Chapter 143: Rock Hard Problems

The northern mountains were exactly as miserable as Grace expected. Cold, gray, and about as welcoming as Zephyr before her morning coffee.

“I hate this already,” Grace muttered, wings tucked tight against the biting wind.

Valkyrie didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. She’d maintained perfect silence for the entire flight up, broken only by occasional grunts that might’ve been directions.

Petriel, at least, tried to lighten the mood.

“It’s not so bad! The mountain air is supposed to be good for—”

A rock the size of Grace’s head tumbled past, missing Petriel by inches.

“—never mind.”

They landed in a small village. Not destroyed or corrupted like the others Grace had visited. Just… stopped.

A merchant stood frozen mid-haggle, hand extended with coins that would never change hands. A child hung suspended mid-jump over a puddle that had turned to stone.

[Well, this is new. And creepy. Definitely creepy.]

“Spread out,” Valkyrie ordered. “Look for survivors. Anyone who can still move.”

Grace wanted to point out that she wasn’t Valkyrie’s subordinate, but the silver-haired angel was already stalking off like she owned the place.

“She’s intense,” Petriel whispered.

“She’s a bitch,” Grace corrected, then felt bad about it.

[QUEST RECEIVED: Hearts of Stone]

Objective: Help 20 villagers to establish Angelic Protection

Reward: +10 Compassion, Morale Boost

Current Progress: 0/20

“—and I’ve got work to do.”

Grace started with the obvious places. The inn, where she found three people huddled around a cold fireplace. They weren’t frozen, but they moved like they were swimming through molasses.

“Angel,” one of them said. The word took about five seconds to complete.

“Yeah, that’s me. Here to help. What happened?”

The story came out in painful slow-motion. A woman had appeared a week ago, beautiful and terrible and exactly like every other Pillar Grace had dealt with. She’d offered them “eternal peace” and “freedom from change.” Some had accepted willingly. Others got it anyway.

“She’s… still… here,” the innkeeper managed. “The… peak…”

[Of course she is. Why would anything be easy?]

Grace spent the next hour helping where she could. Unfreezing water supplies with her divine energy. Moving statue-people out of dangerous positions. Listening to stories that all painted the same picture: a community that had already been resistant to change, now literally frozen in their ways.

By villager number twelve, she’d developed a rhythm. Find someone conscious. Help with immediate needs. Listen to their extremely slow complaints about young people these days or how the new trade routes were ruining tradition. And, move on.

“Well, you look troubled.”

Grace nearly jumped out of her skin. Valkyrie had appeared beside her.

“Just… thinking.” Grace accepted the water flask Valkyrie offered. “The Mountain’s different from the others.”

“How?”

“Well, she’s not making things change, she’s preventing it.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know how to fix that. You can’t punch stagnation.”

Valkyrie studied her for a long moment. Grace tried not to fidget under the scrutiny, but her mind chose that moment to notice how Valkyrie’s combat outfit clung to her muscles. Silver hair caught the weak sunlight. Sharp jawline that could probably cut glass.

[No. Bad Grace. Stop thirsting after the mean angel.]

“What?” Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing! Just. You know. Waiting for your… tactical assessment. Of the situation.”

[Smooth, Grace. Real smooth.]

Valkyrie’s expression shifted to amusement. Or contempt. Hard to tell with her.

“You’re staring at my chest.”

“I’m not—” Grace’s eyes snapped up. “I was looking at your, uh, armor. The craftsmanship. Very good. Craftsmanship.”

“My armor is standard issue.”

“Well, you… wear it very well.”

[Please let the Mountain kill me now.]

Petriel chose that moment to float over, green hair bouncing.

“Grace! I found more survivors! They’re—oh.” She looked between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Valkyrie said flatly. “Lightsinger was just explaining her appreciation for military equipment.”

Petriel blinked.

“Oh. Okay. Um, the survivors are this way?”

Grace fled with as much dignity as she could manage. Which wasn’t much.

—

Four hours later, Grace had helped nineteen villagers and wanted to scream. She did learn a little bit more about this village in the process, though. The Mountain had always made the village a strange place. People lived longer, crops took longer to grow, etc. But it was never quite this bad. It wasn’t the whole village freezing the way it was now.

