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Frieren never imagined that Heaven would look quite like this.
Of course, she had never put much thought into what Heaven would appear as. Her Elven lifespan made death feel like a far away neighbor, and the grim reaper a penpal in a distant continent. Her kind had designated the contemplation of “death” as a waste of the brain’s creative efforts. Life was as infinite as it was endless.
Humans were vastly different. Throughout her travels, Frieren had seen that first hand. Humans were quick to portray their own humanity as something temporary and fleeting- which she had to agree that it was. A human’s lifespan was a mere blip of her own. While their sun was fast to rise and set, hers would shine for eons more. That thought used to pass through her mind without an anchor, though experiences were finally weighing her down.
Flamme had been the first person to introduce a notion of kindness to her. Something about the woman provided a dull sense of comfort that warmed her to the pointed tips of her ears. Frieren’s people were cold by of nature- not cruelty. When raised in an absent environment, one takes on those traits themselves in earnest. Her faint human smile had been the first that Frieren was blessed to see. The way the soft pink of her lips curled upwards, making a slight divot form in the crease of her cheeks as her eyes fluttered shut, stuck with Frieren long after Flamme’s passing. The genuine love of magic and the world that Flamme carried with her lit Frieren with a flame for living that she had never experienced before.
When her master passed, Frieren was unsure what to feel. Emotional reception was difficult to navigate by her own standards, for she had felt so much over her elongated life that she had molded numb. She knew with dignity that she was far from joyed, though her confidence wavered when considering sorrow. In her gut, she would feel a dark pit open as her narrow eyes cast themselves upon Flamme’s flower-covered headstone. Her heart would drag at the recollection of Flamme’s auburn braid or the way her master’s soft hand touched the tip of her head. Still, she could not piece together the branding of those feelings.
Life continued on in peace and tranquility. The serenity of the woods gave Frieren a still life free from the shackles of a fragile human life. She imagined that life could always feel that way. Until, one day by fate, a boy with icy hair as bright and blue as the highest skies appeared at her side.
Suddenly, Frieren was vastly different. Though too naive to realize in the moment, the wide eyes of reflection had shown her just how much her countenance has changed.
It took Frieren and her party’s two companions, Fern and Stark, a decade to reach Aureole. For her, it felt like a short weekend excursion to reach this point in their endeavors, but she knew that time passed much quicker for her companions. Fern had blossomed into a capable and respected mage over the years. Frieren was always eager to cast pride at her pupil, even if Fern had matured into a woman beyond Frieren’s own personality. Stark had evolved just the same. He radiated with heroic confidence in battle and life. Five years ago, the two had finally admitted their feelings to one another while cloud gazing at a visiting town. The two desired to continue on the journey’s path despite being told that it was okay to find their own. Fern protested that they could not abandon Frieren, which led to Stark defending that he could not leave without Fern. So, their paths continued, even when the church’s bells chimed two years ago.
The wedding was brief yet a beautiful union. A priest that the trio had met was eager to unify the two travelers as heartfelt gratitude for their assistance in the village. Frieren had helped Fern clip her cascading mauve hair back into a partial ponytail using the ever so slightly tarnished silver pendant gifted to her many years ago. The smile that Fern beamed that day was as bright as the center of a flower. Her laughter rang like a gorgeous symphony in the cobblestone walls of the sacred temple and Frieren listened to the orchestra with a defined emotion: joy. Though, there was a slight tinge of sadness laying somewhere in her core. She was reaching out for something and somebody she knew that could never be. That day, Frieren found herself donning a special mirrored lotus ring. She fiddled with it idly at the ceremony.
She could not bring herself to take it off once it was nestled on her finger. So there it remained, becoming a part of her on the party’s mission.
“Heiter would tell me stories about resting souls when I was a young child,” Fern breathed next to Frieren. Her eyes glimmered in the golden light the trio basked underneath. “He would reassure me that the Goddess looked after every passing soul, big or small. He said that the end of life was something to embrace, not fear.”
Frieren took a step forward, the sound of her boots echoing on the concrete. She softened. “Looks like the Corrupt Priest was right after all.”
