When the shouting faded and steel stopped singing, only exhaustion remained. Heroes rarely felt like heroes in the quiet after the killing.

The night stretched on, heavy with the weight of the battle just passed.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the wounded earth. Though the ground was strewn with the remains of Abyssal creatures, a strange stillness lingered—as if the world itself held its breath in the aftermath of war. The silence was broken only by the soft crackling of the campfire, around which Star and her companions had gathered.

Siegfried sat apart from the others, mending his shield. Friedrich leaned against a fallen rock, sharpening his greatsword with measured strokes. Klara, ever the strategist, sat cross-legged with a map of the region spread out before her, her eyes scanning every detail for anything that might give them an edge in the battles ahead.

But Star remained restless, her mind looping through every moment of the fight. Despite their victory, the road ahead loomed heavily on her shoulders. She could feel the pull of destiny—a force beyond her understanding, yet inescapable.

As the others busied themselves with their tasks, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Star’s attention.

A woman in a royal uniform approached their camp. Her sharp features were framed by tightly braided golden hair, and her blue eyes bore the weight of duty and experience. Her armor, though subtly worn, carried marks of a rank that had seen much, and she moved with the calm confidence of someone who knew their place in the world.

“Captain Astrid Fanrir,” Klara greeted her with a nod, glancing up from the map.

Astrid returned the gesture with a brief nod. “I’ve brought food for your group,” she said, her voice even, though there was a quiet urgency in her gaze. “But I’d like to speak to your leader, if she’s here.”

Star looked up from her thoughts and met the guard’s eyes. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Astrid hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the weight of what she was about to say. “It’s... a personal matter. May I speak with you in private?”

Star rose, brushing dust from her knees, and gestured toward a small tent near the fire. “Let’s go inside,” she said softly, already sensing the gravity behind Astrid’s words.

Inside, Astrid pulled the flap shut behind them, ensuring privacy. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of woodsmoke clinging to their clothes.

“I’ve heard whispers,” Astrid began, her voice quieter now, filled with restrained intensity. “About the Blonde Hero. Stories of a sword—one that could pierce through the darkness itself. A sword blessed by the Seven Heavens. I need to know if it’s true.”

Star’s heart skipped slightly. She had known this moment would come—when others would begin to uncover the truth of her lineage.

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her chest. “The sword is real. It once belonged to the Blonde Hero. It was given to me by Boreas, the Aeon of the North Wind.”

Astrid’s eyes flickered with recognition. “I thought so,” she murmured, drawing a deep breath as her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “My ancestor fought alongside the Blonde Hero. Her name was Astrid Fanrir. She helped defeat Nidhogg when the beast laid waste to the world.”

Star’s breath caught. “You... fought Nidhogg?”

“Not me. My ancestor did,” Astrid clarified. “Astrid Fanrir isn’t just my name—it was hers too. She stood beside the Hero in the final battle against Nidhogg.”

The revelation hit like a sudden gust of wind.

“She was there?” Star whispered.

Astrid nodded. “She played her part. She wasn’t a hero in the way he was—but she was there. Her writings were passed down through our family, preserved as a reminder of the price paid to stop that creature. That’s how I know what I told you earlier—about its weakness, and the Valkyrie Vale.”

She paused, her expression darkening.

“Nidhogg’s head is its weakness. The dark heart that grants it strength lies there. It’s the only way to kill it. But it won’t be easy. Its lair—Valkyrie Vale—is unlike any other place. My ancestor described it as a realm where past and present intertwine. The closer you draw to the heart of the valley, the more truths are revealed. The Veil of Time is thin there—it can unravel even the strongest minds.”

Star took in her words, the burden of her mission growing heavier by the second. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you carry the same burden he once did,” Astrid said gently, but firmly. “The sword of the Blonde Hero. The light that can pierce the dark. You are his successor, Star. And like him—you won’t face this alone.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hiss of the wind outside. Finally, Star nodded. “Thank you, Astrid. Your ancestor’s legacy—and yours—mean more than you know.”

A faint smile touched Astrid’s lips. “Rest well. Morning comes swiftly.”

When Star returned to the fire, her friends were already settling down in their makeshift beds. Klara scribbled in her journal, her brow furrowed in thought. Siegfried leaned against a tree, eyes half-lidded with sleep. Friedrich snored lightly, his greatsword within easy reach.

Star lay down, her gaze drifting to the stars above. Despite the warmth of the fire and the comfort of her friends nearby, the night felt colder than usual.

The shadow of Nidhogg loomed large in her thoughts, vivid and unrelenting. Yet, with Astrid’s words echoing in her heart, a sliver of hope pierced the darkness.

Morning came quickly, the light of dawn scattering the remnants of night. The group rose, their resolve firm as they prepared for the road ahead. With the northern gate behind them and Valkyrie Vale before them, they set out—threads of fate pulling them ever closer to their final battle.