Kratos was now kneeling before a tree with a golden marking etched into its trunk, his massive frame unusually still, as if the weight of memory pressed him down. He was trying, in his own quiet way, to say his farewells to his wife.
Behind him, Atreus and Zelos stood together, watching in silence. Atreus wore a questioning look, his young face twisted with confusion, uncertain of what their father was doing. Zelos, however, understood and simply observed without a word.
"What is he doing?" Atreus whispered, his voice low and careful, respectful even though he did not know the meaning behind Kratos's actions.
"He's saying goodbye to Mother in his own way. Everyone faces grief differently. Not all will cry. Some choose silence. Some speak. Some act. For him, silence and action are the way," Zelos explained, his eyes fixed on Kratos.
"Is that why you're quiet too?" Atreus asked, turning toward his older brother.
"Yes," Zelos answered plainly, without elaboration, his tone steady. That single word was enough for Atreus to understand that the conversation should end there. Both brothers then waited in silence as Kratos rose, raised the Leviathan Axe, and began chopping into the marked tree. When the trunk finally gave way, Zelos stepped forward, lifted the wood, and stored it inside his personal space—his perfected storage magic, refined over years of practice.
With the tree felled and prepared, the three of them left the grove. They walked together in silence, carrying their grief with them, until they reached the edge of the stream. Boarding a canoe, they allowed the water to carry them back to their home. When they arrived, Zelos drew the logs from his storage and placed them down, preparing the funeral pyre.
It was what Faye had wished for. Weeks before her passing, she had spoken clearly: her ashes were to be carried to the highest peak of all the realms. The three of them had promised to honor her request, and now they worked toward fulfilling it.
Kratos entered the cabin and returned moments later carrying Faye's body, carefully wrapped in cloth. While he carried out this solemn task, Zelos finished preparing the pyre, arranging it with precision and care. This was no ordinary fire; it was a rite of passage in Norse tradition, meant to purify the body and help the soul find its way.
'I hope you find peace in the afterlife, Mother. You are the only mother I have known in both of my lives. I wish there had been more I could do for you. I pray that your kin welcome you with open arms, because you deserve nothing less. Thank you for fifteen years of my new life, for every moment, for every word. I swear, I will protect Father and Atreus. Rest knowing that. Perhaps one day I will see you again. Farewell, Mother.' Zelos thought to himself, his heart heavy as he watched Kratos bring the body forward and place it on the pyre.
"Zelos," Kratos said, his voice low but firm. No further words were needed. Zelos already knew what his father wanted. With a nod, he raised his hand and conjured a small flame, infused with the primordial fire he had mastered.
He chose not to make it grand, but pure—a simple spark. Slowly, it drifted through the air until it touched the wood. The pyre caught, and soon flames consumed it, carrying Faye to the next life.
"May you rest in the fields of flowers you always longed for," Zelos said softly. Atreus and Kratos stood beside him, both watching in silence as the fire rose. No words were exchanged, but the quiet was enough.
When the flames finally burned low and only ashes remained, Kratos carefully collected them, placing them inside a small brown pouch Faye had given him long ago. He held it for a long moment, looking between the pouch and his younger son, as if measuring the weight of both.
The three of them returned inside the cabin afterward. The day had drained them—not of physical strength, but of spirit. The silence inside was heavy, and each carried their own thoughts in solitude. Then, without warning, Kratos stood. He looked directly at Atreus.
"Come, boy. I have a test for you," he said. His voice was steady, but there was a layer of intent that Atreus did not yet understand. Atreus blinked, confused by his father's sudden demand, while Zelos also rose from his seat.
"No, Zelos. This is between me and your brother. There is something I must be certain of," Kratos said firmly. Atreus's confusion only grew, for rarely did Kratos speak of separating them.
"We will return soon," Kratos added, leading Atreus toward the door. Zelos remained behind, watching them leave, understanding that Kratos intended to test whether Atreus was ready. For their mother's final request to be honored, Kratos needed to know his youngest son could endure the journey. As for Zelos, his strength was unquestioned.
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After more than two hours, both Atreus and Kratos finally returned to the cabin. Zelos was already waiting for them, lying casually on his bed. To pass the time, he had been creating small magical constructs in the shape of creatures, commanding them to act out scenes of his choosing.
At that moment, he was entertaining himself by recreating the battle between Blackbeard and Law from the world of One Piece, watching it unfold as if he had his own private form of television.
When the door opened, Zelos sat up slightly and observed them. Atreus walked in with a proud and satisfied look on his face, his chest held high, as though he had finally accomplished something meaningful.
Kratos followed behind him, his usually stern expression softened by a glimmer of pride. He looked not only at Atreus but also at Zelos, and that one look was enough for Zelos to understand what had already been decided.
"Get ready," Kratos said, his deep voice steady but carrying weight. "We are going to fulfill your mother's wishes."
Zelos noticed that Kratos was splattered with blood—too much to be from any ordinary hunt. It wasn't animal blood. The shade and texture told him it had come from something, or someone, else. Kratos made a move to clean himself, but before he could, Zelos intervened.
"Cleanse," Zelos intoned, casting one of his personal spells upon Kratos. Instantly, the blood, dirt, and grime dissolved away, leaving his father's form spotless. He extended the spell to Atreus as well, cleansing him completely. This wasn't just an ordinary cleaning spell.
Zelos had developed it after months of refinement, modifying it from a basic hygiene incantation into something far more thorough. Unlike the weaker version that Fern once used, Zelos's "Cleanse" operated at a microscopic level, erasing every trace of dirt, bacteria, and impurity. It even left behind a fresh, natural scent, as though both Kratos and Atreus had just stepped out of a bath.
Neither of them commented, but the effect was undeniable. Kratos's shoulders relaxed slightly, while Atreus sniffed at his own arm with a faint grin, clearly impressed at how effective it was.
The three of them then began preparing for the journey, gathering supplies and equipping themselves for what was to come. But before they could finish, the sound of a knock suddenly echoed through the cabin door. The noise was sharp and deliberate, immediately breaking the silence of their preparations. All three froze for a moment.
It was unusual. This cabin had never received visitors, not once, unless it was one of them returning from outside. There were only three people in this house, and they were all standing together at this moment. The knock was foreign, unexpected, and unwelcome.
Kratos straightened, his body tense, his instincts instantly alert. His hand moved slightly toward the Leviathan Axe, his expression hardening. This was the first time he had ever heard someone knock on their door in this world.
"Come out of hiding," a voice called from outside, loud and commanding. "I know you're in there."
The tone was confident, arrogant even. To Atreus, it was unknown. To Kratos, it was suspicious. But to Zelos, the sound was familiar. Recognition struck immediately.
A grin spread across Zelos's face, unbidden and subconscious. He knew exactly who it was.