"Ah..."
The Young Diva's chanting voice was clear, bright, and lingering, like a murmuring stream in the forest or wind brushing across leaves as it flowed past everyone's ears.
"AH!!!"
A heart-rending roar crashed down from the sky like thunder, shattering the stream's gentle flow.
Everyone fell silent for a moment. Only Lambert continued swinging her Hunting Horn wildly as she bellowed, "LIFE! LIBERATION!"
"Damn it, can't you keep it down, meow?! How many times has this happened, meow?!" Although Ning-Ning was Lambert's hunting partner, the pair's relationship was nowhere near as harmonious as the bonds between Altaïr and Sajji or Isis and Clawdia.
Calling their constant friction a daily sparring match would not have been an exaggeration.
Ning-Ning launched into a flying kick and planted one foot in the small of Lambert's back, cutting off her ecstatic singing, or rather, howling.
Lambert stumbled two steps, planted the heavy Hunting Horn on the ground, and turned to glare indignantly at Ning-Ning before looking at the Young Diva. "This won't do, sis. Your singing has no staying power. The moment I open my mouth, your voice breaks off. How is that supposed to work?"
The Young Diva looked guilty as well. "My sincerest apologies, Ms. Lambert. Let me try again."
Totori, who had long since run out of patience, jumped up to say something, but the Young Diva pressed her back down before she could.
Perhaps the Wyverian Diva had been right. Divas really did judge "song" differently from ordinary people.
Most people would find the Young Diva of Mezeporta's singing sweet and pleasant, while Lambert's howling was pure noise.
The two singers themselves did not see it that way.
The Young Diva felt that Lambert's voice was bursting with power and presence. Her own singing had broken off only because she had failed to keep pace with Lambert's rhythm.
Yet the night of the full moon had arrived, and the pair had not managed to coordinate successfully even once. What were they supposed to do?
Worry crossed the Young Diva's face.
Altaïr glanced uncertainly at the Wyverian Diva, who stood quietly to one side and listened in silence.
Didn't you say you would find a way to harmonize their voices? Why have you spent the past two days quietly listening and letting them fail again and again?
"Perhaps... you should perform tonight after all?" Altaïr asked after carefully choosing his words. "Even if we found a solution right now, wouldn't it be too late to practice?"
The Wyverian Diva maintained the same calm, unruffled expression. "That will not be necessary. A Diva's song springs from the soul. There is no need for so-called rehearsals.
"Their voices require only a catalyst to merge, such as... a storm sweeping across the Great Forest."
"Then why have you made them sing and sing and sing their hearts out for the past two days, meow?! It's been driving me crazy, meow!" Shalan glared at the Wyverian Diva.
The fact that the older and younger Divas, together with the Hunter-type Diva, had not clashed but had instead come to understand one another through song and gotten along splendidly displeased Shalan immensely.
Did I come all this way to the Great Forest to watch the three of you become soulmates, meow?! Don't make me laugh, meow!
I came to see blood run in rivers, meow!
As if sensing Shalan's twisted desire, the Wyverian Diva looked toward her. A faint smile appeared on the woman's face, filling Shalan with unease.
"A catalyst sometimes needs to be created. Their discordant singing over the past two days has not been without purpose.
"Hehe. Had Miss Shalan not been here, and had only Mr. Altaïr been present, I would never have dared attempt such a radical method."
"Meow?!" Shalan's fur bristled. "What do you mean, meow?"
The Wyverian Diva raised her head and gazed toward the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the sky.
"Since a storm can provide the catalyst, the accompaniment, and the stage, let us try inviting one."
"Meow meow meow?!"
The sun had only just set, yet the sky was already completely dark.
Pitch-black storm clouds amassed and formed a massive vortex beneath the tempest, shrouding the night sky above the Great Forest.
A fierce gale howled, while pent-up lightning flickered among the clouds.
Creatures large and small fled into their nests in terror. Even the clamor of summer insects fell utterly silent.
As Altaïr gazed at the apocalyptic scene, his eye twitched twice.
The Wyverian Diva had already explained her plan to the group.
A Diva's song was no mere sound. It held a mysterious power capable of drawing even an Elder Dragon's attention.
As it happened, the Wyverian Diva had visited this region of the Tower many times before and knew that a Kushala Daora's territory lay not far away...
Her plan was to invite that Kushala Daora to join the performance, then use the storm it summoned to help the two young Divas (?) synchronize their voices.
When the Wyverian Diva had explained her plan not long before, Shalan had leaped up, intent on clawing the woman, while Altaïr and the Guild Knights all wore expressions that screamed, "What in the world are you talking about?!"
By contrast, the two people placed at the very center of the danger had wholeheartedly embraced the Wyverian Diva's mad scheme.
Lambert had raised a thumb and declared, "Awesome!" Even the quiet, delicate Young Diva, who had seemed perfectly normal, looked as though a revelation had struck her: "So there is another way."
"To be honest, ma'am, I'm only a 6★ Hunter. Even with Lady Shalan's help, there is no way we could defeat an Elder Dragon," Altaïr reminded the Wyverian Diva.
The Wyverian Diva inclined her head slightly. "There is no need to worry. The Kushala Daora, wary of the 'King's' authority, will not attack us.
"Even if it is reckless enough to strike while the two Divas sing, you need only hold it at bay for a few moments.
"Once the performance begins smoothly, our 'audience' will not allow a guest 'accompanist' from outside to interrupt the Divas' song."
"Th-then what if the performance doesn't go smoothly, meow?" Sajji's voice trembled slightly.
"Rest assured! It will go smoothly!"
"The performance will inevitably reach its perfect finale."
Lambert and the Young Diva replied in unison, while the Wyverian Diva nodded with a smile beside them. The three women were the first to leave the camp.
Their inexplicable confidence and perfect accord made everyone else's scalp prickle, but the rest of the group could only hurry after them.
Outside the camp, several indistinct figures emerged between the tree shadows swaying in the fierce wind.
Some wore enormous bat-like wings. Some wielded vine-and-wood bows fused to their arms. Others had palm-sized beetles crawling all over their bodies...
The strangely dressed people watched in silence, and several young Guild Knights nervously reached toward their sword hilts.
Bud stopped them with a low warning. "They are not enemies. They are indigenous people of the Great Forest. Do not start a conflict."
Their leader was a woman who wore leaves and beehives as armor. She seemed acquainted with the Wyverian Diva. After stepping forward to greet her, the woman spoke with syntax quite unlike the common language: "Lady Diva goes to the Tower. Guide... we will."
The Wyverian Diva nodded slightly, signaling that there was no cause for concern.
Traveling through the storm-shrouded Great Forest, where visibility barely extended beyond an arm's length, was no easy task. Fortunately, the indigenous people led the way, and the group did not lose its way in the sea of trees.
—--
By late that night, the group finally arrived before the mysterious ancient Tower.
Perhaps because the Tower and the surrounding ruins stood directly beneath the eye of the storm, the wind and rain had mostly abated there.
As Altaïr entered the ruins, he sensed something and raised his head toward the sky.
High overhead, among the lightning-streaked dark clouds, he could just make out a blurred silhouette gleaming with metallic silver light.
"Kushala Daora, the Wind-soaring Dragon?"
Altaïr muttered to himself. Beneath his tension, a trace of excitement stirred in his heart. "Lady Shalan, I'm counting on you this time."
"What nonsense are you talking about, meow?" Shalan took a beautiful large conch from her pack and waved it in front of him.
"I'm both a Dancing Felyne and a healing Felyne, meow. You're the only one who has to fight, meow. But as long as you don't die on the spot, I should be able to save you, meow."
Altaïr: "..."