They hadn't walked far from Eldrath Hollow before the trees changed.
The forest ahead was strange — the bark pale as bone, the leaves brittle like glass. Every step beneath their feet crunched unnaturally. There were no animals. No breeze. Only the eerie, distant sound of… breathing?
Not theirs.
Something else.
Something old.
Teren gripped his sword tighter. "This is the Withering Path."
Mirea had heard of it in whispers — a place cursed by the war, where the very memory of life was said to rot.
But Frido walked ahead, unafraid.
Like he'd been here before.
---
The Rootless Tree
Near the center of the dead wood, they found it.
A tree taller than any they'd seen — and yet, it had no roots. Its base hovered inches above the ground, its shadow twisting unnaturally against the forest floor.
Carved into its floating bark were names. Thousands of them.
Not etched by hand — grown.
Mirea ran her fingers over a familiar curve.
Frido.
There it was again.
"How are there so many?" she whispered. "So many places… all with your name."
Frido didn't answer.
Teren stepped beside him. "This place… it's where the war began, isn't it?"
Frido nodded.
"And it's where it'll end."
---
The First Warrior
They were not alone.
From between the ghost-pale trunks emerged a figure.
Tall.
Draped in black armor, cracked and lined with vines.
A mask covered the face — not a helmet, but a sculpted visage of sorrow. One tear carved from silver hung frozen beneath one eye.
He held no weapon.
But the ground died beneath his feet.
Teren stepped forward. "Name yourself."
The figure raised a gloved hand.
Then pointed — not at Teren.
At Frido.
"You are the one who carries silence," the warrior said in a voice like rustling leaves. "You are not welcome here."
Frido stepped forward.
"I came to end the war."
The warrior nodded. "Then you must first remember how it began."
---
The Price of Knowing
The warrior didn't strike.
Instead, he raised his hand again, and the world around them shivered.
Mirea stumbled, clutching her head.
A rush of sound filled her ears — screaming, thunder, fire.
And then…
She saw it.
A vision.
A battlefield made of glass and mirrors. Frido stood in the center, alone. Not as he was — but older. Worn. Bloodied.
All around him were bodies.
Some wore the symbol of the kingdom. Others the crest of the Rebels.
He was the last one standing.
But not because he had fought.
Because he had refused to.
And they had killed each other for it.
Mirea gasped as the vision vanished.
Frido stood trembling, the same vision blazing behind his eyes.
The warrior said:
"This is your fate. Unless you forget your name."
---
A Moment Unspoken
They made camp far from the rootless tree that night, but the echo of the warrior's presence lingered in all of them.
Frido sat apart again, staring into the distance.
Mirea approached, her steps soft on the cold ground.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she asked.
He nodded.
"And… do you still want to go on?"
Frido turned to her, his eyes strangely calm.
"Especially now."
She sat beside him. Too close. Her shoulder brushed his, and he didn't move away.
Mirea opened her mouth — but her heart betrayed her.
She couldn't say it.
Not yet.
But she reached into her cloak and handed him the cracked bell.
"Keep it tonight."
Frido took it.
Smiled faintly.
And whispered, "You always understand more than you say."
She wanted to answer, Because I love you.
Instead, she whispered, "Because someone has to."
---
The Dream Beneath the Earth
That night, the earth spoke.
Or maybe it was just Frido's dream.
He found himself underground — the walls made of ash, the floor littered with the bones of weapons.
And ahead of him, a throne.
Empty.
But not silent.
A voice came from nowhere — soft, female, familiar.
"When the last bell rings, you will be forgotten."
Frido answered, "But the world will remember peace."
The voice responded,
"Only if the one who loves you speaks your name."
Frido looked up.
And saw her.
Mirea.
Crying.
But again — too far to touch.
He woke before he could call to her.
---
What the Stone Reveals
The next morning, Mirea found Frido already awake.
He was holding the stone — now glowing with a soft, internal light.
She sat beside him, brushing hair from her face.
"What's it doing?" she asked.
Frido smiled weakly. "It's humming."
Mirea frowned. "Like… a song?"
He nodded.
"I think… I think it's starting to remember the names it carries."
Mirea reached out and gently touched the stone.
For a split second — just one — she heard it too.
Not a hum.
Not a tune.
But a voice.
Her own.
Whispering:
"Don't die."
She jerked her hand away.
Frido didn't notice.
But her breath caught in her throat.
She stood and walked away.
And behind her, the stone grew brighter.
---
The Road Ahead
They left the Withering Path behind, but none of them looked back.
Teren walked in silence.
Frido walked with purpose.
And Mirea walked with fear.
Not of the war.
Not of the warrior.
But of herself.
Because deep down, she knew what the prophecy meant.
She was the Bell Maiden.
And one day, she would have to say his name.
Loudly.
Clearly.
One last time.
And when she did… it would mean he was already gone.
---
[End of Chapter 23]