The darkness around them dissipated. For a moment, all their view consisted of was the pale purple sky. Nothing above, nothing below.

That was the scary part. The below. Because even with nothing, there was still the ground. More than 50 meters away.

"Oh, my God," Alexander muttered.

"Oh, God!" Anastasia cried.

And with that momentary lapse of existence, they began to fall.

"Don't panic!" he shouted in return.

Anastasia screeched.

And from there, in the face of certain death, Hjálmarr was the only one to maintain a cool head. Well... He was the only one that tried to.

Anastasia's brain had simply turned off. Alexander clenched his jaw in panic.

As for Hjálmarr... 'Think!' he urged himself. He took in a sharp breath and shut his eyes.

'Slow down.' That's what he commanded himself. 'Think. You have the rest of your life, so might as well take it slow, right?'

'Okay. Assume you've already survived. This is nothing more than a story. That's right. A story you're telling your parents or future kids. So how does it end? Hmm... Started falling from a ridiculous height. Certain death. You wanna know how I survived? Well, me too.'

His thoughts continued, 'So the first rule of dying is: don't die. Go deeper into your own consciousness and think. What solution did you manage to come up with? How'd you overcome such odds? Those are good questions to be answered. And right now... I'm going to explain how I survived. I already know this is going to be brilliant.'

Time passed: 0.2 seconds.

Hjálmarr's eyes burst open. He clasped his hands together and began mumbling to himself, once again shutting his eyes.

Alexander turned to Hjálmarr. He was praying, wasn't he?

And with that, Hjálmarr opened his eyes. A thin smile crept onto his lips. "Done!" he shouted. "The incantation! It's ready, my liege!"

"Huh?!"

Hjálmarr thrust his hand downward. "With the blessing of the gods! I call upon the Eastern Winds!"

Nothing happened. Nothing except for Hjálmarr's face beginning to contort with panic.

"Huh?!" Alexander repeated in his confusion.

"Uh..." he nervously mumbled. "We- Western Winds!" he cried, once again, slamming his hands downward.

Nothing happened. And Anastasia was still screeching.

"Um..." the elf repeated, his voice more and more desperate. "The sun! Where's the sun?!" Hjálmarr shouted, turning and spinning in search of it.

His eyes widened as he stared at the golden orb. "So that's..."

"Yes!" he finally shouted, once again, driving his hands downward. "Southern Winds!"

And with that...

They stopped falling.

Hjálmarr and Anastasia and Alexander simply hovered just a meter or two off of the ground. The sudden force that caught them quickly let them go.

Again, Alexander fell face first.

The others fell to their knees.

And with that, they were silent. It wasn't like there was much to say. All they could do was exist. Just... be alive.

It was just the three of them. The Demon-Born, the human, and the elf. The other Virtues had been separated, thrown some place else.

All Alexander could do was hope they didn't have to grow through the same thing. Or at least, that they were still alive.

And so, Alexander swallowed his dry saliva, his face and hands still in the ground. "Oh, God, that was terrifying," he mumbled to himself, raising his head from the dirt.

He spat out an exasperated sigh and stood up, patting off the dirt from his sleeves and pants. "Anastasia, you okay?" he asked.

Her arms were crossed over her stomach as she sat on her knees right next to a tree. The only response was the sound of her puking.

"...Alright, then. Hjálmarr, you good?"

"Yes, my liege," the elf responded, his hand pressed against a tree as he labored to catch his breath.

Alexander moved over to Anastasia. "So, uh..." he said, patting her back as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach. "Guess we're fine. Thanks to Hjálmarr."

Anastasia began her raise her head, her eyes stained with tears as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "The asshole that did this is the same one that got us into that Enclosed World," she said, gritting her teeth. "I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"...Cool," Alexander responded. He cleared his throat. "Well, either way... We gotta find a way out of here. Or rather, we need to find a way to the God Crystal."

Anastasia finally stood up and walked away from the puddle of throw-up. She spat out a sigh and walked over to another tree, sitting down against it. "I'm gonna pretend the entire past hour didn't happen."

"Fair enough."

Alexander turned to Hjálmarr. "...How the hell did you do that?" he asked. "What magic was that?"

Hjálmarr nervously shiffled his feet as he stared at the ground. "Well... Elf magic is complex, my liege. It's... It's not exactly magic. For example, what I just didn't wasn't anything relating to magic. We, elves, are naturally more connected to divinity than other Worldly species. And so, we are capable of calling upon the power of dieties and spirits. It's similar to the concept of sorcery, you see."

"...Damn that is more complicated than I thought," Alexander mumbled.

Alexander took his bag off his back and reached into it as he walked back over to Anastasia. He pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper.

And once he flattened it, it began to glow before shifting and contorting into different images.

