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Frieren watched her master’s face change with age. Time had passed for her mentor in a way it never would for her. In her last memories of Flamme, Frieren saw her bathed in light from library windows. The glow of sunlight softened her features. A younger version of herself padded over to her master, peeking at the grimoires Flamme poured over.
“Frieren,” Flamme’s voice was gentle in a way that only her voice ever was.
Frieren leaned towards her, “Yes, master?”
Flamme looked at her fondly. Frieren had barely grown since Flamme had first found her, a slip of an elf. “You will live long after me,” Flamme pushed back Frieren’s hair from her eyes, “You will live, and watch things rise and crumble into nothing. You will see more things than I could ever imagine in my lifetime”
Frieren looked at her curiously. Flamme huffed out a laugh, gently cupping her face with her worn hand.
“Promise me this, Frieren. Promise me that you won’t live the rest of that life alone. It would be too much of a waste, wouldn’t it?” Flamme’s eyes were bright, shining with all the force of human mortality. Frieren considered her mentor, the one that had aged before she could say a word, slipping through the sprawling cracks of time. She was beautiful now, basked in sunlight and smiling in soft contentment. Frieren leaned into her mentor’s hand.
“Okay.”
Years after Flamme’s death, someone commissioned a statue. Or maybe it was decades or centuries. Time had slipped through her fingers before she had noticed. Somewhere between the first road she took alone and the grimoires she earned from villages, her mentor had turned into a memory. Things had changed. Roads had been paved. Human mages blazed shining trails in history. She saw everything and nothing. But she was there when the first statue went up. A crowd milled around the stone base, murmuring about the now-long gone human mage.
Frieren stepped her way through the people, unnoticed. She stopped short at the base of the statue, pausing before looking up at the figure. She stared into her mentor’s face, now stone and still.
Human lives are so short
She would never see Flamme again, not really. Her voice would never ring in her ears. Her hand wasn’t there to hold her. How strange it was to know that. Frieren touched the earring left to her by her mentor. A pressure pulled on her chest. She stared at Flamme’s face a moment longer. Her face was out-of-place. Not even the sculptors knew what she looked like. Frieren felt a faint pang of regret. She almost reached out, aching to be held again. But Flamme was only stone.
Later, she left flowers for Flamme. She was sure she would have appreciated it.
(The first time a einsam impersonated Flamme, Frieren closed her eyes when she dealt the killing blow. She hadn’t done that in decades. She isn’t sure why she did it then.)
The years for Frieren seemed blurred into one indistinguishable length of time. She had her grimoires, her spells, and herself. She didn’t need for much else, and she didn’t ask for it either. Until Himmel.
It was the end of another subjugation quest. Another village, another town. The sun was still warm on her face, as she gently held onto the grimoire offered by the townspeople. The rest of the party walked behind her, their footsteps tapping against the cobblestone streets.
Heiter peered over her shoulder in interest, “The great mage Flamme’s grimoire, you say?”
Frieren glanced back at him, “They say there’s no real book by Flamme out there. I’ve only found fake grimoires to this day.” She looked back down at the grimoire, turning the book in her hands. “I’d say this is one of the most well-made counterfeit so far. It’s not too bad as a reward for a subjugation quest”
“...I don’t get what’s so good about it.” Himmel said
Eisen spoke from behind her, “Although, after finding nothing but counterfeits…you start wondering whether a real one even exists or not.” Eisen grumbled. “The creator of humanity’s magic. It’s as if Flamme herself is a character from a fairy tale”
Frieren paused at those words. Strings pulled at her chest a little tighter.
“A fairy tale, huh?” She looked down at the grimoire again, trying to remember the last time she’d really seen her mentor’s face. “Right. That’s how long it’s been”
She paused, still gripping the grimoire in her hand.
“I’m probably the only one who remembers her face…” She murmured softly.
She and the party gathered around Himmel’s statue. Eisen and Heiter grumbled along the back crates. This was his fifth attempt.
“You like to have statues made of you quite often, don’t you”
Himmel turned towards her, “I’d just thought I’d like everyone to remember me” A wistful smile softened his expression. “We don’t live as long as you, you know”
Frieren stared blankly at him. Her mentor’s voice faintly trilled in her mind. A forgotten trace of human mortality.
“Anyway, I owe it to the world to leave a record of my handsomeness for posterity” Himmel grinned, running his fingers through his hair.
“Let’s head back to the inn soon” She turned away from the ridiculous hero.
“But the biggest reason…” His voice gently echoed in her memory, “is so that you won’t be alone in the future”
Frieren stood in place, turning back towards Himmel, “I don’t get it”
Himmel smiled at her again, haloed by the faint glow of sunlight, “We won’t be a part of some fairy tale. They’ll know we actually existed”
Himmel was gone now. He had been gone for 28 years. It had been 80 years since they had defeated the demon king.
Frieren looked up at Himmel’s statue. He was still smiling. The statue was green from age and wear, but it was still Himmel. It was proof.
This time Frieren softly smiled back. He was right, in a way. Even as their memory warped and faded, she still had this. She reached out to him. The stone Himmel only smiled. Her chest constricted for a moment, those unknowable strings pulling tighter around her. But it was only for a moment. She left flowers. She knew he would have loved them