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Out of the corner of her eye, she sees dark red seep out of the black-cloaked shadows lying down on the ground.

Who are these people? When did they arrive here? Why are they lying on the ground?

Amiya had so many questions she wanted to ask Theresa. She did her best to open her eyes wide.

She sees a white dress stained crimson. She sees Theresa's bloodshot eyes.

Was Theresa okay?

Amiya wants to ask Theresa about her injuries.

But she could not make a sound.

It's okay, Amiya.

I am here. I beat those bad people from the stories.

What happened to Theresa?

Amiya wants to wipe the weariness off of Theresa's face.

But she could not move her hands.

I'm sorry. I can't change the ending of the story.

But you can, Amiya.

You will walk along a difficult path. Just like the little puppet who tried to cross the river of tears.

All I can do to help you is bestow this crown of black upon you.

For ten thousand years, the limitations imposed by history led my people to misuse this crown.

It has been stained. It has been bound. But it should not have been so.

If we are to break this curse, to break fate itself... I need your help.

Do you want to rewrite the ending?

Amiya wants to say 'I do', but she cannot utter a word.

She anxiously nods her head, thinking that perhaps she could help Theresa by saying yes.

Perhaps she could save her—

Though there is not much strength left in me, it is enough for me to transfer its permission to you.

I have sealed most of it away, so that its boundless information does not overwhelm your mind.

Forgive me, Amiya... for making you bear the weight of this crown.

I thought... that I could be there for you much, much longer. That I could watch you grow up. That I could stand with you when you bravely faced your parents' passing. That I could hear you answer my question yourself...

Your answer as to whether or not you wished to follow in my footsteps.

But there's not enough time left for us, Amiya.

I now selfishly consign this weight that I bear on to you.

I am sorry, child.

Amiya tries to scream, but she cannot open her mouth, cannot move her limbs.

A black blade seems to penetrate her chest.

She ought to feel pain, but this blade leaves behind—

Only warmth. A warmth brimming with hope.

Amiya. It is hope, and also pain.

You will be confused. You will hesitate.

But please, trust Dr. Kal'tsit. Trust that she will always stand by your side.

She will help you dredge back up the secrets of survival.

You can bear it, can't you, Amiya...?

You have always been a strong girl. One that never ceases to amaze me.

*sigh*...

I am so very tired.

Thank you, Amiya, for the joy you have given me, ever since the day we met.

Now rest for a while. Sleep.

Sleep in peaceful slumber.

I will always be with you.

Theresa hears a familiar voice.

Amiya!

Theresa does not raise her head to look at the one who just arrived.

The crown has left her and found another. Her breath grows feeble, and feebler still.

Doctor... There was no need for you to come.

I felt... your emotions. I saw... your past.

You could have waited elsewhere, waited for my death to come. You knew that this time I would not escape, nor retreat.

Are you here for Amiya? Or perhaps...

Theresa does not need to hear the answer.

Behind the one she asked, a tide of assassins pour out of the shadows, rushing toward Theresa—

So that is your answer, Doctor...

Theresa is glad to see Amiya asleep.

Amiya did not see the Doctor's betrayal, nor Theresa's final bout of sorrow.

The Black Crown finally lands neatly in Amiya's hands as Theresa takes down the final assassin in the room.

It's alright, Amiya. Everything's fine...

It's over.

Theresa does not look at the one frozen in place before her. She gently pats the back of the child in her arms and leaves a kiss on her puerile cheek.

Theresa. I can't throw away this opportunity I spent millions of lives and myriads of years to reach.

I can't let you ruin the plan for Originium. I can't... let you turn this great land into a beautiful but fleeting dream.

And that's why you put Amiya in harm's way.

...Seeing as the King of Sarkaz has already seen my memories, I believe there's no need for any further explanation.

Do you hate me?

You hurt Amiya. You're about to hurt Kal'tsit, and the fighters who trust you so deeply.

Is this how you treat those lives?

I'll do what I can to ensure their safety in the ensuing conflict. This is what Theresis swore to me as well.

We only... need you to die.

Doctor... did you present yourself before me out of guilt?

Guilt... is too light of a word, compared to everything I've done.

We made too many choices in a time that even Kal'tsit isn't familiar with.

I just...

When Amiya grows up, if she remembers me, if she asks about me, will you tell her the truth... of how I left her?

No.

I'll help them search for another way to live.

You'll help them search for a final moment of peace before Originium destroys Terra?

I'm sorry... That's the one thing that's set in stone.

You know it's futile... and yet you still wish to cure Amiya's sickness.

Even if her family and homeland will all turn into the same hunks of Originium in the not-too-distant future, along with anyone and anything you'll ever know...

You still don't want the girl before your eyes to suffer.

That's what you sincerely feel. Your purest thoughts. Your innate nature.

And actually... I'm glad, Doctor.

I'm glad you're real and true—the one who Kal'tsit willingly trusts, and in turn trusts us.

You... the creator of Originium... {@nickname}. You are the poison that ruins everything, but also the antidote to it all.

...What?

Theresa strains to stand up, stretching her arms towards the Doctor, instilling in the latter an instinctive urge to retreat.

The Doctor tries to move, but fails. Sorrow far surpasses the collapsing rationality at this moment.

Theresa touches the face beneath the mask.

You're crying, Doctor...

Well, that's the kind of person you are. You know your own fragility, you know how much of a threat I pose to you even at a time like this... and yet... you still came here.

So, I still... am willing to believe in you.

To trust in who you really are.

To trust in our {@nickname} who brings the rain, dew, and sun.

This face is both familiar and strange. Theresa knows its features well.

She never had a chance to directly perceive the emotions on it until now.