The dragons did not fear death. The Golden People regarded death as a form of rebirth, the beginning of another life. Just as death and resurrection were often twin divine powers in myths and legends, they too fell under the jurisdiction of a single goddess.
At the final moment of her life, Aloz raised her head and cast a somewhat reluctant glance at Floro ahead of her, thinking, At least I can die before Floro...
But at that very moment, Little Female Dragon suddenly saw, to her horror, that her partner—the Silver Dragon Maiden, who had always been taciturn—abruptly turned around and looked at her with incomparable attachment in her silver eyes.
Deep within those pupils, Aloz's panic was reflected perfectly.
"No—!"
Amid her horrified cry, Floro suddenly turned and rammed into her, knocking her clear off the black hole's gravitational line.
For an instant, Aloz felt the world spin. Yet within her vision, she could only stare fixedly as that silver streak sliced through the darkness and accelerated toward the center of the black hole.
"Floro—!"
In the darkness, the sound of seawater slapping against the ship's cabin was rhythmic, as though it carried an ancient melody—long and slow enough to lull one to sleep. Brando did not know how many times his consciousness had awakened from the chaos, only to fall asleep again to that slow rhythm. After several such repetitions, he could finally make out his surroundings.
He felt a somewhat cold hand brush his forehead. It was soft, much like Roman's hand, but after a moment it withdrew, leaving him strangely bereft. Then came the sound of water, followed by a damp cloth being placed on his forehead. The coolness cleared his head somewhat.
Voices drifted through the darkness:
"What's wrong with Teacher, Miss Delphine?"