Emotions existing far inside, words remaining inside of a lock. A deity and devil forming a bond, years of joyfulness. Those feelings developing more, yet a dream having its limit. Moving further ahead, deeper into this illusion. No matter so, eventually one will have to awaken. This realization leading to sorrow, painful it is, but a reality no less. Standing a few feet behind that maiden, well in awareness that there are only so many places to visit. Every exploration bringing them closer to an ending, distressing this is to the god. Cyra resting her vision on a massive tablet, ancient scriptures residing upon it. This catching her interest, writing telling a story. Positioning her arms in a thinking posture, an interesting find this is, a tale transcending time.

"The scriptures here acknowledges that everything has a beginning and an end. Those of Alfheim are always aware of this." Valor gazing up into the vast blue sky.

Everything having a beginning and an end, trueness of this. Pleasureful it may be for a moment, but those experiences eventually fading away. Valor trying to come to term with it, the reason in introducing her to this world. Acceptance of this actuality, that their adventure must have a conclusion. Despite it all, that one continuously reaching out, trying to keep it going. Hesitation existing, even after hundreds of years. Cyra slightly looking away, a faint smile coming to her face. That young woman well in awareness on this fact, turning towards her old friend, those eyes of crimson resting upon him.

"I have been wondering, where are the inhabitants of Alfheim?" curiously tilting her head, holding her hands behind her back.

A realm of peacefulness, inhabitants nowhere in sight. Peculiar this is to the maiden, a forest going on and on. Beautiful it is, a place containing many mysteries. Those of this realm having their own history, beliefs eternally engraving. Distressing those words are, but acceptable. Those embracing the present, trying to hold onto their joy. Valor resting his vision in her direction, folding his arms. A question of expectance, one of naturalness. Two venturing in to the world of the Elves, yet not witnessing any. A tale no less behind it, a reason for this occurrence.

"Years ago, during the Great War, many of Alfheim left their world, and are now somewhere within each of the Nine Worlds." He explains.

Twilight of the Gods, a war of grandness. Races from all over engaging in battle, greatness of sorrow Agony incomparable, blood filling the air. Countless fearing it, a story passing down throughout time. Gods descending, chaos ensuing. An opportunity coming about, some fleeing their world. A moment of bliss it might bring, but none escaping the calamity. Sorrow endlessly extending, desires clashing against one another. Destruction paving a path onward, all aiming for victory. Despite the absurdity of it all, there can be some bliss.

"So, they took advantage of the weakened borders, and left when Ragnarök lowered security." She slightly looks down.

"Pretty much, only reason I did not hunt them down, is due to them being more of a peaceful race." Valor explaining.

"I see." She turns from him.

A moment coming, those of Alfheim fleeing. War tearing through, horrifying destruction. Slowly looking around, Cyra sinking in the breathtaking view. A forest going on for many miles, animals roaming about. Those rustling leaves, that gentle breeze. Movements coming from the bushes towards her right, that young woman turning in the direction. Her vision slightly more serious, Valor facing in the way. Both witnessing a figure slowly emerging, an Elven in his young adult phase. Difficult it is in identifying this, those of Alfheim having a much different lifespan. That hair of the young man extending long, reflecting light brown. His eyes crystal blue, that one wearing an ancient hazel garb.

"Ah, so it is one of Alfheim's inhabitants." Valor folding his arms.

Numerous leaving the world of the elves. No matter so, some still remaining. Few in numbers they may be, their existence still of a reality. That Elven resting his vision upon the maiden, malevolence secreting from her soul. His eyes of seriousness, that hostile one turning his attention to Valor. Gentleness of the deity’s aura, pureness of an individual. Two energies conflicting each other, a peculiar duo they are. Uncertainty on how to react, that young man feeling his heart at an unrest. Passerby's they may be, on the other hand, the possibility of enemies existing ahead of him.

"No need to take alarm." Valor assuring him, walking in front of the maiden.

Infinite in mystery life can be, two of differences. One having so much malice inside of her, another of purity. Conflicting energies, a bond forming between the two. Even if it is an unlikely friendship, those two companions holding the other dear. That Elven carefully keeping his eyes upon the god, observing his actions. That energy secreting from the devil, unsettling it is. Purity releasing from that deity, emotions at an unrest. A heart of uncertainty, one never witnessing such a development. That breeze gently blowing, the surrounding air slightly thickening.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"We are merely here for the sights is all." The god explaining.

Two from differing worlds, one of highness, another walking the land. Races of differences, yet a bond forever strong. Hearts dancing in the endless wind, souls soaring through the vast distance. That Elven resting his eyes upon the maiden, Cyra sensing his hostility. That young woman's expression turning more serious, an enemy this one may be. Her hand motioning back, gripping the hilt of Lævateinn. Hearts at an unrest, two in opposition of the other. Many despising devils, this much is of normalcy. Demons evermore barbaric, an image branding upon all.

