Liberi Reader

The icy wind slowly comes to a stop.

An azure lake gleams above the vast, tranquil snowfield.

Kjerag's winters are cold, and the water freezes over naturally, yet its surface remains a mirror, softly reflecting the blue of the sky.

A figure appears at the center of the lake.

Enya thought of many things she wanted to say during her long journey here.

These thoughts sway through her mind alongside all the questions she wants to ask, like a cup filled to the brim. From time to time it would make some noise, but now that she looks inside after her eternity of waiting, she finds it dry, long dry.

What should she say? What could she say?

The friend she was searching for stands before her, her warm hands caressing her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Just like she always did.

Her friend's voice is still as dear as it ever was.

Enya raises her hands, holding onto the warm hands cupping her cheeks.

The snows of Karlan are tall and far, as pure white as stacked clouds. The wind blows from deep ravines, gently sweeping by the great land of Kjerag.

Snowflakes fall from the wind's embrace and melt with spring. They travel through Karlan's streams into the lake, then seep into the depths of the earth.

From there, the sun's rays lift the water, the mists returning to the horizon. They pile up into clouds, before turning into the next round of snow.

Their hands refuse to let go of each other. The warmth as they lean upon one another lights a spark in their bodies.

The illusion disappears, like waking from a dream. The cave is still as gloomy as it was earlier. The Saintess of Kjerag turns to the massive statue.

Broken clumps of snow spiral around her, before being dispersed by the wind.

A single snowflake remains in the palm of her hand. A perfect, flawless hexagon.

It does not melt, nor flit through the air. It simply waits quietly like a guardian, unmoving for eons.

The Saintess stretches out her hand, softly stroking the perplexed woman's head, treating her like any other devotee who has come to her for confession.

Elena and Joanna follow along behind Enya, the three of them running through the passage they came through.

At the entrance of the cave, they see a familiar figure once again.

They are unsure why, but in the short time they were away, the old man seems to have aged ten years.

The elder of the Vine-Bead Court falls to the ground, as if all the strength has been sapped from him.

The old man hobbles along the rugged trail, walking towards the depths of the mountains. It is where he has consigned himself to.

He stops by the side of a cliff.

The sky suddenly clears, the fierce sunlight dazzling the old man's eyes.

He sees the rays of light tear through the clouds. His chest, too, seems to burn.

The officer raises his blade high as he gives the civilians a stern warning, but none of them budge.

Soon, more and more people begin to gather.

Clerics, craftsmen, herdsmen, merchants... They stand across from the soldiers by their own accord, forming a silent wall.

One person squeezes out from the crowd. She raises her hands, walking between the two groups.

Several operators dressed in Rhodes Island uniforms follow behind her.

The gloomy sky suddenly clears. As one, everyone lifts their heads.

The clouds covering the heavens disperse, replaced by a rainbow spanning the horizon.

And so, all cruelty and fear are wiped from the hearts of men.

The sunlight dazzles the eyes, as if it were advice, or perhaps deterrent.

The soldiers cannot help but lay down their arms.