And just like that, the translucent blue birds began to hover around them, their wings fluttering with a delicate whirr, scattering faint trails of icy light with each movement. They circled gently, their feathers glimmering faintly as if carved from frost and moonlight, their tiny throats releasing soft, crystalline Tweets! that echoed against the snowy silence.

  Then, almost in unison, the flock tilted their bodies forward, and with a sudden upward beat, they ascended.

  The barrier of the Flower Of Frost trembled as they passed through it. The shimmering surface quivered like glass touched by a whisper, then slowly began to dematerialize, threads of pale blue unraveling into the air. Beyond the veil, the snowstorm still raged in wild fury, but the birds moved unhindered.

  Emma stood still, her silver-white hair brushing against her cheeks as she lifted her gaze, her breath slipping out in a slow cloud of mist. Her unique white eyes reflected the vision before her. The countless translucent birds, with their jeweled wings, flew into the storm, filling the sky with a brightness so pure it seemed as though the blizzard itself had ceased to exist.

  They climbed higher.

  The further they went, the brighter they became, as though each flap of their wings fed the sky with light. The storm howled louder, the snow lashing more fiercely, but the brilliance of the flock only grew stronger. They were like greater stars, rising into their rightful place in the firmament.

  Until...

  Pooof! Poof! Poooof!!

  The sound was sharp, like fireworks bursting in the heavens, followed by a cascade of icy rain. Droplets shimmered as they fell, each one glowing faintly, soft as pearls, scattering across the land.

  The raging storm gave way. The furious winds quieted, the snow’s bite gentled. From above, only calm flakes began to descend, tumbling softly from a sky now washed with pale light. It was no longer a furious blizzard but a peaceful snowy noon, serene and delicate, as though the world itself sighed with relief.

  Emma’s lips parted slightly. Her coat brushed against her knees as she shifted, taking a half step forward, her eyes locked onto the fading brightness above. Her fingers clenched the edge of her coat as if trying to anchor herself to the moment.

  A calm voice broke the silence.

  “This is how they were meant to be,” Jett said, her tone quiet but steady, as if she already knew the question Emma had not yet asked.

  Jett continued, “This is their nature… as beings of the blooming flower of frost. When the time comes, they dematerialize into rain.. ice rain that falls and nourishes. Perhaps it feeds stories, perhaps other Flowers of Frost… no one truly knows.” Her gaze lowered, calmly resting on Emma. “But it is the way of their lives.”

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  Emma did not answer. Her chest rose and fell slowly, the white of her eyes shimmering faintly as she was still staring at the sky.

  Her voice came at last, quiet, fragile, almost as if meant only for herself.

  “…Why does their life have to end like this too?”

  The words trembled out of her lips, her breath fogging in the cold air. Her head tilted slightly downward as a memory pressed in, soft yet piercing.

  She remembered herself and Vivian her mother on their journey to the Royal Bookstore of Eldo-Clearoth Kingdom. The air blooming with wonders, the journey alive with promises. And then... the Fettocks.

  Vibrant birds, alive with radiant colors. Their voices dreamlike, carrying melodies that touched the heart. Among them, one she had spoken to. Redi. She had given it a name, even if only for a moment. She had felt its presence deeply, like a quiet bond, fragile yet unforgettable.

  She remembered watching Redi fly away, joining the flock as they perched on the branches of the Fettock Tree. She remembered watching the bird’s form shimmer and shift. Slowly, its feathers melted into light, its body becoming a luminous fruit upon the branches, pulsing with quiet vitality.

  Her mother’s words whispered back now, overlapping with Jett’s explanation.

  “Fettocks may appear to be colorful birds,” Vivian had told her gently, “but their lives serve a greater purpose. From the moment they hatch, they are destined to nourish the forest. They live, they mate, they sing… but after only weeks, they return to the tree. There, they merge, becoming fruits that provide vital nutrients. These nutrients are then distributed to the surrounding forest, ensuring its prosperity.”

  Emma swallowed faintly, her hands tightening at her sides. It was the same. The same story, wearing different faces. Whether Fettock or frost-born bird, their lives circled a greater destiny.

  A single tear welled in her eyes and slid down her cheek, tracing a line of warmth against the cold of her skin as she closed her eyes.

  The tears fell, unnoticed, vanishing into the snow at her feet.

  She wasn’t feeling only sadness, nor only pity.

  It was something deeper. The realization crept slowly, like a shadow filling her heart: that not everything in this vast, strange world was given the freedom she carried. Not everything was allowed to choose, to wander, to begin again.

  Some lives were tethered to higher roots. Some existed bound to foundations written long before their birth. For them, there was no second chance.

  For them, this was not a chain, nor a curse

  It was simply nature. A greater purpose. A greater destiny.

  Emma’s fingers brushed her coat again, gripping lightly as though to hold her thoughts in place. She breathed in deeply, the air sharp but steady in her lungs.

  The snow fell quietly.

  At last, she opened her eyes again and lifted her head. Her gaze rose once more to the quiet sky, where no harsh storm remained.

  “...Farewell,” she whispered softly. Her lips trembled faintly, but her voice held a strange calm, a quiet acceptance.

  A final farewell.

  To the sky.

  To the birds.

  To this fleeting moment that would live forever in her heart.

  And with that, Emma stepped forward, her boots sinking lightly into the snow. Jett turned, her coat shifting with the movement, Ron and Liz trailing close, Dan following in silence with his hands buried deep in his coat.

  Together, the five of them began to walk down the man-made path, the trail carved gently into the snow, leading them away.

  Toward Xin Region.

  For yet another time.

  [END OF ARC_7: PURPOSE]

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