Chapter 9: After the Rain(Bonus Scene(Part 4))
From within the depths of the forest, Cyra following along with the Elven. The young man telling her tales of their hardships, the maiden listening on in much interest. Certainly this is an experience she will never forget. Even so, even though there are many interesting tales in Alfheim, her mind wandering back to Valor, concerning herself over him. The devil knowing well that he is having a hard time coming into reality. Cyra ceasing her movements, glancing back to the empty path seeming to endlessly stretch on. Some doubt expressing from her eyes.
“Valor...” she slightly glances away.
The Elven looking back, noticing that her attention is appearing elsewhere. Ceasing his movements, turning in her direction. The Elven folding his arms in a thinking posture, thinking back a bit. Trying to uncover what may be bothering her so.
“Indeed, just like the tablet here which speaks of everything must come to an end, the Trial of Acceptance tests the resolve of those who enter. It helps one accept what is to come, or what has happened,” he explains.
Cyra holding her hands behind her back, glancing to Valor. The maiden knowing well that he cannot accept such, and perhaps this trial will be good for the deity. For him to be able to learn to let go when it is time.
The god turning from her, knowing what she will suggest. Unable to go through with such, Valor propping his arms behind his head. Trying to maintain a more casual stance. His heart quivering ever so deep.
“Something turned up, I gotta head back. You continue exploring here, I’ll be back in a few hours,” he smiles.
There is no doubt within him, knowing well that there is something both of them must accept. The Elven walking towards the maiden, Cyra noticing footsteps coming in her direction. The maiden looking ahead to see the Elven standing in front of her.
“There is something you both must accept, huh,” he gently speaks.
Cyra slightly looking away from him, nodding in agreement. The maiden turning from the Elven, gazing down the seemingly endless path. To accept what must come into reality at some point. Where heaven and earth are slowly drifting away.
“There will come a time, where we will have to part soon enough. He is having a hard time coming to terms with such, and it is painful for myself as well,” she depressingly speaks.
The Elven turning from her, positioning his arms in a thinking posture. There is something the maiden and her friend are mistaking. Indeed time itself brings everything to an end, but there is much more to it than that.
“And so is the fate of every being, correct?” he questions.
“I suppose so...” Cyra distantly agreeing.
“You seem uncertain,” he glances back to her.
The maiden turning to face the Elven, seeing a shift in his eyes. Cyra looking down, uncertain on what to think anymore. Sorrow lingering deep within her, but still, there is an answer, one in which is continuing to elude her.
“Listen,” he gently speaks.
The maiden looking towards the Elven in confusion, if there is any way possible, then certainly she is willing to hear him out. The Elven looking up into the vast blue sky. Closing his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze against him, hearing the rustling of the leaves on the trees. Experiencing the calmness of the forest.
“Fate is a fool’s word, take hold of your future yourself. Look on, reach out, and grab hold. Sometimes, it is okay to be a bit selfish,” he turns towards the maiden.
The maiden looking upon him, her eyes trembling a bit. Watching as the Elven opens his eyes, gazing upon her with that gentle look. Thinking on those words he speaks. That indeed it is possible to take hold of one’s own desires.
Fate is a fools word...those words that Elven told me that day...it has eternally been with me...
“Time no doubt will continuously move on. Though, what is the point in going at it alone? You have a great friend, and even through such hardships, tackle the conflict together,” he explains, faintly smiling.
The maiden closing her eyes, enduring those words. There is truth to what the Elven speaks, that time continuously moves on, that they must find a standing themselves. Cyra opening her eyes, her expression becoming more calm. The Elven immediately knowing that she has found her path.
“Then I will continue to tread down this endless abyss. Even if it means becoming corruption itself. There will eventually be a light that I can grasp, that we can grasp,” she softly speaks.
“I wish you the best in your endeavors,” he turns from her.
This was the path I chose so many years ago. I did not want for us to have a parting, and he as well does not wish for such. Still...if only I could have found that light...then maybe...
“You must be tired after such a long day. Let us head back to the village,” the Elven suggesting.
The maiden looking towards him, resolve renewing. Determination burning deep inside of her. The devil taking a step forward. Even if it is but a somber morrow. It does not mean it is impossible to grasp which one most desires.
The maiden following along, hearing the tales of the Elven. Certainly he is seeming more like an elderly than a younger folk. Though, his tales are nonetheless most interesting to listen to. After some time, they arrive in a small village. Technological advancement? Far from it really.
Houses from the sturdiest of trees blanketing the area. Each with their own living space. The center field revealing more wide open, extending far above is another set of parts interconnecting with the village. The Elven walking ahead a bit, Cyra looking on in amazement. The clean air, and the mesmerizing view certainly does make it quite a lovely place.
“Well, what do you think?” he questions, facing the maiden.
The maiden walking ahead a bit, slowly turning, assimilating the breathtaking scene. From the finer details of the connection points high above. To more interesting displays such as the tablets aligning around the village.
