Aot:The Silent Witness

Chapter 8: A World Beyond the Paths

Ymir's bare feet touched the earth for the first time in centuries. It was solid, real. Not the endless sands of the Paths, but something alive. A cool breeze carried the scent of damp soil and blooming flowers, rustling the trees overhead. The sensation was foreign yet familiar, like waking from a long dream and finding the world had moved on without her.

She took a slow breath, adjusting to the weight of her own body. Her golden hair, longer and wilder than before, cascaded over her shoulders. Her once-youthful features had matured, her frame taller and stronger, hardened by time—even if she hadn't truly lived in it.

A flicker of energy sparked beside her. Ember, floating lazily in the air, regarded her with a smirk. "Hah. You're standing like a newborn fawn." His voice crackled with amusement. "It's weird seeing you like this—older, I mean. Guess you finally decided to grow up."

Ymir met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I was never a child."

Ember tilted his head. "Maybe not. But you were trapped."

She didn't argue. There was nothing to say.

Instead, she turned her focus to their surroundings. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. Shafts of golden light filtered through the canopy, casting patterns on the forest floor. A river murmured in the distance, its waters steady and unhurried. Birds flitted through the branches, oblivious to her presence.

It was quiet.

No chains. No commands. No blood-soaked battlefields.

For the first time, the world was still.

Ember drifted beside her. "So? What do you think?"

Ymir closed her eyes briefly, taking in the crisp, untainted air.

"…It's quiet."

A grin flickered across Ember's form. "That's called freedom."

She exhaled slowly, fingers flexing. Was this truly freedom? Did she deserve it?

She took another step, then another, feeling the texture of the ground beneath her feet—the dampness of the moss, the roughness of scattered pebbles. Her senses were overwhelmed in a way they hadn't been in centuries. The Paths had dulled everything. No scents, no sensations, only the sterile echoes of a place outside of time.

But here, everything was raw. The sun's warmth on her skin. The shifting of the wind. The distant calls of unseen creatures. It was as if she were experiencing life for the first time.

Ember floated beside her, arms crossed. "You're thinking too much."

Ymir's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's strange."

"What is?"

She hesitated. "Everything."

Ember scoffed. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you spend a couple of centuries locked away. But hey, at least you don't have to listen to that bastard king anymore."

Ymir didn't reply, but her fingers curled at the mention of Fritz. She had spent so long clinging to his shadow, binding herself to his will even after death. Even now, the remnants of those chains still lingered in her mind.

But they weren't real anymore.

She forced her hands to relax.

Before she could sink too deeply into her thoughts, Ember shot forward. "Standing around brooding isn't very fun. Let's explore."

Ymir hesitated. And then, for the first time in centuries, she chose to follow.

They moved through the woods in silence. The earth was cool beneath her feet, rough bark scraped her fingertips, and the scent of pine and fresh rain filled her lungs. It was nothing like the Paths—where everything was weightless, endless, hollow. Here, every step mattered.

She glanced at Ember. He moved effortlessly, weaving through the trees like he belonged there, though his body remained insubstantial. He was a being of energy, not flesh, yet he interacted with the world in ways she couldn't explain.

"How are you able to move like that?" she asked.

Ember shrugged. "I don't think about it. I just do." He glanced at her. "You should try it sometime."

Ymir frowned. "Try what?"

"Living without thinking about every little thing."

She fell silent.

Did she even know how to do that?

She had spent so long obeying, reacting, existing for others. The concept of living for herself was… foreign.

But here, there was no king, no war, no orders.

Just her.

Just them.

Then, Ember suddenly stopped, flickering sharply. "Hey. You might wanna see this."

Ymir stepped beside him—and froze.

Beyond the trees, nestled in a valley between rolling hills, was a village.

It was untouched by war. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, children's laughter echoed through the air, and people moved about their daily lives—carrying baskets, tending fields, speaking in soft voices.

These weren't soldiers. Not conquerors. Not slaves. Just people.

Ember crossed his arms, his glow dimming slightly. "Didn't think we'd run into civilization so soon." He turned to her. "What now?"

Ymir's gaze remained fixed on the village.

She had spent centuries building Titans, watching as they were used as weapons. She had seen empires rise and fall, their foundations soaked in blood.

But these people… they weren't part of that cycle.

They didn't know her. Didn't know what she had been, what she had done.

For the first time in an eternity, she wasn't Ymir Fritz, the Founder. Not a weapon, not a god, not a servant to a king.

She was just… Ymir.

A strange feeling swelled in her chest—something she couldn't name.

She took a step forward.

Ember smirked. "Now we're getting somewhere."

As they moved toward the village, something unfamiliar stirred in her chest.

Hope.

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