The landscape before them painted an imagery that was as beautiful and vivid as a work of poetry. A cobblestone path laid itself down in a spiral that encapsulated a large, blooming tree brimming with yellow and golden leaves. The sturdy oak residing in front of her was the largest tree that Frieren had ever seen. Bold, white crosses branched into the tree, stemming from wide pillars rooted into the ground below. Above them, a tall, marvelous granite arch presented itself. Another stood just like it on the opposite side of the field. Stars twinkled gently in the vivid day’s sky as the sun’s light taunted the specs. The sight overwhelmed Frieren in a way that no pure spell or magic could. It was simply ethereal.
“My master’s notes describe this location as a union of the dead and the living. Here, the souls of the one you desire the most will come to visit,” Frieren could see the scripture in her mind. “Flamme denoted no more than that. I hope that you find this experience worth a decade of your time on Earth.”
Stark placed a light hand on both Fern and Frieren. “Of course it will be! Not only did I manage to find a gorgeous wife, but I also became friends with someone like you, Frieren, who has shown me that the world isn’t as big and scary as I once thought. Now, how do we get these ghosts to appear?”
“They are not ghosts- Flamme was clear to call them souls. We will have to observe the difference ourselves,” Frieren rested a ringed finger to her chin, giving it one tap. “As for how they appear, that is another trait we will have to note on our own. Let’s continue towards the center.”
A tingle shimmered in her chest while her heart skipped a beat. It felt like both a millennium and a minute since she had last laid eyes upon her former leader. Once, along her journey to this landmark, an elderly dwarf had asked Frieren if she could recollect Himmel. At the time, she had scoffed and found the inquiry preposterous- there was no inkling of a chance that she would allow his memory to fade from her that rapidly.
To her surprise, Frieren found that his picture only became more clear to her throughout her travels with Fern and Stark. Suddenly, his mark was everywhere around her. She saw Himmel in the kind strangers that eagerly assisted the foreign travelers. She could sense him standing tall with her against the foes they battled and noted the imagery of his smile in the faces of the children she saw living in the peaceful world that he created. A soft grin tugged at her lips as she thought about seeing him once more.
“Master?” Stark was the first to see a soul appear when they found the foot of the tree, Eisen stood, as stoically as ever, at the base of the plant. His eyes crinkled at the sight of Stark, though he did not move away from the trunk.
A carrier pigeon had informed the company that Eisen had fallen into death’s clutch a mere year ago due to old age. Stark had broken down at the news, ashamed that their final meeting had been so long ago and full of vitriol. Fern had given him hope that their journey to Aureole would allow a pathway to mend Stark’s regrets.
Stark slumped to his knees at the sight. Eisen spoke, “Well, if it is not the brave warrior himself.”
Frieren’s eyes met Eisen’s and it held a knowing look. Suddenly, Frieren understood an unspoken law of The Land of the Souls. Visits could only unfold between two people. While their souls could be seen in this realm, an aspect of the Goddess limited their conversation. Frieren knew that Eisen was not here for her.
Fern’s stifled sob altered Frieren that Heiter’s soul had entered the realm. The Priest appeared as an older gentleman with wispy silver hair and wrinkles along his countenance. Another rule, Frieren pondered, must be that the form the soul takes is how the visitor desires them.
“My girl,” Heiter smiled faintly. “How you’ve grown, Fern.”
Frieren desired the opportunity to communicate with her former party greatly. She wanted to let them know how strong their apprentices had become and what wonderful company that had been for her during the last decade. Heiter deserved to hear of Fern’s advancements as a gifted mage, and Eisen would be elated to know that Stark had realized his own strength. The words of praise danced on the tip of her tongue and were difficult to bite down. She would have to entrust the conversations to her current party, finding their past and present connections to this life deeply profound.
“Frieren.”
His voice was like a leaf blowing in the idle wind. It sounded as melodic and soothing as it was to her in the depth of her memory’s core. Her skin stood up at the sound of his breath. Part of her wanted to turn around with haste while her other half wished to relish in hearing her name slide off of his tongue. Her free hand touched the mirrored lotus laying on her finger, which suddenly ran warm on her soft, fair skin.
