Memory Bubble: Aeons

Memory Bubble: Aeons is a Memory Bubble.
==Location==
==Dialogue==
:Bubbles are floating in the air with a colorful glow gliding on their surfaces. For some reason, they form an image that seems to carry a profound meaning. As you approach them, a female voice that sounds similar to Herta's murmurs monotonously, "Aeon."
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:Staring at the woman's surreal face concealed under the wide brim of her hood, you can hardly believe the bizarre stories she has just told.
:Gods really exist, and they are elevated from mortals? Gods aren't almighty, but each holds different authorities and walks different roads? This is too ridiculous! She even claims to be some sort of Emanator and Mirror Holder...
:The woman nods. "It's normal for you to be confused." She speaks in a calm and cold tone as if she can see through you.
:The woman then reaches underneath her silk cloak with her slender fingers and takes out a gleaming, sharp object. Dazzled by the glow, you try to take a close look, only to be distracted again by the woman's voice.
:"This is the Mirror of Transcendence. Look at THEM. Look at what the Aeon look like." The woman's voice remains frosty.
:You stare into the mirror as curiosity gets the better of you. Instead of your reflection, you see a magnificent sculpture. The sculpture shatters from top to bottom as if it is struck by lightning. It splits vertically into halves, and the separated parts fall independently.
:The left part of the sculpture is a muscular man, while the right part is a gorgeous woman. Each part has two arms extended toward the other. They support and uplift each other, but also hold a carving knife each as though they are crafting each other.
:The pair of twisting, entangled, and intertwined bodies look like a spiral made of stone. Yet, they are joined together from their waists down. You are mesmerized and fascinated by the remarkably gorgeous and bizarre posture.
:Suddenly, your gaze meets the eyes of the being in the mirror. Stunned, you quickly withdraw yourself from the extraordinary experience. "So, this is your god..." you mumble.
:"No. This is what beauty in its purest form looks like in your perception." The woman shakes her head as she strokes the cracked mirror in her hands. "This is what THEY ARE."
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