Moldir: This is ...
Moldir steps down from the helicopter, watching drops float upward.
Buddy Fairchild: Butter my backside and call me a biscuit! Rain pullin' itself right off the ground and risin' up into the sky! I ain't never seen nuttin' like it!
Moldir yanks Sergeant Buddy Fairchild back by his coat before he can dash into the rain.
Moldir: Careful, Sergeant. Stay clear of those raindrops.
She scans the horizon. The flood no longer pours out across the land; instead, it ascends back into the sky.
Moldir: The sea level is dropping.
Moldir: I can hardly believe it. The plan actually worked.
Moldir: I guess you're less of a fool than I thought, Mr. Ulrich.
Ulrich: I was only one part of the plan.
Ulrich: I wonder how Vertin's doing down there. She's the one you should be thanking.
Moldir: I'll make sure I do.
Moldir: The "Storm" is growing heavy.
Moldir: I wonder have my people in São Paulo found shelter?
Guard: I knew I wasn't mad for bringing a few extra Equilibrium Umbrellas. Boss, get under here!
Ulrich nods and looks at the collapsed mountain.
Every trace has been erased by the "Storm." The ferrofluid flows through his tank without any trace of emotion.
Ulrich: The ritual has been disrupted, and the "Flood" is turning into a "Storm."
Ulrich: Then, does that mean ...
Ulrich: All the "Storms" were the result of a failed "Flood"?
On distant ships, Equilibrium Umbrellas snap open one by one.
Admiral Somme looks out over Antarctica.
Admiral Somme: The ritual has been halted, just as it was in 1999.
Admiral Somme: And now comes another "Storm." History has a way of repeating itself, it seems.
Behind him, crisp boots step forward.
Creius: Where will it take us this time? Back to the past? Or into the future?
Admiral Somme: Perhaps this is the best outcome we could have hoped for.
Admiral Somme: We might have suffered many more casualties.
Creius: Agreed, sir.
Creius: The Timekeeper has certainly exceeded her reputation—quite remarkable indeed.
Admiral Somme: Regardless, the battle is over.
Creius: But our respite will be brief.
Creius: After all, the "Storm" won't last for long.
In the "Storm," firearms and artillery rise one after another.
Vertin: Urhm ...
Sonetto: Timekeeper!
Vertin: Sonetto? Nautika?
Nautika: You're awake! We were searching and searching, and we couldn't find you anywhere, and we were so worried and ... and ...
Sonetto: We found you in the sanctuary ruins after the "Flood" subsided. I don't see any issues with your physical condition, but ...
Sonetto: How are you feeling? Any discomfort?
Vertin: The Spinning Wheel ...
Sonetto: ...
Sonetto: The only piece of it we found was the one that you were holding in your hand when we found you.
Sonetto: It looks almost identical to the one we have in the suitcase. I assumed it was important, so I put it in the suitcase for safekeeping.
Sonetto: Probably best to keep it in there for now.
Vertin: Wait. Is that rain I hear?
Sonetto: Yes. It's the "Storm." The "Flood" transformed into it.
Sonetto: But don't worry. We're safe within the sanctuary walls.
Vertin: ...
Pushing upright, she looks out.
The "Storm" purges all things.
Yet at the edge of vision, a familiar silhouette appears like a haze within the rising rain.
Vertin: That's ...
Vertin: Dr. Dores?
Her feet move on their own, chasing the distant image.
Vertin: Dr. Dores, wait!
Vertin: I-I still have things I need to ask you!
The figure stops. This time, she turns.
Doctor Dores: Vertin.
The "Storm" blurs her face.
Doctor Dores: We all walk our own paths, seeking our own answers.
Doctor Dores: But our paths will surely cross again.
The rain dissolves the figure, carrying it away—impossible to tell whether anything truly stood there or if it was just a waking dream.
Except for the song, familiar and bright drifting down from beyond the sky.
Sail, sail free, my heart and light.
Wave your home a last goodbye.
Go and seek the Golden Fleece.
In the land of endless peace.
Sail, sail free, my heart and light.
Find your home beneath your feet.
Winter, spring, the years they turn.
Let your heart grow brave and strong.
Like the elm and redwood tree
Stand through the storm, tall and free
Winter, Spring, the years they turn
So sleep my baby, grow bright, grow firm
