Frieren took a few steps forward, the bluish glow of her staff illuminating the interior of the house. The air was lighter now, but there was still something in the atmosphere that made even the mana vibrate, as if it had a consciousness of its own.

She slowly knelt beside the bed where Lyra rested. The girl slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling at an almost imperceptible rhythm. But her body... emanated too much mana for a human being.

"A Shaman…" Frieren repeated in a low voice, touching the air above the girl without making contact. Golden runes began to appear under her skin, as if responding to the elf's presence.

Agnes crossed her arms, uneasy. "Explain properly. What do you mean by Shaman?"

Frieren sighed, without taking her eyes off the girl.

"A body like hers is rare, even among the ancient lineages. Shamans are natural conduits—living bridges between the physical and spiritual worlds. They don't just manipulate mana. They <i>are</i> mana. Every cell, every heartbeat, every breath... everything in her vibrates at the same rhythm as the spiritual flow."

Strax moved a little closer, his wings folded, but his gaze attentive.

"So she's absorbing mana from the environment?"

"No." — Frieren shook her head. — "She's feeding the environment. That abnormal flow you felt... didn't come from outside. It came from her."

The silence that followed was heavy. Agnes seemed to stop breathing.

"You mean my daughter is... generating all this energy?"

Frieren nodded. "Yes. And without control. That's the most dangerous part. When the body awakens to a level of mana like this without preparation, the spirit tries to compensate. That's what caused the trance."

"She was pulled into her own spiritual flow." — Strax completed, crossing his arms. — "As if her soul was trying to balance the excess."

Frieren looked at him and nodded. "Exactly. And that's where the biggest problem comes in."

She extended her hand, and a small blue flame danced on her fingertips.

"Look. Common mana is like a river—it flows from one point to another, it can be contained, molded. A Shaman's mana, however, is an ocean. If you try to contain it by force, it rebels. It overflows, it drowns. Her body is the only vessel that can withstand this energy… but even so, there are limits."

Agnes stepped forward, her gaze somber. "And what if that limit is exceeded?"

Frieren looked away, her tone becoming more serious.

"The body can… shatter from the inside. Excess mana consumes the host."

A tremor ran through Agnes's chest. She knelt beside her daughter, touching her face with trembling hands.

"She's only twelve years old… how can this happen so soon?"

"Because her blood is not common," Frieren replied calmly. "She is the daughter of a being who mastered beasts and natural mana. The blood of the Beast Monarch runs in her veins. This kind of power doesn't choose age. It simply… awakens when it wants to."

Strax watched in silence, his jaw clenched. He knew what it was like to have his own body taken over by something greater, something that threatened to destroy him.

"So the ancestral spirit I tried to drive away…"

"It wasn't an invasion," Frieren interrupted him. "It was a reaction. Her mana was seeking an anchor, and it found a compatible spirit—probably an ancient guardian of the clan. It tried to stabilize the power within her, but since the energy was corrupted, the contact became violent."

Agnes looked up, desperate. "Can she die from this?"

Frieren took a deep breath before answering. "No, not if we can intervene in time. But we need to do it carefully. Any mistake, and the spirit will be lost with her."

Strax narrowed his eyes. "And what do you need me to do?"

"You have a direct connection to the draconic flow. Your ether is a stabilizing force by nature. If I can use that as a base, perhaps I can help her soul find balance."

Agnes looked at him suspiciously. "You want to put the power of a dragon inside my daughter?"

Frieren raised her hand. "Not exactly. I want to filter her mana through his ether. Think of it as... a river flowing through a controlled dam. Draconic ether is one of the few known forces capable of harmonizing large flows of energy. If it works, the girl will wake up—and her power will remain dormant until she is ready to handle it."

Strax nodded slowly. "And what if it doesn't work?"

Frieren stared back at him. "Then she burns from the inside."

Agnes let out an involuntary growl, her eyes flashing gold for an instant. "I won't let that happen."

Frieren placed a hand on her shoulder. "Neither will I. But we need to trust each other. And trust her too."

The ritual began that same night.

Agnes's house had been reinforced with protective circles, all drawn by Frieren with almost surgical precision. The runes floated in the air, emitting a soft light. The ground trembled with Strax's presence, who stood before the bed, his body partially transformed—golden scales covered his arms, and his eyes glowed like contained fire.

Frieren raised her staff, and the room filled with light.

"When I say the word, release the flow, Strax. Not before, not after."

He simply nodded.

Agnes was kneeling beside her daughter, holding her hand. The touch was gentle, but laden with fear.

Frieren began to chant ancient words, in a forgotten language. The air grew heavy, vibrant. The energy began to swirl around the bed like a living spiral. Lyra twitched slightly, her body reacting to the mana emerging from within her.

"Now!" Frieren shouted.

Strax roared, and the air seemed to tear apart. Golden ether expanded from his hands, enveloping the girl's body. The runes lit up brighter, the sound of the mana echoing like the roar of a thousand beasts.

"She's resisting!" Frieren shouted, her voice trembling. "The spirit is still trying to take control!"

Agnes squeezed her daughter's hand and shouted: "Lyra! Hear me! Mommy is here!"

