The following morning yielded similar results to the day before: there was nothing to be found in the outer buildings of the Children of Light settlement, which had been fairly obvious from the beginning and yet still disappointing. Some of the outer crew had gone hunting or fishing, fading into the tree line along the banks of the lake, though never straying far from the view of the village and sticking together in pairs.

The rest joined the interior team, scouring through the long hallways and debris-filled rooms of the temple, dismissing the fact that it seemed to be just as empty as the rest. The general worry was that if there had been something here worthwhile, it had either been consumed by time or by the elements; the water filled lower levels their biggest concern.

But still Armin persisted; Mikasa figured their commander would happily tear the temple down brick by brick if it offered him what they sought after. That's not to say everyone else had given up. They were all pressing on with a grim sort of determination made up of many different parts: belief in the cause, a thirst to prove themselves, dedication to the team, fear of failure. She could even say that a few of them moved with an air of having been born for this very purpose, not that she had any idea what that possibly could mean for them.

Mikasa supposed, with a rueful half smile, that Armin -as usual – had been right all along. All there was left to do was try.

By midday it was so muggy that you could almost drink the air right out of the sky. They were all sweating profusely, even with the sun tucked behind a thick layer of clouds. Mikasa joined Armin and Oz to dig through the chapel again as the others wandered aimlessly through the same floor in their second pass through. Today they were focused on less obvious places, like peaking at the underside of pews, testing for weak spots in floor and walls, even going as far as to hoist themselves up the room's many pillars, hoping for something to give.

"I know you keep coming back to this room because it makes sense for something to be here, but it might be time to join up with the others in the East wing." Mikasa said between gulps of water from the platform below the mural where she sat with Armin. He was staring down at his canteen as though it had wronged him in some way, his normally gentle face twisted up into a grimace.

"This was their holiest of places; I was sure that if they had possessed any kind of relic, it would be here."

"I don't disagree with you on that. I would have thought It'd be here, to. I also agree that they must have kept some sort of records or even a library after what you found it the mountains, but we've looked everywhere."

Pouring a small amount of water into her cupped palm, she wiped it across her face and down the back of her neck, washing away the sweat that had built up there before taking another long gulp. She had to give this place credit: the water was spectacular.

"Falco mentioned an idea he and Connie were cooking up about the basement when I saw him earlier. He said if we dug a channel out from the foundations and came up with a way to puncture the wall, we could drain enough water to get a team down there. I doubt anything would have survived that long completely submerged, but there is always a chance."

"That would take time." He mumbled, clearly frustrated. "No one would want to stay here that long."

Mikasa laughed dryly. "I wouldn't underestimate them; they seem almost as determined as you are, now. Have a little faith, we will see this through."

"Too much faith and not enough proof seems to be all I have these days." He replied, though his expression had eased a little at her comforting words.

"Sometimes that's enough."

The two of them jumped when a loud honking cut through the quiet of the chapel, the pair looking over at Oz as he sheepishly tucked his handkerchief back into his pants pocket.

"Sorry, all this pollen is wreaking hell on my sinuses."

Just as Arya had returned to a semblance of herself, Oz appeared to have finally gotten a handle on his nerves after a decent night's sleep. He was still incredibly jumpy, and no one could describe him as being particularly chatty, but at the very least he seemed resolved enough to be putting forth the same amount of effort as everyone else. Come to think of it, "frantic" might have been a better term for how he was acting, but as long as he was being helpful and assisting Armin, Mikasa had little room to complain.

"Come on, let's get back to it." She said, rising stiffly from the steps. "Maybe that hole in the ceiling is some kind of clue. ODM makes it easier to check out the higher areas, but I suppose-"

She stopped mid-sentence when she caught sight of Armin's expression: a look of dumbfounded amusement over her shoulder and back towards the Northeast corner of the mural.

Oz was on his hands and knees a few yards from where he had been, snuffling wildly along the base of the wall in the shallow alcove that was just off the main chambers. To call it another room was generous; curving only a meter or so deeper than the rest of the back wall, it was a mostly barren space save for a small pedestal that Pieck had compared to a birdbath.

When he finished his path around the semi-circle, Oz spun around on his heels like a weathervane, retracing his steps in the opposite direction, sniffing as he went. When he reached about halfway again, he suddenly rocketed to his feet and turned back to look at the two of them, who were still watching him with confusion.

"Come over here and tell me what you smell!"

He bent back down as they approached, looking furtively along the lower edges.

"You'll have to get pretty low; I nearly bit it over the edge of that fountain there and ended up on my knees. Tell me what that smells like to you."

Obliging, Armin and Mikasa lowered themselves onto their knees where Oz had indicated, each of them taking in a deep breath through the nose. It was faint, but there was no mistaking the difference between the musty, earthen smell of the chapel and whatever this scent was. There was a familiarity to it that Mikasa couldn't place: a kind of sharp freshness that brought back memories of colder days and snow on the ground.

