Vertin: I see. Thank you, Mr. Ulrich. This is exactly the information we needed.
Vertin: If everything's gone to plan, the Foundation's spy should already be in Antarctica.
Vertin: But they haven't made contact with us yet. It seems we won't be getting any more intel on the ritual from them anytime soon.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Are you certain?
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Alright. If you've thought it through, I won't stand in your way. Just be careful, Mr. Ulrich.
Vertin: Mr. Ulrich?
Ulrich's voice dissolves into a static noise.
Vertin: Signal's gone. I can't tell if it's an issue on his end or ours.
Vertin: Still, we got what we needed: the ritual will take place in a sanctuary hidden in the volcano at the edge of the city ruins.
As one, the group turns toward the towering mountain at the edge of the ruins.
Sonetto: That means we'll need to cross the city to get there.
Sonetto: Perhaps it's best to report back to the Foundation and wait for reinforcements before going deeper.
Communicator: Beep-beep ...
Communicator: Buzz ...
Vertin: I'm afraid comms are down.
Sonetto: Could be another trick by Manus Vindictae, like the unnatural day-night cycle here.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, maybe we should fall back. Get out of here, fix the communicator, and call for support.
Vertin: That would be the safest choice, but according to Mr. Ulrich, the Foundation is tied up on the front lines.
Vertin: I doubt they'd be able to come to our aid in time. Besides, with every passing minute, we fall that much further behind Dr. Dores.
Vertin: I suggest we stay here and search the area. Perhaps we'll find something to point us in the right direction.
Sonetto scans the surroundings.
Sonetto: Well, there are no immediate signs of danger. It should be safe to look around.
Sonetto's wandering gaze finally settles on their human explorer.
Sonetto: But before we proceed, should we escort Ms. Amundsen back to the research station? There's a high probability that we'll come into conflict with the Manus now that we're so close. She'd be safer there.
Nautika: G-Go back? After all this?
Crouched on the ground sketching, Nautika's head jerks up.
Nautika: These ruins ... They're the only thing that has kept me going.
Her fingers tighten around the map as a whispered protest slips out, filled with both hope and defiance.
Nautika: No. I can't turn back now. I can't.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: It's okay, Sonetto. Nautika can come with me. We'll just look around the city's perimeter. You have my word.
Sonetto: Alright. Please be careful.
She nods and strides forward.
The snow, compacted by wind and time into a thick blanket, forms a welcoming path underfoot.
Nautika takes a breath, then leaps as gingerly as a hare. The white ground of the ruins seems to radiate from her impact.
Nautika: Ah. Then I can take some samples, right? Maybe even dig a little?
A determined gleam flickers in Nautika's eyes.
Sonetto: Yes, but please keep an eye out for anything suspicious while you work. The Manus might be closer than we think.
Sonetto: Oh, and before you go, let me enhance the warming incantation on you.
Sonetto steps lightly onto the snow.
All: Urghhh!
Ms. Radio: What in—Did we fall into a trap?
Ms. Radio: Is everyone alright?
Nautika: My arm ...
Sonetto: Timekeeper! Are you injured?
Vertin: I'm fine. Don't worry.
Nautika: The ground was probably already caved in. We must've stepped on the thin layer of ice left behind. Ugh, this happened back home once.
The group crashes through the snow trap, landing on a soft, semi-fluid surface.
Sonetto: Looks like we've fallen into some underground part of the city ruins. No signal here, either.
Sonetto: We need to get back to the surface and contact the Foundation as soon as possible.
Sonetto: ...!
She tries to stand but slips, barely keeping her face from slamming into the ice.
Sonetto: This is ...
Nautika: Black algae!
Nautika: Careful! It's slippery, remember? You need to walk around it.
Vertin: I've been meaning to ask: what is black algae, exactly?
Nautika: Aase, my team's arcanobiologist, was the first to notice it.
Nautika: It looks like algae, but it's actually a hybrid of an ancient fungus and I think some kind of fibrous plant. Luckily for me, she found that they were edible.
Nautika: This is what I ate after I ran out of food at the station.
Nautika climbs a few steps and peers deeper into the ruins.
Nautika: But, there's so much of it here. Look at the pattern. It looks like they've grown all the way from the foot of the volcano.
She dusts off her hands and hops down from the steps.
