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Every little bad thing that I ever did came flashing back before my eyes... even that time when I climbed that tree to steal fowlbeast eggs when I was eight...

What would Kjeragandr punish me for...?

She already punished you, remember? That time you spent two months in bed.

Don't worry about it, Rus... we've made it through so much. Now we've got another reason to keep going.

We have to see Oak and Berry grow up.

Kjeragandr won't separate us...

Yucatan... is it snowing outside?

It's a little cold...

I'll add some firewood and get you another blanket.

Sleep well, Rus.

The winter will pass... and we can go see the flowers by the lake when spring comes. All of us, together.

Sciurus closes her eyes and falls asleep quietly.

It should be a moment of happiness...

But Yucatan feels a rock in his heart.

He looks outside. The clouds are thick and heavy, but the snow refuses to fall. This kind of weather is rarely seen in Kjerag.

Maybe we're in for a cold winter this year, Yucatan thinks.

When the winter passes...

'She is omnipresent, She cannot be sought.'

We need not question Her existence. She is there when we choose to follow Her.

...Do you remember this from the scriptures?

No... this is not how it should be...

If She is omnipresent and cannot be sought, then who hears Her will, and who—*cough* *cough*!!

You should rest, Great Elder. Don't let yourself suffer.

I see it, Enya...

I see unprecedented calamity descending upon Mount Karlan...

I see Originium bringing ruin to the land...

I see... I see Her abandoning Kjerag!

Caught up in a bout of excitement, the old man stares outside the window, his face warped and twisted, seemingly seething in anger, or engulfed by a terror that defies description.

He raises his withered arms, trying to grasp something, only for them to fall back down meekly.

Finally, he quiets down, as though he has expended the last sliver of strength he had...

Great Elder...

Enya...

Say a prayer for me...

The final chapter... of the <i>Kjeragandr...</i>

'...And all the rivers shall converge upon this place at the end of it all;

And you shall walk the path forward alone,

And the path you shall walk lies beneath your feet.'

She sighs as She speaks the words.

She turns around, and disappears in the wind and snow from whence she came.

You have no hope of escape. The people of Kjerag know the wind and snow better than any outsider. Your Arts are not effective here.

We don't want to damage our relationship with Rhine Lab. Otherwise, I would keep you here by any means necessary to retrieve the military secrets that you stole.

...I'm not carrying your military secrets.

I have no reason to believe you.

You don't understand.

Don't understand what?

You don't understand what these data mean...

How long do you think your 'god' will protect you?

You can't talk your way out of this—

Wait...

What's with the clouds...?

Run—

The avalanche struck in an instant.

A loud crack moved the mountains that had remained dormant for many years. Snow poured down the slopes, mixed with rocks and black crystals, and all creation was obscured by gray and white.

The mountains trembled, the echoes lingered in the valley.

Few could comprehend what had just happened—

It was the first Catastrophe in history to strike this place.

A layer of snow has formed on the withered branch. The Rift Cloudbeast climbs to its tip, squinting in an impression of scouting.

The Saintess sighs, turning around to look behind her. The huntress following her pauses, her face slightly red from the wind.

Joanna... you don't need to follow me.

I'm very grateful for all that you've done.

As I told you, though, the Pilgrimage must be completed alone. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't even be talking to you.

I know.

I'm not following you. I'm not your guard or your servant. I just happen to be traveling in the same direction.

Don't worry, I won't talk to you. If anyone sees us, I'll pretend I don't know you.

I won't let danger strike you again. I'll just follow behind.

Do you know where I'm going?

Wherever you're going, I'm going. That's all I need to know.

But... I'm looking for Kjeragandr.

What?

Looking for Her... did She disappear?

I don't know. But disaster will strike Kjerag again if She doesn't return.

People will lose their lives, and even more will lose their faith...

I must return to the Vine-Bead Court and consult the tomes. The others must not know, for now.

Then I'll follow you. Don't worry, if anyone's on your tail, I'll chase them away for you—

Purr—

I think the Rift Cloudbeast just saw something.

In the direction that the Rift Cloudbeast is looking, the trail to the Vine-Bead Court is filled with people dressed in solemn colors.

Looks like... someone very important just passed away.

Who could it be?

Enya shakes her head. She cannot help but feel a shiver down her spine, thick though her clothes are.

Are you alright, Enya?

We'll go slowly, around the crowd.

Dark clouds hang low, almost touching the temple's eaves. It is a cold day even by Kjerag standards, and the north wind seems to penetrate the eyes and spines of the mourners.

Family members and clerics gather in the courtyard with heads bowed. The people of the Browntail domain have gathered outside, to honor and grieve their matriarch, who protected Kjerag with her life.

Snow falls upon the black umbrellas. One of the Browntail nobles gives the one in his hand a little shake, and sighs as the snow pours down.

So, the matriarch's body...

They never found it. The fire was too big. They turned over every inch of whatever was left, but found nothing.

I heard they had to put her usual attire in the coffin, along with some ashes gathered from the scene. Nothing more.

How sad... to think that one as bright as the matriarch would—

M-Madam Sciurus.

...I apologize. I spoke out of turn.

Sciurus does not answer. She walks to the center of the courtyard, waiting for her sister, who had been by her side for long as she could remember.

Chimes tremble to the melody of the flutes. The clerics put their hands together and chant Kjeragandr's hymn, and the people place their hands upon their hearts in prayer to the song—

Kjeragandr have mercy, take her with you.

Six members of Clan Browntail's main branch carry a heavy nanmu wood coffin up the muddy road, Yucatan at the head of the procession.

They carefully lay the coffin down on a table, in front of the new Browntail matriarch.

Yucatan walks to his wife, the grief on his face contrasting with Sciurus's calm expression.

Yucatan...

Rus, I...

Thank you.