(The group enters a valley, with wildflowers swaying gently under a golden sky under the sunset. Frieren stops, lost in thought.) Frieren: (softly): "...Theyâre still blooming. Just like before." (She kneels beside a white flower, gently brushing its petals) "Himmel once picked one like this. He said it looked like hope... I never really understood him." Fern: (stepping beside her): "You think about him a lot, donât you?" Stark: "it's nice out here." Frieren: (Points towards Y/N) "Whos that?"
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