'An interactive map,' Yulius called it.

It adjusted to their location and created a route for them to travel. And considering where they were supposed to be...

Alexander repeatedly pounded his finger onto the paper. "See, look at that," he said. "We're only-" He looked closer. "-100 kilometers from where we're supposed to be."

Anastasia stared at him. "I hate the fact that you said only 100 kilometers."

"100 kilometers isn't that much. It's only like 60 miles."

She still stared at him.

"Alright, then."

Alexander paused and thought in silence. "...Okay, so how about this? I run ten miles. Then you teleport yourself and Hjálmarr to my location. Hjálmarr runs ten miles, you teleport us over there, then you do the same thing. Before you know it, we'll be done."

"...My liege, I can't run ten miles."

"Exactly," Anastasia said. "Normal people aren't just capable of running ten miles. You're just you."

She continued, "Besides, my magic doesn't have a range of ten miles. Maybe half a mile at most."

Alexander took in a deep breath. "Fine. Guess we'll just- Just have to walk sixty miles."

Anastasia finally turned to Hjálmarr, before quickly turning back to Alexander. "Wait, who even is this guy?"

"He's... an ally, I guess."

"So we're just going to travel with him?"

Hjálmarr interjected, "I understand that trust from humans can be difficult to earn, but I'm not here for that. I'm here to protect him." He pointed at Alexander.

Between Anastasia's confusion, Alexander's awkwardness, and Hjálmarr's intensity, the three stared at each other in silence.

Alexander finally broke the silence with a sigh. "Can we- Can we get going?"

And with that, they walked. Into the endless woodlands of Vanaheim.

Even so, it wasn't long before Anastasia groaned in frustration, letting out her mental anguish into the vast forest. "I hate all of this."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Alexander spat out a sigh, "Y'know, for the Virtue of Patience, you get annoyed really quickly."

"Yep."

With that alone, Alexander paused, stopping in his tracks and thinking.

Gabriel wasn't humble in the slightest. Liam wasn't exactly kind, to begin with. Leonard didn't have much self-restraint in general. And so on and so forth.

"Wait, so we were assigned the Virtues based on what we're lacking?" he asked, speed-walking to catch up to Anastasia.

"I guess so."

He furrowed his brows. 'How the hell am I lacking in diligence?'

Just as they had been walking for more than an hour, for nearly six miles until Alexander stopped.

"What is it?" Anastasia asked.

"A cabin in the woods," Alexander said, staring into the forest. Just a short distance away was a hill. And on that hill stood a wooden cabin.

Hjálmarr cleared his throat. "We should go in."

"We shouldn't," Alexander said. "This is just like that horror movie with the cabin in the woods."

"Which movie?" Anastasia asked.

"I don't know what it's called, but it's about a cabin in the woods."

Anastasia paused. "Yeah, I don't know either. But..."

Her words were interrupted as Hjálmarr ran towards the cabin, his footsteps echoing over the cracked branches.

'He's not even being stealthy or anything,' Alexander complained to himself before they followed him.

They all ran up the hill towards the cabin. All it took was for Hjálmarr to press his palm against the door for it to swing open.

The door swung open. And with that, they all let out slight gasps, even Hjálmarr.

The structure's interior was surprisingly tall, with grand windows on each wall, invisible from the outside. Bookshelves were on nearly every wall, each built wood and adorned with ornate designs.

Nearly a dozen chairs were scattered all around a circular table. And not just that, but the cabin extended dozens of meters past that, with wooden pillars, doors, and even corridors.

"Well, I'll be damned," Hjálmarr mumbled.

"It's bigger on the inside," Anastasia and Alexander muttered in unison.

Hjálmarr moved quickly, already checking cabinets and cupboards for anything useful.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

Hjálmarr paused, his hands still wrapped around cabinet doors. "...Sorry. Force of habit."

He walked back to the others, his head slightly drooped over with some kind of shame. Alexander furrowed his eyebrows at him in confusion.

"So..." Anastaisa began. "What are we actually doing here?"

Alexander spat out a sigh. "Might as well stay here for a while," he said, pulling the interactive map from his bag once again. "Gotta figure something out."

The sound of a man clearing his throat echoed across the cabin.

They all immediately drew their weapons and turned to the source of the sound.

Anastasia's hammer expanded as she gripped it with both hands. Alexander dropped the map and drew his sword just as a golden shortsword appeared in Hjálmarr's hand.

'Where the hell did he even get that from?' Alexander thought to himself, glancing at the blade.

A bearded man stood by the open doorway. He chuckled to himself. "So you break into my home and draw your weapons on me?"

"Damn, that's a good point," Alexander responded, already lowering his sword.

