A strange feeling of serenity washes over Atticus, who still can't see anything but white, nor hear any sound resembling Westshire's ramblings, his teammates' screams, or the feral groans of the undead horde. There's only still, warm air that isn't tainted by the mist, so it doesn't sting his chest as he breathes.

After a brief a moment, he's able to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the endless azure of clear late afternoon skies – not a single cloud in sight. He feels a very faint dampness enveloping part of his body, then when he regains the wherewithal to simply turn his head, he realizes he's lying on his back in very shallow, near-body temperature water. He sits up to assess the situation he's in, but also notices that he's no longer in his armor. Somehow, his attire has been switched completely to a normal white cotton shirt and trousers. He's even barefoot, as well. He has no boots, no sword, no shield, and no bracelet.

Confused, and almost frightened, Atticus quickly stands up and looks at the environment: an endless, shallow ocean of warm water that's barely an inch deep. Though he feels some sort of ground beneath his feet, he can't even see it due the water being completely reflective of himself and the blue sky above. He looks towards the horizon and sees a strange landscape he's never witnessed before: mountains that are extremely far off in every direction, yet behind them still are gigantic vertical pillars that tower over them, reaching higher than any building he's ever seen by a hundredfold. However, due to being incredibly far, they're partially obscured behind the blue color shift of distance, so he can't make out what they're made of. He can't explain why, but he feels as though if he were to walk in any single direction, he would never reach those mountains or those pillars no matter how much time passes.

Still curious about his surroundings, he turns his body to see what could be behind him, expecting more shallow ocean and distant mountains. However, he instead takes in an eyeful of an awe-striking sight: a massive moon that takes up nearly an eighth of the blue sky. It's so incredibly close, that an unforeseen amount of details can be made out from the surface of it – ridges, craters, mountains, valleys – everything is as clear as day. He doesn't know if it's the same moon he's been seeing every night for his entire life, but it's a wondrous view either way.

After an extended moment of basking in the beauty of the natural satellite above, Atticus manages to finally pry his eyes downward to see more of the horizon. As expected, he sees more pillars and mountains very far away, but something different catches his gaze: a human-shaped figure dressed in white about a hundred or so feet away. With nothing else to possibly interact with, he approaches the mysterious person, each step causing a long parade of ripples across the surface of the shallow water.

As he draws closer, he notices that the unknown individual – presumably a woman – is wearing a long white dress, with the end of her skirt grazing the surface of the water at her feet. She's facing away from Atticus, her back towards him and face pointed slightly upwards toward the giant moon. He can make out her long, black hair tied into a single, thick braid that touches down to her lower back. Eventually, he reaches her, but still maintains a distance of several feet away out of sheer caution.

“Hello?” The knight meekly calls out, unsure of how to gain her attention or if her attention is something he should want at all.

“It's a beautiful place, isn't it?” The woman responds in a warm, welcoming tone without turning around. She speaks in a fashion of familiarity, as if she isn't a stranger. “The things we liked the most about the Threcian landscape were the lively ocean at the north, and the endless miles of still, flat plains to the south. It's almost like this place combines the two, don't you think?” She lifts her hands and extends her arms to her sides, as if presenting the entire environment to Atticus.

“Who are...” The knight utters, a conflicting expression of equal parts curiosity and confusion washing over his face.

The woman finally turns around, revealing a beautiful, sharp, young face. Her skin is lightly tanned and totally unblemished, save for a single beauty mark in the middle of her right cheek. Her pink lips are curved into a smile, and her green eyes are radiating with an endearing and enthusiastic kindness.

“Who am I?” She asks back, teasingly. “Don't tell me you've forgotten me already.” She makes an ear-to-ear grin, accompanied by a small giggle.

Atticus is at a loss for words. His brow is furrowed upwards, his mouth is agape, and his eyes begin to glaze over. He slowly lifts his hands, wanting to reach out to her. After a quiet moment, he's able to finally speak.

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“Isabelle?” He says, taking a step forward. “How...” Overcome with emotion, the knight is unable to continue his sentence.

Rather than waiting for him to approach, Isabelle takes the initiative and casually walks over to him, grabbing his hands as soon as she's close enough. With a prideful grin, she confirms his thoughts.

“It's me, Atticus.” She brings a hand up to caress his face. “I'm here.”

