Duet Night Abyss story · Side stories
The Bloodstained Stones
Chapter Noctoyager
3 scenes, 367 lines
1. Head to Icelake to investigate the source of the bloodstained Phoxene
54 linesS, Scoot if you ain't buying any Phoxene... Stop drawing the soldiers' attention to me...
(Despite his strong, powerful build, the man cowers in the corner. His shifty gaze and the bag of Phoxene by his side suggest he's desperate to rid himself of it but hesitant to ask for help.)
I'm not buying, but I can find you a buyer if we split it fifty-fifty.
Do you need help?
This is illegal in the Empire. You should leave if you don't want any trouble.
Show some mercy and look the other way, please. Once I sell this load of Phoxene I'll leave Icelake at once and never ever come back.
Ahem! The Legion commissioned me to search the likes of you. Show me your travel permit!
(The man grabs his bag and bolts. After a breathless chase, you manage to tell him who you really are and convince him you were joking. In a hushed voice, he reveals his dire circumstances.)
Find me a buyer and I'll let you take 70 percents! No, 80! Please! I really need the help!
(You've agreed to the man's request. But the way his eyes dart about, and the dried streaks of crimson on the sack he's hauling, hint that there's more to this Phoxene than he's letting on.)
(Might be wiser to hold off finding a buyer for now and figure out where exactly this haul came from.)
(Wait... was that a glint of light just now, flickering through the grass?)
(You part the grass, but there's nothing there. Must've been a trick of the light.)
(You part the grass, and there it is: a shard of Phoxene, faintly aglow, streaked with the same dried red as the sack Larry was carrying.)
Doesn't seem like the kind of day where Phoxene just drops into my lap... especially not bloodstained ones. Yeah, something's definitely off.
Roaaaar...!
Better deal with these Filthoids first...
(Scattered debris litters the ground, pebbles from the lake, snapped branches, and splinters of masonry. Judging by the mess, a fight broke out here.)
(Among the rubble, you spot scraps of torn fabric and tufts of stuffing... the same kind as on that man's threadbare clothes.)
(Sifting through the wreckage, you uncover another small Phoxene shard, stained dark with blood.)
(The footprints are a tangled mess, crisscrossing wildly through the dirt, but there's something telling. No claw marks. No beast tracks. Just human prints.)
(A long drag mark scores the earth, trailing off into the distance, as if something heavy had been hauled away.)
Hm... it's coming together now. The blood on that Phoxene, it came from:
Humans
(That's right. No beast tracks. No Filthoid claws. Just humans.)
Beasts
(No... if beasts had passed through, there'd be pawprints or claw marks.)
Filthoids
(No... if Filthoids had been here, there'd be gouges and claw marks all over.)
Looks like there was a fight here... probably over that sack of Phoxene. Now then, what's my next move?
That Phoxene was taken in blood anyway. Why shouldn't I claim it for myself?
That guy did some really bad things. Better report him to the Escort.
You've done something you're not proud of... haven't you?
This little Phoxene nugget, maybe you don't remember it, but it remembers you. And so does the one whose blood is on it.
I... I don't know what you're talking about!
I don't need your help anymore, just leave me alone!
Easy. The Escort's on their way. I could make them turn around, but that'll cost you. Let's say... one sack of Phoxene.
You...! I...
Up to you. Stay and greet them if you want.
I'm fine either way. Take your time and think it over, oh wait, I forgot the Escort aren't exactly known for their patience.
Fine! You want it? Take it! All yours!
Take this bloody sack of Phoxene... it's all because of this damn thing! If we hadn't stumbled across it... my mates would still be alive!
If they were, we'd be packing up by now... hell, we'd probably be down at the tavern already, raising a full pint of malt to a good day's haul...
We'd drink 'til we sloshed. Shoot the breeze 'til the stars went out. And tomorrow... we'd...
No... I... I can't give it to you!
You tricked me! There's no Escort coming, you just wanted the Phoxene for yourself!
You killed your mates for these shiny rocks, didn't you? Same way you just tried to kill me?
They attacked me first... I... I was defending myself!
And you, don't act high and mighty! You're after the Phoxene too, aren't you? What makes you any different from me!?