“Primitive, but amazing no doubt. Elven’s prefer nature, so this is to be expected,” she softly speaks.
“Correct, I am glad you like it. We don’t get much visitors,” he turns from her.
“I suppose that is to be expected.”
The maiden glancing back, wondering where Valor can possibly be. Concern beginning to grow within her. Cyra turning to face the exit of the village, much time has passed since they have gone their own way. The maiden positioning her arms in a thinking posture. Figuring it is about time she finds him, to set him to ease.
“I am going to go search for him,” she glances back to the Elven.
“I see, very well, do be-careful,” he pleasantly speaks.
The maiden looking ahead, noticing heavy footsteps from all around. The Elven looking on in alarm, taking a step back. Glancing back to see some village children, some adults gathering. The villagers wondering what is happening. The Elven well aware of the approaching danger.
“Everyone! Get back!” he warns.
Cyra’s eyes slightly widening as she glances back. The maiden soon looking ahead, the Elven doing the same. The devil feeling energy from all around her, looking above, seeing fire descending from the heavens. The concentration of fire crashing down throughout the village. Screams filling the village, many trying to evacuate. Panicking all around.
Buildings falling from above, crashing down into some of the villagers. Cyra can only look on, seeing the beautiful village turning into a scene of horror before her very eyes. The maiden feeling an intense presence approaching her direction. The devil turning, seeing Surtr standing at the entrance of the village.
The deity slowly looking around, admiring the sight of the fire. The god of fire himself, but why? None of this is making sense to the maiden. Cyra slowly reaching her hand to her weapon, taking caution to the enemy ahead. The god of fire looking in her direction. At that moment, out by the lake deep in the forest, Valor is standing from the ground, witnessing the smoke covering the sky. The god hearing screams extending all the way to the lake. Closely looking on, his eyes soon widening in shock. The deity realizing the identity of the attacker.
“Cyra!” he calls out as he rushes ahead.
“Dammit! I shouldn’t have left! Hold on...”
The animals looking on, uncertain of the event that is unfolding. Soon looking to each other, agreeing to evacuate themselves. The forest slowly going into a panic. More becoming aware of the threat, a stampede in every direction.
“Be careful Cyra. This is a god, and Surtr of all deities...” the Elven warning.
Surtr merely laughing, admiring that his reputation extends so far. The joy of the deity soon ending, his expression becoming stern. Looking towards the maiden, recognizing one of the treasures. A legendary artifact, Lævateinn the demon sword.
“Why does a demon wield one of the seven treasures?” his tone cold upon her.
Cyra hearing the cry of her blade, the negative energy reacting to the intense flames of the god of fire. The maiden feeling her weapon quivering. Unease rising within her, experiencing the blazing heat all around.
“Lævateinn is too afraid to battle...” she takes a step back.
“Answer me devil,” his impatient tone extending to her.
Cyra standing upon her side, directing Lævateinn at the god of fire, her fearsome eyes clashing against his cold glare. The maiden knowing that something is definitely off about this deity. For him to even strike fear into Lævateinn.
“Apologies, but I have no reason to explain myself to you,” she calmly speaks.
Her comment catching him slightly off guard, causing much hatred to build within him. The fire from around the village intensifying. A devil of all beings out there slandering his pride. Amusing if not insulting.
“You really shouldn’t spite him...!” the Elven warning.
“Lævateinn...please, I need you more than ever now. There is nothing to fear!” she strongly speaks.
The aura of the weapon intensifying, Surtr immediately noticing that something is strange. For her to command those that are cowards to battle, certainly there is more to her than meets the eye. Never will he think to meet a devil of such standing in the world of Alfheim.
“You have some talent there. I am always looking for those like yourself, so why not serve under me? Anything you so desire can be yours,” he proposes as he stands to his side, extending a hand to her.
Cyra balancing Lævateinn upon her shoulder, calmly shrugging. Her action taking Surtr by some surprise. The titan wondering why this devil does not come begging at his feet.
“Apologies, but I serve no one. Any being that shows their face to me, will be crushed beneath my feet!” her voice invoking a powerful force.
Those panicking slowly calming, looking in her direction. The Elven looking on, unable to understand why anyone will oppose Surtr. Her words even sending a chill down the spine of the god of fire. His calm demeanor burning away into his relentless fire.
“Is that so—?” he cracks his knuckles, glaring at her.
“—Then I suppose I will need to make you see reason to my influence,” he daringly speaks.
Negative energy emitting from the maiden, intensifying by the moment, clashing against the blazing fire of the god. The heat all around burning even hotter with each passing moment. Two mighty beings glaring at the other.
Valor...where are you...? I cannot do this alone. Lævateinn is not at full capacity, and the sheer weight of his aura is making it difficult for me to even stand in his presence. Still...something urges me to continue on. There is a way...I know there is...