As both Atreus and Kratos turned their attention toward the massive structure that they had just restored, Atreus's eyes widened in excitement.
"Those pillars and the rings form an elvish rune," Atreus said eagerly as he leaned closer to inspect the design. "It reads... water."
He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the connection, while Kratos, Freya, and Zelos looked at him with patient expectation. After a few seconds, realization dawned on his face.
"Wait, Father, let me try this," Atreus said, holding up his hand as he turned toward the sand bowl. "Without me or within me, death is sure. Yet within you, I am life most pure." He nodded with certainty. "Yes—it's water all right."
Kratos said nothing, simply observing his son's focus. Atreus crouched near the bowl and began tracing the rune of water onto the sand, his movements deliberate and careful.
"Took you long enough," Zelos muttered, which immediately earned him an annoyed glare from Atreus. Freya, standing nearby, smirked lightly at the exchange but didn't comment.
When Atreus finished tracing the rune, the entire platform began to tremble beneath their feet. The vibration spread outward, and moments later, the surface of the river started to split apart, revealing a massive structure hidden beneath the water.
Zelos, sensing the disturbance, quietly recast the spell of concealment over himself and Freya. Freya noticed the faint shimmer of magic forming around her but chose not to react, simply glancing at Zelos with a brief knowing look.
As the river continued to separate, Zelos suddenly heard a familiar voice echoing faintly in his mind. It was soft, warm, and unmistakable.
"Son," the voice said gently.
Zelos froze for a moment. His eyes widened, and his gaze immediately turned toward the brilliant light ahead of them. He knew that voice. It belonged to his mother—Faye herself.
"Mother?" Zelos called out quietly, but there was no response. Before he could say anything else, Atreus suddenly collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
"Aghhh!" Atreus cried out in pain, his voice echoing in the hollow space around them. Kratos immediately moved to his side, his expression hardening with concern. Zelos and Freya quickly joined them, both trying to help Atreus steady himself.
"It's those voices again," Atreus said between heavy breaths. "But this time… they're not angry. They're asking for help."
Kratos's face remained firm, his tone steady but cold. "We are here for the Light. I do not care who they are or what they want."
Atreus frowned, the frustration in his voice barely restrained. "You never care about anything," he muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Kratos turned to him sharply. "Do you have something to say?" he asked, his tone commanding.
Atreus quickly shook his head. "No," he said softly.
Freya and Zelos exchanged brief glances but said nothing. The tension between father and son was palpable, though it was something both of them had seen before.
As the splitting of the lake finally settled, the group noticed movement in the air above. A dark figure emerged, wings flaring and eyes glowing faintly. It was a Dark Elf, but something about him was different from the ones they had fought earlier. His horns were longer, curved, and his armor more refined.
"He's different," Zelos remarked quietly. "Do you know why?"
Freya turned her eyes toward the creature and nodded slightly as recognition crossed her face. "That is Svartáljǫfurr, the King of the Dark Elves. It seems he is commanding his army to continue the fight against the Light Elves," she said. Her tone grew heavier as she continued. "We must not interfere with their war. It is of utmost importance that we stay out of it."
"Why?" Atreus asked, clearly displeased. "They are massacring the Light Elves. Shouldn't we help them?"
Kratos's jaw tightened, though he remained silent, allowing Freya to answer.
"Because wars such as these are meant to be resolved by those who started them," Freya explained patiently. "When two sides choose conflict, they must face the outcome on their own. Interference from outsiders disrupts the balance. The losses, the victories, and the scars that come after—all of these are the consequences they must bear."
Her words silenced Atreus, though his expression showed that he didn't completely agree. Kratos seemed satisfied by the explanation, and the group began to move forward once again. Freya and Zelos walked a little behind, following the others at a slower pace.
After a few moments of quiet walking, Freya spoke softly. "Do they always have these kinds of disagreements, your father and your brother?" she asked curiously.
Zelos nodded slightly before answering. "Yes, they do. Father values discipline above all else. He believes that as the head of our household, his word should be followed without question. Atreus, however, doesn't always share that same view."
He paused for a moment, thinking about the two of them before continuing. "Father isn't the type to show affection openly. Because of that, Atreus grew closer to our mother. Now that she's gone, he expects the same warmth and comfort from Father, but that's something difficult for him to give. They are both grieving, just in different ways. And I suppose, in a way, we all are. This journey is our way of fulfilling the last wish our mother left for us."
"So both of them are still dealing with grief," Freya summarized softly.
"Yes," Zelos replied simply.
Freya glanced at him with quiet concern. "And how do you deal with yours?" she asked.
Zelos was taken slightly off guard by the question. He slowed his steps and looked forward, deep in thought. Despite his otherworldly origin, he still viewed Faye as his true mother—the first person who had given him love and belonging in either of his lives.
"Believe it or not," Zelos began, "I accepted it a long time ago. I knew of her sickness when I was five winters old. From that day, I tried everything—every kind of magic, every healing spell I could study—to find a cure. Most of the healing magic I use now was originally created for her illness." He paused briefly, his expression unreadable. "But Mother always refused treatment. She told me that death is a part of life, and that I should learn to accept it. I've been grieving since the moment I understood the truth, but I've also learned to hold onto her words. They are something I choose to remember, something that guides me even now."
Freya's expression softened as she listened. "That must have been difficult, especially for someone so young," she said sincerely.
Zelos gave a small nod. "It was," he admitted. "But even now, I'm not entirely done searching. I still believe there might be a way to bring her back. I just haven't found it yet."
Freya stopped walking, looking at him with disbelief. "The living should not interfere with the dead," she said firmly. "It is not only unnatural but also wrong. The dead deserve their peace."
Zelos turned his head slightly, his eyes calm but serious. "If you were in my place, and you had the power to bring your loved ones back, wouldn't you at least try? It's easy to say that some things should not be done, but when faced with the same loss, very few can truly stand by that belief."
Freya said nothing. She remained still, watching as Zelos continued walking forward. His words lingered in her mind, quiet but heavy. For someone so young, his view of life and death was unsettlingly mature, shaped not by idealism but by experience—and perhaps, by something far older than his current self.