Глава 14

Theresis, I'm delighted.

I'm delighted that even after we made this decision, they are still willing to stand up against us.

They are decisive and strong, and they are growing at an unimaginable pace. Perhaps they will make their way to you in the end.

They may be much stronger now than the woman I was... the one who couldn't accomplish anything.

I'm looking forward to it.

Then... It's time for me to leave, too.

Theresa steps onto the airship's gangway, while Theresis remains where he stands, quietly watching her.

Theresa.

This time, we should bid each other a proper farewell.

Theresa reaches her hand out and smooths out the creases on Theresis's cloak.

...(Ancient Sarkaz language) Goodbye.

(Ancient Sarkaz language) Goodbye.

The silence lasts until the steel door closes and its thick shadow shrouds the two of them.

They say nothing more.

The pulsing of the myriad souls is ceaseless. Theresa lightly closes her eyes to bear with its surge.

The endless murmurs are like the tide. It exhausts, it drags those within it ever downward, and it suffocates.

Perhaps within it once existed brief moments of happiness or the occasional delight... but there is simply too much pain... so much that the pain permeates every word and sentence.

O myriad souls... Even though I have almost completely exhausted myself, I still cannot see the other side.

Shattered hearts abound on these lands.

And so, even if I have only grief at my disposal... even if my body was wrought of tears...

Be my oar, and be my ark.

Let tears carry tears, and let suffering lift up suffering.

It's time that we... set sail.

Logos is examining the bone whistle in his hands. He knows every pattern carved into it and every wear and tear on its surface.

He remembers receiving this from his mother when he was still a small child. Its sound was not nearly as sonorous and vivid as it is now.

So this is a Banshee's bone whistle. It's my first time seeing the real thing.

Banshees are a rare sight among mercenaries to begin with, much less one with a bone whistle.

That said, I've heard plenty of stories about bone whistle—

It's a symbol of terror. Its sound foretells death's pursuit.

The Banshees portend death, and willingly serve as the embodiment of death and danger.

But I rarely ever saw you use the whistle, not at Babel all those years ago or at Rhodes Island now.

The Vampire... accused you of rejecting the power of your bloodline.

It already sounded. It need not sound again.

Metaphors about death itself are a dime a dozen, but what comes <i>after</i> death?

True, the Banshees portend death, but nothing more.

If death wasn't the end of all beings and there was more than nothingness after the toll of the death knell, then this foretelling would have been meaningless.

That's why we set down the bone whistles for bone pens.

New meaning is born from the pens' tips, while the past... is only recorded by the same tips.

This is why we stand together now, Hoederer.

Is that right?

Yes, toward the other side of death. Rebirth.

It matters not what Theresis intends to accomplish. This war will not and cannot be allowed to develop into a raging fire that destroys the Sarkaz, as history has seen countless times before.

Having burned for so long, this hatred cannot be easily extinguished, but we can stop it from engulfing all souls upon these lands.

That includes each and every race there is.

Dr. {@nickname}, hold on tight.

The final battle... is able to begin.

The Feranmut's skeleton wriggles its body and once again dives straight into history.

The fragments of time are like bubbles in a muddled stream. After they break up, the remains are still vague and indistinct.

Amiya feels the rippling spacetime rushing past her. You look at her and see her eyelashes twitching. What exactly does she see?

Perhaps nothing more than reflections passing by, or fleeting hallucinations.

The distance between memories and history is always much longer than we expect.

Countless sceneries, both ancient and modern, sweep by under the Feranmut's frame.

Those who find themselves within are astonished by this advancement or regression of times, the disasters that unfold before them, and the happiness in their hands...

But when looking upon them from high above, perhaps these sights have never actually changed.

Then, the illusion grows much stranger and more twisted.

A seed is rapaciously absorbing nutrients. It writhes, whimpers, trying to tear away all fabricated representation.

This creation, far beyond human comprehension, waits silently. The slightest movement is enough to rend the continent and allow the crystals to proliferate.

No, this isn't right.

This isn't the Feranmut's power!

The sky... The entire sky is burning red!

The Lifebone is out of control. It's been pulled off its original course!

Are we under attack?

Prepare to meet the enemy!;Ready damage control!

Guard the entrances to all cabins! Watch for attacking aircraft!

We're preparing anti-boarding measures. All non-combatants, retreat to your shelters!

Mercs, fan out! Don't let any drooling morons onto the ship!

Any damage reports?

I'm checking, but—What's going on? This makes no sense!

The sensors I set up are all reading normal. The skeleton's not damaged at all!

I just got word from the observation post. They've spotted no enemies!

We're losing altitude! I can't control it!

What the *Sarkaz expletive* is happening?

Isn't this skeleton your best friend, Hoederer? Get it to chill out!

Hoederer, can you adjust the course at all? We mustn't land in the center of the battlefield!

I'm trying!

Buckle up, everybody. I don't want anyone getting flung out through the gaps in the bones!

I've sent out all my drones to try to pull the Feranmut's bones back and reduce the impact of the crash!

Don't get your hopes up, though!

Our descent isn't slowing. Going by the current speed...

We'll hit the ground very soon.

'The meaning of language shall grant us wings.'

'I command these words to lift this weight.'

It's working—

Keep chanting your incantations, Banshee. Hoederer, keep steering us north!

There's a valley there. We should fit right in!

I'm on it, but my link with the Feranmut is fading. I can't control it much longer!

Mon3tr.

(Excited howling)

Protect the Doctor. Prepare for impact.

(Joyful howling)

This isn't exactly comfy.;...;Its claws are digging into me!

Calm down, Doctor. You'll be fine.

Amiya, how are things going over—

All the wounded and civilians have been relocated. Feist and Rockrock are working on getting the transport secured.

Got it. Ines, my mercs have anything to say?

They're all here with me, working on getting some witchcraft going.

We'll need a little more time. We should be able to withstand half of the impact's force.

Tell Hoederer these bones won't shatter here.

The valley's in sight. Our angle's not quite there yet. We need to turn left by another twenty degrees!

Last chance for adjustments!