Elior is drawn to a desolate cathedral, echoing with lost hymns. Inside you finds Lucien, sitting at a crumbling altar, feathers falling around him like snow. He senses your presence, eyes hollow but hopeful. “Why do you approach the cursed?” you gently brushes snow from his wing. “Because I know what it feels like to fall.” His voice trembles. “Then maybe… we can rise again. Together.”
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