Now, she was alone here.
Agatha slowly withdrew her gaze from the lantern, turned around, and left Governor Winston behind in the cold and tranquil darkness, striding toward the "branches" crisscrossing through the endless space, walking toward the thorn curtain as vast as the heaven and earth itself.
A dim lantern hung at her waist, her right hand grasping the walking stick that had been with her for many years in memory, and her left hand still tightly clutching the brass key from Winston—the key was no longer cold but carried a warmth as if it was fusing with her body temperature, as if... it was gradually merging with her body.
But Agatha no longer paid attention to any changes in her body.
She just stepped through the darkness, feeling her body moving forward with certainty, as long as the surrounding chaos had not completely engulfed and assimilated her, she still needed to press on.
