Two of closeness, reality slowly setting in. Distressing it is, hearts yearning for those experiences to continue on. One moving onward, patiently waiting. Another following along, steadily losing distance, remaining inside of their shell. Deep inside the depths of the forest, Cyra accompanying the Elven. That young man telling her tales of their hardships, the devil listening in much interest. Even if it is a world so far, conflict of similarity. Alfheim, realm of the elves, numerous fleeing their home. Interesting it is, yet that maiden's mind wandering back to Valor, concerning herself over him. Cyra well in awareness on the difficulty he is experiencing, that pain existing inside of her as well. Ceasing her movements, glancing back, those trees going on and on. Some doubt expressing from her eyes, wind gently hitting against her.

"Valor..." She slightly glances away.

An unlikely meeting so long ago, a valuable companion. Two heading out into the vastness of the worlds, pleasure over the many years. Those times of dearness, emotions inside of a lock. A heart yearning to be free, a soul trying to break its shackles. That Elven turning his attention to her, noticing her distraction. Stopping his movements, facing in her direction. Folding his arms, thinking back a bit. That gentle breeze, the rustling leaves. Refreshing the surrounding scent is, smaller animals running about. That calmness of it all, the young man drawing upon his memories.

"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 experience between a devil and deity, the young man thinking on it. Two of nearness, conflict stirring between them both. That Trial of Acceptance, a god fleeing if not for a moment. That Elven of certainty, both having something they must accept. A time coming in their lives, those adventures shifting towards an ending. Lowering his hands, walking towards the young woman. Cyra hearing footsteps in her direction, that maiden turning her vision onward, witnessing that Elven standing in front of her. Those yearning for the past, time never waiting. Feelings within a lock, words wishing to come out.

"There is something you both must accept, huh." He gently speaks.

Cyra slightly looking away from him, nodding in agreement. Innumerable years of traveling, joyful it has been. Two of differing races, one from high above, the other roaming the land below. Expectations upon them, a bond holding on. Time never waiting, a dream moving towards an ending. That maiden turning from the Elven, gazing down the endless path. Reality setting in at some point, both having to accept this. Blissful it has been, experiences forever branding inside of her heart. Heaven and earth slowly drifting apart, unsettling it is.

"There will come a time, where we will have to part soon enough. He is having a hard time coming to terms with such, and it is painful for myself as well." She depressingly states.

Dreadful it is, companions of closeness. A bond building over the many years, two facing many conflicts together. Emotions growing deeper, feelings inside of a lock. Words not reaching out, time moving onward. Distressing it is, a soul having a solution, but that answer residing in the hands of one. That Elven turning from her, positioning his arms in a thinking posture. The young man understanding her words, that maiden and her old friend mistaking something. Time itself eventually bringing everything to an end, but no doubt there is much more to it than this.

"And so is the fate of every being, correct?" he questions.

"I suppose so..." Cyra distantly agreeing.

"You seem uncertain." He glances back to her.

Uncertainty at the core, a heart yearning to continue this dream with another. Even if it is painful, that one desiring for the smallest chance. Those living different lives, both having a higher standing in their respective world. Despite those requirements, for years there have been joy between the two. Facing the Elven, witnessing the shifting in his eyes. That devil turning her vision to the ground, unrest inside of her. One having doubt, sorrow lingering deep within her. An answer existing, yet it is eluding her.

"Listen." He gently speaks.

Those of Alfheim having their beliefs, some following it quite close, others reaching beyond. Many years of life, the young man well in awareness on these experiences. That young woman resting her vision upon the Elven, confusion inside of her eyes. A solution she is seeking out, one better than the smallest chance. That young man gazing up into the vast blue sky, closing his eyes. Gentle the breeze is against him, those rustling of leaves meeting his ears. Calm the forest is, tranquil even. An unlikely friend, but one still ignorant to reality.

"Fate is a fool's word, take hold of your future yourself. Look on, reach out, and grab hold. Sometimes, it is okay to be a bit selfish." He turns towards the maiden.

Those words meeting her ears, her heart at an unrest. Her vision slightly trembling, that certainty in his voice. Time continuing onward, yet selfishness is okay. Vast the worlds are, resolve in holding onto what is dear. That young woman settling herself, witnessing the Elven opening his eyes, gently gazing at her. Thinking on his words, a fire burning from her depths. Even if the chances are minuscule at best, one must take hold of their own future. Desires far inside, a heart reaching out, that will to resist grabbing hold.

Fate is a fool's word. Those words that Elven spoke, they eternally remain within me...

"Time no doubt will continuously move on. Though, what is the point in going at it alone? You have a great friend, and even through such hardships, tackle the conflict together." He explains, faintly smiling.

Time continuously going on, never waiting for another. No matter so, even if the conflict is harsh, two facing it together. A bond forming in days of the past, reprehensible it may be, but valuable experiences coming into actuality. Those feelings flowing through her, that maiden closing her eyes, embracing those words. Truth there is to what the Elven is speaking, that they must find a standing for themselves. Even if the clock will never cease, it does not mean one has to accept the outcome. Opening her eyes, Cyra's expression of calmness. That young man immediately in awareness on her resolve, that devil finding her path.

