cello

The wind rustles the branches in late autumn, the sound of a cello filling the forest matted by fallen leaves.

Amiya treks along to the cello's melodies. Her fist is loosely clenched, rings shimmering faintly beneath the sunlight filtering through the trees.

A black-haired Sankta is standing in a clearing in the forest, embracing her cello, ever so focused.

The sound of the cello continues to <i>flow</i>, uninterrupted by her arrival. A gentle sound.

Amiya stops, and her palms begin to loosen. Gradually, even the trees around her and the clouds above her begin to melt into the flowing stream, seemingly rippling through the sky, yet also around her feet.

Arturia.

You shouldn't just wander from your room as you please. Besides, today, there's a...

The Sankta woman lifts her gaze slightly. There is still a bit of distance separating the two of them, but Amiya is sure that the woman has seen her.

Amiya does not move, instead, the starlight and the waves reach out to embrace her. Across thousands of blurry scenes, countless figures intersect with her.

She feels as if she has become a book, and the cello's melodies a pair of hands, flipping through the deepest pages of her emotions.

Federico warned everyone to stay away from her music.

But, Amiya is not of the same mind.

She quietly takes a deep breath.

This is something only she can do. To touch the face beneath the veil of mystery, to reach Arturia.

Amiya, what are you looking at?

Huh?

Amiya turns when she hears the voice. At some point, a woman as pure as the moonlight approached, her eyes gentle as always.

Amiya sees herself reflected in the eyes of the woman before her–

Sitting in the corner of the deck with her arms tightly hugging her knees, bangs loosely covering her eyes.

Amiya, you've been sitting on the deck all this time. What are you looking at?

Um, the sun is about to set.

One of the nice men from Engineering gave me a lolly. Theresa, are you done with work?

Yes, I am. Are you thinking about your mom and dad?

Dad used to carry me up to the roof of the work shed after he came back from his Engineering work.

It got pretty cold after the sun went down, but Dad's shoulders were really thick, so we could stay there for a long time.

I remember the stars coming out one by one, until filled up the night sky...

But now, the Doctor is with me. Dr. Kal'tist is with me too, and so are you.

Every now and then... it makes me... miss Mom and Dad a bit less.

The Doctor said that in this last year of sailing the land, you were the motivating factor.

It's very fortunate that the Doctor saved you. I'm also glad that Rhodes Island was able to become your home.

Mhm.

Perhaps, death is not the most profound goodbye. But, it is the most cruel, impossible to turn back.

Yet, you have faced it bravely.

You may have to endure more goodbyes in the future. But remember, goodbye is not the end.

You will feel. You will connect. You will live on. You will become the place where everything meets. You... will become the future.

...Mm.

Where do you plan to go next?

I'm going back.

I... Thank you so much.

But, I can't stay here any longer.

The memory of Theresa becomes blurry.

The Lord of Fiends grants illusions unto others. The Lord of Fiends also passes down memories and Arts, as well as emotions and knowledge.

But, Amiya has never delved deeply into herself.

Like a pair of mirrors. Amiya throws open the transparent door.

...and on the other side of the door is a lawn.

It has just rained, and a pleasant scent wafts through the air. A small church stands silent not too far away––

All the guests have already left, leaving only a young Sankta standing in front of a tombstone.

She stands there in silence, water droplets still clinging to her cheeks. She cannot tell if they are rain or tears.

So, Arturia, is 'death' the theme of this song?

You're suffering. But, look. It took a long time, and meeting a lot of people, to not be so sad when I think of my parents.

But, you're not just sad. There's also confusion... and anger?

Directed at who? The guests who turned their backs and left? Or, 'death' itself?

Yet, Arturia does not truly see her. The young Sankta stands in the shadows of the past.

Mamma, how much courage did it take for you to take that brave step?

How could death pluck your life from you so quickly?

Why does death turn human bodies into empty husks? Why is it so easy to make all those complex, profound emotions disappear without a trace?

Why are we but wisps of clouds?

So free, so beautiful, yet gone whenever the wind blows?

It turns all our effort to make up for past regrets into new regrets.

And you shouldn't have... you didn't need to die.

Cora, you didn't need to die.

There were so many chances for you to leave before the Empresses' celebration began.

Arturia, you had so many chances to tell me your feelings, in Marigold Alley, at Ludwigs-Universität, even at the theater in front of the spire.

Did you not know how to express them? Even though you know that I understand your music.

I tried telling Viviana, hoping that she would discover your existence through the clues left in the Güldenesgesatz.

But, even she...

I don't want to change the decision that you made, nor can I.

That's right. In fact, you know better than anyone that I passed on with no regrets.

The one with regrets... is you, isn't it?

I'll always remember our first meeting, at Lehrer Emmanuel's funeral, beneath the sunset in front of the imperial spires...

I helped tune your cello, and you told me about the people you had met and things you had experienced.

I couldn't see your face clearly, but I could hear the stirring sounds of your cello.

You shared with me your regrets, as well as the faith those regrets brought you. You were the first person who encouraged me to play the melodies of my heart.

You are one of the few close friends I've had on this long, long journey.

I don't want to...

But will my feelings, and all the things I've experienced, truly dissipate like flowing clouds?

Arturia, my dear friend, play for me. Let me hear your music one more time.

I've always believed that this is what they precisely meant.

The cello's melodies flow, and more scenes that she has never seen unfold in front of Arturia. Those images and sounds melt into a river, flowing towards reaches unknowable to man.

Arturia wades through the river.

She does not know when or how she reached the shore, but when she next opens her eyes, she finds herself standing in front of a door.

You've come a long way, haven't you?

Is this a monastery?

A monastery built on a nomadic plate. Looks a lot like Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, doesn't it?

It has roamed the lands with me for many years. But now, it's been still for two and a half months.

Is it worn down?

No, it's because I've been sick.

I've been waiting. Waiting for death to come.

No need to keep looking. I'm the only one here, and no one else is coming.

We're a long way from Laterano. So far that even the legati who crossed countless lands for the Lateran Declaration have never tread.

I know what you're here for, Arturia.

The reason an ideal can be an ideal is that it is sufficiently out of reach.

I've been to so many different places. I've approached cities, entered barrens, icefields, and deserts all scattered with life...

In every place I've been, the flames of war continue to burn. I have witnessed every forgotten end.

Over the course of my long journey, I've never put down my cello.

I've played for all kinds of people from all walks of life, but the end result has never been satisfactory.

A strong soul, rationality without reservation, a pure and sincere openness... I strive to approach to that future, yet it is still so far away.

But you will die here, in a distant corner, in a dilapidated monastery. Death will reduce everything to naught, leaving not a trace behind.

Do you grip your cello to play your own requiem? With nothing but fear, helplessness, anger, and sorrow?

Just as you used to be.