Frieren had always prided herself on being calculated and careful with every precise move. Her intelligence and wisdom had carried her thus far in life, after all. Though, in this very suspended moment, control had vanished from her system. She had little resilience to her environment. Frieren’s heart was in charge, which was foreign and terrifying to the elf.
Her body moved on its own to face the speaker.
He was just like the man laying dormant in her vast memory. Messy strands of blue lay hanging across his porcelain face. His eyes, cold yet friendly, met her own gaze. Frieren’s sight drifted to the beauty mark cast on his cheek, near his small nose. His muscular form was hidden underneath a garb of a silky white coat and navy vest. From head to toe, this was the Himmel of Frieren’s heart and memory.
“You look just like him.” Her tone was as cool and direct as always, though a somber longing breathed through her words. “Impressive.”
A soft grin moved across his porcelain face. “Well, considering that I am Himmel the Hero, I guess that’s good. I aged quite well, yes?” Even his mannerisms matched. His body shifted with elegance as he spoke, adding emphasis to all the right beats.
Frieren’s mind became static. The last time she saw her comrade in the flesh, he was hunched over and gray, barely able to move his bony body. No magic or spell that she had encountered could produce a duplicate so accurate- not even a bothersome Spiegel lurking in a tomb. Maybe, she pondered, that false preacher was correct about the Goddess after all.
“I suppose so,” Her wide eyes stung from the crisp air, too hesitant to look away for even a millisecond. “How are you faring?”
A deep, genuine laugh resounded under the tree. Frieren found herself joining into the song, long having forgotten the feeling of laughing alongside Himmel. She felt lighter in an instant and the knots tangled in her chest untied themselves at once. Her contemporary travels were brimming with joy and elation, but nothing could compare to this feeling. The feeling of an unspoken exchange between two people bound and separated by only time.
“My, that would be your first question, Frieren,” Himmel readjusted the hair that had fallen close to his glacial eyes. “It appears that you really have not changed in the past century one bit. To answer your question, I have fared fine in the afterlife. I think, however, today is the best I’ve fared.”
Her mind drifted back to the recollection of Himmel’s casket being lowered into the Earth then coated in layers of soil- a memory that she wished could be buried. A shiver ran down Frieren’s spine, making her core shake.
“Is that so?”
“Well, of course, I finally get to see you once more.”
Stark and Fern rejoiced at their reunions in the background, though Frieren could not hear a whisper of their conversation. She could not hear the gentle rustle of the branches above them, nor the faint whistle of wind winding through the golden bunches of leaves.
“Frieren,” He held his gaze. “I never once turned away from you, even in death. I am sure that you could feel my presence, but in all ways except physical, I have taken this journey alongside you. Your party members have also been looked after by a few former friends.”
“I knew.”
“Naturally you did.”
A comforting silence cast over the hero and slayer, a company that they both resented and longed for.
“Frieren, I-”
“Himmel, I-”
“Please, I’d love to listen to you first,” He waved her on with an earnest smile that Frieren couldn’t help but to parallel.
She had imagined this conversation occurring a thousand times over. It had practically consumed her waking and dreary mind for the past decade. Once upon a time, she found herself desiring a reconciliation with the deceased hero. She yearned for a chance to bid acknowledgement to her selfishness and flaws. An opportunity to tear down the walls she built around him and accept his kindness wholly.
Then, as she traveled, the yearning evolved. Perhaps it started when she first noticed Stark cast a soft look at Fern while the mage’s attention was designated elsewhere. The trio had just completed a simple job aiding a farmer with his autumn harvest, and as payment, the man’s wife had baked them a fresh batch of sugary cookies. Stark, who was dismayed to not have earned any coins for the fruits of his labor, offered his serving to a zealous Fern. As she tore away at the confection, Frieren noticed how Stark’s eyes lingered on the girl despite her not looking back. It was as if he was floating in a serene dream.
Himmel once looked at Frieren with that same helpless gaze.
She inhaled. “Himmel, I wish that I had gotten to know you better on our travels.”
“I knew all that I needed to know about you, Frieren, and I think you have finally gotten to know me,” He replied.
“I think that I have too,” Frieren said. “I apologize for not realizing in time.”
She rolled the cold metal of the lotus ring into her finger.
