After a long while, Edward approached the charred corpses and said to Cain:
"You retrieve objects from the space you possess. Can you pull out white and gold flowers?"
"Huh? What kind?"
The man didn't ask why he wanted them, as he could guess what the young man intended to do.
"It doesn't matter. I just want flowers in those colors. It's essential that they be exactly like that."
Cain made the familiar gesture of grabbing something from thin air and produced the two flowers.
Edward took them and placed them between the embrace of the corpses—the white one on the girl's side and the gold one on the young man's.
Then, he clasped his hands together and began to pray.
"Almighty Lord,
grant us Your grace and bless these poor souls,
that they may return to Your embrace.
In the highest of Your glory,
shelter them with Your infinite love."
Cain watched him and asked, "You believe in God?"
Edward replied, "Yes. I believe God is within all of us. I believe that in the end, we are all part of Him, just as He is part of us—even if we haven't realized it. That's why I've asked for them to return to His embrace, where they once rested."
"I see… And what do the flower colors represent?"
"The white represents purity, and the gold represents hope. I pray both remained with them until the end."
"Do you want to see their final moments?"
"You can do that?" The young man looked surprised.
"Yes. Through a letter."
"A letter?" Edward was confused.
Letters, poems, and such things were supposed to carry meaning to evoke related effects. So what kind of letter would allow someone to delve into the memories of the dead?
"Yes. Once, in some past life, my mind shattered into a thousand fragments. Each piece landed in different memories of various people, both living and dead. I felt and saw their recollections simultaneously. I went mad shortly after because my brain couldn't handle it. My mind even created other versions of myself to lighten the burden, though it didn't work."
"Fortunately, I was eventually killed and returned to relative normality in my next life. So I took that experience and wrote a letter addressed to those identities my mind had created—in other words, to myself."
"I see… But why would I want to witness their last moments?" Edward felt such things shouldn't be seen out of respect for the deceased.
"Tell me something. How would you feel if no one ever knew of your death? Would you want to be forgotten?"
"Uh… no. But I also wouldn't want anyone to see my final moments. That's the bare minimum of respect I'd ask for—to die in peace." The young man shook his head in disagreement.
"Don't you think that's hypocritical? You call it respect, but how true is that? Eventually, you'll forget them, leaving their memories to fade with no one to remember. Isn't that more disrespectful than just swallowing your discomfort and carrying them in your mind? No one wants to be forgotten."
Edward wanted to argue, but the words stuck in his throat.
"Fine. Show me the scenes," the young man said, steeling himself for what he was about to see. Though he had witnessed many horrors in his life, the emptiness always returned when faced with something like this. He could never erase it from his mind.
The man approached the corpses and began reciting the letter.
"Hello, Cain.
I'm sure you're doing well, since I'm fine, and since you are me… Well, anyway, I wanted to thank you for making that choice. Thank you for not straying onto the path the other version of me took. I hope to live alongside you again someday.
With endless gratitude: Your memories from the future."
Scenes resembling strips of film began to unfold in the air.
They showed a young man leading a little girl by the hand, walking home.
Suddenly, the sky turned red, and black-and-orange fireballs began raining down endlessly. Both looked up in shock until the young man snapped into action.
He ran, scooping the girl into his arms. None of the fireballs struck them directly—until a residual flame surged toward them.
The young man turned, taking the blast on his back instead of the child. A ragged, pained scream tore from his throat, but he clung to the girl despite the agony.
Though the burns still seared, he managed to drag them beneath a pile of rubble that formed a cramped shelter—the only way to avoid the falling fire.
The girl burst into tears at the sight of her brother's injuries. He forced a weak smile and whispered,
"Don't cry, Eli. Your little brother's okay."
Between sniffles and sobs, she glared at him. "Don' lie, Lu! I know you're hurtin' 'cause of me. I don' wan' you hurt no more!"
"I'm not lying. I'm really fine."
His smile softened slightly, but the pain still twisted his expression.
Just then, the fireballs ceased as abruptly as they'd begun.
The young man's face darkened with suspicion. Why stop so suddenly?
A thick, black mist began creeping across the land.
Sensing danger, he warned his sister, "Eli, cover your nose and eyes. That fog might be poisonous."
The girl obeyed, pressing her hands over her face as her brother did the same.
Blind and breathless, he carried her forward, guided only by sound.
They stumbled on for over thirty minutes before his burns finally overcame him. He collapsed.
The girl screamed his name, frantically searching for help—but no one was there.
Then, the sky reddened once more. Fireballs began to fall again.
Desperation flashed across the young man's face. "Eli, please—run! Leave me here and hide, I'm begging you—!"
The girl looked at him for a long moment… then smiled, pure and warm.
"No. You're my brother. Even if the world's endin', I ain't leavin' you alone."
"Eli…" Tears spilled down his cheeks.
She spread her arms, asking for one last hug.
With a trembling smile, he pulled her close.
And so, in a final embrace, the siblings said goodbye.
A fireball descended upon them.