The cold goodbyes of Frostholm still clung to Star’s heart, but the warmth of the capital pressed in like sunlight after winter.
Hope drowned out fear… but only just.

“The King awaits you in the throne room. Please, follow me.”

Star exchanged a brief look with her companions, her grip tightening on her sword. Though they had met the King before, the weight of their mission pressed heavier than ever. Together, they followed the servant into the castle, the familiar splendor of its halls no less awe-inspiring.

They approached the massive doors to the throne room, ready to face the kind yet resolute ruler once more. When the doors opened, they stepped into the grand chamber of Valhalla’s palace—a hall built as a monument to endurance. Lofty columns rose like pillars of the heavens, adorned with deep blue and gold banners bearing the sigil of the Northern Realm: a roaring lion encircled by a radiant sun. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting shifting patterns on the polished marble floor.

Despite the magnificence, an atmosphere of solemnity hung in the air, a reminder of the shadow looming over Atlantia.

Star walked forward, her steps steady though her heart beat uneasily. In her hands rested a weapon wrapped in fine cloth—its weight more symbolic than physical. Behind her, Siegfried, Klara, and Friedrich followed silently, their presence a steady force as she approached the throne.

At the far end of the hall sat King Nicolas, his silver hair and graceful demeanor tempered by the warmth in his eyes—a warmth that set him apart from other kings. His crown was simple, unburdened by the opulence favored by rulers who hid behind grandeur. He was a man of action, one who walked among his people and bore their burdens.

Star knelt as she reached him, her companions doing the same. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

“Rise,” Nicolas replied, his tone firm yet gentle. “The heroes of Atlantia need not kneel. Stand, and let me see those who carry our hope.”

Star rose to her feet, meeting his gaze, and carefully unwrapped the cloth to reveal the sword. As the golden blade caught the light, its brilliance filled the hall. Intricate etchings of a four-pointed star shimmered along its length, and the hilt, shaped like a celestial sigil, glowed with an otherworldly gleam. Silence fell as every eye in the room turned toward the weapon.

Nicolas’s expression shifted—his calm replaced by awe. He descended from the throne slowly, his gaze never leaving the sword.

“By the heavens,” he murmured, now standing before Star. “Can it truly be…?”

“It was given to me by Boreas,” Star explained, her voice tinged with both reverence and uncertainty. “He said it belonged to the Blonde Hero—the one who saved Atlantia during the Great War.”

A ripple of whispers spread among the gathered advisors and guards. To them, the Blonde Hero was a figure of legend, a name woven into Atlantia’s ancient past. Nicolas extended his hand, and Star hesitated only a moment before placing the sword in his grasp.

The king held it with great care, his fingers tracing the elaborate star pattern. “This is the Blonde Hero’s sword,” he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “There is no doubt. The legends spoke of golden steel and the stars engraved along its blade. They called it Stellaris, the Sword of Heaven. It was said to have been forged in a world beyond our own and wielded by the hero who turned the tide of the Great War.”

Light from the stained-glass windows scattered across the blade’s golden edge, casting shimmering patterns across the hall. “These stars,” Nicolas murmured, running his fingers along the carvings, “represent the Seven Heavens—the divine forces said to have guided the Blonde Hero. Even without its light, this sword was a beacon of hope.”

“You know the legend?” Klara stepped forward, curiosity bright in her voice.

Nicolas nodded. “As a descendant of Queen Savanah I, I grew up hearing stories of the Great War. My ancestors spoke of the Blonde Hero and his sword, but none of us ever saw it with our own eyes. That war took place twelve hundred years ago. Much has been lost to time.” He turned his gaze back to Star. “And now, the sword has found its way to you.”

He lowered the blade and met Star’s eyes. “To carry this sword is to carry his legacy—his will. Do you understand what that means?”

Star’s throat tightened as she nodded slowly. “I… I understand, Your Majesty. But I’m not him. I’m not the Blonde Hero, and I can’t pretend to be. I’m just a girl trying to do her part.”

A gentle smile touched Nicolas’s lips. He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “He, too, was once seen as just a boy—one who became great not because he sought glory, but because the moment demanded it. The Blonde Hero became extraordinary not by nature, but by choice. And like him, you are not alone.”

Siegfried stepped forward, his voice calm and firm. “He’s right, Star. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. We’ve stood by you through every trial, and we’ll stand by you to the end.”

Klara added, “The legends of the Blonde Hero were never just about him—they were about the friends who stood by his side, the ones who believed in him. You have us, just as he had them.”

Friedrich smirked, arms crossed. “And if you're worried about the heavy lifting, leave that to me. You lead, we’ll handle the rest.”

Star felt a warmth rising in her chest, a warmth she hadn’t realized she needed. Their words swept away the doubt that had quietly lingered. She turned back to Nicolas, her voice clear. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I don’t know if I can live up to his legacy, but I’ll give everything I have to protect Atlantia.”

Nicolas nodded, his expression one of pride and resolve. He handed the sword back to her, its golden hilt gleaming in the light. “Then take it, Star Rosalind—not as a successor to the Blonde Hero, but as the hero Atlantia needs now. May its light guide you, as his once guided us all.”

Star accepted the sword, its warmth radiating through her as if in recognition of her resolve. She glanced at her companions, then at the king. The weight of destiny no longer felt like a burden—it felt like a promise. A promise she would keep.

The Blonde Hero’s story was history.
Star’s story was only just beginning.