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Frieren wasn't sure she believed in Heaven. Fern did, but Fern also believed that alcohol could cure all ails and the drunken Priest was an upright adult.
Himmel had said it would be nice if Heaven were real and that was reason enough to agree, but that didn't mean Frieren believed in Heaven. She didn't believe in the goddess either, no matter what the Monk-Elf said. Or, rather, she believed there may be a being people think of as the "goddess" but that she wouldn't be all-powerful. Just like how time had diluted the memory of Himmel the Hero polishing all his rough edges and eccentricities until he was as smooth as his statues of bronze.
"Why bronze, Himmel? Wouldn't a stone statue be better? Or a richer metal?"
"Because it's easy to maintain. I can't have Frieren misremembering my ruggish good looks!"
This "goddess" was likely someone like that.
Her Master's notes would have her believe that Heaven was a real place. But her Master often spoke in riddles and tales, exaggerating events to get her point across. And it didn't make sense, to be honest, if her Master had truly found Heaven why would she journey back to Earth?
So, in the end, Frieren didn't embark on this journey because she actually expected to reunite with Himmel. She hoped, but she didn't expect. No, this journey was about another goal, entirely. Frieren set off to learn about humanity.
Ten years was not so long a time, after all, and there was still so much about Himmel that she didn't know. But in learning more about humanity it was like she was learning more about her old companion. Seeing things through a different lense. In some ways it helped Frieren realize that she did know more of Himmel than she thought. In other ways it made Frieren realize that she had lost far more than she thought.
So she traveled and she learned and she remembered and she hurt. And through it all, day by day, Fern and Stark walked beside her. Until the day Frieren reached the end of the world and made the realization that she'd done more than just that; for Frieren had also loved.
She suspected that to be the end of her journey. That her Master had sent her all that way so that she would realize Himmel would always be with her in her memories, that she could converse with him whenever she'd like, and that mistakes could only be lived through not edited out. But, of course, it was not that simple, for at the very edge of the northernmost province stood a specter.
Frieren reacted, as all Mages should to the appearance of a winged creature, by casting Soul Track. After all, neither Mankind, Elves nor Dwarves bore wings - marking this creature as a Demon.
Yet, yet Frieren's magic passed through it. Not in the way of an illusion - she had the experience to spot that - but in the way of incompatibility. Like oil in water, Frieren's spell and this creature's mana did not mix. Which could only mean, whatever this being was, it was no Demon.
"I SeE yOu HaVe JoUrNeYeD fAr My cHiLd."
Frieren winced at the creature's voice, the words piercing through her mind. The creature paused to frown, shooting a look at Fern and Stark before comprehension dawned on her face.
"I apologize," she spoke in the tongue of man, "It has been long since I've converced with any of this realm."
Frieren nodded in understanding, it had been a millennium since she'd last heard the tongue of the ancients. Not since she'd lived amongst other Elves and the Elders spoke of the birth of mana. Still for this creature to both know the language and possess the ability to speak it? That spoke of an age unfathomable to Frieren.
"Who are you?!" In the end it was Stark who first addressed the creature. "What are you?!"
"I am the being you have come to call the 'Goddess' the last of the Sylph race."
Frieren narrowed her brows in thought. She had read of the Sylph at one point several centuries ago, what had that scroll said?
"The Sylph?" Fern questioned, voice even, as she gazed at the creature.
"Yes, a race born to guard other races. My brothers and sisters have fallen as their races have gone. Fairies, Gnomes, Dragonkin, and as of 3 years ago, Dwarves. I stand as the last of the Sylph, the guardian of the Elves" She turned her gaze to Frieren. "Long have I waited to meet the last of the three Elvenkin."
Frieren spoke at last, "you've met more of my kind?"
"Yes, although it's been a millennium since your people would make pilgrimages to my land. There are now but three left. One who rejected my gift, one unworthy of my gift, and you..."
"Me?"
The Sylph smiled, "What is it you seek, my child?"
"Magic?" Frieren answered, for hasn't that been what she's always sought? The Sylph burst into laughter, her voice ringing through the wasteland.
"Has that been your goal for this journey? To seek magic?"
At last Frieren understood what the being was asking of her, "no," she agreed, "I seek humanity. I seek to right the wrong I made near 80 years ago. I seek..." she trailed off, unsure of how to finish her plea.
