act29side

The Ge—the doctor will be here soon.

*cough*, *cough*...

Are you crying, Viviana?

I don't think I have the strength to wipe away your tears anymore.

You're too kind, too gentle...

I often think back to the day we first met.

I had come from Zwillingstürme to Sturmland just to take you out of Werner's spire. You huddled in the back seat, holding onto your tiny suitcase and leaning gently against my chest.

I was wondering: Was this little girl scared to leave her father? *cough* Scared of life in foreign Kazimierz?

But no. You were just trying to stay low, so no one would see your horns and cause trouble for Werner.

Even though it was so late at night, and no one would have paid attention to a car leaving the great spires of the Kurfürst.

You were so little back then...

I don't remember that.

Nein. You do.

You can lament, you can blame, you can mourn, you can regret, you can rage... *cough* All that, and only then can you...

Please... don't leave me...

You're the only one I have left.

Let me 'see' you... one last time.

I'm right here.

I'm so glad I can't see the expression on your face right now...

You deserve a better life than this, Viviana... If there really is one...

Tall as the empress's tower is, it is not endless. Or so she believes.

The spiral staircase extends before her, but direction itself seems to be torn apart by some unknown, irreversible power. She keeps moving forward, but she can't make any progress.

Viviana is tired, and when one is tired, it is easy to notice what one has lost.

Not unlike the twenty-two years of her life.

Are you lost?

Viviana looks up.

She sees a young Caprinae woman, whose face is filled with curiosity and concern.

Sorry, I must have bumped into you in my hurry.

It's alright.

Are you okay? You look very pale.

I'm fine... I was just thinking about something.

Do you know this place well?

Ja, I live nearby.

Where does this lead?

Didn't you come here on your own?

Where it leads is entirely up to where you want to go.

Take care, now. I'll be going.

Where I want to go...

Viviana's fingers brush the handrail next to her. Ochre paint covers the emblem of Urtica under a thick layer of dust, so bright it could have been painted yesterday.

The Witch King.

She recalls the historical novel <i>Die Glut</i>.

When the Witch King first ascended to the throne, he gave his builders a blueprint of the Genesis Spire, a monument so great, the likes of which Leithanien had never seen.

Simply gazing upon the plans was enough to make one short of breath, as though standing before its foundation.

The Witch King was scrupulous about every last detail of the Genesis Spire, down to the materials and paints used for every fence and railing, which must never fade in color.

It would become the sole symbol of Leithanien.

Has the Genesis Horn fully descended?

But that woman just now...

Viviana comes to a startling realization.

The Caprinae who just passed by was like one of the young people living on the outskirts of Zwillingstürme. In the prime of her life, busy and tireless, her voice emanating the warmth of a fresh cup of tea.

She should not be here. Neither at the empress' spire, nor in the Genesis Horn.

Viviana turns around. No one is there.

What about you, Viviana?

Why are <i>you</i> here?

Why did you come back to Leithanien? Why did you leave?

You couldn't say goodbye to your father. You couldn't return to the spire of your childhood, that tower you memorized along with the rain and wet moss.

You watched Cora die in your arms. You couldn't take her away from this dusk-scorched city.

What can you stop? What can you change? What can you possibly accomplish?

If the Witch King isn't dead, if he sits at the end of this endless spiral, would you beg him for enlightenment, just like those fanatics?

It really does sound a bit absurd.

The staircase stretches on and on... until Viviana sees a door in an inconspicuous corner.

A tiny, familiar door.

Attempting to turn left at each intersection, to ensure progress through continuous deviation.

Unsuccessful.

Attempting to descend.

Failed to reach bottom of staircase after forty-five minutes. Attempt unsuccessful.

Federico has spent a long time on the staircase of the empress's spire. He stops in his tracks after yet another failed attempt.

At the most basic level, Arts are a rigid form of order.

The Twin Empresses would not have hired a mentally ill architect to design their Spires, and no artificer could have recreated such orderless architecture.

My judgment was impaired due to my experience at Ludwigs-Universität's Sonata Spire... The distortion occurring within this tower is unrelated to Arts.

Has the Genesis Horn covered the entire spire, causing changes in reality?

Arturia's music is also absent...

After a brief pause, Federico pulls out his shotgun and fires in front of him.

The sound of the gunshot fills the space, but the projectiles vanish right before his eyes, as though wiped away by some formless something.

Herr Sankta!

As he hears the sound, Federico sees the projectiles again, now moving with a slow and clear trajectory, like a rock skipping across the water. Ripples spread, and everything beneath the surface is revealed.

Phew—

Put away your gun, please!

This is...

Put away your gun, please!

I do not require you to repeat yourself.

I've heard something similar from everyone I met on this mission.

Of course you did. This is Zwillingstürme, not Laterano.

Loris always liked to talk about Laterano. He said that when the Sankta go out, they 'bang' any buildings they don't like, and 'bang' the buildings they <i>do</i> like even more eagerly.

Jan and I used to think he was making things up because he didn't like his hometown very much.

Anyway, look around you.

Zwillingstürme is an old city. Any brick or tile could have a score or a poem etched on it by a drunk artist from a century ago.

This is...

Federico quickly assesses the sight before him.

If this place is the Genesis Horn, where the Witch King's legacy is kept, Arturia's final destination...

Then it is difficult to believe that his bullets could have broken through some sort of barrier and brought him here from that strange staircase.

Federico examines the woman before him. The anger on her face is no more and no less than that of a citizen performing her civic duty to stop a rude tourist.

Do you understand me, Herr Sankta? Put away your gun... please.

Excuse me.

We are clearly not on the streets of Zwillingstürme, but you seem unaware of this.

You have mentioned a Loris and a Jan. Assuming you are referring to Loris Bordin and Jan Schüler...

Please, tell me your name.

Yulia... Yulia Schüler.

This is inside the Genesis Horn? The Witch King's resting place?

But the Witch King...

Stop looking around, little angel.