Through the relentless blizzard, you finally traverse the endless snowfields, arriving at the theater's entrance.
With a heavy groan, you force the doors open. Impenetrable darkness waits within, thick as undiluted ink.
You raise your candle, and its small sphere of light pushes back the suffocating shadows. As far as you can see, the theater lies in complete ruin.
With your flame as a spark, you begin lighting the candles along your path.
Light now emanates from you, following your footsteps and illuminating a trail through the wreckage—a path toward Bianca.
And then, you find her. The silhouette you have been searching for. She rests before you, her head gently inclined against a theater seat, lost in a profound slumber.
In the flickering candlelight, you sit beside her. Your hand moves to gently brush aside the hair that veils her cheek, revealing a face of perfect peace.
Her soul has slumbered here for an age, waiting for your call to return.
Her breathing remains gentle as a feather, steady and faint. She lingers at the threshold of her dream, deaf to your voice.
You take her hand in yours. It is as cold as the heart of the blizzard raging outside.
Determined, you trace the familiar symbol onto her palm—a pattern she knows intimately—forging a connection with her consciousness as it drifts in the dreamscape.
Your finger glides across her skin, again and again. In this phantom theater of memories and ruin, your touch is the only anchor, the only thing that is real.
After what feels like an eternity, the hand nestled in yours finally begins to warm.
"With what you cherish in your heart, write an oath that belongs only to us."
"No matter how the seasons change, or the years turn..."
"Nothing in this world shall ever tear us apart."
The vow you once made when tracing that symbol into each other's palms still echoes by your ear.
Piercing through the layers of the dream, it finds her in the deepest corners. Now, that timeless promise echoes once again by her ear.
In the candlelight, her eyelashes flutter, delicate shadows dancing like butterfly wings upon her cheeks.
You tenderly grasp her ice-cold hand and press her palm to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth that is yours and yours alone.
At last, a fragile warmth returns to her fingertips.
After a long moment, a soft murmur escapes her lips. Her eyes, heavy with the weight of a long slumber, finally open.
Her gaze drifts, unfocused, slowly taking in the world until it settles on you.
As recognition dawns, the haze in her eyes sharpens into pure, disbelieving wonder.
...You're here.
For a long moment, she is perfectly still, her hand clasping yours as if it were the only real thing in the world.
Then, tears glisten in her eyes. She raises a hand to your cheek, her touch tracing the landscape of your face with a tender, aching longing.
She holds your gaze, searching, until a certainty dawns within her. The hesitation shatters, and her smile breaks through—as radiant as the day you first met.
Is it still snowing outside?
The blizzard was relentless on my journey here.
Did you find it too cold to bear?
...Yes.
With that smile, she reaches out to gently brush the snow from your shoulders.
Then, she pulls you into a tight embrace, a silent testament to the long separation you have both endured.
Then take me home, Maestro.
As you push open the long-sealed theater doors, the blizzard has ceased, revealing a sky of perfect, pristine azure.
You hold her hand tightly, setting out together on the same path that led you to her, but this time, you are finally heading home.
