"—Don Quixote."
Aiwass called upon his most loyal Knight.
"Your Knight..."
The voice, once vibrant and high-pitched, now carried a touch of undeniable weariness, yet seemed more composed and determined: "Don Quixote de la Mancha, responding to the call... fighting for you."
This was the Knight awakened from his dream.
But in his heart, he still believed in that false legend.
As Inanna dissipated into a golden vortex, Don Quixote reappeared, wrapped in silver-grey radiance.
The silver-grey symbolizing lies and falsehood—
Grey, the color closest to the "miraculous white"; silver, the color that most perfectly reflects the rainbow light of hope.
"Twist reality."
Aiwass commanded: "You say—"
"'This land has never died.'"
Aiwass and Don Quixote spoke in unison.
In that moment, the very nature of this desert seemed to change. A chill and stillness that had lasted tens of thousands of years was blown away by the spring wind like the cold of winter.