Grown men pay for their mistakes. Think of this sack of Phoxene as your price.
I'm no saint, and you're no better than me. But at least I'm letting you live. Now get lost.
(The bloodstained Phoxene sits heavy in your hand. Heavier than it should be, almost as if it might twist itself into a gaping maw, waiting to devour the next "Larry" who gets too close.)
Look down and search
(After dispatching the troublesome Filthoids, you spot something half-buried in the dirt. Curious, you move in for a closer look.)
2. Look into the source of the bloodstained Phoxene in Icelake
54 linesS, Scoot if you ain't buying any Phoxene... Stop drawing the soldiers' attention to me...
(Despite his strong, powerful build, the man cowers in the corner. His shifty gaze and the bag of Phoxene by his side suggest he's desperate to rid himself of it but hesitant to ask for help.)
I'm not buying, but I can find you a buyer if we split it fifty-fifty.
Do you need help?
This is illegal in the Empire. You should leave if you don't want any trouble.
Show some mercy and look the other way, please. Once I sell this load of Phoxene I'll leave Icelake at once and never ever come back.
Ahem! The Legion commissioned me to search the likes of you. Show me your travel permit!
(The man grabs his bag and bolts. After a breathless chase, you manage to tell him who you really are and convince him you were joking. In a hushed voice, he reveals his dire circumstances.)
Find me a buyer and I'll let you take 70 percents! No, 80! Please! I really need the help!
(You've agreed to the man's request. But the way his eyes dart about, and the dried streaks of crimson on the sack he's hauling, hint that there's more to this Phoxene than he's letting on.)
(Might be wiser to hold off finding a buyer for now and figure out where exactly this haul came from.)
(Wait... was that a glint of light just now, flickering through the grass?)
(You part the grass, but there's nothing there. Must've been a trick of the light.)
(You part the grass, and there it is: a shard of Phoxene, faintly aglow, streaked with the same dried red as the sack Larry was carrying.)
Doesn't seem like the kind of day where Phoxene just drops into my lap... especially not bloodstained ones. Yeah, something's definitely off.
Roaaaar...!
Better deal with these Filthoids first...
(Scattered debris litters the ground, pebbles from the lake, snapped branches, and splinters of masonry. Judging by the mess, a fight broke out here.)
(Among the rubble, you spot scraps of torn fabric and tufts of stuffing... the same kind as on that man's threadbare clothes.)
(Sifting through the wreckage, you uncover another small Phoxene shard, stained dark with blood.)
(The footprints are a tangled mess, crisscrossing wildly through the dirt, but there's something telling. No claw marks. No beast tracks. Just human prints.)
(A long drag mark scores the earth, trailing off into the distance, as if something heavy had been hauled away.)
Hm... it's coming together now. The blood on that Phoxene, it came from:
Humans
(That's right. No beast tracks. No Filthoid claws. Just humans.)
Beasts
(No... if beasts had passed through, there'd be pawprints or claw marks.)
Filthoids
(No... if Filthoids had been here, there'd be gouges and claw marks all over.)
Looks like there was a fight here... probably over that sack of Phoxene. Now then, what's my next move?
That Phoxene was taken in blood anyway. Why shouldn't I claim it for myself?
That guy did some really bad things. Better report him to the Escort.
You've done something you're not proud of... haven't you?
This little Phoxene nugget, maybe you don't remember it, but it remembers you. And so does the one whose blood is on it.
I... I don't know what you're talking about!
I don't need your help anymore, just leave me alone!
Easy. The Escort's on their way. I could make them turn around, but that'll cost you. Let's say... one sack of Phoxene.
You...! I...
Up to you. Stay and greet them if you want.
I'm fine either way. Take your time and think it over, oh wait, I forgot the Escort aren't exactly known for their patience.
Fine! You want it? Take it! All yours!
Take this bloody sack of Phoxene... it's all because of this damn thing! If we hadn't stumbled across it... my mates would still be alive!
If they were, we'd be packing up by now... hell, we'd probably be down at the tavern already, raising a full pint of malt to a good day's haul...
We'd drink 'til we sloshed. Shoot the breeze 'til the stars went out. And tomorrow... we'd...
