level_spst_14-01

This is an eternal journey. One that promises to never end.

The myriad souls have long since fallen into silence, their forms nearly worn away by the ravages of time.

Only their King still moves forward. For the sake of them all.

Theresa has no intention of stopping.

She had travelled to the depths of Civilight Eterna several times in the past. But this time, her wanderings are slightly different. She no longer stops to draw from the vast sea of knowledge within.

She is merely here to see.

To use her own eyes for one last time, to see the peoples and affairs of the lands.

To see what happens, or perhaps what has not yet happened.

So in the end, she managed to make it this far.

Now what should I praise Her Highness for? Her stubbornness, or her incredible talents? Pah, forget it. No matter if I scold her or praise her, the myriad souls wouldn't be able to hear it.

Let us put the situation in Victoria aside for the moment. Theresis and Nezzsalem will sort out that mess.

Next, we have... hah, the Military Commission's spies all stuffed into Wasserland's Spires. They are itching to pit the goats and cats against one another as soon as they can, all so that they avert their eyes from Kazdel.

Keep your threads tidy, damn you! Remember, we too will be scurrying out of here forthwith. That boastful sheep is unlikely to tolerate us lurking about underneath her nose any longer.

I've already grumbled to Laqeramaline about how that pair of siblings is far too radical. They'll have all sorts of trouble breathing down <i>our</i> necks soon, mark my words!

You'd best make haste on your work in Kazdel, Ermengarde.

If Theresis's plan does not completely succeed, the armies of Victoria... no, Leithanien and the other nations of The Core will immediately march on Kazdel.

We must inherit the legacy of Babel, and protect that city. We must not let what happened two hundred years ago repeat itself once more.

...Wait.

Did that thread just move? Was that you, Ermengarde?

I see.

'Hope'. I truly dislike having to hear that word. But it does seem like a path forward has opened for us...

Isn't that right, Your Highness?

Theresa sees the tiniest of smiles break through the elderly Lich's solemn visage.

She loosens the transparent thread running through the depths of the void, giving her old friend a nod as he paused his complaints for a moment, before setting off for even more distant lands.

That shadow has changed. This, I see.

Yet another ill omen of yours?

Not completely.

For seeking me out to inform me of what you have foreseen, you have my thanks.

But my mind is unchanged. The taint that the demons bring with them is spreading, and if all we do is move south over and over again, Sami is doomed to be drowned in that filth.

Even if everything I see pertaining to your future... ends in tragedy?

I always knew it will.

As early as the time I became a Snowpriest... No, ever since I was born on this icefield, ever since I became a Sami warrior, I knew what my end would be.

I do not fear death. I also do not fear the demons stealing my body, turning me into an enemy that sows corruption with every step.

There will be younger warriors following in my footsteps, heading for the furthest reaches of the north.

If, by some misfortune, we were to meet, they will use their bows and staves to cleanse my body of its stains.

The will to protect Sami will not so easily die out. It is thanks to this that I do not consider this outcome a tragedy.

If that is the case, then... good fortune to you, expeditioner.

Please, take this.

A Foldartal?

A parting gift.

I have heard that most of the Cyclops clans have decided to leave Sami. But you have chosen to stay behind.

There was a prophecy about the survival of this land. I must make it manifest.

Sami will thank you for your many years of toil, Sarkaz.

You have shared your foresight with me, so I in turn will grant you a sound I have heard.

Mhm...

A horn resounds across the icefield.

It is a signal from the expedition, and also a way to greet others across great distances.

Perhaps this Cyclops will not return to Kazdel, for this frozen land is already her home.

Theresa's gaze overlaps with Arges's.

She looks at the wondrous pattern inscribed upon the wood given to her by the Snowpriest.

'Aexlun'.

Flora and fauna, flourish and fall...

Last ye everlong.

...Found it.

These readings... It's definitely near.

Watch your step. My calculations can't be wrong. We're standing on the greatest archaeological discovery in Columbia... No, in all the nations.

So how should we go about digging a hole as fast as possible? I'd like to send myself down there alongside some energy cables.

Maryam won't be happy. He would definitely prefer we explore and excavate with more care.

But who asked him to go north and never return? The Engineering Section's in charge of this.

My crew already began work before I notified you.

Very good.

Would you mind if I'm the first one down?

(In Sarkaz) 'Guard'.

Oh? You rarely ever use incantations during your work.

I have to make sure that people around me don't go fainting at the sight of some Sarkaz parlor tricks.

I should probably give you the whole safety procedure spiel, Control, but I doubt you're in any mind to listen.

The military and the Maylanders will be here soon. Whatever you're hoping to find, you need to make it quick.

I will.

Before my eyes are blinded by the shroud of death... I must see all that I wish to see.

Theresa sees.

