Wrinkling her brow, Rin wonders where the persistent, rhythmic noise is coming from—until she realizes it's the sound of her own teeth chattering from the cold. A few meters ahead, Orchid leads the way, probing the snow with her raptorial legs as she presses them into the ground. Normally so vibrant, the giant mantis’s colors have dulled; her soft pink hues have faded into a harsh, cold white, almost translucent.

Bundled up in her thick coat, the young Muna trudges sluggishly through the footprints left by her Chimera. Every step is a challenge, and she stumbles, exhausted and groggy. Of course, she knows she could use Alteration to warm herself a little, but even the thought of it tires her. Still, she must keep moving, toward that summit that never seems to get any closer.

Though the Belasenka territory is far behind them, things haven’t improved. It’s as if the higher they climb, the harsher the cold grows; as if, despite the thinning air, the winds only grow sharper, more relentless.

Maybe it was the wrath of Kuraokami—the dragon they had set out to free, the one they had been journeying toward for weeks now. Or maybe it was simply the cruelty of the weather.

Rin shivers. She still has a few drops of Mana left, of course—enough to help if she found herself in a dire situation. But wasn’t she already? On her last expedition, she had used the Mana Kiddo had brought her to grow a thicket, just to shield herself from the wind. It had drained her completely.

Her fingers brush against the small flask in her pocket, the one holding her last reserves of Mana. A reassurance, or perhaps just an attempt to steady herself. With it, she still has a few tricks up her sleeve…

Step by step, she moves forward. But as she does, an unspoken fear slowly slithers to the surface of her mind. What if it was already too late? What if she was just lying to herself? No. She couldn’t think like that. The summit wasn’t that far.

But was it normal for the world to sway so violently?

She had been so tired for the past few hours. Maybe a short nap would do her good… The safety of her tent, the warmth of a campfire, the comforting scent of a fish roasting. No, Ukai, not even in your dreams. That fish was hers. She had scaled it, gutted it under her father’s watchful eye. Why was he laughing, anyway? Probably just teasing her, as always.

Rin blinks and shakes her head. She can’t give in to daydreams, to the illusion of warmth. She has to push through this place at any cost, if she ever hopes to find where she truly belongs—to reconnect with her roots.

She listens carefully, and for a moment, through the howling wind, she swears she hears someone calling her name. Was it Kuraokami, roaring his fury? No, it was her father’s voice. It was Yonago, urging her forward, calling her to the dock to help him cast his nets.

This way. Over here, little one!

But as she moves to join him, her foot catches on a rope, and she feels herself falling—tumbling toward the turquoise waters of the lagoon.

Somewhere, far away, so far away, she hears Orchid chittering, her mandibles clicking. A warning? But for what?

The ground vanishes beneath her feet. A hazy mist swirls around her, swallowing her whole. A white darkness embraces her.

Above her, a petal quivers, stretched taut like fabric. She recognizes the inside of a floral tent, tossed about by the whining wind. But… hadn’t she used the last of her magic beans?

Propping herself up on her elbows, she realizes she’s covered by a thick fur, surrounded by belongings that aren’t hers. Her clothes—strangely dry—have been neatly folded and set nearby. She hurriedly dresses.

Ouch. A sudden sting pricks her hand—an unseen needle lodged between her index finger and thumb. Rin carefully plucks it out and sucks at the tiny bead of blood welling up on her skin.

Where is she?

Once dressed, she pushes aside the tent’s overlapping petals, squeezing through the narrow opening. A biting cold greets her, along with an overwhelming darkness. But it isn’t night, nor even dusk. She stands on a rocky pass, scattered with patches of hardened snow. Towering cliffs loom on either side, stretching toward the storm-laden sky. A sheer gorge cuts through the mountain, as if a great rift had split the peak in two.

A harsh wind whistles through the canyon, and she shivers.

‘Good. You’re awake.’

Rin turns toward the voice and exhales in relief—it’s Arjun. They sit beside a crackling fire, half-hidden by a ring of stones. They’re wrapped in a heavy coat, inhaling a slow pull from their pipe. Their gnarled staff rests beside them, propped against a bundle of drying gear.

Rin is drawn toward the warmth like a moth to a flame.

‘Where are we?’, she asks, a little sheepishly.

‘Somewhere safe from the snowstorm outside’, they reply simply. ‘Come warm yourself. We have a tough climb ahead of us.’

As she takes in the massive boulders strewn across the ravine, Rin finally realizes the scale of the cliffs towering above them. Climb those? They’re slick with ice, smooth and steep. But she’s too drained to argue. She drops onto the fur-lined ground beside Arjun, nearly collapsing.

‘And Orchid?’

‘Your Chimera? She went hunting, I think. A rabbit, maybe a marmot. She insisted on finding you something to help you recover.’

Rin pulls her ermine-lined collar tighter around her neck.

‘And yours?’

‘It’s been days since he left for the Tumult. The entire summit has become a singularity since it hit us. Luckily, the Oasis is still holding strong. We’re safe at this altitude.’

Rin glances upward, where pink currents pulse through the clouds like shifting auroras.

‘Up there?’

Arjun nods.

‘Spike shed his form to ride the Tumult’s currents. I can feel him descending, step by step.’

They sound proud of their Alter Ego. And why wouldn’t they be?

Rin’s eyes drift to the kettle steaming over the embers. The glowing coals beneath it—undoubtedly conjured through Alteration—make her smile.

‘Wait’, she says, rummaging through her satchel.