No... I... I can't give it to you!
You tricked me! There's no Escort coming, you just wanted the Phoxene for yourself!
You killed your mates for these shiny rocks, didn't you? Same way you just tried to kill me?
They attacked me first... I... I was defending myself!
And you, don't act high and mighty! You're after the Phoxene too, aren't you? What makes you any different from me!?
Grown men pay for their mistakes. Think of this sack of Phoxene as your price.
I'm no saint, and you're no better than me. But at least I'm letting you live. Now get lost.
(The bloodstained Phoxene sits heavy in your hand. Heavier than it should be, almost as if it might twist itself into a gaping maw, waiting to devour the next "Larry" who gets too close.)
Look down and search
(After dispatching the troublesome Filthoids, you spot something half-buried in the dirt. Curious, you move in for a closer look.)
3. Go back to find Larry
259 linesS, Scoot if you ain't buying any Phoxene... Stop drawing the soldiers' attention to me...
(Despite his strong, powerful build, the man cowers in the corner. His shifty gaze and the bag of Phoxene by his side suggest he's desperate to rid himself of it but hesitant to ask for help.)
I'm not buying, but I can find you a buyer if we split it fifty-fifty.
Do you need help?
This is illegal in the Empire. You should leave if you don't want any trouble.
Show some mercy and look the other way, please. Once I sell this load of Phoxene I'll leave Icelake at once and never ever come back.
Ahem! The Legion commissioned me to search the likes of you. Show me your travel permit!
(The man grabs his bag and bolts. After a breathless chase, you manage to tell him who you really are and convince him you were joking. In a hushed voice, he reveals his dire circumstances.)
Find me a buyer and I'll let you take 70 percents! No, 80! Please! I really need the help!
(You've agreed to the man's request. But the way his eyes dart about, and the dried streaks of crimson on the sack he's hauling, hint that there's more to this Phoxene than he's letting on.)
(Might be wiser to hold off finding a buyer for now and figure out where exactly this haul came from.)
(Wait... was that a glint of light just now, flickering through the grass?)
(You part the grass, but there's nothing there. Must've been a trick of the light.)
(You part the grass, and there it is: a shard of Phoxene, faintly aglow, streaked with the same dried red as the sack Larry was carrying.)
Doesn't seem like the kind of day where Phoxene just drops into my lap... especially not bloodstained ones. Yeah, something's definitely off.
Roaaaar...!
Better deal with these Filthoids first...
(Scattered debris litters the ground, pebbles from the lake, snapped branches, and splinters of masonry. Judging by the mess, a fight broke out here.)
(Among the rubble, you spot scraps of torn fabric and tufts of stuffing... the same kind as on that man's threadbare clothes.)
(Sifting through the wreckage, you uncover another small Phoxene shard, stained dark with blood.)
(The footprints are a tangled mess, crisscrossing wildly through the dirt, but there's something telling. No claw marks. No beast tracks. Just human prints.)
(A long drag mark scores the earth, trailing off into the distance, as if something heavy had been hauled away.)
Hm... it's coming together now. The blood on that Phoxene, it came from:
Humans
(That's right. No beast tracks. No Filthoid claws. Just humans.)
Beasts
(No... if beasts had passed through, there'd be pawprints or claw marks.)
Filthoids
(No... if Filthoids had been here, there'd be gouges and claw marks all over.)
Looks like there was a fight here... probably over that sack of Phoxene. Now then, what's my next move?
That Phoxene was taken in blood anyway. Why shouldn't I claim it for myself?
That guy did some really bad things. Better report him to the Escort.
You've done something you're not proud of... haven't you?
This little Phoxene nugget, maybe you don't remember it, but it remembers you. And so does the one whose blood is on it.
I... I don't know what you're talking about!
I don't need your help anymore, just leave me alone!
Easy. The Escort's on their way. I could make them turn around, but that'll cost you. Let's say... one sack of Phoxene.
You...! I...
Up to you. Stay and greet them if you want.
I'm fine either way. Take your time and think it over, oh wait, I forgot the Escort aren't exactly known for their patience.
