When that day came, the sea would forget the shape of waves, life would forget how to die, fire would no longer remember how to burn, the wind would cease to flow, and clouds would fall from the sky into the sea—this was the final curtain of the world's descent. That exiled existence from beyond the world, coldly watching this sanctuary, had seen the future of all things so clearly.
Across the entire world, clouds were falling from the sky—or, more precisely, some "layer" containing the "element" known as cloud cover was simultaneously lowering from the heavens.
The descending clouds resembled another flowing sea, gradually closing over the world. Some of their lower-hanging portions stretched down to the land or sea, becoming hazy curtains like thin mist, while more of the structure floated merely hundreds or even dozens of meters above people's heads. The layers of the sky had come to a halt at that height, continuing their extraordinarily slow "descent," almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
Frem stood upon the ice field beneath the night sky, raising his head to gaze at the cloud sea churning overhead. It was now so close that, through a thin veil of mist, it seemed he could touch those magnificent clouds merely by lifting a hand. The cold radiance of World's Creation spread through the gaps between the clouds, coating that curtain in a sheen like mercury. Objectively speaking... it was beautiful.
Beautiful enough to take one's breath away, enough to make one's soul tremble faintly.
Priestess Delice stood beside Frem, looking up at the marvel in the sky with the Pope. They had been staring there for a long time, as had many people on the ice field. Everyone seemed gripped by some invisible force around the neck, frozen rigidly in place