“How is this...” The knight utters, looking down.

For a brief instant, he had entertained the thought that this was some sort of vision, maybe even a malicious one created by the Archduke to fool him. However, as he watches his fingers intertwine with hers, he notices that he can feel her skin on his. He can feel the palm of her other hand gently petting his cheek. He can sense the warmth coming from her face. He can't help but close his eyes and revel in the sensation he had thought he lost a year and a half prior.

“I... I'm so sorry I didn't save you.” He whispers in a pained voice the first thing he always wished he could say to her. “I tried so hard...”

“I know you did, Attie.” Isabelle reassures him. “But you shouldn't punish yourself over it, okay?” She pushes his chin up to look him in the eye after he hangs his head. “If curing me was ever within the realm of possibility, then you would've been able to do it. I know you would have. But it wasn't. That's not a failure on your part; that's just nature. So stop blaming yourself.” She adopts a stern tone to practically command him.

“But...” Atticus almost wants to argue, but, knowing her, it'd be pointless. Thus, he nods timidly and accepts her words. “Alright.”

Satisfied, Isabelle wraps her arms around his neck and presses her chest against his in a tight embrace. He gladly returns it. They hold each other closely, and for a very pronounced moment, as if to make up for lost time.

“I hope you'll return to Threcia soon.” She remarks as she rests her head on his shoulder. “I'm sure everyone is quite worried about you – your old instructor and commander, your fellow guardsmen, and my family too, I'm sure.”

“I'll go back once I'm finished with my business here in Yhordran.” He answers, his eyes closed again to savor the hug. After another indulgent, peaceful pause, he opens them again as though he remembers something important. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Something's been... bothering me ever since you passed.” The knight tries to fight the lump in throat as he recalls her final days. “Did... Did you know I was there? Did you know I was next to you?” His breaths become uneasy and his voice starts to shake. “I was at your bedside during those last days you were still with me, and I've always wondered if you realized I was there.”

Isabelle nods. “I knew. Of course I did.” She takes both of her hands and places them on his cheeks. “I wasn't able to move or speak then. But my eyes don't need to be open for me to know when you're near.” A warm, loving smile crosses her face, and Atticus can no longer hold back his tears. He sobs softly as he wraps his arms around her again and buries his face in her shoulder.

“Until my final moments, you were always my knight in scary armor.” She says, partially teasingly. After another minute of a heartfelt embrace, she places her hands on his shoulders to gently push him back and gaze into his eyes for one more considerate plea. “I want you to live on, and I want you to do so with peace in your heart. Okay, Atticus?”

He nods, fresh tears still glistening on his cheeks. “I will. I promise.”

“Good.” Isabelle returns his acknowledgment with a confident nod of her own.

The knight bitter-sweetly takes in one final image of her lively, gorgeous smile, and suddenly, his eyes truly open. With a tiny gasping inhale, he finds himself back in Armasstadt Castle's congregation hall, staring at Zyra's shocked face.

“Atticus!” She exclaims, softly caressing his cheek with her hand. His head has been resting on her lap for an unknown amount of time.

“Where...” The knight faintly utters, slowly regaining his composure. He notices the mage's moistened eyes and expression of great relief, then looks up, behind her head, to see the broken glass dome over them. This time, it features no more erupting miasma bursting through it. Instead, only the mountain's peak and blue skies behind it are seen. The other five Mistwalkers approach the half-conscious knight.

“You've come back to us.” Veros says with a content nod as he kneels down and pats Atticus on the shoulder. “You did great, Atticus. You finished it.”

“I don't know how you did it,” Royd speaks up, “but you destroyed that sodding black crystal. Take a look.” He points towards the knight's feet.

Atticus lifts his head slightly to see what remains of the black crystal, and finds that it is indeed resting on the ground in multiple pieces. Completely drained of all its arcane energy, it doesn't even look like an arcane crystal anymore, but a normal, rough stone you'd be able to find on the ground anywhere.

“That psychotic bastard Westshire fell over like a sack of rocks as soon as you destroyed it, too.” Kellar remarks, pointing to Atticus's left, behind Zyra.

The knight turns his head and sees the Archduke's withered, rotted body near the throne. The crystal must've been maintaining his healthy facade somehow, covering up the fact he was as much of a decomposed corpse as the others.