Fine! You want it? Take it! All yours!
Take this bloody sack of Phoxene... it's all because of this damn thing! If we hadn't stumbled across it... my mates would still be alive!
If they were, we'd be packing up by now... hell, we'd probably be down at the tavern already, raising a full pint of malt to a good day's haul...
We'd drink 'til we sloshed. Shoot the breeze 'til the stars went out. And tomorrow... we'd...
No... I... I can't give it to you!
You tricked me! There's no Escort coming, you just wanted the Phoxene for yourself!
You killed your mates for these shiny rocks, didn't you? Same way you just tried to kill me?
They attacked me first... I... I was defending myself!
And you, don't act high and mighty! You're after the Phoxene too, aren't you? What makes you any different from me!?
Grown men pay for their mistakes. Think of this sack of Phoxene as your price.
I'm no saint, and you're no better than me. But at least I'm letting you live. Now get lost.
(The bloodstained Phoxene sits heavy in your hand. Heavier than it should be, almost as if it might twist itself into a gaping maw, waiting to devour the next "Larry" who gets too close.)
Look down and search
(After dispatching the troublesome Filthoids, you spot something half-buried in the dirt. Curious, you move in for a closer look.)
Oh, isn't this Larry, our former model miner? Why are you here all by yourself? You've always got buddies hanging around with you, where are they today?
...The Escort!?
Well, doesn't matter where they are. Actually, I came to warn you that unauthorised mining and sales of Phoxene are illegal. The brass wants me to... Oooh! What's up with the blood on this bag of yours?
I, uh... I...
Freeze! Vita, a little help!
You friggin' liar! Why did you bring the soldiers over?
Shut up and put your hands where I can see them... Hands open wide, and drop that bag!
(With a gun barrel pointed straight at his head, Larry hesitates shortly before letting go of the bag. The bag drops to the ground and bloodstained Phoxene scatter all over the place.)
...Gosh. Did you kill your buddies by bashing them with those rocks?
They attacked me first... It... It was all self-defence!
Well, none of us can be the judge of that! Alright, you need to come with us!
It wasn't me! Wasn't my fault...! It's the bag of Phoxene! If we never opened this damned bag, all of us would still be around! We'd all be alive!
*sigh*
Oh, before I forget, Thank you, Vita, for assisting the Escort. Here's your reward.
Kevin drags Larry away, disappearing into the distance.
The bloody story of the "bloodstained stones" became yet another tale buried under the Icelake snow.
(A loud man is holding court, his dramatic recitations drawing bursts of laughter from the patrons.)
Phantoms from the deep mountains, ghosts from the Icelake itself!
They're pressing in! They're getting closer!
...You can hardly imagine!
A phantom!!! A silent stalker that ignores the doors!!!
As you can see, we've got a bit of a situation here.
Mr Buck. Can't handle even a drop of alcohol, so it's always fruit juice or milk for him. Profession... third-rate playwright, first-rate producer of mumble-jumble. He's been spinning his yarns for a while now.
As you can see, the man struggles to convey his thoughts clearly. Could you help by translating his flamboyant narratives?
It's okay. I doubt there are more than five people in Icelake who can understand his words.
Only a sharp mind like yours is suited for this task.
(You tune into the playwright's bombastic musings.)
Nights can be particularly long for poets... and playwrights! Our pens track the vibe amongst people, and our hearts naturally rise and fall with the moon and tide!
When the night falls, we can cast away the blinding sun, the worldly voices, and the unsettled thoughts and reflections. It is the hour when I can truly commune with the cosmos itself!
Alas! Either my unwitting arrogance has peeved the goddess of inspiration, or the deity of sleep has played his cruel tricks on me! Otherwise, I would have noticed the sands of time trickling by!
I ought to have greeted dawn with pages filled with prose and stanzas. Instead, I awoke refreshed with an empty soul, and my sheets of paper blank!
In my enthralling dreams, I heard gentle footsteps, light as the dance of fairies. The scent of ripe fruits slathered in sweet honey wafted through the air!
Perhaps I was lost in my dreams, but those sounds and smells brought me back to reality! They are ephemeral, lingering by my side. Yet I am certain of their existence...