"Then I will continue treading down this endless abyss, even if it means becoming corruption itself. There will eventually be a light that I can grasp, that we can grasp." She softly speaks.

"I wish you both the best in your endeavors." He turns from her.

This was the path I chose so many years ago. I did not desire for us to have a parting, and he as well does not wish for such. If only I could have grasped that light...then maybe...

"You must be tired after such a long day, let us head to the village." The Elven suggesting.

A heart reaching out, that soul refusing to land. One taking hold of her own path forward, even if it is but a somber morrow. Selfish it may be, but that defining the reason to resist. Her vision upon the young man, resolve renewing. Determination igniting deep within her, that devil taking a step forward. Nigh impossible it may be, but that smallest of chance no less enough. Desires deep within, one extending her hand, trying to grab hold of what she is wishing for most. Two wanting a similar life, foolish it has been in accepting the natural order.

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"Very well."

Wind of gentleness, that will to continue on feverishly lashing out. That young woman following along, hearing the tales of the Elven. One relating more to an elderly person than a younger one, an enlightening experience. Stories most interesting, infinite in mystery the worlds are. Some time going by, both arriving in a small village, technological advancement far from an actuality. Houses from the sturdiest of trees blanketing the area, each having their own living quarters. Wide open the center of the field is revealing, far above extending another set of parts interconnecting with the village. That Elven walking ahead a bit, Cyra gazing on in amazement. That clean air, mesmerizing the view is, a lovely place if anything. Those rustling leaves, animals roaming around.

"Well, what do you think?" he questions, facing the maiden.

Those sounds of birds high in the sky, the flowing blades of grass. Villagers carrying on with their day to day lives, a simple but magnificent sight. That maiden walking ahead a bit, slowly turning, assimilating the breathtaking scene. Her eyes trailing the finer details, connecting the points above. That vision finding the more interesting displays, tablets lining around. Alfheim evermore close to nature, their beliefs holding strong. An experience most valuable, a realm resisting the harshness of time. Encouraging this is, that maiden visualizing her way forward.

"Primitive, but amazing no doubt. Elven's prefer nature, so this is to be expected." She softly speaks.

"Correct, I am glad you like it. We don't get much visitors." He turns from her.

"I understand."

A world having little guests, their lifestyle remaining. Simple it is, but quite soothing. No matter so, that brief moment of bliss going away. Cyra glancing back, concern growing inside of her. That young woman wondering of her old friend, turning to the exit of the village, much time passing since their parting. Positioning her arms in a thinking posture, figuring it is about time she finds him, to set him to ease. Even if time must continue onward, it does not mean they have to leave the other. Years upon years of knowing one another, that will to resist burning even stronger.

"I am going to go search for him." She glances back to the Elven.

"I see, very well, do be-careful." He pleasantly speaks.

Friendship between two, differences of them, but a bond of closeness. An unlikely meeting so long ago, one from the heavens, the other walking the earth. Many years of their bond developing, times of difficulty coming. No matter so, that will to oppose taking hold. Resting her vision onward, noticing heavy footsteps from all around, that Elven in alarm stepping away. Glancing back, resting his vision on some children, as well as some adults gathering. Those villagers having confusion of the occurrence, that Elven well in awareness on the approaching danger.

"Everyone! Get back!" he warns.

Glancing behind, Cyra's vision slightly widening. Unrest inside of the area, that young woman turning her attention onward, the Elven doing the same. Energy concentrating all around, the maiden looking above, witnessing fire descending. That concentration of flames crashing down throughout the village, screaming far and wide. Many trying to evacuate, panic of greatness. Trees tearing away, buildings falling, colliding into some of the inhabitants. That maiden bearing witness to this cruelty, a place of beauty transforming into a horror. A presence of intensity approaching in her direction, that devil turning, resting her vision upon Surtr.

That deity standing at the entrance to the village, the god gazing upon the fire. His eyes of admiration, the grass scorching. Blazing fire extending throughout, Cyra slowly reaching her hand back to her weapon, taking caution of the enemy ahead. That deity looking in her direction, two mighty forces meeting on the battlefield. At that moment, out by the lake deep within the forest. Valor rising from the land, his eyes of disbelief. That god witnessing smoke covering the sky, screaming extending to his location. Thinking for a moment, this presence meeting his awareness. His crawling skin, Valor identifying the attacker.

"Cyra!" he calls out, rushing ahead.

"Dammit! I shouldn't have left! Hold on..."

Animals of uncertainty, gazing upon their surroundings. Events unfolding, fear coming over them. Turning their attention to each other, agreeing to flee. That forest going into a panic, more becoming aware of the threat, a stampede in every direction. Smoke filling the air, fire spreading. That deity rushing onward, racing towards his old friend. Enemies in sight, those weapons in his direction. Gripping the hilt of his katana, that god striking through. Standing from a distance, glaciers of ice entombing his enemies. Sheathing his blade, that assault shattering. Those servants of Surtr lifelessly falling to the ground, Valor hastily continuing onward. Within the village, heat intensifying. That Elven stepping back, shielding himself from the flames. His heart at an unrest, that vision of the young man of hesitance. Surtr, god of fire. Many coming against this foe, so many faltering to him.

