Vana stood atop the highest tower of Storm Cathedral. Through the open window, her gaze passed over the cathedral rooftops, toward the lights flickering deep within the clouds and mist, the districts whose buildings no longer quite matched her memories, and the distant sea.
The steam pipes beside the tower's spiral staircase gave off a faint hiss. A brass incense burner hung from one of the pipe valves, releasing wisps of smoke. The aged Archbishop Valentine stood quietly nearby, his pale, clouded eyes—made so by the cessation of blood flow—watching the distance alongside Vana.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Vana finally broke the silence in a low voice. "I remember... I used to stand on this tower often too. Whenever night fell, I would watch every corner of Pland from here. Back then, the steam pipes always hissed as well, and the scent of incense was calming."
"That seemed like it was not long ago," Archbishop Valentine said softly.
"Yes, it seemed like it was only recently," Vana said, nodding gently. "The nights back then were never peaceful either. All sorts of things would emerge from the darkness and disrupt ordinary people's lives. And I was so confident then—I felt I could fight any enemy that threatened the city-state, whether they were shadowy cultists or things summoned by cultists."
The aged archbishop said nothing more. He merely lowered his gaze slightly toward the cathedral garden. Through the fog-shrouded night came muffled roars and chilling sounds of chewing, as though some enormous creature had been trapped deep within the mist.
"Mother Treeny has begun feeding again," Valentine said slowly. "At this time every day, she devours herself. Twenty-four hours later, she regenerates from the soil. There are also twelve nuns and twelve priests in the garden. They wander around Mother