They are not hallucinations, yet I fail to grasp their trails. I cannot fathom these strange incidents. Are they phantoms? Ghosts? Or mere illusions?
My dilapidated abode remained untouched. This spirit stole nothing but my inspiration, which I cherish as dearly as life itself! It threatens to shatter my dreams...
A playwright's night cannot be squandered on sleep! I implore any of you to heed my plea! Banish this vile burglar of inspiration so that my magnum opus may yet be completed!
I shall bestow upon you the honour and perhaps grant you the role of the hero in my next epic! Demonstrate your unmatched skills to me so that I may dedicate myself to chronicling the biography of the great Phoxhunter, my saviour!
So this appears to be a pro bono commission. It sounds interesting, though. Are you willing to take it?
Oh! A champion has answered my call for help! Perhaps this marks the beginning of a new epic odyssey!
I am exceedingly curious about the adventures you will undertake. Please, do share your story with me once you return!
Achoo! It's getting colder...
Even a Charon has limits on cold tolerance... The temperature will be down by twenty degrees this evening. We might lose a few kids to the cold. *sigh*...
Hello.
Greetings, my dear patron! Did you enjoy the play? You must be hungry after sitting through the show for three hours! Would you like some snacks and drinks?
Or perhaps you were captivated by the thrilling performance, how about a poster with the thespians' signatures?
Okay, let's see what you've got.
A special edition poster signed by Vitti, Tales of Icelake souvenir albums, glacial meltwater, theatre-themed popcorn... and refreshing beer!
Don't you worry! This barely contains any alcohol and won't get you drunk!
That's hard to say... Do you happen to know Mr Buck the playwright?
Of course I do! Mr Buck frequents the theatre and is one of my most cherished patrons! Despite being a noble, he actually respects Charon kids like me. Mr Buck is one fine gentleman!
I know people make fun of Mr Buck, but unlike most people, he genuinely deserves respect.
That may be true, but I doubt it gives you the right to sneak into his house through the window and pour beer into his milk.
H, How did you know?
Mr Buck has a habit of writing his works at night. Your actions have delayed his progress for a month, so he hired me to find the mysterious "Inspiration Stealer".
(You formulate a theory but pause before articulating it, needing to organise your thoughts more clearly.)
Your business income isn't enough to cover your needs through the winter. Mr Buck might not be wealthy, but he is a noble and his house is warm enough. So, you sneaked into Mr Buck's home for the heating.
As for why you chose Mr Buck, even the smallest amount of alcohol makes him doze off. You could then sleep in his house without the fear of freezing to death. Am I right?
Ugh... You are indeed a great detective. You've got every detail right.
You might as well arrest me. I'm truly sorry for what I did. Though if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't be here for you to arrest...
I don't get to decide what to do with you. I'm taking you to my client.
(Just as I thought.)
We thank thee for the sacrifice, mercy, and the Silverpeace that kept the plague, ignorance, and demons far from us...
Emma? Emma!? Snap out of it.
Sorry, Miss Lisse! Coming!
Emma, you have been distracted lately. Focus, will you?
Ugh... This is so boring... I wonder how Granny's doing.
Well, I have my reasons. I can tell you about it, but you must promise to keep it a secret.
Well, yeah!
Alright, I'll tell you.
Last month, I sneaked out to the slums and ran into a mysterious old lady called Belinda in an alleyway!
And she's got magic hands, she can braid all sorts of pretty pigtails and dye my nails with fresh flowers! She even told me stories I'd never heard before!
Ms Belinda never nagged at me nor treated me like a child. Though it was the first time I met her, she felt like my own granny when she held me in her arms...
That sounds really beautiful. Why do you want to keep it a secret?
Because Ms Belinda has horns... She might get into trouble if I tell my parents, classmates, or teachers about her...
We were supposed to meet today. But I can't make it anymore because the school suddenly added this memorial event. If you have the time, could you bring this doll to her?
I gotta go meet my classmates. Please make sure you give the doll to Ms Belinda. Thank you!
May our student, Emma, offer the floral tribute...
(The girl stands at the corner with her head down. She looks very upset.)
(The girl turns her head away. She does not seem very eager to talk.)
