Garrett enters Pagan woodlands in the dead of winter. All the leaves have long since fallen, and the trees stand crooked, brittle, and sharp in the white and grayness. Suddenly, a whirlwind forms, whipping debris and powdered snow, and in the center, a blue-green glow pierces the uncolored bleakness, brightening and concentrating, shining through the increasing density of whirling debris, and just before the spinning column solidifies, the glow assumes the shape of a beating heart.

The wind dies down, the column stops spinning but there is no cessation of rapid and patterned movement as arms stretch forth like branches from the trunk, and the column becomes humanoid. Finally, long flowing raven hair flies freely from the creatures' head, the skin as richly-hued smooth bark over sensuous female curves. The foot of the column separates as legs, taking a single step forward. Viktoria!

Garrett calls her name. A rare tear collects at the corner of an eye socket filled with a cold clockwork orb, and for once, he cares not. He breaks into a sprint, running so hard his muscles crack, and he cares not. The hardened soil beneath his boots erupts into vivid grasses and blossoms, casting a million clods of frozen mud into the air around him, which explode into a million fragrant petals, intoxicating him with every heaving breath. Viktoria's hair fills with tiny flowers, like stars against a cloudless velvet night sky beyond The City's sickly lights and smog. She softly speaks his name as they crash and tumble onto a bed of moss and blooms.