After bracing themselves, the three of them returned to the statue.
The rough rock surface glinted with a cold, hard sheen under the faint light.
"Shall we?" Yan Huan greeted them and stepped forward first.
By then, the rest of their companions had already been waiting for quite some time.
The halos of the spirits flickered quietly in the dim surroundings, like a river of stars.
Aglaea smiled faintly and turned slightly toward them.
"The Scepter once bestowed cold names upon us, and the oracle proclaimed our unchanging fate a thousand times over."
Cyrene's gaze fell upon Tribbie and Aglaea, her voice gentle yet clear.
"But beneath the pens of [Trailblaze] and [Genesis], tomorrow, the stars will sing thus..."
"The holy child of the Gateway, Tribios—"
"The weaver of Romance, Aglaea—"
"At the end of Flame-Chasing, they will once more be bathed in gold..."
"Turning through countless Gateways, until all that was lost is reclaimed."
She looked again at the battle-scarred statue, as though speaking to it.
"Do you still remember, Khaslana, denied the dawn?"
"At the end of the cycle, all things fade away."
"In this dream, you will awaken and become that smiling child again."
"But if you open your eyes and look back upon yesterday, you will see the clear footprints of fate."
"At last, the blazing fire of [Hatred] will be swept away by a gust of wind..."
"Leaving only [Love] to preserve the memories of time."
Gradually, Aglaea and Tribbie turned into points of light, like fireflies scattered by the wind, slowly fading before Yan Huan's eyes.
The motes carried a warm presence. Rather than vanishing outright, they were drawn by an invisible wind into the open, thick book in Cyrene's hands.
Their spirits were blown into its pages by the wind.
Holding the storybook,