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But now there's nothing left.

You see that ship? There used to be many ships at the port. The Penal Battalion should have taken it, but they've forgotten all about it.

All that's left is some junk, a town out in the middle of nowhere, more troubles than I can count, people stuck in a dead end, and—

And that ship.

Yes. That ship.

My parents, and the grandparents I've never met... were they proud of their duty?

This isn't the first time you've asked that.

You asked it when you first learned to talk, and when you started working at the chapel. You asked it many times, pointing at the dust-covered notebooks and schematics at home.

I... I remember.

Yes, lad.

No matter how many times you ask, my answer is always 'yes.' No matter the outcome, they never lost hope after that great disaster, and gave their all to the cause.

Your parents even volunteered for our final attempt to reach the Eye.

Don't blame them for abandoning you. They were carrying what was left of all our dreams. So many years had come and gone. We HAD to succeed.

The last we saw of them was when their fleet set sail from right here.

They were heroes. Marin said we would all become heroes, but now none of us are, except for the dead.

I see...

So my father and mother...

But you know what laid waste to it all? In the midst of despair, we managed to muster the hope to relight the lighthouse. And what came of it?

The Inquisition. They arrested the Ægir. They said there were Church of the Deep spies among us.

We were fighting for Iberia, but the Inquisition took everything from us—our pride, our dignity, our dreams... everything.

Do you understand now?

Leave this hopeless town, leave Iberia and go as far as you can. Go to another country, go to a better place.

There's nothing left here, in Gran Faro.

The sea!

This is the wrong way. Are we just gonna leave our instruments in that damp room?

No, I can smell the waves. The sea is just ahead.

What do waves smell like?

Like cotton.

Using olfactory vocabulary to express visual elements...

But you're right. The sea's right up ahead.

You...

An Ægir, and of a different breed from the ones who grew up on land. You must be that strange sort of Ægir.

What did they call you again? Oh right, Abyssal Hunters.

Gladiia frowns. She rarely expresses her emotions in such complex ways.

It came from her instincts as an Abyssal Hunter, as a Consul, as an Ægir technician, as a soldier.

You are... AUS.

You know them.

Yes, by chance.

Why so mysterious? Well, whatever, I'm just glad our name is known even among the Ægir.

Alty once visited that ship, following your scent trail. But this is the first time we've met in person.

I'm Aya, main vocalist of AUS. Dan here is our drummer.

Greetings, guests from the sea.

You're of the sea too. A pleasure to meet you.

When I came to the land, I sought Kal'tsit to learn more about you—about your terrestrial kin.

Oh... if you're talking about the things on land, then I guess we're kin, technically. Not sure I can say the same about the ones in the sea.

What are you here for? The doctor?

Just an appointment.

We seek a way back to Ægir.

Back to Ægir, huh... The three of you, together?

We are not so easily separated.

Aw, what a great friendship. What about the one in the back? Is she shy? Why doesn't she say anything?

Something doesn't seem right with her. Her brain is tormented. Is she sick?

You could say so.

Poor thing.

—Mm!

What is it, Dan?

I just felt something up my spine. Like an electric shock to my brain, then a strange—

—Voice.

Unusually quiet, Specter gazes at the sky.

She closes her eyes. Waves brush against chaotic thoughts. This place is far from the coast, but something is touching her consciousness.

It is in the wind, among the clouds, through the land, from the sea.

A voice. I can hear it.

Hmm... I don't hear anything.

The music of the sea. The children of the sea are crying.

It is... a song.

The scent of Sea Terrors. Lots of them. The town is under attack.

H-Hey! How did you get in here?

A-Are you an Inquisitor?! The ones you're dragging are—

Go home.

These two are under suspicion of colluding with heretics. I am performing my duty as an Iberian Inquisitor.

Leave now, unless you want to be caught up in battle. Their blood will draw enemies.

A-An Inquisitor?! When did the Inquisition arrive? W-Were those outsiders your informants?

I, I'm not a cultist! I don't have anything to do with those guys!

Do you know these two?

Them? Juan...? It's Juan? I always thought he looked suspicious. He—

That's enough.

No need to torment yourself. Go home, and be sure your doors and windows are locked.

A-Alright...

You can come out now.

An Inquisitor... no, a High Inquisitor!

What's the Inquisition doing here?

Amaia and Thiago have gone missing. Do the Ægir have something to do with it?

You killed Juan, you bastard!

Not quite, he yet lives. I intend to extract some answers from him.

You are different from the enemies I know. Your minds are your own, and you are working under clear directions.

But if you're truly sane and awake, then you should understand—

—That you stand no chance against me, nor any other brave soldier of the Inquisition.

Tch...

Why give up your lives? What meaning is there in your futile sacrifice?

What have the accursed tides promised you? What are you scheming on this barren shore?

I have many questions, enemies of Iberia.

And I can only hope your god has answers.