"Holy shit."

Having lowered himself until his face was almost flush to the ground, Armin was staring wide-eyed along the bottom-most row of stones that, when Mikasa bent down to examine it, wasn't quite flush with the floor in a two-foot-wide section of the wall.

Quickly running her hand up from where the uneven base met with more solid stone to make sure they dug in the right place, she jumped to her feet and pulled out a large hunting blade from its leather sheath attached to her belt, driving it as hard as she could into the crack between the bricks.

It was no surprise that they hadn't noticed it before; the seam was practically invisible running lengthwise up to the lower ceiling of the alcove, the only flaw in its placement being a half an inch gap at the bottom. Working along the edges quickly on either side to loosen the binder holding everything together, Mikasa felt the expertly crafted false wall start to shift.

The stone tablet – which was much less thick than they thought - fell to the floor with an enormous crash, shaking the ground beneath their feet and sending out a spiderweb of cracks along the cobblestone. In the tiny alcove where the false wall had been stood a weathered bookshelf, ladened with nearly a dozen small boxes crafted from wood and bark, sealed with thick tree resin that still smelled faintly like charcoal and peppermint.

The three shared a hopeful look as they began removing the crates from the shelves, placing them in a line on the floor behind them. Several of the crates had been compromised, eaten away by either time or insects, their contents nothing but dust and bits of parchment left at the bottom of their vessels. Of the twelve boxes, nine still appeared intact, which was more luck than they were used to receiving.

Pulling out a small utility knife and falling to his knees in front of their spoils, Armin ran the sharp edge along the sealed crease of the closest box, prying the lid open tentatively.

The aroma of peppermint hit them like a wall, and Armin laughed incredulously as he pulled out the perfectly preserved book that was nestled inside. Opening it gently, his eyes flew up and down the pages with profound relief. They were still legible, covered margin to margin by the same foreign language as the Marotsara texts, and Armin regarded Mikasa with an almost face-splitting smile as she crouched down next to him curiously.

"What does it say?" She asked.

"I don't know yet, but I will." He said, picking up the blade and handing it to her hilt first. "Help me get the rest of these open so we can get started right away, then go tell Jean we found it. If we have any good fortune left, we can be out of this place before the day is over."

She nodded, taking the knife and setting to work on one of the other crates, though she eyed him cautiously as he ran to grab his pack from where it sat near the door, pulling out reference pages on his way back and handing them and the first volume to Oz.

"Armin…" Mikasa began, trying to ignore the bubble of anxiety that was pushing its way up her throat. "What if… what if we don't want to know what it says?"

Sitting down beside her, he placed the book she was handing him and his translation sheets on his lap before looking over at her worried expression with a sigh.

"Given our track record, I'm sure whatever we find here won't be good. But if there is anything that might help us fill in the gaps or give us what we need to find Ymir's Tree, then we are going to have to take it. Who knows how many holes in our knowledge are filled with things we would be better off not knowing? Nevertheless, it's better than being in the dark; at least, that's the way I see it. I just need answers."

He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, then turned back to the volume in his hands, allowing himself to become fully absorbed in his work in a way that only Armin could. Mikasa sighed heavily as she resumed her task, cracking the crate seals one by one and piling the books in a neat stack on the mossy floor.

Three hours. That's how long it took before she heard Oz's sharp intake of breath echoing around the cathedral, a sound that would soon become an ice pick of dread in the back of her mind. Three hours was nothing at all: a thin barrier between the before and after, a cruelly short amount of time to be given hope, with the truth preparing itself for its grand reveal.

The room had emptied some time ago; everyone agreeing it was best to just leave the two men to it. There was not much else they could do without getting in their way, and it would surely benefit them to use this time to replenish before whatever came next. Mikasa was the only one who had chosen to stay with them, quietly occupying herself by thoroughly examining the other walls of the chapel, making sure there were no other places that were hidden from them.

She had been listening to the soft lull of voices rolling up the stairs through the open door, but they had been completely drowned out by Oz's gasp. Armin was beside him before he could exhale, eyes flying over the pages to search for whatever knowledge had caused this kind of reaction.

The sound Armin made was softer, but it somehow still grated painfully in her ears, like metal on metal.

"It's so close!"

"An ancient unit of measurement, but yeah, looks like it's roughly 15 miles dead South of here."

Guess it's time to go. She thought, picking her way across the uneven floor to where the two men were sitting. They would need help with loading the wagons.

Three hours. It felt like gift, so little time after so much waiting.

Just as she was passing the giant fresco, a dull throb in Mikasa's temple sent a shock of fear pulsing through her veins, the knife she had been using to check for cracks in the walls tumbling loudly to the ground as her hand flew to the side of her head.

Armin, who had barely acknowledged her presence since he began digging into the books, looked up at her sharply.