The runes changed color—from blue to white. The mana within the girl's body began to flow differently, more smoothly, more rhythmically. Strax felt the impact, almost being thrown backward.

"Hold on tight!" Frieren exclaimed. "She's fighting against you now, not against me!"

Strax braced his feet, roaring again. The golden glow spread across the floor, mixing with the pure white of the runes. Gradually, the flow stabilized.

Then, Frieren raised her staff and plunged it into the ground. A blinding flash filled the room.

When the light subsided, the silence was absolute.

Lyra's eyes were open. She was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling slowly. The glow of the runes disappeared, leaving only the tranquil sound of the night.

Agnes immediately hugged her, tears streaming down her face.

"My girl... you've come back to me..."

Lyra blinked, confused. "Mom... I heard someone... calling me."

Frieren approached, sitting beside the bed. "You heard the guardian spirit. It didn't want to hurt you. It only wanted to protect you. But the power was too great for your body to handle alone."

Lyra looked at her with teary eyes. "I saw... a giant beast... with golden eyes. He said I had to... awaken."

Agnes looked at Frieren, distressed. "What does that mean?"

Frieren sighed. "It means that her power hasn't finished awakening yet. This was only the beginning. The spirit is marking her body as a vessel. When the right time comes... Lyra will fully inherit the Monarch's legacy."

Strax frowned. "And is that something we can prevent?"

"No," Frieren replied, looking directly at him. "But we can prepare the way. And, hopefully, guide her so that she doesn't become a threat—neither to herself nor to others." Agnes stroked her daughter's hair, her gaze determined. "Then we will teach her. Together. I won't let her face this alone."

Strax nodded. "Neither will I."

Frieren smiled faintly, exhausted. "Then let the training of the first Shaman of Asgard begin."

She stood up, walking to the window. The full moon shone over the city walls. Outside, the wind blew softly, carrying with it the scent of the forest and the distant roar of awakening beasts.

But Frieren knew—that sound wasn't just from beasts. It was an ancient echo. The world was beginning to move again. And at the center of it all was a twelve-year-old girl with the power to connect the realm of the living and the realm of spirits.

Asgard, after all, was born for this: to shelter those who carried the burden of the gods.

And Strax, watching from afar, felt that golden flame burn in his eyes again.

This time, it wasn't just ambition. It was a premonition.

Something was coming from the north. Something that knew his name.

Frieren finished stabilizing the mana flow, and gradually, the energy surrounding Lyra's body calmed down. The bluish mist that hung over the room slowly dissipated, until only a soft glow remained emanating from the girl's body.

Lyra was breathing calmly now. Her face serene, her fingers relaxed. The danger had passed.

Frieren gave one last touch with her staff, and the magic circle dissolved with a light sound, almost like distant bells.

"It's done," she said, looking up at Agnes. "She'll sleep for a few hours, but the mana has been sealed. Her body is adapting to the spiritual affinity. She's no longer in danger."

Agnes remained still for a moment, looking at her daughter as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her hands trembled slightly—the hands of a warrior accustomed to killing, now unable to contain her relief.

Frieren stepped back a few paces, wiping the sweat from her brow. "She has an ancient soul... the kind that is born once every thousand years. The awakening came too early, but she resisted. That says a lot about the blood that runs in her."

Strax remained silent, observing the scene with his arms crossed. The air that had previously been charged with energy now seemed light, breathable. He gave one last look at Lyra and then let out a discreet sigh.

"Well... it seems you don't need me anymore," he said in a deep voice, turning towards the door. "Frieren handles this well. I would only get in the way now."

He took a step, but stopped when he felt something pull his arm.

It was Agnes.

She held him tightly, her eyes glistening with tears—a rare sight in that woman who never bowed her head to anyone. And yet, at that moment, she did.

Agnes bowed before him.

"Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse. "Thank you for coming. For not hesitating when I called. If it weren't for you, maybe I... maybe Lyra..."

The words trailed off.

Strax looked at her, a little surprised. He never handled gratitude well—much less from someone like Agnes. A discreet smile appeared on his lips, almost imperceptible.

"It was nothing," he replied, his voice softer. "But don't thank me."

Agnes looked up, confused.

"She's the one who deserves the thanks." He pointed to Frieren, who was now watching them both with a slight smile. "I only brought you here. She's the one who saved your daughter."

Frieren raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Look at that, the great dragon knows how to give credit to others. That's new."

Strax let out a short, nasal laugh. "Don't get used to it, mage."

Agnes wiped her face, taking a deep breath, and turned to Frieren. "From the bottom of my heart... thank you. If you ever need me, for anything, just call. I owe my daughter's life to you."

Frieren simply nodded slightly, with a gentle look. "Save your strength. The girl will still need her mother very much."

The silence that followed was full of meaning—the soft sound of Lyra's breathing was the only noise in the room.

Strax adjusted his coat and looked at both of them. "If she's alright, I'll go back to Asgard. Monica must be looking for me."

Agnes nodded. "Of course... and Strax?"

"Hmm?"

She looked at him, and for a brief moment, the warrior's stern gaze returned—firm, intense, full of respect. "Thank you for treating my daughter as if she were your own. That... means more than you know."

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