The morning sun crested the peaks of the mountain range, sending long, golden streaks of light spilling down into the valley. A gentle, alpine breeze swept through the high meadows, causing the vibrant wildflowers—blossoms of deep crimson and sapphire—to sway in a slow, ethereal dance. The air was crisp, scented with pine and damp earth.
Valerus lay nestled deep within the flowery expanse. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the sudden brightness. He rose to a sitting position, his muscles protesting slightly, and took a slow, deep breath of the mountain air, his senses fully absorbing the serene surroundings.
"Where am I?" he murmured silently, the question floating out on the breeze.
A moment later, memory, sharp and vivid, flooded back: the soft, cool grass of the cemetery grove, the whispered secrets, the passionate intensity shared with Athena under the mantle of the night.
"Oh, Athena," he mused, a tender smile touching his lips. "Where is she?"
He began to move, pushing through the thicket of blooms, his voice rising in concern: "Athena!"
His search carried him deeper into the dreamlike landscape. The familiar cemetery grove had vanished, replaced by an unfamiliar, pristine location high in the secluded recesses of the mountains. He rounded a towering spire of rock and stopped dead.
Standing before him was an old man, his figure frail but commanding, clad in simple, aged linens. His hair, a magnificent cascade of pure white, fell past his shoulders, completely obscuring his face as he stood with his back to Valerus.
"Hello?" Valerus called out, his voice tentative in the profound stillness. "Who are you?"
The figure remained motionless, giving no sign that he had heard. Valerus stepped closer, a prickle of unease running down his spine.
"Hello? Who are you? Where is this place?" he repeated, louder this time.
Still, the man offered no response. Valerus closed the distance, coming right up beside him, and saw the startling sight: the old man was openly weeping, silent tears tracing paths through his white beard. He stood guard over a singular, magnificent object—a golden sword, its blade plunged deep and true into the solid gray rock beneath them.
The old man's shoulders hitched one last time, and then, slowly, his eyes—surprisingly bright and ancient—turned to meet Valerus's gaze.
"Welcome home, son," the man whispered, his voice worn by centuries.
"Who are you?" Valerus demanded, shaking off the confusion. "And where is this place? I don't know this mountain."
The old man ignored his questions, his focus purely on Valerus. "Are you her next master? I wonder."
"Old man, I don't understand!" Valerus questioned, frustration mounting. "What do you mean by her next master? Whose next master? Who is she?"
The old man turned away from Valerus, fixing his gaze back on the golden sword embedded in the stone.
In the cemetery grove, Valerus's eyes snapped open in his waking world.
He gasped, a sharp, ragged sound, trying desperately to catch his breath as reality rushed back in. He was still lying on the damp, cool earth, the wildflowers of the cemetery pressing against his skin. The sun was now fully up, warming the air.
He looked around frantically, and his gaze instantly settled on Athena. Her form was peacefully exposed, exactly where they had fallen asleep. A profound relief washed over him, followed by a soft, tender smile.
He lay back, his heart still pounding.
"It was just a dream, after all," he muttered, the words tasting strange on his tongue. But the dream felt too real, too urgent. "What does this mean? Who was that old man? Who was he talking about?"
Moments later, Athena's eyes fluttered open. Her hand instinctively reached out, seeking the warmth of Valerus, but met only the cool, dew-damp ground. She sat up abruptly and looked around the quiet, sun-dappled grove.
Her gaze caught his figure nearby. Valerus was engaged in fierce, solitary training, a focused storm of elemental energy. He was already a master of three abilities: a gust of Wind Hera would lift him momentarily, a flare of Flame Hera would ignite in his palms, and a shifting mound of Earth Hera would act as his makeshift sparring partner.
"Hey, why aren't you sleeping? It's still too early," Athena called out, indicating with a sweep of her hand that the hour was barely past dawn and the encampment was silent.