"What's wrong?"

"My head…" Was all she could manage as another wave of pain pulsed through her mind, driving her to her knees with a shuddering gasp.

"Mikasa!"

Armin was at her side in an instant, putting his hands over hers and lifting her crumpled face up to his own, mirroring the distressed look she was now giving him. Headaches of this magnitude had long since vanished from her life, along with Eren and the Eldian branch of titan power, but this sudden, painful return was the same as it had been years before: like someone digging around in her mind for something she didn't understand yet.

"No." Mikasa said through gritted teeth, fighting off the debilitating panic that was building inside her. "Why is this happening again? She's gone, just like Eren…"

But this wasn't just an echo of Ymir searching through her mind for whatever strength she believed Mikasa held, this was something greater; even Armin seemed to comprehend the magnitude of this sudden episode, his eyes bouncing frantically around the room, as if there was some invisible threat that hadn't made itself known to them.

Through the cloud of pain that was obscuring her vision, a singular thought was almost shoved to the forefront of her mind, clanging around her skull like an airhorn in its urgency. It took only seconds for Mikasa to understand the reason behind this abrupt outburst, and she reached out to grab Armin's shoulders, trying to focus on his burry face.

This wasn't just a headache; it was a warning.

"Something's coming!"

Before Armin could question her, the tranquil quiet outside the shattered windows of the temple was suddenly broken by an odd whirring sound, like pieces of metal being swung around at impossible speeds somewhere off in the distance.

As the strange noise reached their ears the pain in Mikasa's head receded, as if it had deftly served its purpose, and was replaced by an overwhelming sense of alarm. Grabbing her by the hand Armin hoisted her up, and the two of them sprinted over to the closest window, peering outside at the lush canopy of trees in the direction of the noise.

No more than half a mile away to the Southeast, soaring so low that they were nearly brushing the treetops, were three small airships the likes of which they had never seen before. They were comparable in size to the plane they had used to escape Paradis, but that was where the similarities stopped.

These machines were crude in their design; nothing like the sleek engineering they had come to know from Hizuru mechanics. Bulky and clearly thrown together in haste, the three airships looked more like flying chunks of metal than actual planes, moving over the treetops at a slow crawl. Instead of the usual forward-facing propellers, they appeared to be outfitted with horizontal ones that pushed air down onto the canopy, tearing leaves violently from their branches and scattering them in every direction.

"Did the Azamabito send planes for us?"

Mikasa was looking between their approaching company and Armin, who was scrutinizing the ships with a frown as they made their way closer to the settlement.

This downward momentum was confusing; what benefit would this serve their allies on a flight, long-distance or otherwise? More than that, she knew he hadn't requested any kind of air support from Kiyomi or her people during this excursion, so what was the purpose of sending some kind of prototype ship all the way out here for no apparent reason?

Unease was rippling hotly over Mikasa's skin as she frantically tried to comprehend what was happening, when a flurry of movement caught her eye. The entire team was rushing through the main doors and gathering on the steps below, looking around in confusion for the source of the sound, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.

"Hey! What's going on?!"

Jean had noticed the two of them leaning out the second story window and was calling out to them, yelling over the building sound of their approaching company.

Tilting over the windowsill, Armin opened his mouth to relay what they were seeing to the rest of the group, when his uncertainty shifted seamlessly into crippling fear as recognition took its place in his eyes.

As the planes started crossing the far edge of the lake, their engines reaching an almost deafening volume, the sigil that was painted on the side of the closest craft was finally in view, reflecting off the rippling surface of the water: a crest baring crossed swords, etched in black and silver, and the function of the horizontal propellers became horribly clear:

They weren't built to fly; they were built to hover.

"Those aren't our ships."

Armin didn't have to explain any further; Mikasa had caught sight of the crest seconds after he did, understanding coming in the form of a ragged gasp as she pulled out her hilts from their holsters, slamming them into the scabbards on her thighs and drawing out her blades in one fluid motion.

Leaning as far as she could out the vacant window frame, Mikasa filled her lungs with the damp forest air and screamed as loud as she could.

"JAEGERISTS!"

One minute. Mikasa's warning had bought them only one minute to prepare, but it was more than enough. She was still yelling when she turned from the window - eleven sets of cables sending the Scouts on the ground flying towards cover - yelling for Armin to back away from the windows, to grab whatever he could and make a run for it.

But his face had gone utterly blank, not looking out the window at the approaching ships but rather the door, which had banged against the cathedral wall with a shudder. The space where she was expecting someone to be standing was eerily vacant, and the room was filled with an unsettling sense of departure.

Armin's voice was very quiet when he spoke.

"Where's Oz?"

It took ten seconds for Mikasa to count the number of books on the floor. The same amount of time, as chance would have it, for the closest Jaegerist plane's artillery shells to make contact.