Frey stared, his eyes widening slowly in disbelief.
They were scattered across the world ... in ancient ruins, forgotten relics, hidden paintings no one had ever been able to decipher.
Naless had found many of them during his journey.
"It's as if soone placed them deliberately… leaving behind clues for whoever cos after… soone searching for the Aether," he said, a faint frown crossing his face.
Frey remained silent, trying to process what he was seeing.
He saw figures cloaked in darkness, gathered along the edges of the paintings—each one emanating sparks eerily similar to that strange energy Naless wielded.
n and won… all following a single woman, drawn larger and more prominently than the rest.
Darkness spread around her like living shadows, and from her hand surged a spark far greater than all the others combined.
On the opposite side of the painting, Frey saw sothing else.
A dense, creeping mist—alive, as though it breathed—within it glowed eerie golden eyes that seed to drag all who gazed upon them into oblivion.
Frey turned to another painting.
There, the sa woman stood again… smiling faintly.
Before her sat a broad-shouldered man with long black hair ... his presence radiating strength, warmth, and quiet authority.
Beside him were two children, one older than the other—their backs turned, their faces unseen.
It looked as though she was teaching them sothing. Before them stood an enormous library… filled with countless books.
Frey's breath hitched.
That library… it resembled the one he had seen within Naless's mask. It felt almost identical.
He turned away abruptly, a strange bitterness rising in his chest… an unfamiliar pain tightening his breath.
Yet another painting caught his gaze.
A castle… or perhaps a massive, shadowed manor ... its interior revealed in haunting detail.
A long dining table stood at the center of a vast hall, its black stone walls built in a style unlike anything Frey had ever seen.
Seated around it were the sa man… and the sa woman.
Surrounding them were many children—yet their faces were blurred, as if deliberately erased.
The longer Frey stared, the heavier his breathing beca… even though he was nothing more than a phantom within these mories.
All of them carried a suffocating presence.
But that woman… stood out above all.
She was… overwhelming.
"Endure it," Naless said quietly, his expression mirroring Frey's. "These traces… were left for us."
There were countless paintings… more and more of them stretching endlessly before his eyes.
Each one depicted a different scene, a different mont—distinct, vivid, and unsettling in its own way.
But what caught Frey's attention most… was that many of them revolved around that woman—and the older child he had seen before.
She hovered around him like a ghost.
Her long black dress trailed across the ground, wrapping around him like a spider's cocoon, enclosing him from all sides.
She whispered into his ear… from the right, from the left ... her presence inescapable.
And each ti… the child moved according to her rhythm.
They walked together, hand in hand, as she guided him through the vast library—teaching him things Frey himself could not comprehend.
Until finally… they arrived before one of the largest paintings Naless had ever discovered.
In it, the child sat upon a wooden chair, his face completely obscured.
Behind him stood the terrifying woman, her shadows enveloping him entirely, her slender hands resting gently upon his shoulders… a gesture that spoke of an unbreakable bond.
Before them lay a table… and upon it, an open book ... dark, strange, and deeply ominous.
To their right, the man appeared, reaching out toward the child.
His face was hidden, but his posture betrayed sothing unmistakable… fear, urgency, concern.
Behind him, the other children stood at a distance, watching in silence.
To their left, the dreadful mist surged once more, stretching toward the child as well…
Yet the woman repelled it violently, as if the mist itself feared her… feared her very existence.
The painting felt alive.
Frey's body broke into a cold sweat, his breathing growing uneven, unable to understand the source of his overwhelming unease.
"What the hell is this…? What are these paintings supposed to be?"
He clutched his chest tightly, struggling to remain standing, refusing to fall to one knee.
"Why… why do I feel this emptiness… this bitterness every ti I look at them?"
Pain coursed through him.
Naless stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Frey slowly raised his head… only to realize Naless felt it too.
The difference was… Naless endured it.
He suppressed it… controlled it.
"This, Frey…" Naless said quietly, his voice heavy, "is the evidence that led … to the truth."
Frey's eyes widened.
"Did you… uncover it? The aning behind these paintings… the truth of your existence… and mine?"
They stared at one another, tension thicker than ever.
And everything shifted… the mont Naless nodded—slowly, heavily, as if carrying the weight of worlds.
Frey was stunned.
The truth… was already within their grasp.
Yet the Naless before him did not look like soone who held that truth.
He looked… just as lost as Frey.
And there was a reason for that.
"I found it," Naless said, his voice quieter now. "But I couldn't bear it… not back then."
The mory changed.
Frey watched as Naless reached into himself… and tore sothing out.
A fragnt of mory. Of power.
Sothing radiant.
Sothing important.
"I removed it… and entrusted it to the one person I trusted more than anyone in this world."
Before Frey's eyes, Naless handed that fragnt away.
To the man who believed in him without hesitation.
To the one he trusted completely.
Naless… gave it to Gehrman.
He entrusted him with it.
Told him to protect it. To hide it… until the day ca when it must be returned.
He told him to guard it with his life.
And Gehrman… obeyed.
Naless let out a faint laugh at the mory.
"I never expected him to follow my words so literally," he said. "He hid that power within his own body… fused it with himself, so no one could ever take it from him."
"He did it… knowing full well what it ant."
"That he would die… when the ti ca."
Naless's eyes trembled.
For a brief mont… he almost broke.
"He threw his life away without hesitation… carried out the impossible task I gave him… enduring a suffering no one else could ever understand."
"Perhaps you hated him for most of your life…"
"But he was… the only person I can truly call…"
"A friend."
More than that, even.
Gehrman's death… was necessary.
Only through it could the mory be released ... so it could return to Naless now.
That mory had beco part of Gehrman's very existence.
Which ant… the mont it was reclaid ...
Gehrman ceased to exist.
Gone.
Even Naless's mastery over life and death could not bring him back.
Gehrman died… with no return.
And that truth carved sothing deep into both Naless… and Frey, who now realized that all this ti…
He had never truly understood the blue-eyed man.
The man who made this mont possible.
The man who paved the way… for the truth.
The mory was now open.
The path stood before them.
Frey and Naless stepped forward ... toward it.
Toward the truth.
A truth bought… by the sacrifice of one man.
At the sa mont, both of them clenched their fists.
Their resolve sharpened.
And together…
They walked into the light.
Whatever awaited them beyond it ...
They would face it.
Together.
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