The smell of smoke still lingered in the village when the night came, but Frostholm was alive with quiet movement.

Friedrich knelt beside the wounded, his hands steady as he passed bandages and medicine. Even in the aftermath of devastation, there was work to be done—and no time to stop.

A villager—a blacksmith named Halvard—approached Siegfried.

“You fought well,” he said, his voice deep and respectful. “I’ve seen warriors in my time, but the way you stood your ground against those creatures… that was something else.”

Siegfried, ever humble, gave a shy smile.

“It wasn’t just me,” he replied, glancing toward Star. “It was teamwork. Without them, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Halvard nodded, his eyes landing on Siegfried’s shield.

“If we make it through this, I’d be honored to forge something for you.”

That night, in the church, a sacred moment unfolded.

Father Gregor, the village priest, approached Star and her companions. His robes were torn, his face bearing the weariness of a man who had seen too much suffering.

“You’ve given these people hope,” he said, voice solemn. “Even in their darkest hour, they saw light because of you.”

Star shook her head.

“We’re just doing what we can. The real strength lies in the villagers—they kept fighting, kept surviving.”

Father Gregor nodded slowly.

“That may be true… but heroes have a way of reminding us why we endure. Please, allow me to offer you a blessing for the journey ahead.”

Star, Klara, Friedrich, and Siegfried knelt before him as Father Gregor began to chant, invoking the spirits of Frostholm’s ancestors to watch over them. One by one, the villagers joined in, their voices rising in unison. For a brief moment, fear and despair gave way to unity and hope.

As the village settled into uneasy rest that night, a young girl—no more than six—approached Klara timidly. In her small hands, she held out a wooden fox, carefully hand-carved.

“This is for you,” the girl whispered.

Kneeling down, Klara gave her a warm smile.

“For me? Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Lilja,” the girl said, clutching her mother’s hand for reassurance. “Mama says you saved us.”

Klara accepted the gift gently.

“We’ll do everything we can to protect you, Lilja. I promise.”

Later, as most villagers drifted to sleep, Star and her companions gathered in a quiet corner of the church with Hilda and Father Gregor. Flickering candlelight illuminated their tired faces, but a strong resolve hung in the air.

Hilda leaned forward, her voice low.

“You’ll be heading to the Trial of Boreas tomorrow, won’t you?”

Star nodded.

“The Abyss monsters aren’t the only threat. Something greater is at play, and we believe Boreas holds answers we need.”

Father Gregor frowned, stroking his beard.

“The Aeon of the North Wind is not easily swayed. His trials are known to test the soul as much as the body. Few who seek his favor return unchanged.”

Klara crossed her arms, curiosity sparked.

“Why would Boreas help us now? He’s been silent for so long. The myths say he’s a harsh guardian of the north—unmoved by human struggles.”

Hilda sighed.

“Aeons work in mysterious ways. Maybe he sees the chaos rising and understands the need for champions. Or perhaps… he just wants to remind us how small we truly are.”

Siegfried placed a hand gently on Star’s shoulder.

“Whatever the reason, we’re ready. Together, we’ll face whatever Boreas throws at us.”

Father Gregor hesitated, then reached for a weathered box on a nearby shelf. From it, he pulled a small amulet, etched with symbols of ice and wind.

“Take this,” he said, handing it to Star. “It’s an old village heirloom. They say it resonates with Boreas’ power. It may guide you through his trial.”

Star accepted the amulet with reverence.

“Thank you, Father Gregor. We’ll carry Frostholm’s hope with us.”

Hilda gave them a firm nod.

“Rest tonight. You’ll need your strength for what lies ahead. The northern wind is merciless—and the Aeon, even more so.”

Later that night, as the others slept, Star stood alone outside the church. The cold wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of ice and distant snow. She gazed down at the amulet in her hand, feeling its faint, icy resonance.

Siegfried stepped out into the chill, his breath visible in the air. Quietly, he walked up beside her. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence between them was filled with unspoken thoughts.

“You’re still thinking about the trial, aren’t you?” Siegfried finally said.

Star nodded, her voice soft.

“I can’t stop wondering what Boreas will demand of us. What if we’re not ready?”

Siegfried shook his head, his expression calm and reassuring.

“We’ve faced worse. We’ve overcome every challenge together. This won’t be any different.”

Star turned to look at him, a faint smile on her lips.

“You always know how to steady me, Siegfried. Thank you.”

He smiled back, a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold.

“That’s what friends are for. Remember, you’re not alone in this. Whatever Boreas asks of us… we’ll face it—together.”

A strong gust of wind suddenly swirled around them. Star gripped the amulet tightly, sensing its power pulse faintly in her palm. She looked up at the night sky, where stars sparkled like shards of ice.

The wind howled louder, as if answering her thoughts.

Star closed her hand around the amulet, its icy glow reflecting in her eyes. Tomorrow, they would climb Asgard’s peak—and whatever awaited them there would decide the fate of more than just Frostholm.