"Be careful Cyra. This is a god, and Surtr of all deities..." That Elven warning.

Trees falling, houses breaking apart. Fire tearing away at the land, smoke thickening by the moment. Surtr cracking a faint smile, admiring his reputation. Far and wide many fearing this one, his flames reducing so many to ashes. His expression becoming stern, those eyes of his upon the maiden. Lævateinn residing in her possession, one of the treasures of the worlds. A demon sword, one with infinite potential. Many years going by, its location being with one of legend. This development catching his interest, that god folding his arms.

"One of the seven treasures, why is it with you? It is supposed to be in the possession of Demon Tyrant Alastor." His tone cold upon her.

Those words catching her attention, that maiden's vision slightly more serious. Demon Tyrant Alastor, one ascending far above his standing. A devil rivaling that of the gods, his endeavors meeting the awareness on many. Lævateinn cutting down his opponents, one seeking a standing far above his station. Turning her attention to the demon sword, that weapon crying out. Negative energy reacting to the flames of the god, unease building within her, that blazing heat all around. Crying so far, many trying to flee.

"Lævateinn is too afraid to battle..." She takes a step back.

"Answer me devil." His impatient tone extending to her.

History of deepness, many knowing of the tales of the great Tyrant. His weapon felling innumerable, that intimidating voice. No matter so, that will in resisting igniting. Holding back Lævateinn, standing upon her side. Her fearsome eyes clashing against that god of fire, this pressure crushing down upon her. One capable of striking fear into the demon sword, an opponent far above her capabilities. Even so, his words taking her interest. There is still much she is wishing to know, this deity having some answers. Her unrestful heart, that resolve to oppose existing within her.

"Demon Tyrant Alastor is my father, what is it to you?" Cyra calmly questions.

Her words catching his interest, rumors it has been. That great Tyrant having a child, giving up his dreams. This confirming much, Surtr folding his arms. His eyes slightly calming, gazing upon her. A devil with the blood of Alastor, numerous years of seeking him out, a connection point existing. That Elven resting his eyes upon the young woman, surprise extending from him. Throughout the worlds, countless knowing of Demon Tyrant Alastor, his many feats. One reaching so far, stepping onto the domain of the gods.

"His offspring I see..." Surtr calmly states.

"Lævateinn...please, I need you more than ever now..." Cyra pleading.

Hearing her voice, that weapon rising to the challenge. Its aura intensifying, that blade crying out. Surtr bearing witness to this, another that can command Lævateinn. Even so, passive she is in comparison to her father. Nonetheless, that blood of the infamous Tyrant running through her veins. Thinking for a moment, an opportunity coming about. That god of fire visualizing his own path, that devil holding much potential. A child of Alastor, that demon gaining so much power. One rising to the many challenges. Devils normally of weakness, that one possessing frightening capabilities.

"Devil, you have the blood of Demon Tyrant Alastor. As a result, you are far more than most. Serve under me, and anything you so desire will be yours." He proposes, standing to his side, extending a hand to her.

A bloodline constantly tormenting her, those consuming themselves in the heat of battle. Disgusting it is, one loathing taking up arms. Her desire deep inside, an offer that she can never accept. One constantly moving down a more difficult path, reaching her hand out. Minuscule the chances may be, but such being done underneath her own power. Staking Lævateinn into the ground at her side, her eyes penetrating deep into the core of Surtr. One nowhere near the level of Alastor, but his offspring no less. That god of fire looking at her more seriously, his blood boiling.

"Apologies, but I serve no one. Whether you are a god or not, it is of no difference to me." She calmly speaks.

Her words meeting his attention, those eyes, that posture. One in reflection to the Demon Tyrant, an offspring willing to oppose. Lævateinn crying out, malevolence circling around, clashing against the relentless flames. Those panicking slowly calming, turning in her direction. That Elven looking at her, his vision of disbelief. A devil willing to oppose Surtr, her words washing over a wave of hope to many. That calm demeanor of the deity of fire burning away into his relentless flames, two mighty entities standing in opposition of one another.

"Stubborn like your father, I suppose I will have you see reason in my influence." He cracks his knuckles, glaring at her.

Removing Lævateinn from the ground, directing it at her foe. Negative energy emitting from the young woman, intensifying by the moment. Aura of fire and darkness clashing against each other, that blazing heat burning even hotter. Two of mightiness meeting on the battlefield, a devil and deity. A heart loathing each and every moment, yet necessity in taking up arms. One wishing for an end to these conflicts, no matter so, an impossibility it is appearing. Despite it all, a demon willing to reach, her soul seeking to soar.

My father, his reputation extending even now. Even so, this is of little importance. Valor...where are you...? I cannot do this alone. Lævateinn is not at full capacity, this sheer weight of his aura crushing down on me. Still...something is urging me to continue on...