Vertin: panting
The mist begins to rise.
Vertin: Yes, I've definitely seen it before. This is the same mist from the lake in my suitcase.
The deeper she ventures into the sanctuary, the thicker the mist grows, until each step feels meaningless and indistinct.
Vertin: Which way did I come from?
Amidst the endlessness, a single golden thread drifts down.
Vertin: A thread ...
Vertin: I can't seem to grasp it. It's like a wisp of smoke.
???: … ♪
Vertin: Who's there?
Investigating the source of the sound. At the far edge of the hazy mist, the faint outline of a rotating golden ring emerges.
A familiar sight. Just as it was millennia ago. Just as it was decades past. Just as it appeared yesterday.
Vertin: A spinner at the Wheel. I've seen this before, but where?
Yet nothing comes to mind.
A soft song tugs at the thread, guiding the way forward—the answers lie just ahead.
Come. Move forward. Step closer.
Until the memories deep within the mist are within reach.
Vertin: What have I forgotten?
Vertin: Where do things go when we forget them?
???: Are you looking for this?
A hat. A deep indigo hat tied with a soft teal ribbon.
Vertin: Oh, yes, my hat. Thank you.
Vertin: I didn't even realize it was gone.
Vertin: It's ever so important to me. Where did you find it?
???: Along the path you took.
She points into the distance. The fierce summer light blurs her view of the SPDM.
Vertin: Must've been another one of Joseph's pranks. Thank you for bringing it back to me.
Vertin: Are you a new staff member in the school? I don't believe I've seen you before.
Vertin: Though, strangely, I feel as though we've met before, a long time ago.
???: Heh-heh ...
A breeze sweeps by, carrying the trailing notes of a laugh.
???: We will see more of one another in the time to come.
The wind rustles through her hair, then nothing.
She looks down at her empty hands.
Vertin: When did that happen?
The golden thread urges her onward, while the song at the other end lingers.
???: Sail, sail free,
???: my heart and light.
Vertin: Wave your home a last goodbye.
Unnoticed, the Wheel spins out a length of thread.
Vertin: Wave your home a last goodbye.
Student III: What's that song you're singing, Vertin?
Vertin: It's a song I heard in a dream.
Student III: I dream about songs too—about my mom and dad singing them to me. They sing and say all kinds of stuff, but when I wake up, I can't seem to remember any of it.
Student III: It's nice that you remember, though. What was your dream about?
Vertin: I'm not sure. I don't think I really dream at all.
Vertin: But sometimes, just before I fall asleep, I feel someone sit beside me. She strokes my hair and sings this song.
Vertin: But when I wake up, there's nobody there.
Student III: That doesn't seem like a dream to me. Maybe one of the instructors comes to check on you at night?
Vertin: I don't think so. Even though I don't remember her face, I know she isn't one of the instructors because I feel like I know her.
Student III: It sounds like a fairy tale. A lady singing by your bed at night.
Student III: Do you remember anything else?
Vertin: Hmm ...
Vertin: Not really. I'm not even sure if she's real.
Vertin: But when she looks at me, it feels warm, like being in the sun, like we are now.
She turns, reaching out as if to grasp the sun.
At the edge of her vision, she catches a glimpse of that familiar silhouette.
Vertin: ...!
Student III: Vertin?
But when she looks, there are only fallen leaves drifting away from the forest's edge.
???: So sleep my baby, grow bright, grow firm.
The Wheel completes another rotation. And the song falls silent.
???: That voice ... Vertin?
???: Vertin ...
Vertin: ...
The same dream again. No, is it even a dream?
It feels different today. The familiar warmth of song is absent, replaced by a chilled silence.
???: ...
Cool fingertips trace across brows, nose, cheeks, lips, mapping every contour.
At last, that hand comes to rest over her eyes.
???: My child ...
???: Tread the path you must tread, turn the page you must turn,
???: and seek the answer you must seek.
A kiss falls on her forehead, cold liquid trailing after it like rain.