It's you...
Were those your... classmates?
Yeah... I'm sorry... Really sorry... I messed up again.
Were they picking on you?
No... It's all my fault...
I can't do anything right. Both my mom and my teachers say I'm stupid.
My classmates are smart. They said that the reason I'm stupid is because I'm a Charon, and my parents hid my horns with magic.
It's all my fault... I shouldn't have showed up among Solas...
(You know that is a blatant lie. It also brings up unpleasant memories of what happened to you and Berenica on Purgatorio Island.)
(Those malicious acts may have been invited because of your weakness and differences, or, perhaps they just happened, the perpetrators only wanted to vent their hatred and you were just unlucky.)
(But this girl is more helpless than you. She didn't even have a friend like Berenica to share the pain.)
It isn't my fault...?
The fault lies with those who are mean to others.
There's nothing to be afraid of. Fight back.
Huh...?
Since they call you a demon, you might as well act like one.
Huh...?
They came up with a lie and made fun of you. But...
Since they call you a demon, you might as well act like one.
Let's go back and confront them.
Tsk. A new face.
(The man before you squints, his lips cracked and dry, as he gruffly spits out his words.)
Tell me. Who sent you here?
(Answering a question with another question always works.)
(It is obvious that he's waiting for someone.)
(I don't know what he meant, but that's an answer that no one will refuse.)
(The man broods silently for a while, assessing you. His posture decrepit as he raises his head with an audible creak.)
You smooth talker.
(He snorted, but he seemed to be satisfied with your answer.)
I don't care who the fixer is. You're here for the stuff in my pocket, ain't that right?
(He opens his collar to reveal a dull iron piece.)
(After showing it, he quickly conceals it again, looking around warily.)
Calibre 4. Double barrelled. Single shot. No Charon or Filthoid can survive a blast from this baby.
(His lip curls, as if he's just discussing the uses of a pesticide.)
You can have it for free, but I'll need you to do something for me.
Cut the crap. You're here for this piece of metal, ain't that right?
Do the job, and it's yours. I can even give you extra money.
Are you in or what? I ain't got all day.
Fine, I'm in. What's the deal?
Good. I'll give you a location. Kill everything there except for a woman.
So... A bad romance, huh?
None of your beeswax. Just get it done.
(The man tightens his collar and licks his dried lips, unwilling to utter another word.)
Ah, it's you, Vita!
I really appreciate what you did for us last time! The money helped the families in the slums get food on the table. They wanted me to thank you for that.
It's nothing.
It's everything! I haven't met anyone as kind, capable, and polite as you in ages.
How's life in Icelake, now that you've been here for a while?
Well, even though I agree that life is a journey to the finish line, it would be a shame to miss out on the scenery along the way!
I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND THAT! I felt exactly the same when I first got here! The place has so many strange rules and the people are pretty weird as well!
Hmm, guess your hometown is not very safe... You're not happened to be a refugee as well, huh?
Anyway, let's talk about something else.
Ooh! Come check out what I've got lately! They are all novelties and strange little gadgets. If you find anything you like, I'll give you a 20% discount as a thank-you for helping me catch that filthy thief.
(You stoop to take a closer look at Margie's "new arrivals." The shelves are filled with random objects, most of which have obviously been used before, but they have all been cleaned meticulously.)
But they're fun. The real value isn't all about money, you know!
Of course not! I'm an upright citizen! Somebody probably chucked them, but it would be a crime to see them end up in the bin. I just want to find a loving home for them!
Heheh. That's a business secret!
(You find it hard to turn down her generous offer and start going through Margie's shelves to find something valuable.)
Didn't find anything that catches your eye? Well, come back next time when I restock.
Not bad. You've got an eye for value and treasure. Perhaps you have the keen senses of a detective!
A detective? That's all it takes?
The things you picked up are hardly worth anything in cold hard cash. Most people simply ignored them. But they might also be the most valuable things here.
The price lies in... their mysterious and interesting backstories! You chose it specifically for that reason, right?
With patience and meticulous observation, you can definitely unveil the story and secrets behind the treasure.
