Beneath the Sacred Tree, Millicent—on a pilgrimage—had reached the end of her journey.
Pale, gnarled roots. Withered, desolate leaves. An enormous humanoid trunk wrapped in roots. Unfamiliar little flowers in bloom. Snow as white as jade. And beside the roots, seated motionless upon a throne, a red-haired woman gently stroking the Sacred Tree with the only hand she had left.
"..."
In an instant, the golden pupils in Millicent's eyes shrank.
She had seen her: the sleeping red-haired woman sitting upon the throne, her other, rotten hand resting beside the roots and caressing them.
She recognized her at a glance. This was undoubtedly the one Millicent had traveled all this way to see—the one she had journeyed north from Caelid's fields of rot to find, nearly circling the Lands Between, crossing countless miles and enduring hardship after hardship.
That person was the mother, or perhaps the original, she had been seeking—Malenia, the Blade of Miquella.
There could be no mistake. Millicent felt an inexplicable closeness and connection, as though they shared the same blood...
Of course, the prosthetic arm lying on the ground before the throne—identical to the one Millicent wore—and the woman's distinctive golden winged helm also made her feel close to Malenia.
"..."
Seeing that Malenia was fast asleep, Millicent didn't rush to speak, much less approach her.
She stood about a dozen paces before the throne and silently watched Malenia, gazing with yearning and joy at her face, marked by rot, her red hair flowing in the breeze, and every detail of her.
It was a scene she had imagined for so, so long. And now, though it differed a little from what she had expected, she wasn't too disappointed.
For a long while...
Millicent didn't speak and disturb her. Malenia showed no sign of waking, either,