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Joya's mother's laughter echoed in the wooden house, seemingly carrying a hint of playfulness and depth. She looked at Gragas and said, "The call of human nature, what an interesting reason, you smelly pig!"
Gragas awkwardly smiled, and replied clumsily, "I...owe him a life, no matter what, I must repay this debt. It's my principle."
Joey's mother's face showed a hint of contemplation, as she carefully examined Gragas, then waved her hand, indicating for him to place Darius on a rough wooden table in the center of the room.
Gragas carefully placed Darius down, who still had a pale complexion and slightly trembling eyelids, indicating that he was still struggling. Joey's mother began to arrange various mysterious runes and herbs around the table, her movements skilled and rhythmic, each step appearing very solemn and ceremonial.
The atmosphere inside the house became serious. Gragas stood to the side, his eyes fixed on Darius, feeling both worried and hopeful. He knew that he had done everything he could, and now he could only rely on the power of Mother Joia and Darius's own vitality.
Mother Joia's eyes sparkled with a deep light under the soft glow of the cloth lamp. She manipulated the herbs and runes on the table while closely observing Darius's condition with her bottomless eyes. Darius lay on the rough wooden table, his face as pale as winter snow, his breathing weak and unstable, each breath seeming like a close encounter with the Grim Reaper.
Joanna's mother gently touched Darius's abdominal wound with her fingers, her brow furrowed. The two deep and long knife wounds on his abdomen were intricate and complex, as if torn by a malicious force, with fresh blood constantly seeping from the wounds, staining Darius's clothes. A subtle worry appeared at the corner of her mouth, then she took out some dried herbs and ancient runes from a nearby basket, and began a silent and mysterious ritual.
She gently placed the runes on Darius's head and chest, then sprinkled a fine herbal powder on his abdominal wound. Gragas stood by, watching silently, his heart filled with anxiety and helplessness. He had no understanding of these ancient rituals and herbs, and could only place all his hopes on Joanna's mother.
Joanna's mother sprinkled delicate herbal powder on Darius's wound, then her gaze became deep and distant, as if she were having a conversation with an unseen presence. Gragas stood by, his heart in turmoil, watching Joanna's mother's every move, his worry intensifying.
He asked anxiously, "What's wrong, Joanna's mother?" But Joanna's mother seemed displeased by Gragas's interruption. She lightly tapped Gragas's shin with her cane, as if warning him not to interfere with her work. "Don't make noise!" she said sternly.
Later, Mama Joja shook her head, her eyes flashing with a hint of complexity: "Next, I will try to summon the spirits... but they are the gods of Freljord, and they may not necessarily lend a hand to the people of Noxus. This... you must understand first."
There was a hint of complex emotion in Gragas's eyes, and he gritted his teeth and nodded. He knew that Mama Joja's words carried immeasurable weight, and he understood that this meant Darius's fate might hang in the balance. But regardless, he couldn't give up like this.
Joey's mother began her summoning ritual, closing her eyes and chanting in some ancient language. Her voice was deep and powerful, and as she chanted, the atmosphere in the room seemed to grow heavier. An invisible energy gradually gathered in the room, while Gragas stood silently to the side, silently praying.
As Joey's mother's summoning ritual progressed, her hunched body began to show signs of transformation under the mysterious power. The air around her seemed to distort, and an ancient and sacred aura gradually enveloped the entire wooden house. As her incantations grew faster, five blurry and ancient phantoms appeared behind her.
These phantoms each represent a different aspect of the Freljord: a giant polar bear, showcasing strength and resilience on the tundra; a majestic deer, symbolizing elegance and wisdom in the forest; a crow, conveying secret messages in the silence; a lively squirrel, displaying agility and wit; and a snow leopard, a solitary figure in the cold environment, embodying strength and cunning.
These five animal phantoms surround Mother Yolai, their gaze seemingly piercing through time and space, directly into Gragas's innermost being. Each phantom seems to convey a certain message or expectation.
Gragas stood aside, his eyes filled with awe and wonder. He knew he was witnessing a mysterious ritual from an ancient Freljord legend, and Mother Ylva was the keeper of this legend. In this moment, he felt hopeful for Darius's fate.
The spirit god was in control. Her eyes no longer seemed to belong to her, but had become a window for the Freljord spirits to examine Darius through her gaze.
When she approached Darius, the air in the entire wooden house seemed to freeze. The phantoms of the five animal spirits flashed behind her in succession, each carrying different qualities and powers. The strength of the bear, the wisdom of the stag, the mystery of the raven, the agility of the squirrel, and the cunning of the snow leopard, all these qualities were manifested in Mother Joya's movements.
She reached out with trembling hands and gently touched Darius's forehead, seemingly seeking some deep connection with Darius. A faint smile appeared at the corner of Mother Joya's mouth, as if engaging in a silent conversation with the spirits.
Gragas stood on the side, filled with anticipation and worry. He knew that this moment would determine Darius' fate, and could also affect his own future. In this tense and sacred atmosphere, he could only wait quietly, hoping that the gods would show their mercy.
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