Satisfied, she gingerly lifts the kettle by its handle and sets it beside her. Arjun raises an eyebrow as she unwraps a small cloth bundle, revealing clumps of dried herbs—thyme and verbena, sage and chamomile, lemon balm and mint.

She pinches some between her fingers, crumbles them, and drops them into the hot water. A fragrant aroma fills the air, only to be whisked away by the relentless wind.

‘What happened?’, she finally asks. ‘Where did you find me?’

The Alterer exhales.

‘I saw you stumbling through the blizzard. But you were heading straight for the edge of a sérac. I called out to you as loud as I could…’

‘I fell?’

"Luckily, not far and straight into the powder. I had to dig you out, with your Chimera’s help. You were freezing, but still breathing…’

Rin watches the herbs infuse, turning the water a delicate shade of brown.

‘Thank you for saving me.’

‘You would have done the same’, they say simply. ‘Now repay me by pouring some tea. Once we’ve warmed up, I have something interesting to show you.’

Rin smiles and takes the cup they offer, filling it with the steaming amber liquid.

‘What is this’, she exclaims, touching the gnarled, crystalline form.

It stands at least ten feet tall—at least, for the part that emerges above ground—spanning maybe six feet across and twenty feet in length. Looking inside, she can see an intricate network of vein-like lines tracing its curves.

The Alterer runs her fingers over the structure’s smooth surface, which seems to rise from the earth only to plunge back down again, barely skimming the rocky ground. More of them surround them—dense, opalescent protrusions twisting and snaking through the debris. It looks like a river made of ice or crystal, as if it had fossilized over time.

Looking up, she sees others jutting from the sheer cliffs or threading through them like caterpillars burrowing into the flesh of an apple.

‘They're roots’, Arjun says.

‘Roots?’, Rin echoes in surprise.

She leans in, cupping her hands around her face to peer deeper inside the iridescent material. It’s like gazing into an enormous gemstone—an opal, like the ones so common in the Nutsuwa Highlands, but far larger than a manatee.

‘Probably those of a world-tree, similar to the Spindle…’

By instinct, she connects to the Skein, hoping to properly greet the ancient entity. But awe quickly gives way to a deep, aching sorrow.

‘But…’

Arjun places a hand on her shoulder.

‘Yes, it’s dead. Has been for a long time, probably. Its wood has even transformed into a substance I can't quite identify…’

Tears well up in Rin's eyes, unable to push back the wave of grief.

‘There’s nothing more to be done, Rin’, they say gently. ‘Except to understand what happened to it, so the same fate doesn't befall on the Katkera.’

She turns to them, her gaze misty.

‘Is that what you intend to do?’

They nod.

‘So, you're trying to discover where you come from?’

Rin nods, brushing the snow from her hands as she finishes climbing over the boulder blocking their path.

‘Kiddo says it's very far. Even farther than the horizon…’

Arjun looks thoughtful as they join her on the ledge. Everything here is bathed in shades of blue, as if they were inside an ice cavern—the stone, their skin, even the air they breathe. Behind them, the cerulean moraine stretches for miles, scattered with massive boulders that must have fallen from above. They’ve already traveled so far… To their left, a frozen waterfall clings to a fractured cliff, crowned with dozens of stalactites.

Arjun strokes their beard, lost in thought.

‘For my part, I’m lucky to have a large family. We haven't moved much over the generations, and we've never stopped working the same land. Our roots run deep in the soil we till…’

Rin exhales, a plume of vapor escaping her lips.

‘And I guess that makes me a seed that’s traveled far, then…’

She crouches, peering into a hollow where clear water slumbers.

‘But you know’, she continues, ‘I was lucky enough to land exactly where I needed to be. I have a father I love, and who loves me. In the end, I couldn’t have asked for better.’

She thinks about Yonago, to their excursions through the blue forest…

‘Then why not be content with that?’

Seeing her slightly embarrassed expression, Arjun offers a reassuring smile.

‘Though there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know your origins.’

‘I know’, she replies. ‘It’s like the salmon in my region. They swim upstream every season, year after year, guided by instinct.’

‘I see. So, for you, it’s a homing run of sorts.’

Rin smiles back.

‘You could say that, yeah!’

She dashes ahead, leaping over the stream with the boundless energy of the child she still is. For hours now, the two Exalts have followed the water’s course—from a supraglacial lake to a steep moulin, passing through narrow passages where it ran beneath the ice.

Arjun leans on their staff and resumes walking, thinking it might soon be time to strap on their crampons again.

‘Arjun!’, Rin suddenly shouts.

The Alterer quickens their pace, coming to stand beside her. They start to speak but fall silent, struck speechless by the sight before them.

A few leagues away, an unbelievable form stretches toward the sky. A vast network of roots and branches sprawls outward, filling the gorge with fractal, azure light. In the middle of the canyon, a cyclopean trunk curves along the rock face, as if, while growing, it had pushed the two cliffs apart to make room for itself within the mountain. Arjun and Rin stand in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the sheer magnificence of what lies before them.

Tears slip down the Alterer’s cheeks, crystallizing into tiny frozen gems within their thick beard. A mixture of sorrow and wonder swells in their heart, unable to tear their gaze away from the sight before them.

Suddenly, what had seemed like dense foliage begins to stir, rippling like an impossibly vast murmuration… They are swarms—hordes of Mana Moths, whirling and dancing like waves, like currents, like rivers of wings in the air…

Encircling this world-tree, whose heart glows with the color of sapphire.