shot through him. Alron quietly stepped out of his room, the amulet clutched tight in his hand. His eyes found Freya and his mother still engaged in their embrace. A mix of emotions flickered across his face as he observed them - worry, protectiveness, and newfound determination. Alron discreetly hid the amulet in his pocket, sensing the need for discretion. He then gestured for Beor to step outside for a moment, wanting a private word.
Once outside, Beor followed behind Alron, his curiosity evident in his voice. "What did the priest say?" he inquired; his concern etched on his face. Beor, noticing Alron's serious tone, took a deep breath as Alron spoke. "Please promise me you won't say anything to Ma." Alron's voice was firm as he continued, "It's not looking good. I'm not entirely sure, but Freya believes it's connected to Set's ruins." Beor, his concern growing by the moment, questioned Alron further. "And... you're not planning to go there, right? That elf was most likely injured over there, you know." Alron's voice was measured, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. "I know," he replied, "but as of right now, we don't have many other options. Freya thinks this curse or disease or whatever it is might be connected to Set's ruins. And the priest confirmed the elf has it, too." Beor's irritation was palpable, his words laced with anger and concern. "You two, a pair of fucking 18-year-olds, are planning to head out to those ancient ruins in the middle of the night? The very fucking place where that wounded elf warrior fought some fierce, unknown battle with who knows who or what?" Alron nodded, understanding Beor's frustration. "I know it sounds crazy," he said, "but we don't have much choice. Freya is certain the answers we need are in Set's ruins. We have to try, Beor. We can't give up, no matter what." Beor, his anger slightly cooled by Alron's determined tone, let out a defeated sigh. "You two are stubborn as hell, you know that?" he said, his voice laced with both irritation and reluctant concern. Alron nodded at Beor's words, his face betraying a hint of worry. "Okay. Please tell Ma I will be at Freya's and Aunt Ysolda's place tonight." Beor's response was resigned, his own struggle evident in his voice. "Alright. I'll tell her. But if Ma decides to head over there herself, I'm not sure how I'll stop her." Alron couldn't help letting out a small chuckle at Beor's words. The thought of their strong-willed mother barging in on their plans was both amusing and a touch concerning. Alron's voice oozed determination as he spoke, his eyes gleaming with a firm resolve. "We'll be back by tomorrow," he assured Beor, his confidence unwavering. Beor's voice carried a mix of resignation and concern. "Promise me you two will be safe," he repeated, his eyes conveying a paternal worry for Alron and Freya's safety. Alron couldn't help but chuckle at Beor's authoritative tone. "Hey, you're four years older than me," he replied, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "No need for the fatherly act." Beor's hearty laugh filled the air, his usual deep chuckle echoing around them. Alron joined in, the tension momentarily lifted by their shared, though short lived, lighthearted exchange. Once their laughter subsided, Beor returned to his more serious demeanor. "But really, you two," he said, his voice firm yet affectionate, "be careful out there. And come back safe." Alron's voice was tinged with determination as he responded, his earlier lighthearted moment replaced by newfound resolve. "Alright, alright," he chuckled. "We'll be back safe by the morning, and hopefully with some answers about what's wrong with Freya's uncle."
As Beor and Alron's conversation continued, they were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Freya stepping out onto the porch. Her presence instantly reminded them of the urgency of their mission. The two abruptly fell silent as they noticed Freya's emergence from the house. Alron turned to her, his face a mix of relief and anticipation, while Beor shot a concerned glance in her direction. Alron quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in an heartfelt embrace. He held her tight, his gesture a mix of reassurance and silent support. They were both keenly aware of the journey they were embarking on. Freya, her spirits seemingly lifted after her conversation with Alron's mother, finally spoke up. "Alright, let's go," she said, her voice betraying a hint of determination despite the slight curve of her lips. Beor's laughter chimed in once again, his amusement at their audacity evident. "Alron told me where you're headed, and I gotta say, you two are some tough bastards," he chuckled, a touch of admiration in his voice. Alron reluctantly detached himself from Freya's side after her light peck on his cheek. Both he and Freya shared a silent nod of determination, a silent acknowledgement of the risks and challenges that lay ahead. Beor's parting words echoed in their ears, his concern wrapped in a layer of faith in their abilities. "Be back safe, you two." With their brief farewell to Beor concluded, Alron and Freya turned and began walking off, leaving their village behind. The weight of their mission hung heavily over them, the looming presence of Set's ruins ever-present in their minds. As they departed from the familiar boundaries of their village, Alron placed a comforting hand on Freya's shoulder, offering her a silent gesture of support. The looming presence of Set's ruins grew closer with each step they took.
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