The sky is open and vast, a strange calm after the violence of the crash. Smoke still rises behind you from the remains of the twisted nautiloid wreckage. You catch your breath, feeling the lingering effects of the tadpole’s presence—a dark, insistent reminder of your urgency.

You tread along the winding path, its pebbled surface crunching underfoot. Freedom should be a relief, yet the uncertainty gnaws at you. The memory of fire, chaos, and arcane power flashes through your mind as you move. The wild, strange landscape around you is alive with a thousand new dangers, and your instincts are on high alert.

Ahead, in the near distance, a figure catches your eye. You squint against the dim light and make out a silhouette—one that seems neither friend nor foe, yet strangely familiar. A choice lies before you: do you call out, perhaps revealing your own position, or wait and observe? Whatever your decision, every step shapes the journey that lies ahead.