She takes the stone

Robin brushes herself off, and reaches into the statue, quickly retrieving the gemstone. “Oh boy, they’re really willing to give a lot to some statue, don’t they?” The young Bravo asks herself, completely immersed in the beautiful gem.

“Yes, they do.” Echoes a stranger's voice, that of an elder, wise man. Robin looks around the field, startled, only becoming more worried as she’s unable to locate anyone. “Calm, child. I am inside what you hold, nowhere near the plane you occupy.”

Robin swallows, unable to speak for a long moment. Her throat is as dry as a haystack in the summer heat, and her body as stiff as the statues around her. Looking back into the ruby, she stammers. “You’re- you’re a God? A dragon God?”

The voice laughs. “No… I am Human, like yourself, though much older. Generations past, in fact. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to be retrieved by an astonishing young woman such as yourself.”

Robin warily turns back to the other Bravos, and scowls as they still quarrel, her nervous curiosity suddenly wiped away by a pride that she had been the only one to make progress. “What are you doing here then sir? I’ve only heard about them hating Humans.”

A sigh blows out of the old man, similar to the violent winds that currently take the land only softer. “I was foe to them, as well. They had taken my daughter, my only child, and held her. She had only gone out hunting with her husband… I know not what happened to her, as I came upon the village, a shaman trapped me in this stone. They placed me here to be watched by their vengeful God, Ragnor.”

Despite the dreary nature of the story, Robin’s eyes light up. “So we’re near the village then? Maybe we can find your daughter!”

Robin would swear she could feel the old man smile. “It’s a dangerous path, but… I can’t pass on the aid. Perhaps- well, the shaman contained me within a verbal spell, shafin… octu… novinbere… in that order. I haven’t an idea what it means, but maybe if you repeated it I’d be released.”

Robin at first nods enthusiastically, but then looks skeptical. “How do I know you aren’t tricking me?”

The old man hesitates. “There is no way to prove my innocence. I suppose you’ll have to trust me.”