Time moves forward once more, by a stitch. She can feel this place reject her.

She thinks back many years ago, to the first time she drew near to the heart of the Rhodes Island landship alongside Kal'tsit.

This place is similar. A place she has never set foot upon. A... 'divine' residence.

(Unknown language) That cute little being has just left, but then in comes another intruder.

(Unknown language) Oh? Perhaps not?

(Unknown language) Within those ripples of data tagging along behind you, I sense something familiar to me.

(Unknown language) Perhaps you are like me, someone left behind in the past, a spirit with no choice but to struggle through an age not of your own.

(Unknown language) What has kept you going on your long sojourn? Perhaps a feeble, dim hope like mine?

(Unknown language) Or perhaps the cherished memories of kin you cannot see any longer?

Take care around my lance, Dr. Kaltsit. It may tear your paper skin.

No matter.

There is nothing below the surface of the sea worthy of your attention at this point in time. What is it that you have fixed your gaze upon?

A few memories, that's all.

I once believed that Ægir was far removed from the land, that the problems it faced were of a different kind to ours.

But perhaps I might not have been completely correct.

I am surprised to see you question yourself.

I merely do not wish to arrive late a second time.

If the ocean's troubles are not so independent of the land's, then the threats that we face may intersect with one another. This would be a situation worse than our prior worst-case scenarios.

Luckily, we have the opportunity to seize the initiative before the crisis detonates.

I hope that you can keep that level of confidence when you accompany me on my return to Ægir.

The ones I trust are the Hunters, Gladiia.

...A most amusing pretense.

The Abyssal Hunters had emerged from the seafloor onto dry land, and now they prepare to return. I have seen you all change along your journey.

Change... Hehe, not quite what I expected.

You will find yourselves back at your starting point.

No matter if it is you, Skadi or Specter, or your colleague who chose to walk along his own path of life.

...Ulpianus.

Best make yourselves ready.

When the time comes, you will find yourselves with different perspectives on Ægir, on the sea and the land, and on the calamities that we must face together.

That is far more valuable than any physical bridge between our peoples.

Motes of light float above the water's surface, casting clear shadows beneath them.

Just like the bridge that Kal'tsit spoke of.

Theresa steps atop this bridge spanning the void. Time speeds up, the waves matching its speed, and she finds it difficult to control how her consciousness advances.

Kal'tsit. Kal'tsit...

Theresa tries her best to turn her head back, to look upon her friend, and her friend's friends, new and old, standing behind her.

Until they merge together with the motes of light.

The motes expand.

The former King of Sarkaz finds herself standing in the middle of a church, bathing in the purest light. A holy light.

She stands 'face-to-face' with the Sankta Pope, his bright halo ringing his head.

The young Messenger met by chance by the riverside, the gentle old man in front of the church windows... She remembers him, and time has not changed her judgement.

It has been quite a while since any new names have emerged.

Is that a good thing?

We've had many new 'saints' within a few short years. With some of their number, I have found myself hard-pressed to agree on their appointment.

We still do not know what roles these saints will play in the future.

Since there have been no further saints chosen, Your Holiness, does this mean that the crisis might have already passed?

You are very optimistic.

I hope that our Laterano can stay as optimistic as you for a very long time.

However...

It has never fallen silent in the past.

Agh—!

Your Holiness, for a moment, I wasn't able to feel...

No! How could this be?!

The light dies out.

First, a lantern. Then, an entire city block.

From the Tower of Revelations to the Notarial Hall in Pagus Michaelion, then on to the Sunset Chapel in Pagus Saint Marcel, then the chapel square...

It all plunges into darkness.

It is swift. It is chaotic. It cannot be held back.

The icefield, the ocean, the land.

All the signs foretell the suffering that the people of tomorrow will face, just like the suffering she has seen many a time within Civilight Eterna.

She emerges from the darkness. Soft golden sands shift beneath her feet.

Ruins, crystal clusters, sand dunes... Everything before her eyes looks strange and unfamiliar.

Raising her head above the sandy squall, she hears, sees, feels the presence of that lonely girl.

The one walking right towards her, her figure wrapped in a cloak. The girl raises her hood.

Originium blooms under the girl's feet like marks in the snow. Theresa sees her rhomboid pupils.

You are...

The sands sweep across her view, covering her eyes.

This is not the end, but this is the furthest that Theresa can go.

The darkness presses in on her, barring her way forward. It covers her eyes, smothers her thoughts.

Only her passionate emotions remain, still echoing through the eternal darkness.

She once held countless questions as she walked upon her journey, but once she reached her end, all that she desired was a simple answer.

'In these futures, and perhaps ones even further away...

'Are the people I love still there?'

Theresa urgently searches, turning towards the only light within the darkness.

She has found the answer.