As the bridge was restored and steady once again, Freya led the three of them inside the temple. The air was cool and quiet, filled with faint glimmers of light reflecting from numerous crystals embedded in the walls. These crystals, as Zelos quickly noticed, could only be activated by the Light of Alfheim. Their faint glow was like dormant embers, waiting for a spark to awaken them.
While they walked through the winding corridor, Atreus, still filled with excitement for the journey ahead, began speaking again, unable to contain his curiosity.
"So, are these temples built by the Giants for Tyr? Or were they made by the Elves?" Atreus asked, his eyes darting from one intricate carving to another.
"All the races helped with its construction," Freya replied, her voice calm yet tinged with nostalgia. "It was the last great act of cooperation among the realms before peace disappeared for good."
Her tone softened near the end, as if the memory itself carried a weight of sadness. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted elsewhere—perhaps toward a past life in her homeland, surrounded by her own people, before everything changed.
"Conflict isn't something new," Zelos interjected, his expression thoughtful. "Even when peace is seen as the best path, it's not always the most possible one. Differences will always exist, and those differences make true peace difficult to maintain."
Freya nodded slightly, impressed by his understanding. "That's correct, child," she said gently. "Despite sharing the same ancestor, every race, every people, feels the need to prove their superiority over others. It's something embedded deep within every being, in every realm."
As she spoke, Freya raised her bow and fired a single arrow of shimmering energy toward one of the nearby crystals. The arrow struck true, and the crystal lit up brightly, releasing a radiant wave that formed a solid bridge made of pure light. The gate before them opened, revealing a passage further inward.
However, as she loosed that shot, the glow of her bowstring dimmed noticeably. The faint energy that once ran through it flickered and faded. Freya sighed softly, glancing down at her weapon, then turned toward Atreus.
"The power of my bow is nearly depleted," she explained. "Only a few nocks of magic remain, and we've just used the last of them. Your bow, please." She extended her hand gently toward him. "Once you claim the Light of Alfheim, you must infuse your bowstring with its power. Do not forget this."
Atreus hesitated for a moment, then handed his bow over. "You talk like you're not coming with us," he said, looking up at her questioningly.
Freya smiled faintly, but there was sadness behind her eyes. "I will try to accompany you," she answered. "But there are those who have gone to great lengths to ensure that I remain here in Midgard."
"Who would do that?" Atreus asked again, eager to know more.
Before Freya could reply, Zelos spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "Atreus, learn to read the atmosphere. It's clear this is not something she enjoys discussing."
Atreus frowned, then lowered his head slightly, realizing his mistake. Freya gave him a reassuring smile.
"It's alright," she said softly. "It's just that… the gods don't care much for me anymore." Her words trailed off, and for a few moments, none of them spoke.
They continued walking until they entered a vast chamber. The room was dark, filled with the tangled roots of an enormous tree stretching across the floor and ceiling like veins. The air smelled of damp wood and ancient magic.
"Is this it?" Atreus asked, looking around with mild disappointment. The stillness and lack of light made the place seem lifeless.
Freya chuckled lightly at his reaction. "This temple has been asleep—submerged beneath the water—for almost one hundred and fifty winters," she explained. "It needs only the light of the Bifröst to awaken again."
She approached a pedestal at the center of the chamber and produced a small crystalline device. Handing it to Kratos, she said, "This is a Bifröst key. It creates travel between realms. It can capture, hold, and transfer the Light of Alfheim. Place the key there."
She pointed to a circular slot carved into the stone table nearby. Kratos inspected the key for a moment, then fitted it carefully into the slot.
As soon as he did, a pulse of blue light spread across the table. The glow deepened, swirling like water, and faint runes began to appear. The others watched in silence, waiting for something more to happen, but for several moments, nothing changed.
"What now?" Kratos asked, his tone neutral but slightly impatient.
"Give it a moment," Freya replied. "The temple has slept for a long time. It needs to remember itself. When it does, this place will awaken—and from this room, and this room alone—you will be able to cross between realms."
Almost on cue, the light flared brighter, spreading upward and outward until the entire chamber began to illuminate. The roots glowed faintly, the walls shimmered, and the air itself seemed alive. Atreus's eyes widened in awe, while Zelos found himself quietly admiring the display of intricate design and power. Even Kratos seemed to pause, silently observing the beauty unfolding before them.
"What you see before you," Freya continued, "represents the temple in which we now stand, and the realm towers that surround the Lake of Nine. All the realms exist within the same physical space—reflections of each other. These doors, the towers outside, and the nine realms themselves are all bound together on the branches of the World Tree, separated only by the light of the Bifröst. This place serves to focus and control that light."
"So this is the World Tree?" Atreus asked, puzzled. "I thought it would be much larger."
Freya smiled gently. "This is only an artistic representation," she said. "The true Yggdrasill is far greater than anything that can be built or seen here."
Kratos then spoke, his tone simple and direct. "How does it work?"
"The Tree of Life is tied to the fate of the world, just as we are tied to it," Freya explained.
"Its roots nourish the soil. The dew from its leaves feeds every valley and river. The tree's existence supports all creation—its energy woven through every living thing. Birth, growth, death, and rebirth—all are part of its cycle. Everything returns to the tree in time. That is how it functions." She paused briefly, then smiled slightly. "But I suppose you were asking for a more practical answer."
"Yes," Kratos replied flatly.
Zelos quietly smirked, remembering the many jokes he once saw about Kratos's blunt responses in another lifetime.
"Very well," Freya said, turning to the massive mechanism before them. "The bridge you pushed outside is currently aligned with Vanaheim. You must turn the wheel to redirect it toward our destination—Alfheim."
Kratos immediately followed her instructions, gripping the large wheel and pushing it with steady force.
The sound of heavy stone shifting echoed throughout the temple as the massive structure began to realign.
While Kratos worked, Atreus continued asking questions—about the realm towers, about Tyr, and about the absence of a tower for the Giants.
Freya answered each patiently, her voice calm and steady, while Zelos listened quietly, absorbing every detail.
Once the bridge was properly aligned, Freya gestured for Kratos to insert the Bifröst key again.
He did so without hesitation. A sudden surge of light enveloped the entire room, blinding in intensity.
Zelos felt the shift immediately—a distortion in space, like the world around them was bending and reforming.
He could sense that their physical bodies remained still, yet their surroundings had begun to change.
When the surge of light finally faded, the glow of the temple dimmed once again. The air felt different—lighter, thinner, carrying an unfamiliar scent.
'We're in Alfheim,' Zelos thought, a grin slowly forming on his face. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he looked around, eager to explore this new realm.