"Is that so? I find it odd that you travel with a devil." He looks at Valor.

Inconceivable it is, one having a bond with a demon. Even so, enlightening it has been. Companions venturing through the worlds, emotions growing stronger over time. Glancing back to Cyra, Valor motioning his hand, signaling for her to cease her advance. That young woman glancing to him, her vision trailing to the Elven. Both hostile towards the other, despite the dilemma, a possibility in avoiding conflict. That devil releasing her hold on Lævateinn, pulling away a bit. That Elven bearing witness to this, slightly calming. Truth there may be within the words of the god, two potentially residing there for the sights. That situation settling, Valor turning his attention to the young man, scratching the back of his head with his right hand.

"We're odd, I know. We've traveled together for hundreds of years." He informs.

An unlikely friendship between two, perplexing it is. One of purity, the other of malice. Different they are, yet a close companionship. Analyzing those two for a moment, that Elven gauging their credibility. That one soon calming, making his way towards Valor. Cyra settling herself, negative energy lightening from her. That Elven bearing witness to this, feeling assurance in his conclusion. The young man standing in front of them, a misunderstanding it is. Those of differences, a bond not of expectance. No matter so, the worlds filling with mystery.

"A deity and a devil, most unusual this is. Then again, anything is possible." That Elven looking towards the tablet.

Two meeting in days so long ago, a most pleasureful encounter. A demon having no fear of a god, that deity finding this most peculiar. Even so, that young woman becoming his closest friend. A duo traveling throughout the worlds, experiencing the bliss of adventure. Emotions growing deeper, feelings of powerfulness. Despite it all, words remaining inside of a lock. Folding his arms, Valor well in awareness on the skepticism. A devil being one of malice, those of a barbaric race. No matter so, everyone having their own uniqueness to them.

"I suppose so, as I said, we're just here for the sights. Anything new down here?" Valor questions a bit curiously.

Worlds continuously developing, even if it is slow. Discovery around every corner, experiences branding upon the soul. That young woman holding her hands behind her back, her own curiosity of the possibility. That Elven positioning his arms, thinking for a moment. Alfheim, that world of the elves. A race of peacefulness, but quite destructive if need be. Change not much, something of interest no less of a possibility. An idea coming to the mind of the young man, his attention returning to the two ahead of him.

"Hmm...I suppose the Trial of Acceptance is something that has been added after the Great War." He informs.

"Trial of Acceptance?" Cyra questions, positioning her arms in a thinking posture.

Years going by, many of Alfheim fleeing. No matter so, something new coming about. Intriguing it is to the maiden, knowledge around every corner. Whether it is of smallness or largeness, those mysteries of worthiness. That Elven resting his vision upon the deity, Valor looking away. His heart at an unrest, one having an idea of what it is. That one desiring for a dream to continue on, until that courage is of a reality. A bond of dearness, two experiencing so much together. Selfish it is, but that one well in awareness that there may come a time where he must accept this.

"Indeed, just like the tablet here which speaks of everything must come to an end, the Trial of Acceptance tests the resolve of those who enter. It helps one accept what is to come, or what has happened." He explains.

Two in relation to the other, one embracing everything must come to an end, the other accepting that outcome. A steady stream it is, life of limitation. Hearts of dreadfulness, yet this is the reality. Pleasureful those experiences has been, feelings wishing for more. No matter so, time waiting for no one. Holding her hands behind her back, Cyra glancing to her old friend. That devil well in awareness on the difficulty of this, a trial that may be beneficial for the deity. Pain within it, parting of a possibility.

"Hey, Val?"

Her voice of softness, his heart at an unrest. Difficult it is, accepting a reality without his close friend. Time going on, waiting for no one. Those words of hers echoing through him, courage of importance. No matter so, that one retreating into his shell. Turning from her, holding the back of his head. That deity well in awareness on her suggestion, unable in going through with it. Propping his arms behind his head, his casual stance. That heart of his quivering, fear clawing away at his depths.

"Something turned up, I gotta head back. You continue exploring here, I'll return in a few hours." He smiles in her direction.

That young woman looking away from him, no doubt it will take some time. That old friend battling against those emotions deep inside of him, a push it is. One continuing to wait, another remaining within his shell. Pressure on the situation, a dream coming towards an end. Time waiting for no one, this reality of clearness. Courage, that word ringing through the deity. One of innocence, his heart heavy upon him. That Elven observing the two, having an idea of their conflict. Cyra and that young man resting their eyes onward, witnessing Valor heading off towards the west.

In those days, I knew he was suffering, that he did not want to let go. I as well did not wish for such, and I would have loved to continue to dream with him. Though, everyone has to wake up, and life has to move on. Still...I can only wonder...if things could have gone differently...