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I wouldn't be able to promise her anything, even if she were willing to come. If we lose the power struggle, she could end her days as a handmaiden in our spire.

His Majesty... the Witch King is dead. The Spire that towered over Leithanien has fallen. Our days of being slaves to fate were expected to be left in the past.

At the very least, we now know that the name of our fate isn't 'the Witch King.'

Just give it one last try, won't you? Either take her with you, or stay here for her.

Just like the night when the Witch King fell, I pray that the kind and gentle will have their happy ending.

The music grows clearer.

Unlike the performance of the statues, this music is alive.

Like a kindly hand, it pulls her forward, down the stairs, away from the wind and rain.

It is close. Almost there. Down the stairs, and the sunlight is waiting outside—

The car is here.

Lucinda is not here.

I must find her.

Everyone is waiting for you.

The Witch King is dead. Your men must return to their lands, in accordance with our agreement with the Twins.

You must leave the city before noon. The armies of the other Kurfürsten are watching your every move.

Sturmland... Nein, the fate of Leithanien falls on your shoulders.

When did you become such a stranger, Brandt?

You always wear that helmet. I can't see your eyes. Sometimes, I can't even tell if it's you speaking, or another Gesatzswächter.

Because it makes no difference whether it's me or another Gesatzswächter.

Leithanien cannot afford another civil war. Sturmland needs a Kurfürst who the people will get behind.

You're not here to protect me, are you?

Just like you didn't protect Ernst or father that night.

...Do you remember, Werner? When I was selected for Gesatzswächter training, I came to you and Ernst and told you I wanted to stay.

You grew up with us and swore fealty to House Hochberg. You didn't want to go back on your vow.

But you told me—

'You're defending something far more important than any person's life, more important than House Hochberg.'

I never forgot that. Not even for a moment.

Alright then.

Is fate truly so impossible to resist, Brandt?

No, don't go.

Don't give up hope.

At least, not so easily...

The young Kurfürst turns around and leaves, but Viviana does not want to follow. She tries her hardest to go back.

A golden glow always fills the alley in autumn. Her mother must be somewhere in there, simply unable to make it in time.

She runs, she searches.

Marigolds bloom under the sun, just like the hopes her parents once had for the future.

She wants to grab ahold of her mother, to grab ahold of her father's silhouette from the memory.

As though she could change something if she did.

Change the tragedy that was her father's life... and change her own.

Year after year, the golden flowers take in the city's joy, anger, and sorrow, remaining as bright as ever in bloom.

But some blooming hopes were left behind forever, twenty-three years ago.

Why...

Why couldn't I grab it?

Is fate truly so impossible to resist?

Viviana! Around you!

Viviana looks up in a trance.

The music stops.

The melody seems to freeze in place, then becomes rushing energy.

Like dark clouds, the Arts tear the sunlight apart and rush toward her.

Ugh—!

No need to fear, I'm here with you.

A cello...

Mental Arts.

The music is awakening our memories of Werner.

Mother... Father...

Over here, Viviana. I'll cover your ears with my hands.

They're... gone...

I couldn't change anything...

Don't listen to it. Whatever you're seeing in your imagination isn't happening in the present.

The remnants of the Witch King are in this alley. They knew we were coming.

Ugh... there are too many of them.

I can't deal with them all. We need to escape—

Another sound emerges.

It is like a melody, but cannot be sung. It is like a bell, but continuous, without pausing.

It is a declaration that rings in the chambers of the heart.

Like the brightest setting sun, radiant purple Arts shine through the clouds and fill the streets.

This melody... the Gesatzswächter?

Brandt? Is that you?

...Take Werner's daughter inside.

As for you, embers of evil...

Filthy dregs picked from the trash heap—

—How dare you defile Zwillingstürme!