Never underestimate rubbish bins. They're usually where interesting stories and crime evidence are found! Me myself slowly learned my way about Icelake by going through its dustbins, you know.
Already curious, huh? Want to learn more about this city? Pay now and you can take these babies home for some digging up!
(Wait, did I just walk into a setup...?)
Hey! Stop looking at me as if I'm running a rip-off scam! This is just marketing. And you've already noticed something special about them, right? You can't just give up halfway.
What, you're not even gonna haggle? You're making me feel a bit guilty...
Hmm, getting down to the dimes and nickels, eh? You're truly a Phoxhunter...
Heyyyy! Don't go! At least try to haggle a bit! Come on!
Now they are yours. Think of it as my token of extreme gratitude for your help in catching that thief the other day!
(Margie stuffs the three items into your arms before you can refuse.)
Good luck with your investigations, Detective!
Once you've investigated the stories behind them, come back and tell me what you think about Icelake!
May your soul find peace in the depths of the Misty Sea...
(In this place burdened with your poignant memories, a woman draped in black veils speaks softly, eyes downcast. Her lantern emits a soft, eerie glow as she murmurs her prayer.)
What are you doing here?
Who are you?
You have come, child... Please, wait while I complete this final rite.
…May you be reborn within the bosom of Mother Embla.
Greetings, child. I roam as the Ferrywoman of the Misty Sea, or, if you prefer a more personal touch, you may call me Lady Nifle.
I heard the whispers of a wandering soul here, so I came to guide her to return to the Misty Sea.
A wandering soul?
Indeed. Child, have you come here for someone who has passed?
How did you know?
My eyes can see the longings of souls.
As I guided her, I glimpsed all she held dear, and among these visions, I saw you.
...She was a friend of mine.
I... I failed to protect her. She must be... disappointed in me.
Quite the opposite. Many souls I've witnessed depart with intense grievances and bitterness, their cries thick as the fog along the riverbanks.
But her voice was very gentle. It bore no sorrow, anger, nor resentment, only expressions of gratitude and... blessings.
Perhaps, those were meant for you.
But...
I miss her terribly.
I refuse to accept this ending.
(Lady Nifle smiles gently, as if she had anticipated your response.)
Child, I have lived long and bid farewell to countless souls, and I've heard such words time and again.
Just as plants succumb to wildfires and bugs perish in storms... Impermanence is a part of life. Sooner or later, death touches us all.
Rather than cursing fate's indifference and cruelty, or lamenting our frailty, we can choose to... cherish the memories we hold dear.
After all, if death is the inevitable, then every moment alive is a miracle that defies the odds, isn't it?
I believe that the gentle soul who journeyed to the Misty Sea would also wish that... when you recall your time together, you'd find yourself smiling, not crying with grief.
What's the Misty Sea like?
The Misty Sea... is the cradle and resting place of life for the people of Charon. Souls of the deceased return there, and the living emerge from it, life flowing in endless cycles.
If that's the case...
Can I go to the Misty Sea and bring her back?
Will she ever return to me?
(Lady Nifle does not answer immediately. She raises her tender, compassionate eyes, and after a long pause, speaks again...)
Were it someone else asking, my answer would be thus: The cycle of life and death is a universal law, not to be defied by human might.
However, child, I sense... you are bound by an unusual destiny.
One day, when you have garnered enough strength to confront this world's truths and perhaps even challenge its very laws... then, perhaps the river to the Misty Sea might flow backwards for you.
You mean...!?
Hehe... I am merely an observer by the riverbank. The answer to this question must be discovered by yourself.
If your heart truly yearns for it, then proceed on your path.
Godspeed, dear child.
Child, even though the path ahead is uncertain, always proceed with determination.
May Mother Embla bless you.
You here, ask about trains? Careful, mean gatekeeper girl here!
Enough for me! Want to leave, very, very much!
Still learning! Language here, different from home!
(This ticket seller looks tough. But considering you'll eventually need to leave Icelake, crossing paths with her seems inevitable... Should you take action now?)
(Perhaps this "intel" you got from Margie could help break the ice...)
(Despite good intentions, you're momentarily at a loss for solutions.)
Thank you! You are good! I watch you handle this!