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    Summary

    “What is death?” Byleth asks.

    Sothis merely tilts her head. “What is time?” She points to the air. “Here, you are alive.” She draws a line from that point to another. “Here, you are dead.” Her hand goes back and forth between the two points. “Here, you are alive. Here, you are dead. Here…” She goes on and on until Byleth nods — point taken.

    “And if there are more lines?” Like how there is more than one of them, in these dreams — multiple versions coalesced into one.

    Sothis shrugs, lounging upon her throne. “Then…” Her finger traces through the air, darting from point to point, crossing and veering and tangling itself up. “Then it goes on.” Life to death, death to life. “Endless.”

    Byleth nods.

    Language:
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