: Some ends are peaceful, even quiet. Some are bloody, loud, and reckless. Some are lonely... and those are the worst. But the End of Time is not to be feared. It is a release. A mercy. All the pains of a long and weary existence will fall away from us. Then... we shall see the world with innocent eyes once more.

Warrior: I never had the chance to feel young and free... Are we doomed to do this all again?

Witch: Hah, innocent eyes? Sure. So, you truly believe in the Cycle of Time?

Sorceress: Ah, I see. You fear the end, but long for the new beginning.

Monk: You speak of renewal. Of new life.

Ranger: That sounds... lovely. Like the cycle of life, the end is not to be feared.

Huntress: I've never felt so small. It's humbling.

Mercenary: Forgive me, miss, but it sounds like you {remember} all these dooms.

: Yes. You and I shall have this conversation again... ...as we have before... many times.

Witch: Of course. And how long is one of these Cycles, supposedly?

: The life of an Elder, but twice, a hundred times over, then thrice and once.

Witch: That's... um... quite specific...?

: That is the longest we have ever endured. But really, It depends on the nature of the end...

Witch: When are we now, compared to all that?

: There are very few prophecies that have yet to come to pass.

Witch: So... this is what fear feels like... I don't think I like it.

: Time passes slowly for me, but it does pass. My service is not endless. The renowned {hatungo} Narumoa served before me, and others served before her.

Warrior: What will happen to you when your service ends?

Witch: And when your time is up - what then?

Sorceress: How could you step aside, knowing what you know?

Monk: I see. One day, you will be free.

Ranger: One day... they'll just replace you?

Huntress: It'd be a hard role to give up, I bet.

Mercenary: Guess we're all just footmen in someone's war, eh? Burdened by our memories.

: I can only remember my Future-Past while my soul is bound to Hinekora. Life and death draw ever closer together... ...and oblivion lies in wait.

: You will one day be welcomed here. Hinekora invites you to fight in our Trial of the Ancestors, to test yourself to your absolute limits. But now is not that time. When the time comes, you will know...

: Hinekora sees you. The past is laid bare before her. She knows you. But now... she listens. You may speak.

Warrior: Hinekora... I am honoured. I would ask you, how do I find my true family? How do I learn of my tribe?

: The greatest smith crafts armour for the heart. The joy of today is the only happiness most ever find. A good man stands in for the absent.

Warrior: I believe... I understand. Thank you.

Witch: From one Mother of Death to another, what words of wisdom do you have for me?

: They scarred and violated the hated criminal, but she punishes herself far more than they ever could. The wounds are obvious for all to see, despite the concealing bandages.

Witch: I... don't know what she's talking about. That's just... rambling nonsense.

Sorceress: Tell me, Mother of Death, will I find my place in this world?

: A weary traveler stumbles down the mountain, smiling, only to see a vast range ahead. Surrounded by watching faces, a child plays in the sand.

Sorceress: Oh! Is he... happy?

: Yes.

Sorceress: That's... good. That is... good to hear.

Monk: If I may ask... I seek the truth of my beliefs. I suspect, I fear...

: A foreign prince brings a sliver of hope to a land in peril. A rat gnaws its way out of the crocodile's stomach.

Monk: Yes.. it certainly does...

Ranger: Did my mother's soul pass this way? If not, where might I find her? Does she still exist... somewhere?

: One alone will stand on dunes of silver and breathe deep the void. The leaping cat catches the mouse, but loses its way. It will never return home. Nor will it make amends.

Ranger: I fear I can never forgive her... but I have to try.

Huntress: I have but one question, honoured Mother of Death. How do I hear the Spirit's voice again?

: Whispered words offer guidance to the pure, but silence is a - ...yes... now?... The sea goes still.

Huntress: What? That's it? What's happening?

Mercenary: So what do ya think, Miss Hinekora? Are we gonna survive this?

: Night promises peace, but the sun refuses to set. There is no one waiting on the other side of the river.

