A figure stands before the ruins.
Forget Me Not: ...
He is silent as a gravestone, keeping all else at bay.
Footsteps echo up from behind.
???: Mr. Forget Me Not, there you are.
???: The Guiding One said she didn't want you to come back to this manor.
The figure remains silent.
???: The St. Pavlov Foundation has destroyed another hidden outpost in San Francisco.
???: Don't you want to go there yourself? Let those white robes see blood?
In the distance, the figure turns slowly.
There is no trace of longing in his eyes, only emptiness—a dark abyss that swallows up the sky.
Forget Me Not: Can you see it? It was once a deserted land.
???: What?
Forget Me Not: Then countless arcanists—thousands of generations of them—sacrificed their blood and bones to build the tunnel.
Forget Me Not: When it was complete, they were ecstatic. They kissed the earth in their jubilation.
Forget Me Not: Yet, in the end, they found nothing.
She notices the old, yellowed book in his hand.
But the title is no longer discernible.
???: I ... I'm not sure what you're talking about.
Forget Me Not: ...
He turns his attention to something new—
The trembling figure of the girl.
Forget Me Not: Never mind.
Forget Me Not: I know what you're going to say. The Preacher has ordered us to return.
Forget Me Not: She has received a new oracle.
In the distance, the girl nods dumbstruck.
Forget Me Not: Let's go.
They are leaving the quiet place.
He stops again, returning his eyes to the ruins.
For the last time.
Driver: Ah, come on, baby, move! We're in the middle of nowhere! The towing fee will cost an arm and a leg!
Driver: Ahh! Damn it, my baby's gonna be stuck here forever! And all for a bit of cash. sobs
Matilda: The tires sink into the mud, spinning helplessly.
Matilda: The man slumps back in his seat, completely indifferent to the anxious passenger in the back.
Matilda: Hmm. The map says it's still a fair distance from the safety house.
Matilda: sighs Looks like the Great Matilda must count on herself once again.
Driver: Hey, wait, Miss! You haven't paid me!
He climbs halfway out the window to reach out to her.
Matilda: Three, five, eight ... twenty! And here's a tip, too. I hope it can make up for your loss, at least to some extent.
Matilda: Hmph. A distinguished and generous passenger such as me must be a rarity!
Matilda: I will walk the rest of the way. If you stay here and wait for me, I will show you my generosity again when I return!
Driver: S-sure, Miss!
He licks his fingers as he counts the bills, momentarily forgetting his worries.
Matilda retrieves her suitcase, swaying with its weight as she departs.
Following the narrow path into the forest, her silhouette vanishes beneath the dark branches.
Naturally, the driver remains entirely unaware of the incantation she had cast on the engine.
Matilda: The location of the safety house is classified. I must be very careful.
Matilda: Vestigium Vanish!
Matilda: Alright. Now I won't leave any footprints behind.
Matilda: sighs If only I had an assistant with me. Then I wouldn't have to carry this suitcase all by myself. It would be even better if it were Sonet—Heh ... Mama would be happy to meet her.
She mutters to herself as she steps forward, leaving a trail of deep footprints.
Matilda: Hmm. I can't feel Mama's incantation at all.
Matilda: I suppose that makes sense. The Laplace staff swore that this place was so hidden that not even a Glawackus could find it.
Matilda: I hope she's doing well.
She quickens her pace, pushing aside the thick growth.
A house appears before her. To her eyes, it seems to glow with hope.
Matilda: There it is! Hmph, I knew it! Those stupid Manus followers could never find her. She's one of the best diviners and crystal healers in the world! She must have foreseen all the possible circumstances and prepared for them.
The light shining over the mountainside chases away the darkness, carrying her worries away with it.
Matilda: Humph, but she will certainly be surprised when she sees that this visitor is her own outstanding daughter! It's been so long!
Matilda: The SPDM canteen knows nothing about French cuisine. I can't wait to eat Mama's cooking again.
Matilda: Most importantly, I need to have Mama pick a new orbuculum for me. sighs Not even the best crystal craftsman could do anything to repair the cracks in mine.
In the distance, a light from the wooden cabin flickers.
The door has been left slightly ajar, as if anticipating the arrival of a visitor.
Matilda: Hmph. Dear Mrs. Bouanich, come and see who's here.
She pushes the door open gently.
Silence dominates the space.
The wind roams in behind her recklessly, tearing at the curtains.
Dozens, even hundreds of crystal spheres scatter to the floor, like pearls from a broken necklace.
They fill the room, each one marred by a web of cracks.
Matilda: Mama?!