This is the final farewell.
The hand lifts from her eyes. The figure at her bedside rises and leaves without even a word.
No! She can't leave like this!
Wake up. Shake off this warm, alluring slumber. Rise up to meet reality, harsh, but true. Try to catch that scattering wisp of wind.
Wake up!
Vertin: No ...
Vertin: Stay with me—
Vertin: ...!
The scene in her memory dissolves.
And overlapping with that figure she's been chasing is a face filled with concern.
???: Are you alright, child?
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Dr. Dores?
Vertin: No. That isn't right.
Vertin: Who are you? Marta, Bessmert, Urd?
Doctor Dores: I'm Dr. Dores. My pen name is indeed "Urd."
Doctor Dores: I might have published a few stories under that name, but I've never spoken of it to anyone. How did you come to know it was me?
Vertin: I ... I've been looking for you for a long time. I've followed your trail across the world.
Doctor Dores: Ah. I can only imagine how hard such a journey must have been for you, dear child.
Dores's hand rests upon her head, stirring a warmth thick with nostalgia.
Doctor Dores: But I'm afraid the other names you mentioned don't belong to me.
Vertin: ...
Doctor Dores: You're Vertin, aren't you? I believe we met briefly in São Paulo.
Doctor Dores: But tell me, how did you come to be here?
Vertin: I'm ... I'm here for you, and to stop Manus Vindictae's ritual.
Doctor Dores: Manus Vindictae? Forgive me, child. I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean.
Vertin: steadying breath Allow me to explain.
Vertin: I'm an arcanist of the St. Pavlov Foundation. We have intel that a dangerously powerful ritual is soon to be performed here.
Vertin: In the interest of your own safety, I must ask you to come with me to the Foundation headquarters.
Doctor Dores: I see.
Doctor Dores: I will go with you, but not just yet.
Doctor Dores: There is something I must finish—these threads I'm spinning.
Vertin: Threads?
Doctor Dores: Yes. Others don't seem to see them, but I do.
Doctor Dores: It's strange. I don't know what they are, but I know how to spin them. Does that sound ridiculous to you?
Vertin: Not at all. In fact, I can see them too.
Vertin: But perhaps we should do it together, later, when the danger has subsided.
Slowly, firmly, Dores shakes her head.
Doctor Dores: There may not be a "later." I must finish this now.
Vertin: Why?
Vertin: Is this worth more than your life?
Doctor Dores: I believe it is.
Doctor Dores: These threads must be spun so the all-ruling law may be woven.
Doctor Dores: That is my purpose—my calling. That is why I was led here.
Doctor Dores: That's why you're here too, is it not? To answer your calling?
Vertin: My calling? You mean—
Doctor Dores: My child. I may be blind of sight, but my senses are clear.
Doctor Dores: This is a path you must tread, a page you must turn.
Doctor Dores: This is the answer you must seek.
Vertin: ...!
The words sound familiar.
No more is said. Dores turns away, hands returning to the spindle.
And in that instant, her figure merges with memories of the past.
Vertin: No ...
She hears herself cry out in desperation. But the Spinning Wheel has already begun to turn.
Vertin: No, stay with me—
Vertin: Mum!
Vertin: This is ...?
Doctor Dores: Vertin?
The water rises.
More and more water rises.
Doctor Dores: How can this be?
Doctor Dores: No. This can't be my calling.
Believers: Tides run in blind by their ever-be routine,
Believers: Staining that Heaven with obscene calamity.
Believers: The breaker of death's shackles shall rule us all,
Believers: From this day forth, and evermore.
Believers & Animus: The blessing of the coming age is near. And, humbly, we kneel to receive such grace.
Believers & Animus: O Glorious One, walk the Earth again—
Believers & Animus: Shape this land with your mighty, vengeful hands!
Animus: Heh. Ms. Urd. We owe you our thanks for starting the ritual.
Animus: At last, we are no longer lost.
Animus: For the Guiding One is risen!