The twentieth villager was an old woman who’d barricaded herself in the temple. She moved normally, wrapped in so many protective charms she looked like a clearance sale at a mystical shop.

“Won’t let her take me,” the woman muttered. “Change is natural. Growth is necessary. Can’t stop time just because you’re scared.”

[That so, huh?]

Grace felt the quest complete with a satisfied chime. The village shimmered briefly as Angelic Protection settled over it. No demons to worry about on this trip.

“You’re right,” Grace said. “But how do I convince the Mountain of that?”

The old woman cackled.

“You don’t convince stone, girl. You break it or build around it.”

[Great. Cryptic advice. My favorite.]

Back at their makeshift camp, Grace found Valkyrie sharpening a blade that already looked sharp enough to split atoms.

“We need a plan,” Grace said.

“You need a plan. I’m here to keep you in one piece while you make one.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Valkyrie looked up.

“You killed multiple Primal Demons. You purified four Pillars. Clearly, you don’t need my confidence.”

Grace blinked.

“I mostly just fumbled through and got lucky.”

“Yeah, probably.” Valkyrie tested her blade’s edge. “But I don’t mind working with someone who’s actually lucky for a change.”

Grace sat down across from her, careful to keep her eyes on Valkyrie’s face. Not on how her position made her training shirt stretch across her—

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Grace’s voice only cracked a little.

“Staring.”

“I’m not—okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, you’re very…” Grace gestured vaguely. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know. Care to elaborate?”

Grace rolled her eyes.

“Attractive. You’re attractive. There, happy?”

Valkyrie’s expression didn’t change.

“Is this how you prepare for every mission? By propositioning your teammates?”

“I’m not propositioning!” Grace’s face burned. “I’m just. Observing. Appreciating. From a respectful distance.”

“The distance is three feet.”

“A respectful three feet.”

“I should go… strategize,” Grace said, standing up. “About the Mountain. The actual Mountain, not the—I’m going to stop talking now.”

She fled to the edge of camp, face still burning. Behind her, she could’ve sworn she heard Valkyrie chuckle.

[How am I supposed to save the world when I can’t even have a normal conversation with a pretty angel?]

The Mountain loomed above them, unchanging and eternal. Somewhere up there was another piece of Eternia’s discarded emotions, turning people to stone because change was scary.

Grace understood the impulse. Change was terrifying. A year ago, she’d been a turnip farmer. Now she was apparently angel-kind’s best hope, juggling world-ending threats and trying not to embarrass herself in front of intimidating women with silver hair and muscles that—

[Focus, Grace.]

How do you fight stagnation? How do you convince someone that change isn’t the enemy when they’ve built their entire existence around avoiding it?

The Root had needed companionship. The Tide needed intimacy. The Flame needed an outlet. The Tempest needed clarity.

What did the Mountain need?

“Figured it out yet?”

Grace didn’t jump this time.

“Do you have to sneak up on me?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” Valkyrie settled beside her, maintaining a careful distance. “You were distracted.”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“How to handle a Pillar that represents the fear of change. Can’t exactly seduce a concept.”

“You’ve managed so far.”

Grace turned to stare.

“Was that a joke? Did Valkyrie the Perpetually Serious just make a joke?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

But there was definitely a smile tugging at her lips. Just a small one.

“You know,” Grace said carefully, “you’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”

“I’m exactly as scary as I need to be.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Valkyrie was quiet for a moment. Then:

“The Mountain won’t be like the others. Stagnation doesn’t want to change. That’s literally the point.”

“I know.”

“So what’s your plan?”

Grace looked up at the peak, shrouded in clouds that hadn’t moved in a week.

“I’m going to show her that staying still is just another kind of death.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll do what the old woman said. Break her or build around her.”

Valkyrie nodded.

“Good. When do we climb?”

“Tomorrow. Tonight, I need to think. And maybe eat something that isn’t trail rations.”

“The inn’s food is frozen solid.”

“Petriel can fix that. Probably.”

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun set behind mountains that would look exactly the same tomorrow. And the day after. And forever, if the Mountain had her way.

[I’ll figure it out. I have to. Even if it means climbing a mountain with Valkyrie looking unfairly good in combat gear the whole way.]

“You’re staring again.”

“…shut up.”

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