Neither Anastaisa nor Hjálmarr lowered their weapons.

"He could be dangerous," Anastasia mumbled.

"Yep," Alexander agreed. "But he hasn't done anything. That usually means something."

The man continued to stare at them. "So..." he began. "What business do a human, an elf, and a Demon-Born have in the middle of the Freyr Woodlands?"

He was a relatively short old man. His eyes were surrounded by wrinkles and sagging skin above his cheekbones. Even so, his hair was still a tint of light brown, just as his eyes were, gleaming with still color. He wore nothing more than plain grey garb, covering his body like robes.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was...

"...How'd you know I was a Demon-Born?"

He smiled. "There are things eyes can't see. And others that can only be seen with a different set of eyes."

"...What the hell does that mean?"

The man's smile only widened. "My name is Grisha. I'm a... Well, it doesn't matter what I am. You're welcome to stay here during the night if you want. After all, you'll need your energy if you're going after the God Crystal."

Again, they all froze. How did Grisha know all this?

Almost as if he were reading their thoughts, he began to chuckle. "Who isn't after the God Crystal? People from all over the realms are here for it. That's why you're here, too, isn't it, elf boy?"

Hjálmarr swallowed his saliva.

"Or are you here for more honorable purposes?"

"For honor," Hjálmarr affirmed.

Grisha laughed. "I'm glad." He kept moving across the house and sat down by a table. "As I said, you can stay here, if you want. I don't care for it."

And with that, he picked up a book and began to read silently, as if nothing in the past five minutes had just happened.

Anastasia swallowed her saliva in her slight confusion.

Hjálmarr was just as confused as her. And so, he walked over to Alexander.

"My liege," he said, grabbing Alexander by the arm. "Is what he says true? That you're a Demon-Born?"

Alexander nodded, pulling his arm back. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Nothing. I just thought you were human. You sure are interesting, my liege," he said, chuckling to himself.

Alexander didn't trust Hjálmarr. Not yet.

He didn't have any reason to feel threatened by him, but he still couldn't trust a guy he had known for just the past couple of hours.

The pact between Hjálmarr and Alexander. A 'biding vow' as Liam had called it. If that vow meant anything, he wasn't a danger or a threat.

That was enough for now, Alexander supposed. Still, he asked.

"Well, what about you?" Alexander asked, letting out a sigh, pressing his back against the wooden wall. "Grisha brought up a good point. On your purpose here on Vanaheim."

Hjálmarr swallowed his saliva. "My liege..." he began to mutter.

"I've disgraced my family. And on Alfheim, my home... Well, I might as well commit suicide for that."

'Holy shit,' he thought as those words left Hjálmarr's mouth. Alexander still remained silent.

"Okay, that might be an exaggeration. That was an old tradition. But it's still a problem. My disgrace, that is. Which is why I came to Vanaheim. If the strongest, wisest, most capable, of each realm, and virtuous, in your case, all arrived on Vanaheim, then surely, surely, one of them may be honorable enough to serve under."

Alexander paused. "So... Because I saved your life, you just jumped the gun and chose me?"

"That's exactly right, my liege."

"...Okay, then."

"But, my liege..." Hjálmarr's conversation was interrupted as a young girl suddenly ran through the doorway and into the cabin.

Alexander stared at her. She seemed to be no more than five or six years old. Short and dark-skinned, she stood almost motionless, staring at Alexander with her dark eyes. Her hair was straight and stark white and cascaded down her back.

He had already seen and heard of those with that infinitely pale hair. "Is she-"

Grisha nodded. "Her name's Morgana. And yep, as her hair shows... She's Asgardian. But more importantly... She's a Demon-Born."

Alexander stood in silence and swallowed his saliva. If she was a Demon-Born, then she was just like Alexander. Cursed.

Morgana stared at Alexander. Only for a second, before she dashed through the door again and into the forest.

"Doesn't talk much, either. You know how children can be."

Alexander paused, thinking about Morgana. She was just a kid. And she already knew she was a Demon-Born. He swallowed his saliva and turned to stare at Grisha.

"Anastasia. Hjálmarr," Alexander began, his eyes still fixated on Grisha. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked.

Hjálmarr swiftly nodded. "Yes, my liege," he said, quickly running through the door. Meanwhile, Anastasia stayed behind, staring at Alexander for just a second. She let out a sharp breath and walked away.

And just then, Alexander spat out an exasperated sigh. "Morgana's cursed."

"I'm aware."

"Does she know that? Of her own curse?"

Grisha nodded.

Alexander spat out a sigh. "You told her?"

Again, Grisha nodded in silence.

"...Why the hell would you do that?" Alexander asked, glaring at him.

"I don't care for that. I'm not the one that wants to protect her. Nonetheless, she should know the truth."

