Essence of the Unlimited Potential IN GOD OF WAR 2018

Eirik sat by the stream, his legs dangling over the water as he tossed pebbles into the current. Freya sat a few feet away, her cloak of falcon feathers draped over her shoulders. She was quiet today, her gaze distant, but Eirik didn't mind. He'd learned that sometimes silence was better than words.

"Do you think fish ever get bored?" he asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

Freya blinked, pulled from her thoughts. "What?"

"Fish," Eirik repeated, gesturing to the water. "They just swim around all day. Don't you think they'd want to do something else? Like… climb a tree or something?"

Freya stared at him for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. "Fish don't climb trees, Eirik."

"They could if they tried," he said, grinning. "Maybe they just need someone to teach them."

Freya shook her head, but her smile lingered. "You have a strange way of looking at the world."

"My brother says I think too much," Eirik admitted, leaning back on his hands. "But I think it's fun. Don't you ever wonder about stuff like that?"

Freya's expression softened. "I used to. A long time ago."

Eirik didn't press. Instead, he picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water. It bounced three times before sinking. "Not bad, huh?"

Freya raised an eyebrow. "I've seen better."

"Oh yeah?" Eirik challenged, handing her a stone. "Let's see you do it."

Freya hesitated, then took the stone. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it skimming across the surface—seven skips before it disappeared.

Eirik whistled. "Okay, you win. But I'll get better. Just wait."

Freya smiled faintly. "I'm sure you will."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Eirik glanced toward the forest. "I should probably head back," he said, standing and brushing dirt off his tunic. "My mother doesn't like it when I'm late."

Freya nodded. "You shouldn't keep her waiting."

Eirik hesitated, then turned to her. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Freya looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Perhaps."

"Good," Eirik said, grinning. "I'll bring you something. A surprise."

Before she could respond, he darted off into the trees, his laughter fading as he disappeared.

Freya watched him go, her chest tightening. The boy was an enigma—innocent yet perceptive, playful yet wise beyond his years. She didn't know what to make of him, but she couldn't deny that his presence brought a strange comfort.

Eirik sprinted through the forest, his heart pounding as he neared the cabin. The sun was almost gone, and he knew Kratos would be returning from his hunt soon. He slipped through the door just as Faye turned from the hearth, her arms crossed.

"You're late," she said, her tone sharp but her eyes curious.

"Sorry, Mother," Eirik said, panting. "I lost track of time."

Faye studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Wash up. Dinner's almost ready."

Eirik nodded, relief flooding him as he hurried to the water basin. Atreus looked up from his bow, smirking. "What were you doing? Chasing squirrels again?"

"Maybe," Eirik said, splashing water on his face. "Or maybe I was fighting a troll. You'll never know."

Atreus rolled his eyes. "You're such a liar."

Eirik grinned, but his mind was already elsewhere—on the stream, on Freya, and on the promise he'd made.

Freya stood alone on the cliff, the wind tugging at her cloak. Eirik's words echoed in her mind. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

She didn't know why she'd said yes. She didn't know why she kept coming back. But as she looked out over the valley, she felt something she hadn't felt in years—a flicker of hope.