Nautika: This algae grows very fast and very violently. I saw one grow by a few dozen meters overnight. It's no wonder they can crack open ice and make those "earthquakes" happen.
Sonetto: Hmm. Perhaps it's a new type of arcane material. I imagine there'd be quite a debate over its classification.
Vertin: Alright. Let's just watch where we step.
Vertin: Nautika, do you have any idea where we are?
Nautika produces a familiar crumpled sheet of waterproof synthetic paper from her pocket.
Nautika: Oh, I think I do. I listened in on your conversation over the comm and filled in a few gaps on my map based on what your colleague said.
Nautika: Let's see. The ritual sanctuary is here, at the far end of the city, inside the dormant volcano.
Sonetto: Manus Vindictae will surely have that area heavily guarded.
Nautika: And outside the sanctuary entrance there's this, a kind of circular clearing, probably one of their daily ritual sites.
Nautika: And this is where we are, at the outskirts of the ruins.
Nautika: Just look at it—this ancient city—from here, all the way up to the foot of the volcano. It's, hah, it's incredible.
Nautika: Just imagine all the secrets and answers hidden away within these walls.
Vertin: If we're going to find out anything about Manus Vindictae's ritual, the answers will be in this city.
Vertin: Stay close, everyone. Let's head back to the exit of the labyrinth first.
Before the words are even spoken, Nautika has already begun to bound forward.
Nautika: Vertin, Vertin!
Nautika: Come look at this!
Heeding the call, the other two file into the nearest room.
Nautika is the first to reach out and touch what might be called furniture.
Nautika: A peridotite stone bed, a gneiss stone table and chairs ... Someone used to live here.
Nautika: It's so stark, even for life in Antarctica. Do you think this is where those masked Snow Monsters live?
Vertin: I can't say for sure, but the owner wasn't exactly subtle about their interests.
On the small altar sit retorts, water baths, and test tubes filled with red and green potions, while dark metallic powders are scattered across the surface.
Vertin: This is an alchemist's chamber.
After careful examination, Sonetto delicately extracts a manuscript from beneath the alchemical materials.
Sonetto: "This manuscript was written by the great Paracelsus, whose river of verses quenches our thirst for an endless life and whispers the secret of the Fountain of Youth."
Sonetto: "Transcribed by ... Cavendish." I can only make out the surname.
Vertin: The Fountain of Youth? What else does it say?
Sonetto: There are just a few verses and illustrations.
Vertin: Paracelsus ... Why does that name ring a bell?
Sonetto: Sixth grade, second semester, History of Alchemy, week 1 ... "The life of Paracelsus."
Sonetto: He was a pioneer in ancient alchemy and medicine. Legend has it that he invented a potion that could revive the dead.
REVIVE THE DEAD
A warning alarm sounds deep in her mind.
Vertin: Revive the dead ...
Vertin: There was an array in Tuesday's Motel, which the Foundation confirmed to be part of a resurrection ritual. And here in Manus Vindictae's city, there's a manuscript about a revival potion.
Vertin: Perhaps this is what their ritual is for. To bring back the dead.
Vertin: And the only person they'd go to such lengths to bring back is—
The answer is clear.
Arcana.
Sonetto: But what's Dr. Dores's part in all this?
Vertin: That's still unclear.
Vertin: But if Manus Vindictae needs her to complete their ritual, we're on borrowed time. I'm afraid waiting for reinforcements is no longer an option.
Vertin: We have to go through the city. Now, Sonetto.
Sonetto: Agreed. The situation may be more urgent than we thought. We can't afford to linger any longer.
Sonetto sighs and turns toward Nautika, who's busy grappling with the building's exterior.
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen, there's been a change of plan. We're entering the city.
Sonetto: We'll do everything we can to keep you safe, but there's no guarantee we'll—
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen?
Nautika had kept quiet during their discussions and continues to run her hand along the weathered stone walls without reply.
Nautika: You were right, Friele. The tales are true. The Mother Spirit is here at the southernmost edge of the world.
Nautika: This is Her resting place.
She presses her face against the stone, body warmth melting the thin snowdrift clinging to it.
"The first age ends, the tolling bells are rung. Before the last, a mournful dirge is sung."
"Alas! Where will our bones be laid to rest? O Mother, let us lie upon your breast."
The sound causes her ears to spring up and her head follows shortly after.