"She's a child," Alexander objected.

Grisha chuckled at that concept. "Of course. But that doesn't mean it matters. Demon-Borns... or curse bearers in general... They don't follow the regular structure of life. They're anomalies, in a sense."

Alexander scoffed at that. He had been called that almost half a dozen times. And as Grisha continued talking, Alexander ended up clenching his fist.

"So... People like you, like her... Nothing more than a prank of fate."

And not just that.

"What's she doing here, then?" he asked.

Grisha stepped closer to Alexander, standing beside his ear. "Her parents are dead. Considering her, it's her fault. And from there, she just showed up in the forest one day. Not even I know how. Although, it is likely that it's simply a development of her magic."

Alexander grit his teeth. He already didn't like Grisha. Even if his words didn't carry affronting intent, they still had more weight than they should have.

"Her fault."

He hated that concept. And so, he spat out a sigh. "So she's just gonna stay here?"

"I should be asking you that." Grisha turned away and sat down beside the table. "You may be on a quest, but in a matter of days, you'll be back on Midgard."

Alexander swallowed his saliva. He already knew what Grisha was going to say.

"Don't you think it would be better for Morgana to live on Midgard, rather than some forest on Vanaheim?"

Alexander only stood in silence. He clenched his jaw and walked out without a response. And standing just a couple of meters away was Anastasia Velda.

He spat out a sigh as he walked up to her, just as she noticed him.

And before she could say anything, Alexander spoke. "The girl. We have to take her with us," referring to Morgana.

"We can't."

"We have to."

"We can't."

"Anastasia..." he said, letting out a sigh as his eyes met hers. "We can't leave that girl here. Vanaheim is more dangerous than Midgard at this rate. We're taking her," he affirmed.

"Why do you already care for her?" Anastasia asked. "She's just a kid. She may be a Demon-Born, but-"

"Because she's cursed, Anastasia!"

She swallowed her saliva.

"Demon-Borns are always cursed," he explained. "That includes me. We're cursed. And that curse just manipulates fate to make life miserable for us. That's why my mom died. That's why I'm always getting hurt. That's why she's here. And worse things can happen. I... I don't intend on leaving her alone- on leaving her at the mercy of fate."

Anastasia stared into Alexander's eyes. She was still processing the fact that Alexnder was cursed. That was the source of Alexander's troubles. Again, her throat dried up and she swallowed her saliva.

"Okay, but..." she began to mutter, crossing her arms and drooped head to stare at the ground. "But what can you do? It's not like she'll be safe with us. She won't exactly be helped on Midgard, either."

"I don't know, Anastasia," he said, letting out another sigh. "I... I'll figure it out. Archibald can do something. I can take her in. Something like that. That doesn't matter now. What matters is the fact that she can't stay here. It's just that... Midgard is a better place for these kinds of things."

Alexander swallowed his saliva and sat down onto the ground. "Midgard can give her a chance. It's better for her to live in a world that can help her."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her flowing white hair. Morgana stood to the side, standing beside a tree, just about a hundred feet away. And from there, he turned to her and their eyes met.

With that, she hid once again behind the tree.

Alexander understood the kind of pain Morgana was likely feeling. Just as he knew the pain the kind of pain she would feel. The difference was that Alexander was helped. He had his mother, and he had Emilia to help him up and keep him moving forward.

Without them, nothing would be the same. All Alexander needed was a hand to offer help. That's what he got, thankfully.

And if someone else needed the same thing...

'Then I'll help her,' Alexander thought to himself. Morgana moved again and stared back at him. Alexander swallowed his saliva and smiled as he waved at her.

It wasn't long before she reciprocated that with her own wave and her own smile.

And with that, Alexander's smile grew, becoming genuine.

That was interrupted as Hjálmarr cleared his throat and put his hand on Alexander's shoulder.

"My liege. We have to talk."

"Oh. What's up, Hjálmarr?" he asked, standing up and turning to him.

"Just a few minutes ago, when you told me to leave, I ran into the forest. And there, I was thinking to myself. And I realized... You're weak."

"...Okay, then."

Hjálmarr paused. "My liege, was that insulting? I apologize," he said, lowering his head and starting to drop to his knees. But before that, Alexander caught him.

"No, it's fine. Pretty true, anyway."

Hjálmarr cleared his throat again as Alexander let go of him. "That cannot stand, my liege. You must grow stronger," he said, quickly turning away and leading Alexander into the forest.

"Well..." Alexander said. "I'm working on that."

"I'm sure you are. But it's not enough. And so, I shall make it enough." Hjálmarr's voice was stern and strong as he finally turned to Alexander. He glared at him, before saying...

"My liege... I'm going to teach you about White Light."