Rest in Peace

All things had fallen silent. The howling and thunderous roar of the two worlds colliding had vanished, and the colors and sunlight of the mortal world had dissolved in the final Great Annihilation. Yet within the chaotic darkness after all things had perished, the dead World Tree still grew soundlessly.

New corpses grew from corpses, and new ruins bred within ruins.

She had forgotten the elves, forgotten herself, forgotten every beginning and end—breeding, spreading, continuing to grow; these had become Xilantis's sole obsession after the end.

But the Lost Homeland had arrived before this ever-growing corpse, and the dim green fire spreading through the darkness became a barrier that stopped Xilantis from expanding further.

That dead World Tree finally reacted.

Duncan saw unusual light and shadow suddenly stir within her remains—hazy mist, within whose grayish-white fog seemed to hide shapeless limbs and forms. The fog's edges kept spreading from the canopy, like tentacles, or twisting roots.

He thought of the hazy mists floating above the Pilgrimage Ark of the Four Gods Church.

But before he could think further, an even greater change occurred—the "river" of countless tiny motes of light orbiting Xilantis suddenly collapsed. Countless specks of radiance merged into the mist floating above the World Tree, and the next second, that seemingly illusory, feeble mist abruptly solidified and expanded wildly outward!

The fog's boundary turned into sharp arrows and slammed with all its strength into the sea of Spirit Body Fire spreading around the Lost Homeland.

A low, unreal roar seemed to echo through the darkness. Xilantis's impacts sent ripples through the spirit fire, yet more flames only emerged from the void, gradually staining that chaotic pale mist dim green. But Xilantis continued to strike, without pause, though every impact inflicted lethal burning upon her.

Duncan even felt a