The weight of his words filled Star’s chest, and for the first time, her hesitation seemed to lift. She turned her gaze to the western horizon, where the sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in gold and deep violet. The moon began to rise, casting its soft light across the peaks. She looked to Siegfried, Klara, and Friedrich—her companions who had stood with her through every trial. They exchanged a silent understanding, a bond stronger than words.

Night had fully fallen, and the stars above sparkled like scattered gems. Boreas lowered his massive frame, his sturdy legs steady on the rocky ground.

“The moon is high,” he said. “Descending this mountain on foot would be too dangerous. Climb onto my back—I will carry you down safely.”

Star hesitated. “Are you sure, Boreas? We can take the usual route if—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “I won’t risk your safety. Atlantia needs you, Star. And...” He paused, his gaze distant. “I want to see the people of Frostholm one last time before I enter eternal slumber. I’ve been apart from them for centuries, and I must feel that connection once more—even if only briefly.”

Star’s heart clenched at the sorrow in his voice, the deep loneliness hidden beneath his dignified bearing. Slowly, she and her companions climbed onto his wide, fur-covered back. His warmth was unexpected—like the comfort of a hearth in the dead of winter.

Friedrich lay back with a satisfied sigh. “Ah... I could fall asleep right here. It’s so warm.”

Boreas let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. “That’s fine—but are you sure you’ll sleep through my jump from the cliff?”

“Jump?” Klara’s voice jumped an octave. “Wait—what do you mean, jump?”

Before Klara could protest further, Boreas crouched low, his powerful body coiled with energy, and leapt from the edge of the cliff. Wind roared past their ears as Star, Klara, Siegfried, and Friedrich clung tightly to his thick white fur. Star’s face paled, her fingers whitening as she gripped the fur with all her strength. Beside her, Klara’s eyes were shut tight, a small scream escaping her lips, while Siegfried buried his face into the fur, too terrified to look.

In contrast, Friedrich’s laughter echoed through the cold air.

“WOO-HOO!” he shouted, a wide grin stretching across his face as if riding Boreas was the thrill of a lifetime.

As Boreas descended, the icy peaks blurred into streaks of white and gray. The earth rushed up to meet them—and with a mighty quake, Boreas landed gracefully, his massive claws sinking into the snow. The impact shook the ground, leaving Star and Klara stunned for a moment.

Siegfried, however, sprang to his feet and bolted toward a nearby thicket, one hand clutching his stomach.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” he groaned, disappearing behind the frost-covered bushes.

“That was... incredible!” Friedrich declared as he slid off Boreas’ back with an exuberant leap. His boots crunched in the snow as he glanced around for his friend.

“Where’s Siegfried? Don’t tell me he missed all the fun!”

“HAHAHAHA!”

Boreas' booming laugh rumbled through the air, deep and warm like rolling thunder.

“You’re a lively one, young man. Tell me your name.”

“Friedrich. Friedrich von Hardenberg,” he replied, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Hardenberg?” Boreas echoed, his expression shifting to one of recollection. He furrowed his snow-white brows, then widened his eyes.

“Ah, Hardenberg! Your great-grandfather was Lothar, wasn’t he?”

Friedrich blinked in surprise.

“You knew my great-grandfather? Lothar Freiherr von Hardenberg?”

“How could I forget him?” Boreas rumbled, his tone a blend of amusement and nostalgia.

“That man burned like wildfire when the Abyss came. Always charging headfirst into danger, emotions hotter than an erupting volcano. He never saw eye to eye with Alioth—they argued constantly, especially about tactics. Ha! The two of them were like fire and lightning clashing in a storm.”

“Sounds about right for my family,” Friedrich muttered with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head.

“Come,” said Boreas, his voice softening as he began walking toward the village below.

“The people of Frostholm await you, Heroes of Atlantia. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Star and her friends followed Boreas, their boots crunching over the fresh snow as the towering Aeon led them down the frozen path. As they neared the village, its people began to emerge from their homes. One by one, wary faces peeked out from wooden doors and frosted windows. Then, the whispers began.

“Is that...?” someone murmured, their voice trembling in awe.

“It’s Boreas! The Aeon of the North Wind!” a woman gasped, clutching her child close.

The crowd grew quickly, the whispers swelling into cheers and applause. Men, women, and children filled the square, their faces glowing with wonder and gratitude. Boreas tilted his head gracefully, a rare yet warm smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at the people he had once protected.

Star’s heart pounded as the villagers’ attention shifted to her and the others. Her back felt heavy—not just from the golden sword strapped across it, but from the weight of expectations that seemed to radiate from the crowd. Her steps faltered as she met their eyes, filled with hope, reverence, and something bordering on worship.

Siegfried, sensing her hesitation, reached out and took her hand.

“You’re not alone, Star,” he said gently. “We’re in this together.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the world grew quieter. She nodded, her resolve solidifying, and together, they stepped forward.

The golden sword caught the moonlight as they passed through the crowd, its four-pointed star emblem gleaming like a beacon. Whispers rippled through the air:

“Is that... the Blade of the Blonde Hero?”

“It is! The legend is true!”

Star tried to push the voices aside and focus on her friends walking beside her. Yet within her heart, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of Alioth’s legacy—a legacy that now seemed inseparable from her own.

When they reached the center of the square, Boreas turned and addressed the villagers.

“People of Frostholm,” he announced, his deep voice carrying over the crowd,

“These are the Heroes of Atlantia. They have faced the trials and earned my blessing. Honor them—for they are your hope in the days to come.”

A roar of cheers erupted from the villagers, their applause echoing across the icy cliffs. Star felt a lump rise in her throat, but she managed a faint smile as Siegfried gently squeezed her hand, full of quiet confidence.

As the villagers’ cheers echoed across the frozen cliffs, Star lifted her gaze to the night sky.
The stars above seemed to burn brighter than before—each one a reminder that the light she carried was now her own