“During my journey, I found myself wanting more time with you, Himmel. It never sat well with me that I had an abundance and only gave you a mere decade.”
“A decade with you brought me a lifetime of joy. I am thankful for every moment you gave me- nothing could wreck that.” He really was just like the kind man who haunted Frieren’s memories.
“I wish that we had more time together.”
“I would always want more time with you.”
The parallel arch loomed in the distance.
“You do not intend to leave this resting ground, do you?” Himmel inquired.
Frieren knew from the moment she set foot on this trail years ago that it would be her final journey. She had seen all that the physical world could offer, both grand and damning, over her vast lifespan.
She had grown to adore her companions with her whole being. Fern, who she had mentored since youth, was the closest thing to family that Frieren had been blessed with in a long time. Stark came along soon after, and the three of them had been through thick and thin together. The realization of never seeing them grow old together pained Frieren. Time had always been against her.
“I do not.”
“Do they know?”
“I believe that they have pieced it together,” She said. “I would like to speak with them for one moment. "Will Eisen and Heiter allow that?”
Frieren slowly ripped her eyes off of Himmel to better see her current companions behind her. Stark was showcasing his axe, dinged on the metal from battle, to Eisen as the dwarf nodded. Heiter stood tall with a silent river seeping from his eyes as Fern held up a bracelet adorned with a mirrored lotus flower. In every fiber of her being, Fern offered a strong compassion towards those around her. She looked back at her hero, who gave a silent nod of approval.
It was like peeling a bandage off of a flesh wound, but she turned away and started towards the two living humans. Fern was the first to look at Frieren’s way. Their eyes locked, violet meeting the seafoam, and Fern whispered something to Heiter, who stepped back towards Eisen. Stark housed his weapon and stared straight at Fern, timid to move away or towards his mage.
Fern had always been a youthful child in Frieren’s eyes. It was hard to contemplate her as anything other than the little girl who dedicated her adolescence to learning and loving magic. Now, however, Fern appeared different to Frieren. Time had taken its toll on the woman, who was now almost thirty. Fine lines had dug their way onto her face and her cheekbones sat a little more prominent than they once did. Her presence exuded the mana of a wise master of the craft, though she concealed this well due to discipline. Frieren’s apprentice had taken everything given to her and exuded more than anyone ever believed possible.
“A moment of your time please, Fern,” Frieren drifted closer, feeling Himmel’s kind eyes on her back.
“Master.” Fern’s eyes held no tears.
She really had matured more than Frieren gave credit for.
“I would like to teach you my favorite spell,” She placed a palm atop her apprentice’s head, now having to stand on the edges of her toes to reach. Once upon a time, Frieren would have had to crouch down. “It is one that creates a field of flowers.”
The crimson hilt of her staff was equipped into an outstretched hand. She twirled the jewels in her hand and danced her arms across her body in a wide, fluid motion. The crescent tip glowed faintly as the ground below the two blossomed with soft, vibrant petals. Flowers sprouted in full bloom between the cracks in the pavement and along the fibers of grass. Hues of brilliant, deep purples, blues, sapphires, and cream dotted the pathway and peaked through the archway in which the three had traveled through. Fern’s face sparkled and her jaw loosely unhinged. Frieren saw herself, over a thousand years ago, once finding that same admiration.
Frieren saw her master, elderly and frail, working her brittle body to cast one final dance. She recalled every move and pattern of this spell like her life was dependent upon its completion. Flamme’s tomb rang in her memory, as did the magical plantlife that decorated the smooth granite headstone. Their enchantment would survive an eternity of weathering and storms.
Then, she saw a young boy, whose face she once foolishly paid no mind nor exerted a memory to. He was lost and scared, body drawn close to his chest, hunkering below the safety of a tree’s stump in the hollow of a dark night. Frieren could sense his fear, his uncertainty. He needed more than the assistance of a passing traveler, but something to believe in. She lit the black forest with a vivid snow of petals and stems, hoping that gesture would be enough to guide him along his path.
Now, that boy stood behind her. Waiting.
“You will see these flowers on every step of our journey,” Frieren explained. “If our foot so much as skimmed the soil, a flower has bloomed. This is my final gift to you, Fern. A safe travel home. Back to where we first started a decade ago.”
