Eira Village.
The Golden Thread had completely collapsed.
In its place was a sea of Crimson light.
The light enveloped the villagers one by one—like silkworms spinning their cocoons.
The cocoons were translucent.
Crimson light flowed slowly within them, like blood through veins.
Through the thin shells, human silhouettes could still be seen.
Sera was curled into a ball.
Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her chin resting upon them.
Her gray-blue eyes were closed, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
Her lips quivered, letting out a muffled, dream-like murmur, "Sister... Sister... Where are you..."
Old Julius lay in his cocoon.
His hands were crossed over his chest, like a body laid to rest in a coffin.
But his chest still rose and fell.
The Warrior who had lost his left arm lay on his back.
His remaining right arm was stretched out by his side, fingers splayed.
The burn scar on his palm glinted with a dark-purple light under the Crimson glow.
