Глава 14

Here you are.

...Nearl.

You don't return to the landship often. Stay with Liz a bit; she's missed you.

She just fell asleep.

While you seem more exhausted than when I last saw you.

Are you worried about Liz? I asked Dr. Kal'tsit, and she said Liz's condition is still under control—

Is there... something you haven't told me?

I'm thinking... of a way to 'cure' Liz for good.

You've poured years into this, it just won't come quickly, so don't torture yourself over it.

What if... I told you a solution has always existed, only I've dared not try it?

Shining.

What exactly are you hiding from me? What is it you can't say?

Nearl, this is a duty I must see through on my own.

Do you think Liz and I will leave you?

You know that won't happen.

My concern... has always been that you two might get hurt.

I've decided to join Liz in searching for her memories. I shall accompany her... until we find the truth. However...

Nearl—

A time will come when I need you to protect Liz in my stead.

I know.

But I will protect and fight... for more than just Liz.

Shining, I will stand for you as well.

Yes...

We have always stood by each other. The Followers are as one.

My oath remains, unchanged—

Margaret Nearl and her swordstaff will be there for you, whenever needed.

The swordstaff sweeps wide.

A dazzling radiance repels a crowd of foes.

Every single Confessarius here... is a powerful foe.

So that's why you weren't willing to spar with me, Shining.

We saved quite a lot of money for Rhodes Island.

Our greatest foe... lies ahead.

Alright.

Let's settle this quickly.

What a farce!

Careful!

*huff*—Hah.

I can take it.

Shining, my shield will protect you.

You need only... advance.

A torrent of witchcraft washes toward them.

Margaret's radiance is suppressed.

Qui'sartuštaj stands on the top of the steps, day and night surging within his palm.

So this is the help you found? Qui'saršinnag, what do you think our ceremonial altar is?

A... meadow? For a Kuranta to frolic in?

Hmph, so her Arts can momentarily block my influence on you.

And what of it? Your swordplay and Arts all come from me.

You can't even harm me... unless I let you.

*cough* *cough*—Ugh!

Everything's slowed down...?

His Arts... affect the perception of time? Or is it something else...?

Shining!

...I'm alright.

Your shield...

...The first crack on this new shield of mine.

But no matter, I can mend it with my Arts.

A knight's shield will never weaken when protecting someone in need.

What a detestable light.

Puny foal, I've killed so many pegasi like you... I've stopped counting.

I smeared their golden blood on the walls of my Kazdel—so that my city would look as if forever bathed in the radiance of dawn.

And their descendants would understand Kazdel is not a domain they can invade as they please.

We're not in Kazdel.

And you're not some homeland hero either.

Heroes shed their own blood to clear the way for others.

But you—All I see is your path to ascension drenched with the blood, tears and bones of others.

Heroes? I decided long ago to give up being one.

The hero people sing and praise... but is as fleeting as sand. No matter how I try to master the time I have, it does not stop for me.

I will die, and the city I built will collapse. My beloved people will only be compelled to continue wandering.

This hopeless cycle... torments every single Sarkaz, including me.

As a sovereign, I have the responsibility and power, and ought to change my people's fate at the source.

As long as the Sarkaz need no longer lie prostrate before beasts like you, as long as my Kazdel stands everlasting through days and nights—

All the light around them rushes toward Qui'sartuštaj's palm as he speaks.

Margaret's Arts, the Arts of the other Confessarii, and even... the little sunlight straining through the dense clouds.

In his palm floats a small crown of thorns, as impenetrable as the darkest night.

Nightingale floats up from the stone bed.

Her eyes are still shut, her limbs lack strength, but her arms involuntarily open—

When the last light has been caged, the crown will fall on Qui'sartuštaj's head.

Liz...!

Shining, follow my light! Save her—

A sharp spear of light tears a path through the witchcraft barrier.

Shining arrives before Qui'sartuštaj.

Night descends like a cage, and the only light comes from her blade.

The soul glimmers on the tip of her sword.

...Liz.

I return the true memories I once took from you.

No fields, no woods, no streams... and no flower wreaths.

Only a girl huddled in a dark corner.

The entire room serves as her cage, and she cannot tell day from night.

Because she is merely a manufactured, empty shell.

With no consciousness, or knowledge of pain or fear. she reacts to no Arts inflicted on her at all.

Until—

In my obsession with exploring the soul... I left some... unnecessary vestiges in you when carving yours.

You're... awake.

You're starting to have emotions, and responding to them.

The experiment will continue, I have to...

Create some illusions. Fill up that newborn soul with memories fabricated by Arts.

To cover up the truest, scariest ones.

I think you should feel a little better, at least.

You will feel truly alive, as if you've experienced... a bit of warmth.

No.