Song: Dreams We Conceive, Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Focal Character(s): Sheena
Sheena did not miss Meltokio. She didn't miss its grandiose castle or its haughty nobles, and she didn't miss the empty streets she used to walk after long days at the research institute, alone with her thoughts and the lampposts' golden light.
Sheena could not like Sylvarant. It didn't have castles or nobles. It didn't have streets lined with ornate lampposts to hold off the distant night. Sylvarant had death quotas and human ranches and people praying desperately for salvation — salvation that she had come to kill.
She'd been so sure of what to do — so determined not to fail her people again — and now she didn't know. Saving Tethe'alla meant signing Sylvarant's death warrant, and Sheena wasn't supposed to be the judge. She was supposed to be the executioner.
And yet... sitting here, watching Sylvarant's Chosen gaze into the fire after she'd accepted Sheena with open arms, all Sheena could do was pull her knees up to her chest, close her eyes, and pray her own desperate prayer that somehow, despite everything she'd learned and heard and seen, that somehow this girl's crazy dream of a way to save them all would come true.