Chapter 307 - Freya, Mimir, and Nathan
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was an elven woman with reddish-brown hair, almost red, and she was identical to my mother. In her arms, she held an elven baby with silver-white hair.
This can't be right!
I stared in disbelief at the woman—she was exactly like my mother.
I looked at Mimir's face, but it was blurred. I couldn't make out anything—not his features, nor the baby's. I could only see the woman's face.
She gently placed the child in a cradle, and then her hand emitted a green glow. Dozens of vibrant green leaves fell over the baby, covering it as if to keep it warm. What shocked me the most was that the moment Freya used her magic, her hair turned silver-white.
She carefully adjusted the baby, stroking its cheek. Then, as she stopped using her magic, her hair returned to its reddish-brown shade, almost auburn.
"Come with me, Mimir," she said, and then began walking out of the room, Mimir following close behind.
I was completely in shock.
What should I do? Follow them? What is this place?
My office desk had completely vanished, and now it was just me and the baby in the room. I walked over to the cradle and tried to touch it, but my hand passed right through.
I looked at the infant, but its face remained blurred—only its silver-white hair was visible.
Am I inside a memory? A dream? A vision?
I ran after Mimir and Freya, but as soon as I crossed the door, the entire scene shifted. Suddenly, I was outside in a vast garden.
Freya stood in front of a tree, surrounded by women who looked like elves but had different hair colors. They had the same reddish-brown hair as Freya.
If I'm witnessing the past, then only High Elves should exist at this time. Why do these women have different hair colors? They should all have silver-gray hair like the other High Elves.
The elf-like women with reddish-brown hair wore green robes adorned with leaves.
Looking around, I saw other High Elves passing by, all bowing their heads in reverence to Freya. Behind me, there was what appeared to be a grand palace. No matter where I looked, I saw only High Elves. But those strange elven women with different hair colors stood out.
"Mother Freya," greeted one of the women with reddish-brown hair.
"I have already asked you not to call me that. Just 'Mother' is enough," Freya said with a soft laugh.
Mimir approached. "Ladies Dryads, it is an honor," he said with a respectful bow.
Dryads? These women aren't elves?
Behind Mimir stood a High Elf woman with a staff, dressed in a white robe identical to the one Tiffania wore.
A Saint?
"Lady Freya," Mimir spoke. "I have come to seek your aid."
Mimir fell to his knees, looking up at her.
"Please, allow me to help your people," he pleaded.
Freya continued walking along the trees, her fingers brushing the branches that bent toward her in greeting.
Finally, she turned to Mimir.
"My dear friend, Mimir," Freya said, her voice calm yet firm. "I appreciate your intention. But my people and I have our own burdens to bear. If conflict is inevitable, then so be it."
Mimir looked at her with determination.
"Then use your powers," he insisted. "You can stop the enemies of your people. I know you have your reasons, but there is something greater—something far more sinister—hiding among us, waiting for its moment to strike."
Freya approached him and placed her hand on his shoulder, her gaze filled with maternal warmth.
"Mimir, would you use your power to harm your own children? I know you have no heirs, but I consider all of them my children… even the rebels. I cannot intervene in such a way," she spoke gently.
Enemies of the elves?
I ran through everything I knew in my mind, and immediately, I recalled what I had learned about Alfheim from Nikolaus Wolves' mural.
A war between elves… or a war they are involved in…
"I have now become a mother, Mimir. I know I have always been a mother to them, but now I have truly become a mother. I finally have my own child… I have fulfilled my dream. I want nothing more to do with wars and conflicts," she said.
"Lady Freya, I beg you. If even one of the kingdoms falls… all the others will follow," Mimir pleaded.
"Mimir… the Song of the End is not real," she replied.
And then, in the midst of all that, the woman who bore the title of 'Saint' behind Mimir also fell to her knees.
"Mother Freya," spoke the High Elf woman. "I beg you as well—if you will not take up arms… at least save yourself. I would give my life for yours, please. You must leave this place. Your rebellious children want your head," the Saint implored.
Freya looked at her and sighed.
"I raised them to be free. I cannot take back the life I gave them, nor can I impose my will upon them. If they have rebelled… then I must simply accept it," she said, then walked over to the Saint.
"I have lived far longer than all of you combined. I called you my children because you called me mother, but I was never truly a mother. Only now have I finally given birth… and I am weak. Giving birth to a mortal child drained much of my power. Even if I wanted to help… I couldn't. I nearly died so my child could be born."
She turned to the Dryads.
"I will stay here, but you must protect my son. Always continue to protect my child," she said to the Dryads and to the High Elf Saint. "If you consider me your mother, this is my request to you. Protect my son. Protecting my lineage will be the same as protecting me."
Mimir stood up and sighed.
"My friend, I am sorry," Mimir said. "I was weak. If I had known that the Darkness would take your children… I would have given my life to stop it."