Nautika: Ah, Vertin. Here, this place. Oh. This is the place I've been searching for.
Vertin: ...?
Sonetto: ...
Nautika: Look, here, beneath the surface of this rock.
She taps the wall with her ice ax, causing pale fragments to flake off and reveal a translucent, milky crystal beneath.
Nautika: Feel it. It looks like chalcedony, right? But it's much heavier. This rock is totally unique to Antarctica. It's never been seen anywhere else. We call it Rock of the Blank Era.
Nautika: This is the exact same rock Friele and I studied!
Nautika: Three years ago, we ran a carbon dating test on the rock samples my grandfather brought back from Antarctica.
Nautika: When we ran the test on this rock, we found something strange. It was pointing to an era that didn't exist in any geological record.
Nautika: None of the other samples matched that strange era. We looked for other evidence, but we found nothing—no fossils, no minerals, no records.
Nautika: But then, when we couldn't think any longer, our folk tale suddenly came to mind, and it all started to make sense.
Nautika: Our book, Tales of the Mother Spirit, led me here, to the end of the Earth. It guided me to these ruins, to this very rock.
Sonetto: I see what you're saying, and I'm sure there's more to discover through this rock, but isn't it a little too soon to link it to your tale?
Nautika: I'm sure of it. This is the place.
Nautika: It's just like Máhtu said. This is where the Mother Spirit rests. There is no doubt.
Nautika: If I can bring more samples back to the lab, we might be able to figure out the connection between the Mother Spirit and the Blank Era. We can finally find out what it was like.
Vertin: ...
Lost in thought, Nautika continues to trace out the wall of the room, searching for its weakest point to extract an intact crystal.
Ms. Radio: Sorry to interrupt, but may I point something out?
Ms. Radio: sneeze
Ms. Radio: It's getting very cold in here. I can feel my resistance starting to drop.
Nautika: Vertin!
A soft exclamation from Nautika draws the others out.
Nautika: Mo-mon-monster ...
A pallid, grotesque figure stands before Nautika.
Its face is blank, its skin appearing to have been peeled and reattached inside-out.
It twitches as if watching the intruders from nonexistent eyes.
"Servant": wailing
Vertin: Don't provoke it. There's a chance it might just leave us be.
"Servant": wailing
Distant playful barks echo back through the walls, drawing a stark contrast to the scene.
"Servant": wailing
With a whimper, the humanoid creatures lurch toward the group.
COMBAT
Vertin: coughing
The enemy's strike shatters the weathered ground, sending them scrambling up from the rubble below.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, are you alright?
Vertin: Alive and well, and you? Where's Nautika?
They call out her name, but it goes unanswered.
Sonetto: She didn't fall through with us. She's still up there, alone.
Vertin: I don't hear any movement above us. Perhaps she's found a place to hide.
Vertin: Ms. Radio, could you get her on the comm?
Ms. Radio: I ... I'm trying.
A delicate moth brushes past her ear.
???: Is that girl with you?
Vertin: ...?
Countless pale and weightless moths stream forward from a fixed direction, reflecting in the bright polar light.
???: You're a tricky one to track, Timekeeper.
???: I'm ever so glad you've made it this far into the continent.
???: I'll admit, I'd be more than happy to welcome anyone from the Foundation here.
She approaches, her steps betraying a faint unsteadiness.
Ms. Grace: But, oh, what a pleasure it is that you, of all people, would be the one to show up.
Vertin: Grace? Is that you?
Her "old friend" seems to be recovering her breath from some kind of exertion.
Vertin: No. Who are you really? Kayla from the ranch? Captain Grace of the "Free Breeze"?
Vertin: Or ...
Ms. Grace: Or just a familiar stranger.
Ms. Grace: Who would ask a common moth its name? Who would even notice it if it weren't drawn to the flames?
Ms. Grace: So many lives have been lived through me—so many names taken.
Ms. Grace: Cecilie, Kayla, Grace ... I've been them all, yet never quite been any of them.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: So which one are you now? What's your goal here?
Sonetto already has her glasfeder raised, ready to fly into attack or defense as needed.
Ms. Stranger: No need to get worked up.
Ms. Stranger reaches out a hand.
Ms. Stranger: About Dr. Dores, or rather, Ms. Urd ...
Ms. Stranger: I have the final piece of the puzzle that will lead you to her.