The creatures' eyes flashed with understanding. "All you seek is with-in my power to grant. Yet, take heed, once this gift is given it cannot be returned."
"You mentioned being the last of the Sylph," Stark interrupted, brow furrowed, "but there's still the race of Men! Who guards us?"
It was at that moment that Frieren truly comprehended what the being was offering her. "It is within your power?" She asked.
"I have done so before, many times."
And Frieren smiled for she had just learned of the most amazing magic of all. "Then, I accept. Fern, Stark," she turned to her companions, a smile lighting up her face, "I shall meet you back at Eisen's lodge." Soon a light engulfed Frieren and suddenly she was no more.
"What did you do to her?!"
"I can't sense her Mana."
"Be calm children. I have but granted her with the greatest gift of them all. For Frieren is now--"
78 Years Ago
"Well then, I will take my leave from here."
"What are you going to do after this?"
"I'm going to continue acquiring magic, since I plan to explore the central provinces for a century. But," she paused, turning to face the road, "I'll occasionally show my face around here."
The Hero and Priest watched the Elf set off on her journey, "we cannot perceive an Elf's feelings, hmm?"
"Just how long has she been alive, I wonder?" Himmel questioned, fist clenching, "even if fifty, or a hundred years pass, it's probably just another day to her."
"Not so," a voice called, startling the two. Himmel spun around sword at the ready, only to freeze at the sight that greeted him.
Heiter, however, had no problems greeting the phantom before them. "Frieren? Haven't you just left? Is this illusionary magic?"
The Mage shook her head, a small smile pulling at her lips. It worked. Against all reasoning the Sylph had been able to grant her wish. "I'm afraid it's been eighty years since I left on that journey."
"F-frieren," Himmel whispered, eyes large, "your ears!"
"Ah," a nod, "I came across a most amazing type of magic on my latest quest. I'd love to share the tale with you?" She spoke to both but her eyes remained trained on Himmel.
Heiter noticed and smiled to himself, "it seems you have grown on this quest of yours. I would love to hear the tale, but I fear I must be off. Perhaps you can tell me of it next time?"
Himmel shot Heiter a worried look, eyes begging for help, but the Priest just chuckled and set off down the same path as their Elf had just trekked.
"...so, this tale?"
"Ah, yes, it begins 50 years from now when that younger me returns for the Dragon Horn..."
"What do you mean he's dead?!"
Fern placed a calming hand on Stark's shoulder. She wasn't well-versed in the act of comforting, but she knew how it felt to lose a father figure, if she could mitigate his pain, she'd try.
"Vanguard Eisen passed away 5 years ago. He left this house to you, Vanguard Stark." The man answered, eyes darting between the two Heroes who had helped fortify the North. "A-and he left this tome for the Master Mage Fern."
Fern accepted the tome with grace, eyes trained on her companion. She had feared this outcome two years ago when the goddess mentioned the fall of the dwarven race. Yet, she had allowed Stark to hope, just as she had allowed herself to hope--
"Fern, Stark," Frieren turned to her companions, a smile lighting up her face, "I shall meet you back at Eisen's lodge."
--but here they were, at Eisen's lodge, with neither of their Masters present.
"I-I never got to tell him my tales." Stark whispered, broken. "He never got to hear about the mana-less crystals, or the Northern armies..."
Fern lowered her eyes to the tome she'd been gifted. Giving Stark the room he needed to grieve. But as she betook the handwriting on the cover, her eyes grew wide.
Turning to a random page she skimmed the writing as fast as she could.
"Stark," she whispered, voice amazed, "Eisen heard your tales."
"What?"
Fern pointed at the tome, at the diary, "this is written by Frieren, it's first date starts 80 years ago. She travelled back, she travelled back and shared our stories with them all." Stark's eyes locked with Fern's both thinking back to the last words the goddess had spoken to them.
" Be calm children. I have but granted her with the greatest gift of them all. For Frieren is now mortal."
"So then she's--"
Fern shook her head, clenching the book tight, eyes determined. "No, Frieren is alive. For as long as we spread her story she lives on."
Gazing at the Mage before him Stark's eyes softened, "yeah, yeah I suppose that's true."