He looked at the Saint, still kneeling, then at the Dryads.
"No one could ever harm the great Freya, yet they have succeeded… The only way to bring down the Great Mother is by turning her own children against her," Mimir said. "Forgive me… the Wise One has failed."
Then, the world blurred.
I was being thrown back, falling further and further as reality fractured around me.
I kept sinking deeper and deeper while thousands of strange images flashed past me.
When I hit the ground from that height, I didn't feel any pain in my legs.
Mimir was walking through a forest, and in the distance, I could see what looked like an entire kingdom, with Freya's palace at its center. Mimir walked, tears streaming down his face.
"How did your meeting go? Did you achieve anything, Lord Mimir?" someone asked. Their face was also blurred.
Mimir walked in silence until he reached the figure and sat on a stone.
"Nothing. Freya is now a mother. She wants nothing to do with preparing for the great conflict to come, and she doesn't believe in the Song of the End. She will do nothing to change this war among the elves," Mimir said, covering his face with his hand.
"I see…" the figure accompanying Mimir responded.
I still couldn't clearly see Mimir's face, only glimpses of his tears falling and his emotions.
He was feeling: failure, fear, dread, cowardice, uncertainty, and a deep, deep sadness.
"…Do you think I'm being too paranoid?" Mimir asked.
"No. If the other gods don't believe in Ragnarok, that doesn't mean you should give up. We have to keep trying to warn them. You're the wisest of us, Lord Mimir."
Gods…
"I don't know what else to do…"
"Don't worry, Lord Mimir. We'll figure out who the Traitor is, the one hiding within the Darkness. We need to find out who will betray us and bring about the great disaster."
"Thank you for believing in me. You are a true friend, Loki," Mimir replied.
A sudden force threw me backward.
"Ah!" I let out a sharp breath as I was launched away. In an instant, the scene around me changed. I was back in my office, the familiar walls and furniture grounding me in reality. The glowing runes that had covered the page crumbled into dust before my eyes. My mana was completely drained—I had spent far too much using the Aspect of the Soul.
"The Celestial Eyes gave me the key to decipher the runes… but it seems like using the Aspect of the Soul did more than just show me the text. It forced me to relive that moment," I muttered, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
How much of my lifespan did I just burn through? No… that doesn't matter. What matters is that I gained a piece of the puzzle. Using the ability even once was worth it.
When I first read the runes in Nikolaus Wolves' castle, they had shimmered and lifted off the wall, forming words before my eyes. But what I just experienced wasn't simply reading—it was something far beyond that. I had witnessed the past as if I were there myself.
I quickly moved to my desk, rummaging through drawers until I found a notebook. My hand flew across the pages, recording everything I could remember. I couldn't afford to forget a single detail. This world's history was a massive puzzle, and I had just found a crucial missing piece.
"Gods…" I murmured. That word had always held weight, but now… now it meant something far more tangible.
I scribbled down every name I had heard: Queen Angrboda, her three children, Mimir, Freya, the Dryads, Ragnarok, and Loki.
These weren't just myths or legends. They were real. They had lived long before my time, and the world I knew was nothing more than the broken remnants of what once existed.
"Freya's child had silver-white hair… but every high elf I saw had silver-gray hair. If only her child inherited her hair…" My fingers instinctively ran through my own silver-white strands.
"I'm a descendant of that woman…" I swallowed hard. "I'm from the bloodline of a goddess…"
A cold sweat formed on my brow.
But she said her child was mortal. What does that even mean?
"This is heading in a direction I never could have imagined," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "That woman… she looked exactly like my mother. And I have the same hair as that child. What the hell is going on?"
I stood abruptly, turning toward the letter on my desk.
"Aspect of the Soul." I activated my Celestial Eyes, but nothing happened. The letter remained blank.
"Damn it…" I exhaled sharply, setting the letter aside. "I need to get down to that tower. Fast. What was that unseen force that brought ruin to the gods? Where do the phoenixes and the Three World Destroyers fit into this? And who the hell is Siegfried Hraesvelgr?"
A storm of questions swirled in my mind. I was standing at a crossroads, with paths leading in every direction.
"The same enemy from back then… is still here. The Darkness. And maybe… it was behind the war among the elves, too."
I paced back and forth across my office.
"Wait… 'Protect my child.' That's what she said. If she was the goddess of the elves… then her child must be…" I stopped, realization crashing over me like a tidal wave. "The king…"
My heart pounded as the weight of my discovery settled in.
If a goddess who wasn't supposed to bear children managed to give birth to a mortal… then that child… no matter how he was conceived, he carried her blood.
I turned back to the letter, my mind racing as I pieced everything together.
"The royal family is treated as a divine symbol in elven religion. Syvis is practically worshiped. They even have a priest—Santa Tiffania—dedicated to honoring Freya's descendants."
I placed a hand over my hair.
"Holy shit… I'm the prince of the elven kingdom," I whispered.