Warmth enveloped the elf. She felt Fern press against her, burying her head into Frieren’s shoulder. Fern’s shakes echoed throughout the land, their melody playing like a comforting tune on a piano. Another hand touched Frieren’s soft white hair, and she leaned into Stark’s gentle stroke. Years ago, she would not believe a moment like this was possible. Now, she wished that the moment would freeze into a lifetime, even though she knew it was destined to be a bittersweet memory.
“We both knew,” Stark continued a rhythmic rub, his other arm cast around Fern. “Still doesn’t make it easy.”
“You will watch over her, yes?”
“With my whole life until and beyond death.”
Frieren wrapped her own arms around the two. Elves were not physical creatures, though it had been eons since Frieren meshed with her own kind. Her journeys with both Himmel and Fern were rooted in the human experience and the trials that coexisted with being mortal. She watched them love, cry, embrace anger and fear, and interact with the emotional conflict of others. In this moment, she felt just as fragile and human as the parties who brought her to this mark.
“Mistress,” Fern breathed. “Can I give you a departing gift as well?”
Frieren blinked “If you so wish.”
“Heiter instilled a sense of faith in me, ever since I was a child,” Fern’s wooden staff appeared in hand. “He said that the Goddess would shine on me if I allowed her too. For that, I thank him and bid a fond farewell to the man who gave me life. He allowed me to shine, and meet you and Stark. It’s because of the both of you that I believe in magic.”
Stark chimed, “Eisen always told me of the elf that braved through every battle, but still had a kindness that seemed displaced. I’m thankful for him pushing me towards the both of him and know that he will rest easy with his friends. I never knew how beautiful and bold life could be.”
“You graced us with the adventure of a lifetime,” Fern’s arms swirled above her head, black cloak flapping around her feet in the breeze. Her eyes shut briefly. “I hope that we gave you a glimpse of family.”
Flowers budded at Frieren’s feet. Blue-moon weeds sprung to life around her, hugging the ground. Frieren turned her head and saw a trail of the petals leading straight towards the opposing arch, where Himmel stood tall admiring his favorite flower.
“So, Mistress Frieren,” Fern’s purple eyes met her master’s once more. “I wanted to present you with one final gift: my favorite spell. It’s one that I acquired from somebody very special to me. A spell that creates a field of flowers.”
“Fern,” Frieren had learned many moons ago to never let a goodbye be teary. Himmel once told her that they were embarrassed, since we would all meet again at some point in time’s clock. “You surpassed me years ago.”
“I know,” Fern smiled. “Now, go onto your next journey.”
Stark took Fern’s head, holding it tight, as they turned away from Frieren. For just a moment, she found herself lingering, watching them approach the arch and waiting for them to disappear for eternity.
“Are you ready?” A voice said from behind.
“Yes. I think I am.”
She turned towards Himmel, who had now appeared behind her. His hand was outstretched, just as it had been for those in need during his time as a hero. Frieren, unsure if her skin would pass through the apparition of his soul, clasped it with her own. His grip was gentle, as if he was holding onto something fragile, and surprisingly warm.
“I can touch you,” Frieren commented, looking at their locked hands. His fingers interlaced with her own, his flesh melting into the lotus ring. The last time their hands had touched was when Himmel first slid the ring onto her body.
“You always could.”
They took a step forward together on Fern’s blue-moon pathway.
Frieren thought about looking back, pondering how close Fern and Stark were to their arch. Her head so desired to tilt and see them one final time, though in her heart, she knew that they were waging the same battle: and it was one that nobody could lose.
“Himmel,” Frieren asked, eyes straight ahead on the swirling clouds that floated on the other side of the arch’s stature. “What lies ahead for us?”
He squeezed her hand. “Another adventure together.”
“I would quite like that.”
“As would I.”
The petals kicked up at their feet, walking in time as the arch became closer. Frieren noted that the trail seemed to stop soon, the spell not going beyond the door. For once, her time was unpredictable and unknown- she knew that freedom awaited her on the other side.
Frieren smiled so wide her cheeks stung.
Their boots picked up one final time, stepping over the blue-moon weed and into the sky that laid beyond the arch, hands resting into each other, united as one.