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I can't help but shiver as I stare into the abyss. Some have compared it to an eye, but to me, it’s more like an open maw, pretending it wants to devour us.

Welcome back, Admiral. Major Dimuri snaps to attention as Admiral Singh descends the ramp of the transport barge. Temera briskly returns the salute after stepping onto the landing platform. She raises a hand to shield herself from the wind—a biting gust carrying cold air from the Storhvit—or rather, from Caer Nilam, as she should now say.

His white scales creak against each other as his head slowly lowers toward me, like a wispy cloud descending from the heavens. His gigantic eye settles before my face—a pearly sphere that stares at me unblinking.

Its shell is opalescent, veined with iridescent waves and bluish striations, undulating with countless facets that rise skyward—toward clouds and storm. They distort its reflection, multiplying its image into a thousand furious echoes.

It was more than an unpleasant feeling. It was the insidious sensation of having lost a pair of glasses, or of staring at a painting in a museum where the subject was only suggested in negative space—without being able to make out its shape.

Set it down there, would you? At my signal, the handler lowers the mechanical arm toward the platform, while Rossum guides the tangle of cables and chains securing the relic into position.

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.

As the doors open, a welcoming warmth greets her, almost stifling after the biting cold outside. She removes her heavy, ice-encrusted coat, opens a portal—just a small window—and tosses it through, along with her hat, straight into her quarters.

The water has a silky texture, as if milk had been poured into the hot spring. I rub it on my arms and shoulders, hoping to make my skin softer, while to my left, Nevenka lets out a loud sigh.

I insert the hefty cartridge into the flare gun and snap it shut with a flick of my wrist. Raising my arm, I fire toward the sky as the scent of gunpowder spreads through the air.

The harshness of the local climate may pose a challenge for us, beings accustomed to gentler and more forgiving biotopes, but many forms of life or sentient entities have, on the contrary, thrived under this relentless rigor.

My steps glide delicately over the snow. I take every precaution, letting my boots sink into the powder while making as little noise as possible. I check the wind's direction and ensure it won't shift.

The armored vehicle comes to a sudden halt, jolting Sierra awake from her nap. She sits up, quickly descends from her perch, and opens the hatch, peering inside with a hint of concern.

Your little puppet seems ready to be shelved… The sorcerer turns toward the figure emerging from the shadows, fully aware of her presence long before she made herself known.

I discreetly listen to the young Bravos strut like a rooster in front of his buddies. His hood is pulled over the top of his head, covering his close-cropped hair—likely as an attempt to look cool, though I can’t quite tell what kind of vibe he’s going for.

I play with the ring, watching the light dance on the polished metal’s surface as I roll it between my fingers. A ray of sunlight catches the part of the band that had been transformed into a diamond, the brilliance nearly bringing tears to my eyes as I squint. I let out a long sigh and shake my head at the obvious. How could it have been otherwise?

I let my doll take a sip of Arcolano Milk, feeling the liquid glide down her esophagus as if it were my own. Her taste buds are bathed in these flavors—now familiar, yet still intoxicating—and her head begins to hum, like bubbles rising in harmony with my cervical ganglia.

Chlack, chlack! I grit my teeth. Every movement feels like a monumental effort, every breath a new wave of exhaustion. Chlack, chlack! Raising my machete and hacking at the vines, over and over, is pure torment. The vegetation is dense, rich, tangled, and unyielding.

Cling-cling-cling. I weave my way between slot machines that clink, jingle, and chime. The racket is deafening—shrill bells, cacophonous trills, the clatter of coins spilling into cups and metallic trays. How do people stand this constant noise, enduring the ruckus without becoming dazed within minutes?

I don’t know how he can even look at himself in the mirror anymore!’ Sigismar slams his fist against the wall, making me jump, and Wingspan hisses.

‘Continuity or deviation. These are now the choices facing the Asgarthans.’ Anuncia gazes toward the stage, narrowing her eyes to focus not just on the words her rival will use but on his posture, his diction, and the tone he employs. What strategy will he choose? Humility? Caution? Or arrogance?

Subhash exhales loudly and slams his mug down on the table, making the wood creak and the utensils clatter. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before hailing the waitress to bring him another pint.

The truth. It was never singular, always plural. Only by comparing all the truths together could one come close to a semblance of certainty... But the closer it seemed to be within reach, the more it slipped away, like a mirage that can never be attained. Those who claimed otherwise were either fools or zealots.

As she exhales, a plume of vapor escapes her mouth and drifts into the air, carried away by a biting wind. The sky holds the colors of a storm. Dark, rumbling clouds gather beyond the snow-covered peaks, as if furious to see them reclaim the fortress of Cebir.

It is coming. In a deluge of churning waves, the water of the bay dips and collapses, while a hissing swell rises around the edge of the funnel. In the center, a roaring vortex is forming, like a furious spiral, an open mouth into the abyss. The wind has changed, carrying a scent of ozone, as a thin drizzle begins to fall. Descending from the grassy dunes battered by stinging gusts, the infantry of the Aegis begins its maneuvers, divided into four carefully ordered battalions.

It was a summer afternoon. Pollen drifted through the air, while in the fields, sickles and scythes fell on the wheat heads. Not far from the mill, flails threshed the grain, as the sweet song of the winnowers echoed. Idle children played in the straw, laughing loudly, while forks and hooks piled up bundles of hay in the barns.

The brass band marches down the jam-packed street, while trumpets and sousaphones echo, cymbals clash, and drums bang in joyful chaos. Nev looks around at the crowd following the parade or bustling around the various stalls.

The Guild Master nervously taps the table with his fingers. Around him, the other members of the Guild Assembly chatter and shout in a deafening uproar. On one side, supporters of the Basileus shake their heads, outraged. On the other side, his opponents boo and yell, pounding their fists or feet to drown the amphitheater in the most irritating racket.

The leaves rain around me like a rosy cloud falling from the canopy. I watch them dance, collide, and resume their indolent waltz before settling on the mossy ground. I pick one up and observe the whitish veins running across its surface.

Itoro swung her massive brush through the air, scattering droplets of ink around her before striking the ground with force. The black liquid traced shapes on the stone, seeped into the cracks, stained the cobblestones, and from these obsidian strokes sprang countless soot sparrows. They flapped their wings - pulsing masses of dark pigment - before flying off into the distance, each carrying a message, a summons.

The Aegis sentinel opened the door and stepped aside to let her pass, nodding in greeting as she went by. Behind her, the Basileus' chambers were shrouded in darkness, their atmosphere thick with incense and the heady fragrance of ointments.

Through the Rediscovery Endeavor, it's the entire people of Asgartha who are now set in motion.