Глава 13

Shining clutches the sword in her arms, and the Confessarius's hand is already pressing on the scabbard.

At last, Qui'saršinnag...

Day and night are about to pour out from the sheath.

But a single hand holds onto Shining's sleeve.

Shining. I like your new name much better.

Liz...

I feel like I've slept for a long time, lost myself within an infinity of fragments.

But I heard your voice, and you guided me to a place buried underneath the countless fragments.

I dug up some of my splintered memories there... and I still haven't remembered them all.

But I've recalled the question that I should have given you my answer to long ago...

I forgave you long ago.

Even before you resolved to seal all the memories of that laboratory away...

So I'm angry with you for deciding to act on your own without asking me.

'Liz'. I've always loved the name you chose for me.

Don't run away and bear everything by yourself. Didn't we promise to face it all together—

Shining sees Nightingale's eyes, and her smile.

When she comes back to her senses, the hand has already quietly slipped away from her sleeve.

A tragedy we have here, but the ending has already been determined.

You killing me will turn you into the breeding ground for the next in our bloodline, or, you can look on helplessly as you watch me take her away and drown in your regrets after.

It's all the same, Sister.

Sir, we need to retreat!

Ugh!

How many bloodlines have you yet to touch, Chimera? Show me.

How many times can you put blood back into your body, and tell yourself your own fate?

(Confused growl)

(Angry howling)

(Excited cry)

Your little monster's copy is quite poor.

Is this because you're not as strong as you were before your rebirth, or is Dame Kal'tsit, beloved of all tribes, even more injured than I thought?

(Disdainful roar)

Qui'sartuštaj. The other part has chosen you.

So what will you bring him?

The name 'Qui'sartuštaj' itself is the answer.

(In ancient Sarkaz) 'Inextinguishable hope'.

Qui'saršinnag. The cage is already awake. If you continue to keep her by your side, she will only... like the dewdrops of early dawn, evaporate and fade away in the light.

I will take her away, and I will help you maintain her, I will help you make amends—

I will forge this cage into a crown.

And then, you will, <i>we</i> will be—

The King of Sarkaz for all eternity.

There's no point in chasing after him.

Take stock of our losses and prepare to move at once. We still have unstabilized wounded, but our cover here has already been blown.

Dr. Kal'tsit.

Operator Nightingale is an employee of the Rhodes Island Medical Department, and we will not allow anyone to take her away or to do her harm.

But we might place her in greater danger if we make any rash moves. After all, we're facing an immortal 'Lord of Fiends' that has been coveting the crown for thousands of years.

Qui'sartuštaj. The one who knocks on the door, the King of Usurping Kings.

I knew the threat of the Confessarii since the days of Babel, even though my numerous countermeasure attempts were all in vain.

Theresis concealed them so well that everyone merely thought of them as the regent's guards.

Please be at ease. I know what we have to do now.

I thought you'd be less calm than this.

What's your plan?

Liz... She has made her own choice.

A choice even I had never dared to think of, daring, aggressive, and also the most effective method. It seems like the one afraid of loss and death has always been me...

What I need to do. Heh.

Is to catch up to her.

...I believe in you both.

How's Amiya, Ascalon?

She and the Doctor were also beset by the Confessarii's surprise attack, and are now with Logos.

Amiya has been affected by some kind of witchcraft. The one who they call Salus tried to seize the King of Sarkaz's power from her directly and failed, but Amiya's current condition is... very strange.

She's fallen into a coma.

Amiya's connection with the 'Lord of Fiends' is only growing stronger, so we can only place our faith in her.

We also discovered several of the Vampires' Arts Circles, accompanied by some 'illusions' from history.

The Doctor mentioned that the Originium used to build these Arts Circles was very 'special'.

'Special'.

Well then, Lord Damazti, I thank you for your assistance. What do you seek from us?

We seek change. To hone ourselves. And meaning.

We seek the meaning of living a long and disordered life. You will show it to us, and we will verify it.

...That's all.

Tell Closure and Feist to sweep this place thoroughly. We'll leave in three hours.

Leave a message for W to head towards Brentwood as per our original plans.

We... really have to hurry.

Hey! Uncle Nowell! The lens in my glasses fell out again!

*Sigh*

I told you so many times your ears are too soft.

You grip on the frames so hard every time you feel your glasses sliding down that you break and change their shape. So of course the lens won't stay in place.

Let me have a look.

It's because you gave me such a heavy pair to wear!

But I found a better method, look!

Little Susanna pulls out two leaves from behind her, and wedges the stems on her ears with the tips resting on her nose bridge.

Ah, glasses of green, fashioned with leaves.

Ta-da! What'd you think?

Can you see with them?

I can! Really!

Just face the sun, like this—

The child goes over to Nowell and puts two leaves on his eyes.

Nowell's vision is filled with a verdant green.

Alright, kid, you—

Just look!

Leaf veins.

The sunlight at noon in the forest is not very strong, but it is enough to shine through the thin leaves and reveal their interlaced veins, clear for all to see.

How is it? You can see, right?

You won't see anything interesting with that frown always on your face, Uncle Nowell!

He stares blankly at the sun with the leaves covering his eyes.

...I can't see anything at all.

But, I know of a story from Yan of the east, a tale of 'missing the forest for the leaves'—

Nuh-uh, not listening! You're as boring as ever, Uncle Nowell!

The child with the glasses made of leaves comes and goes like a breeze, and disappears into the distant camp in the blink of an eye.

It seems like you don't get along with the children, Mr. Nowell.

If it isn't Talulah. Done with work?

I told that story to my son once... however, he didn't like hearing my stories either. Maybe I'm just not suited for it.

You have an abundance of experience, even if we only know it from a smattering of phrases.