Part 3: "A Miraculous Journey"

Nautika's Diary: I'd never missed a single day before then, not since I first began writing in this diary. I wrote every detail of my life.
Nautika's Diary: But now, this habit scares me. I force myself to write down every detail … only to black it all out later.
Nautika's Diary: I'm doubting everything now. I doubt myself. I doubt how I could have survived ... I even—
Nautika's Diary: Doubt the Mother Spirit.
Nautika: coughing
Nautika: Mother Spirit, please protect me; please save me ...
Rolf: Nautika ...
The days bleeding in the cold have left her in a delirious state. She drifts in and out of consciousness, not knowing whether she's still out in the wilderness or safe in her bed. So, she continues to pray to the Mother Spirit.
But, then, her prayers break off, as if she has brushed against something deeper, something forbidden and dark.
Nautika: We fell ...
Nautika: It was dark and cold. I could feel my stomach growling ... I couldn't stand up ...
Nautika: I closed my eyes, hoping the Mother Spirit would come to me ... and then I—
Then comes the unbearable pain, creeping up from her legs, coiling around her gut, and clawing into her stomach.
Nautika's Diary: My stomach was eating at me from the inside. I'd never known true hunger before. It was painful—no, agonizing.
Nautika's Diary: I'd endured bitter cold and the ultimate exhaustion. I thought I could take on every challenge until that moment.
Nautika's Diary: Death's hand had brushed up against me, and I became the most selfish creature alive.
Rolf: And then what, mu ráhkis?
Nautika: I, I ...
Her eyes open wide as a violent spasm claws at her stomach. It's as if the triumph of survival, this wild joy of being alive, is too much for her to bear.
Nautika: vomiting
Rolf: It's alright, Nautika. It's all over now.
Rolf: No need to dwell on it any longer. Just rest.
He touches his granddaughter's pallid forehead, his brow furrowed in worry.
His hands are rough and warm, the calluses telling tales of years spent gripping an ice axe.
Nautika: Áddjá ... A-Are you back from Antarctica already?
Nautika: ... What's it like there? Has it changed?
Rolf: No, ráhkis, I haven't left yet.
The government ship is waiting for their leader to begin the search for treasures they would forge into power and authority.
A child just turned fifteen, still innocent and frail, shouldn't be worried with such things.
Rolf: But I believe this journey will be miraculous. We'll find that rock.
Nautika: That rock ...?
Rolf: Yes. This time, we have a clearer destination. Sit tight and wait for me, will you, Nautika?
Rolf: You've always wanted to go to Antarctica with me, haven't you? Well, one day, after I return, we'll make that trip together.
Nautika: No, Áddjá. I ... don't want that anymore ...
Rolf never could have imagined hearing such words from his granddaughter's lips.
Her passion for exploration has always burned even brighter than his own.
Rolf: … What's the matter, ráhkis?
Nautika's Diary: I never thought I'd ever say something like that.
Nautika's Diary: Was it my brush with death that changed me? I had this gut feeling that Áddjá's Antarctic expedition wouldn't be what I imagined.
Nautika's Diary: It's not a pilgrimage to our spiritual homeland, nor some purely scientific mission to unravel geological mysteries.
Nautika's Diary: So, then, what is it?
Nautika: Áddjá, if we don't really set out for a destination ... then, do we still get what we're looking for?
Nautika: You said ... the Mother Spirit, out of kindness to Her people, gives us the harshest of tests. That's how we know we're on the right path ...
These words throw Rolf off balance.
Then, he lays a rough hand over her delicate one.
His granddaughter understands much more than he'd realized.
Rolf: The Mother Spirit, ráhkis, is generous, kind, and wise. She sees all the mess and pain of this world.
Rolf: And it is precisely the things that shake our hearts that we are meant to face.
Rolf: Nautika, I've never expected any journey to reveal all the answers or show me all that I could ever desire.
Rolf: The path to Her is long and arduous. It isn't always success as we imagined it that lies at the end of a journey. Just like with your first expedition, sometimes the reward is hard-learned wisdom for the next one.
Nautika: Áddjá ...
Rolf: You, my little treasure ... You have always been like the North Star to me.
Rolf: And that's why I must tell you this.
Rolf: I've always had a feeling ...
His gaze drifts to the window, as if already locking eyes with his faraway destination, his voice growing distant and cold.
Rolf: That this Antarctic expedition ...
Nautika's Diary: My passion for nature, my curiosity about the world, my pursuit of history—it all came from Áddjá.
Nautika's Diary: Long before I ever set out on my own journey, before I began my lifelong search, I prayed for his safe return—the man who walked the path I yearned to follow.
Nautika's Diary: And I was a part of his journey, too. A star to guide him home.
The ship lets out a thunderous roar.
And with that, the Antarctic voyage begins.
Villager I: Rolf, everyone, buorre mátki! Come back safely!
Villager II: Mannet dearvan! May your journey be bathed in Her light!
Nautika: ...
Nautika: Mother Spirit ... I pray to you.
Nautika: Guide Áddjá. Let him walk the right path.
Her prayer is redoubled with conviction and concern.
News returns to them long before the ship does.
Some died on the journey—lost to storms or illness—and others at their destination. Their notices were brief, emotionless, and clinical, reporting the end of a life as if it were the results of a test.
They came in waves, but Nautika had not yet received any word of her grandfather.
She came to a dreadful conclusion as their team dwindled away. That this faceless, nameless specter reporting each teammate's death ... was none other than the expedition leader: her áddjá ...
Nautika's Diary: Antarctica is exactly as I imagined: cruel in its mystery. It never asks where its visitors are from. It doesn't care.
Nautika's Diary: Mother Spirit, maybe we never had your permission ... but we've never known how to stop, how to stifle our urge to explore.
Nautika's Diary: I beg for your mercy. I know that we're foolish and weak, drowning in a swamp of ignorance as we struggle toward the light. But I can't believe that we're just born to die ...
One bleak day, the ship returns.
Villager I: Rolf!
Villager II: Mother Spirit be with us ...
Rolf: ...
The villagers crowd around, peering behind Rolf in some strange hope that each reported death had been an error or a bad dream.
Nautika: Áddjá ...
But he stands there as the sole survivor, staggering toward the roiling mass of hopeless faces, the weight of every fallen companion on his shoulders.
No one holds him accountable for the lives lost—he has earned their trust a thousand times over—but there are burning questions in every set of eyes.
They had chosen this peril knowingly. The Mother Spirit lets each of Her children walk their own path to find meaning—even in death.
Nautika: Áddjá ...!
At last the weight of his journey seems to snap his last supports, and he sinks to his knees.
Rolf lifts his head, looking out at the crowd gathering around him ... or perhaps beyond.
His expression glows with something unearthly, his eyes both hollow and alive.
At last, he flashes them all an unhinged smile.
Rolf: Nautika!
Rolf: Everyone!
Rolf: I did it ... I finally found it!
Rolf: The stratum from the "Blank Era" ...!
Rolf: The relic of the outsiders, the true origin of life ...
The next second, he pushes himself upright, lifts his head, and raises one hand high. Light gathers in his palm as he clenches ... a stone.
Rolf: Something we've never witnessed ... that no one's ever laid eyes on before me. It's more than any of you could imagine ...
Nautika: It's a stone ...
A heavy silence falls, but Nautika steps forward, drawn to the stone despite the ravings of this man who only seems to resemble her grandfather.
Her gaze holds on it.