The journey to Yggdrasil took weeks.
Not because the distance was impossibly far.
But because the world itself seemed to be slowing down.
Every village they passed through had heard something.
Rumors.
Stories.
Half-truths.
Whispers.
An entire city destroyed.
Demons appearing.
The sky turning white.
A giant explosion.
Nobody knew the full story.
And the three of them intended to keep it that way.
---
Three days after leaving Oheyo's ruins—
They arrived at a small farming village.
The villagers immediately noticed them.
Travelers were common.
Refugees were not.
Especially refugees coming from the east.
The village chief approached cautiously.
An older man carrying a wooden staff.
"Where are you three coming from?"
Alice answered before anyone else could.
"Trading routes east of here."
The man narrowed his eyes.
"You aren't from Oheyo, are you?"
The three exchanged glances.
A brief moment.
Then Alice smiled.
A fake smile.
A convincing smile.
"Never been there."
The old man studied her for several seconds.
Then slowly nodded.
Whether he believed her or not—
He chose not to press further.
---
That night they stayed in the village.
The villagers were kind.
Too kind.
It made things worse.
Because they kept talking about Oheyo.
About how they hoped trade routes would recover soon.
About merchants they knew.
Friends.
Family.
Business partners.
People who would never return.