While Valerus continued his intense practice, Athena quickly dressed up. She watched him for a few moments, then walked over to join him, raising her own hands to the element she commanded. She began to manipulate a nearby trickle of water, guiding it into a graceful, winding helix that pulsed and danced in the morning light.
"Athena," Valerus called out suddenly, stopping his torrent of wind and fire.
She halted the flow of water and turned to him. "Yes?"
"Please, teach me Water Hera," he requested, the plea earnest and direct.
Athena's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Huh? Why?" she asked.
"Ever since I awakened Wind Hera, I've felt a possibility within me—that I might be able to wield all Hera types," Valerus explained, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. His expression immediately hardened with purpose. "Plus, we need every scrap of strength and every boost we can get in order to take down Aethelgard."
Athena studied his determined face, the exhaustion from the short night offset by the fire of ambition. "I see. Well, the fact that you can use three Hera types already makes me believe it's certainly possible for you to wield them all. All right, I will teach you Water Hera."
Meanwhile, at the Chronohelix encampment, most of the citizens remained soundly asleep, recovering from the emotional fervor of the previous night.
Princess Alexandra, however, was awake, her mind troubled. She wondered what Valerus and Athena were doing, concerned by their prolonged absence from the main group. Driven by curiosity, she went to check on them.
When she arrived at the cemetery grove, she found them mid-lesson. Athena was in the throes of teaching a defensive maneuver, and as Alexandra watched, Athena unleashed a surge of water that sent Valerus flying backward. He tumbled over a stretch of grass and landed hard near one of the older, forgotten grave markers.
"Are you ready for another lesson?" Athena asked playfully, dusting off her hands as if the action was nothing.
"Isn't that a bit much? Go easy on him," Princess Alexandra interjected, a worried frown creasing her brow.
"Ah, he can handle it," Athena assured her, turning to her friend. "By the way, why aren't you sleeping?"
"I couldn't sleep because you two were still out here," Alexandra replied simply.
"I see. Well, we are training," Athena confirmed.
At that moment, Valerus picked himself up from the ground. His eyes, having landed on the spot where he fell, fixed upon a small, smooth tablet made of rock. He reached out and picked it up. Engraved upon its surface was an inscription.
"What is this?" he muttered, the sudden shift in focus wiping the strain of training from his face.
He carried the tablet back toward the two women.
"Hey, are you ready for more lessons?" Athena questioned, a hint of a joke in her tone, ready to resume the training.
"What is that?" Princess Alexandra asked, her historian's gaze immediately locking onto the ancient artifact clutched in Valerus's hand.
"Oh, Alexandra. You're awake," Valerus said. "Well, I don't know. I saw it lying close to one of the graves. Something is written on it, so I brought it with me to show Athena."
"What is written on it?" Athena asked, walking closer with Alexandra.
Valerus crouched down, placing the tablet on a flat stone. He concentrated, and a steady, clean bloom of Flame Hera ignited above the stone, providing clear, warm light for them to read the faded script.
Princess Alexandra leaned in, tracing the symbols, and read the message aloud:
> "He who possesses the purest of heart, let him be her next master."
>
"There is a name underneath the message," Valerus noted, his heart quickening as he pointed to the bottom.
They all looked, and beneath the cryptic warning, the single name was clear: "Thorenz."
"Thorenz? Great Ancestor Thorenz?" Princess Alexandra breathed, astonished. "He wrote this?"
"It is possible," Athena mused, tapping the rock gently. "I believe Thorenz was trying to pass a message on to the future. Whoever he was referring to as 'her' just might be a living being, and this message points to her location or identity."
"But the fact that Thorenz knows who this person is, means she lived four thousand years ago," Alexandra reasoned, her historical mind kicking in. "She can't possibly be alive now, can she?"
Valerus extinguished the flame, plunging the inscription into shadow. His expression turned deadly serious. "Either way, the training and the message must wait. We have to infiltrate Aethelgard once the others wake up."
"Yeah," the ladies chorused, their earlier worries and morning activities forgotten, replaced by the grim determination to follow their commander into the mountains.