“Different…” he murmured, voice low and heavy with meaning. “No one in all of Atlantia has ever had a golden Gnosis.”

Star’s heart skipped a beat. What did that mean?

“Different?” she asked, tilting her head, struggling to hide the swirl of questions rising inside her. “I thought it was the same as Siegfried’s and Friedrich’s.”

Siegfried spoke up gently, “No, Star. The color of a Gnosis usually reflects its element. Mine is blue because I wield Dew, the water element. Friedrich’s is red because he controls Incidis, the fire element…”

“But yours…” Siegfried’s father added, his voice solemn, “…is gold. That’s never been seen before.”

A tense silence followed, thick with the unspoken weight of his words. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the only sound in the still room.

“Does that mean…” Friedrich began, his tone unusually grave, “Star was chosen by the heavens?”

“Perhaps,” Siegfried replied thoughtfully, eyes narrowing slightly. “But we need to determine what element her Gnosis resonates with first.”

Star stared at the golden fragment in her hand, its warm glow dancing against her skin. She remained quiet, Friedrich’s words echoing distantly in her mind. The memory of her dream—the blond hero, the heavens, the prophecy—still clung to her like mist. Part of her refused to believe she had truly been chosen by the heavens to be a hero.

Sensing her unease, Friedrich gave her a lopsided grin and clapped her gently on the back. “Don’t worry, Star! Chosen or not, you’ve got us. We’ll face this together!”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, comforted by his sincerity. Yet deep within, a sliver of doubt remained—was she truly ready for what lay ahead? Or was this only the beginning of something far greater than she could possibly imagine?

After the meal, Siegfried’s parents gently encouraged her to step outside. The villagers had been waiting, eager to hear of her dream—of the encounter with the legendary hero. Star hesitated at first but then nodded, inhaling deeply to steady her thoughts. Siegfried and Friedrich, sensing her nervousness, rushed ahead with bright smiles as they opened the door.

The crowd, still gathered outside, erupted in cheers and excited chatter as Star stepped into the light. Though bashful, she held her composure. During dinner, she had prepared herself mentally for this moment, determined to speak with calm and clarity.

As villagers swarmed around her, firing questions with eager voices, Star did her best to respond. But before she knew it, they had begun to guide her down the cobbled path of Odinshold.

“Where are we going?” she asked Siegfried, glancing around as the crowd gently led her toward a large building carved with intricate figures of warriors and dragons.

Siegfried offered a reassuring smile. “The Hall of Warriors. It’s where our people gather to share tales of courage and battle. The villagers want to hear your story there, as one of the greatest legends they’ve encountered in years.”

Friedrich chuckled beside him. “It’s an honor, Star. Only the most respected voices are heard in that hall. You’ll become part of our history.”

Star blinked in astonishment but said nothing, swept along by the current of villagers as they entered the hall. Inside, the space opened into a vast chamber of timber and stone. Towering wooden beams supported the ceiling above, and the walls were lined with weathered banners, ancient weapons, and dented shields—each one telling a tale of battles past.

The room breathed history. And as Star stepped further in, she felt its weight settle around her.

At the far end stood an altar bathed in the gentle flicker of torchlight. Star, Siegfried, and Friedrich approached it as the villagers seated themselves in a great circle around them, their eyes fixed on her with anticipation.

Standing before the altar, Star felt the enormity of the moment. Every gaze pressed into her like a silent vow. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, inhaled slowly, and began to speak.

She told them about her dream—about the hero clad in light, the shadow of the Demon King, and the warning that darkness would return. Yet she deliberately left parts of it unsaid: the hero’s dire prediction that Atlantia would fall within ten years was something she wasn’t ready to burden them with.

Instead, she chose to focus on the threat.

“The hero told me,” she said, her voice steady, “that the Demon King will rise again. We don’t know when, but we must be ready.”

A murmur rippled through the hall like a chill wind. The villagers exchanged worried glances, the firelight dancing in their uneasy eyes. Then, an elderly man, his face carved by time and wisdom, raised a hand.

“Star,” the old man asked, his voice trembling slightly, “what did the hero look like? His build—was he tall and noble, like the legends say?”

Star tilted her head, recalling the fading fragments of her dream. “I don’t remember everything clearly, but… the hero looked like a teenager, just like me. He wasn’t that tall—maybe taller than me, sure, but definitely not as tall as Siegfried or Friedrich.”

A murmur rippled through the villagers, surprise evident in their expressions. “A teenager?” one of them echoed in disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like the legendary hero!”

Doubt spread among the crowd like wildfire. The hero they had grown up imagining—blond, broad-shouldered, towering—was nothing like a youth, nothing like Star or Siegfried. They exchanged skeptical glances, uncertainty thick in the air.

Star straightened, her tone growing serious. “But his hair—it was golden. And his eyes were glowing red. Darker than Friedrich’s.”

A wave of laughter broke through the tension.

“Then it must be true!” a villager exclaimed. “The legends say the hero had hair like sunlight and eyes red as blood! Just like in the old books!”

Another joined in with excitement, “It all makes sense now! Of course, the hero would choose Star—she’s from Eldhaven!”

Star blinked in confusion. “Eldhaven? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You didn’t know, dear?” an elderly woman asked, eyes sparkling with fond remembrance. “The legend says the people of Eldhaven were the ones who found the hero deep in the Blessing Forest. They say he was discovered fast asleep in the heart of the woods, right where Sophia’s statue now stands.”

“And not just that,” added another, “the hero lived in Eldhaven for quite some time. They say he even worked in the fields—on the very land your family owns now.”

Friedrich gave a small shrug. “That might be why people forgot. Stories that old don’t always survive. Most only remember the war with the Demon King—that’s what everyone loves to retell.”

“It’s true,” Siegfried agreed. “The tale of the final battle has been passed down for generations. But after the Demon King was defeated, the hero vanished. No one knows what became of him.”

“Is that so?” Friedrich leaned forward, eyes shining with curiosity.

Star hesitated, remembering the parting words of the hero in her dream. “He told me… he didn’t die,” she said cautiously. “But he didn’t say where he was either. Only that he’s sleeping—somewhere in Atlantia.”

The hall fell utterly silent, the weight of her words pressing down on them all.

“Asleep?” someone whispered. “Does that mean… he’ll return someday?”

Star gave a slow nod. “I believe so. The hero said Atlantia still isn’t safe. That’s why he chose me. But we’ll need to work together—if we’re going to stop the Demon King.”

Her words stirred a mixture of fear and resolve in the villagers. Though their eyes betrayed uncertainty, there was also a glint of hope—fragile, but burning.

Friedrich clapped a hand on Star’s shoulder, his grin as fearless as ever. “Well then, if the hero chose you, Star, we’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve got me, Siegfried, and this whole village behind you!”

Star smiled faintly, warmed by his words, though the weight of her new role had never felt heavier. Deep down, she knew the road ahead would be long and far more perilous than anyone imagined. But for now, she was grateful for their support and for the trust they placed in her.