Yuna found herself once again in a corporeal state.
She looked down and saw hooded figures standing around what seemed to be an altar.
Several people lay upon it—dying. Yuna could tell at a glance.
No one cried, no wails filled the air, yet grief lingered, heavy and suffocating.
Yuna just merely look on, looking around the place she found herself in.
"Was what we did truly right? Why do I feel we're still the same outcasts?"
A whisper slipped from one man to the person beside him, his hand clenching tight.
[The foundation of their faith is not strong, Yuna.]
Huh?
Yuna glanced down at her chest. The dimension stone glowed faintly. The voice—it came from there. She was certain.
But she didn't reply. She had no interest in faith or gods. What did it have to do with her? Expression flat, she only looked around, detached, her emotions strangely static, as if frozen in place.
[They are lost souls,] the stone spoke again.