Mercenary: You... you what? You cant just... you can't say things like that, mate...

: The Mother of Death... has spoken. And... gives a gift!

: The Mother of Death... has spoken.

: It is a great honour to participate in our Trial of the Ancestors. It is very rare that an outsider is allowed to participate.

Warrior: I am honoured to be part of this heritage.

Witch: Of course. I'm rather exceptional.

Sorceress: I will respect and honour your ways.

Monk: I am honoured, and I will attend.

Ranger: Alright. Maybe I'll come by.

Huntress: You have my thanks, and I will do my best.

Mercenary: No need for all that, I'm game.

: You will know when the time is right. For now, we are not undertaking the Trials. Too many are... refusing.

Warrior: What did you mean by 'Time circled upon itself?'

Witch: I've read a claim like this once before, but I'm still skeptical. Tell me about this supposed 'Cycle of Time.'

Sorceress: Our tales have no mention of this 'circling of Time.' What is that?

Monk: I've... dreamt about this... How does Time circle upon itself...?

Ranger: What's this about Time circling upon itself?

Huntress: My Elders once told me a story about a place where Time is a circle. What does that mean?

Mercenary: Time circled upon itself, eh? Do I dare ask?

: One day, Time will end. Then, Time will begin again. Hinekora remembers the Future-Past. Not very clearly, but enough to guide our way forward. You do not remember our previous meetings... but I do, by the grace of Hinekora's sight.

Mercenary: I shouldn't have asked.

: Have no fear. I am both here {and} there. Just as you are now.

Warrior: With respect, Honoured One, how is this possible?

Witch: This isn't necromancy... what {is} this?

: The Water of Sight does not slay the living, just nearly so. The Water of Sight does not raise the dead... just nearly so. On the verge, we have one eye in each world. And so, I serve Hinekora. I am her Speaker, both in life... and in death.

Warrior: This place... is an afterlife? For all Karui?

Witch: I almost don't want to question further... but I can't help myself.

Sorceress: I still cannot comprehend this place. It makes no sense.

Monk: Intriguing. The Karui have their own unique afterlife.

Ranger: The only dead I've seen come back to life... well, that's no fate to wish upon anyone.

Huntress: I feel sick. Please, let me wake up from whatever this is.

Mercenary: So... you're just lying there, having a real deep snooze then?

: The Mother of Death is all that stands between us and oblivion. Before she embraced us, those that died simply ceased to be. Now, the souls of the Karui people continue on, lending their wisdom and strength to those that follow...

: Our Mother of Death is gifted with the ability to see into the past. Her prophecies guide us on the eternal search for the way forward.

Warrior: How does seeing into the past help guide us?

Witch: This sounds suspiciously like a fanciful claim in the forbidden tomes...

Sorceress: Our tale-women do something similar. The tales they tell guide us.

Monk: She sees into the past? How does that create prophecy?

Ranger: Where do her prophecies come from, if she only sees the past?

Huntress: What am I missin'? She sees the past, but how does that make it prophecy?

Mercenary: So what, she learns from your mistakes? Makes some new plans?

: Before Wraeclast, before the Lake, before the primordial molten world, before the stars themselves... Time circled upon itself into infinity. Hinekora sees not what you {will} do, only what you {did,} and what you shall do again. Probably...

: One among us has elevated their angry voice above the others. Utula, of the Kitava Tribe, has long found the afterlife... constricting. He has convinced several others to become unruly. They are refusing to fight, and causing great disturbances.

Warrior: Why are they being so disrespectful?

Witch: Is being dead not to his liking?

Sorceress: That sounds like a great dishonour.

Ranger: The dead can do such things?

Huntress: Why're they doin' that?

Monk: I don't understand. Why would he do that?

Mercenary: What's up his arse?

: Utula has convinced them they could overthrow this place, or even escape. We have done the best we can for the souls here, but it is not enough for some. This often happens with souls new to this timeless existence. It will pass... as it always does.