The fire's warmth did little to soothe the chill that lingered in the hut. Outside, the forest whispered, and the river murmured a song of unending sorrow. Zora's eyes stayed fixed on the flames, imagining the stories Freya had just told. The Red Sole, the massacre, the blood-soaked rivers they were terrifying, but Zora could feel the threads weaving into her own life, pulling her toward something she did not yet understand.
Freya's voice cut through the silence, steady and measured. "When I was young," she said, "Scott was the bravest of us all. He never faltered, never hesitated. Yet courage alone cannot shield one from fate. The Red marked our world, and those who walked too close often paid the price."
Zora's fingers tightened around the leather token. She had never met Scott, never known Liam or Jace personally, yet Freya's words made them feel real almost present in the room with them. It was as if the story itself had brought them forward from the past, their shadows flickering on the walls like echoes of firelight.
"Liam," Freya continued, her eyes distant, "was born beneath the blood moon. Even as a child, there was something different about him something the gods themselves whispered in fear. He carried not just power, but responsibility. Jace, loyal to Liam to the end, was the one who reminded us that friendship could survive even the darkest nights. And yet, all of us… all of us were bound by the Red. None could escape it."
Eira shivered beside Zora. "Grandmother… will the Red come for us too?"
Freya's gaze fell on Zora again, piercing but tender. "Perhaps, little one. Perhaps for some, not yet, but you must understand that the Red is patient. It waits for those who will inherit the legacy, and it tests those who stand in the way. You, Zora, are already feeling its pull. The whispers, the stirrings in your mind… they are not mere fear. They are a calling."
The other children leaned closer, curious and anxious. Darion's eyes glimmered with mischief and bravery. "Do you mean we might be heroes too?"
Freya's lips curved in a faint smile, the kind that held both warmth and warning. "Heroes are not born, children. They are shaped by choices, by pain, by love, and by the courage to face the darkness. Liam and Jace shaped themselves in ways that left a mark on the world but even they did not escape the cost of the Red."
Zora felt a knot in her stomach. She realized that Freya's stories were more than memories; they were lessons. Every scar, every step, every whisper had meaning. The Red was not just a curse it was a teacher. And Zora was being prepared to learn its lessons, even before she could comprehend them.
Freya shifted, her voice softening, almost like a lullaby now. "I do not tell you these tales to frighten you, but to awaken you. One day, someone like Zora will face the choices Liam, Jace, and Scott could not. Every friend, every enemy, every path walked will matter. And there will be those who try to sway you… for love, for ambition, for power."
The fire popped suddenly, scattering sparks like fleeting stars across the floor. Zora felt a shiver run down her spine. For a moment, she imagined a tall figure in the shadows outside the hut, eyes glowing faintly, watching her. The whispers surged, louder now, threading through her thoughts: "Zora… the line continues… you must prepare…"
Freya reached for a small wooden figurine on the shelf beside her, worn smooth by age and use. "This belonged to my dearest friend," she said, holding it up to the firelight. "Scott carved it before the Red touched our world. It is a symbol of loyalty, of courage, of bonds that even death cannot sever. Keep it in mind, Zora, for the people you will meet, the friends you will make… and the enemies who will test you. Some will appear loyal, some treacherous. The line between them will never be simple."
Zora looked at Eira and the other children. Suddenly, she felt a responsibility beyond her years. These stories were not mere entertainment they were warnings, prophecies, and guidance. She could feel the Red stirring within her, like a river beneath the surface, waiting to rise, to shape the world around her.
Freya's final words that night hung in the air like smoke from the dying fire: "Remember this, Zora: every tale has meaning, every character a purpose. Liam's courage, Jace's loyalty, Scott's bravery… they are more than memories. They are templates, warnings, and guides. One day, you will walk paths they could not, face choices they never saw, and leave marks that will echo through time. Prepare your heart, for the Red does not wait."
The fire's last embers glowed dimly, the children's breaths shallow, the night holding them in suspense. Zora clutched the leather token and wooden figurine, feeling the pulse of destiny in her veins. Outside, the river continued its eternal song, and the frogs cried in mournful harmony. Within her, the Red whispered, patient, persistent, waiting for the steps she had yet to take.