Embers drift down like a gentle golden rain. In the deathly quiet ruins, they finally embrace after overcoming countless perils, nestled in each other's arms.
Nirvatia holds the emaciated body tightly in her arms, trembling from the effort, as if the miracle she has recovered might vanish before her eyes if she relaxes her grip even slightly.
Margaret's cold fingers dig deep into the fabric on her back. She can hear the soft, fragile whimpers that have been suppressed for countless years.
Nirvatia...?
Margaret's face is buried against her shoulder, her voice hoarse and broken as she struggles to form words like an injured fledgling.
She cautiously looks up as light pours down through the shattered dome above, gently caressing her dirt-streaked face.
Is it really...? Is it really... you...?
She reaches out, her fingertips trembling as they gently brush against her friend's cheek like touching a beautiful dream that may shatter at any moment.
It's me... I'm right here.
Nirvatia takes Margaret's cold hand and presses it against her own face—equally cold, but undeniably real.
I've come back, and Jagienka's back too... Everyone from Carthaki is still fighting...
To save this city, to save you... Everyone has returned.
Margaret's lips tug slightly upward at the corners as her pale cheek nuzzles against Nirvatia's palm.
Strangely, she feels something draining her body heat, prompting her to tighten her embrace, yearning even more for the warmth of her friend.
Nirvatia's hands... they're so warm...
She murmurs, closing her eyes and pressing deeper into the embrace.
I've missed you so much... missed all of you so much...
Thud—
Gasp...!
A spine-chilling vibration emanates from deep within Margaret's frail chest.
It is not a heartbeat, but rather something tough violently thrashing inside her.
Argh!
...?
Margaret's entire body shakes, her mouth twisting in agony as she clutches her chest desperately, groaning in pain.
No... not now...!
Margaret...?
A bud-like radiance suddenly pierces through Margaret's body, stabbing into Nirvatia's eyes.
—AAARRRGGGHHH!!!
A blood-curdling scream erupts from her throat, violently tearing through the air.
Margaret—
Argh!
Margaret's hand suddenly tightens, clamping around Nirvatia's throat like a vice and cutting her cry short.
————!!!
Gray wings flap, wind howls, and Margaret lunges forward with Nirvatia in her grip, smashing through broken tree trunks as the ground trembles and rocks come crashing down.
Cough—!!
...Margaret... it's me...!
Intruder...!
A twisted murderous intent once again contorts Margaret's face. The golden Seedling in her chest is visibly pulsing. As it flickers with light, a rumbling echo rises from deep beneath the ground.
More crimson mist, thick as long-suppressed blood, violently erupts from the fissures, instantly flooding the vast, silent chamber.
The remnants of the Golden Oak, having nearly faded to black, flicker back to life. Weak yet stubborn golden light emanates from them as countless tiny vines contort within the mist, crackling with bone-chilling sounds.
Ugh—!
The Punishing Virus swirls like thorns, creeping up from beneath Nirvatia's feet. With a sharp cracking sound, she feels a searing pain spread through her chest.
Looking down, she sees the light blue dock on her chest used for receiving medication is now covered in cracks, its surface deteriorating under the sudden surge of Punishing Virus infection.
I won't let you... hurt them!!
Margaret's pupils contract and tremble, reflecting Nirvatia's anguished face. Through her distorted vision, countless crimson tendrils cover Nirvatia's cheeks, transforming her into a terrifying "intruder."
Cough... Wake... up!
Go away... GO AWAY!!!
Vines suddenly surge from the darkness, attaching themselves to Margaret's back and strengthening her.
Nirvatia struggles desperately, but at the edge of her blurred vision, she catches sight of two hazy figures rushing toward her.
In the next instant, bladed vines cleave through the air, lunging straight for Nirvatia.
—MARGARET!!
Bullets fly through the air, instantly cutting through the chaos and shattering the vines.
—INTRUDERS!!!
Margaret roars in fury as the mist within the ruins surges violently once more. Thorns shoot up from the ground fissures, piercing straight through your arm.
STOP!!!
Meanwhile, Jagienka smashes through the oncoming branches. Even as thorns pierce her body and corrode her skin, she presses forward relentlessly toward the out-of-control Margaret.
She reaches out her arm, the beaded bracelet on her wrist gleaming brilliantly.
And at almost the same moment, by coincidence, or perhaps by fate—
The dock on Nirvatia's chest shatters with a crack, releasing a purple pearl that has been buried deep in her heart for years.
One yellow, one purple. Reflected in the center of Margaret's chaotic vision, they spiral and dance, colliding to create a dazzling radiance in the darkness.
Just as the Red Mist is about to flare up, countless voices from the past flow like rivulets, streaming steadily and gradually merging into their minds.
In this moment, time seems to be infinitely frozen, stretching out endlessly.
