"This snow... it's even worse than yesterday, isn't it?"
Inside the warm but modest wooden cabin, Aesc peered out of the window. Beyond the pane, only the relentless blizzard was visible, a white void swallowing everything.
"That's just how the weather is around here. You'll get used to it," Frieren said indifferently. "Judging by the looks of it, this snowstorm will probably last another three days."
Three days meant nothing to Frieren, who had lived over a thousand years. It was barely the blink of an eye to her.
For the others, though, it was a different story.
"Three whole days..." Stark groaned as he collapsed onto the floor dramatically, letting out a long, exaggerated wail.
The cabin was small and empty, save for a wood stove that provided much-needed warmth. Even their bedding was whatever they had brought along.
Frieren offered a suggestion, her tone as flat as ever. "You could try crossing the Huvia Mountains in this weather if you're that desperate to leave."
"I'd die doing that, wouldn't I?" Stark replied.
"That's kind of the point," Frieren deadpanned.
"...Fair enough."
In the corner of the cabin, Aesc grabbed a piece of bread and knocked it against the floor. A loud thunk-thunk echoed in the room.
"This isn't the sound bread is supposed to make," she muttered. "I bet I could enchant it and use it to smash a monster's head in. Hey, Frieren, do you have a spell to soften bread instantly?"
"Nope. Just stick it near the fire," Frieren replied without missing a beat.
"That takes too long. Besides, even if I soften it, bread this frozen won't taste good anymore."
With the snowstorm locking them inside, Aesc, Frieren, and Fern could at least read or practice magic to pass the time. Stark, however, who was clueless about magic, resorted to exercising in the corner.
"How about this? I'll tell you all a story," Aesc suggested suddenly, her voice carrying a spark of mischief.
Fern set her book aside, her expression as calm as always. "Lady Aesc, you really enjoy stories, don't you?"
"Not particularly," Aesc replied, tilting her head in thought. "I wouldn't say I love them. It's more like... they give me something to hold on to, like how Frieren collects magic spells. You need a goal to focus on. Otherwise, life feels unbearably long. For me, stories are like magic."
"Are we talking about those wild, fantastical tales again?" Frieren shifted slightly closer.
Fern, curious, turned to Frieren. "Have you heard Lady Aesc's stories before?"
"When we traveled together in the past, Aesc would tell all sorts of whimsical tales," Frieren said quietly. "Magic is the act of turning imagination into reality—a miracle. The strength of one's magic depends on the strength of their imagination. If a mage can't even imagine defeating an enemy, they won't succeed. Aesc's exceptional grasp of magic probably comes from her vivid and boundless imagination."
Fern blinked, surprised by Frieren's uncharacteristically high praise.
It was a rare moment. After all, when Heiter had asked Frieren to take Fern as her apprentice, her immediate response had been, "She'll just be a burden."
Though Fern's face betrayed no emotion, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of frustration.
Meanwhile, Frieren, complaining about the cold, tugged at the blanket draped over Aesc and promptly snuggled inside, earning a sharp protest.
"Ugh! Frieren, your body is freezing! Get off me!" Aesc scowled, pushing back. "If you're cold, sit by the stove!"
"Okay, so what kind of story are you going to tell?" Frieren asked, ignoring Aesc's protests. "The one about the overly cautious hero who bought three sets of armor just in case? Or the one about the fifteen heroes whose reincarnations had to sacrifice their lives to re-seal the demon king?"
"...Why do you remember those so well? Weren't you the one who said you weren't interested in fictional stories?"
"Because those stories both had bad endings," Frieren replied flatly. "Himmel and Heiter cried after hearing them, so they left a strong impression on me."
"True..." Aesc rubbed her temples, recalling the sight of Himmel and Heiter bawling their eyes out after one of her stories.
Admittedly, watching grown men cry over the narrative twists she crafted had been oddly satisfying. But the aftermath—when swords were pointed at her throat demanding she rewrite the endings—was decidedly less enjoyable.
"Uh, I've got a bad feeling about this..." Stark raised his hand hesitantly. "Can I skip the story?"
Aesc looked over at him and smirked. "Don't worry, it's not a scary story. It's just that a lot of the characters die by the end."
Stark's face paled.
Aesc tightened her blanket around herself and grinned. "But maybe you're right—those kinds of stories aren't great for kids. I wouldn't want you two developing a nihilistic outlook. How about something funnier this time? A story about an idiot hero and an equally idiotic goddess."
After a pause, Aesc added, "But in exchange, I want to hear your stories. Tell me about the lives you had before you started your journey. I want to write them down."
The wind outside roared as snow battered against the cabin's windows.
---
Later that night, someone was still wide awake.
"Lady Aesc, you're so mean... Why did Kazuma have to die?"
"It's not like I made him die," Aesc replied, looking exasperated. "Besides, he came back to life thanks to the goddess."
"But he still died!" Fern exclaimed, her voice trembling. "In the dungeon, sacrificing himself to take down the demon king, his body never found... And when even the goddess couldn't revive him, I... I really thought he was gone forever..."
The flickering firelight illuminated Fern's tear-streaked face as she glared at Aesc, her voice tinged with both frustration and sadness.
Aesc couldn't help but laugh inwardly, though she quickly suppressed the feeling. What's wrong with me? When did I become someone who enjoys making others cry with emotional stories?
It's definitely Honkai Impact 3rd's fault.
Knowing Kazuma's personality, Aesc mused, if he ever found out a beautiful girl cried over him, he'd be so smug he'd float away in pride.
---
T/N: heh