The witch Sylviare, who has lived for more than three thousand years, is best at boiling potions, being in a daze, and waiting for a pot of hyacinths to bloom. Until the dark purple stone left behind by his deceased friend Vita began to glow - the cracks were like a map, pointing to the bottom of the dry lake and the door locked for thousands of years under the ice sheet.
The four seasons are in chaos, and the hoarfrost never melts. The Ardent Tribunal in gray clothes hunted down the witches, saying that they were the source of disaster. Hill picked up Mira, an abandoned orphan, and walked north with Nile, a crow hatched from the belly of a snake. They want to find the truth behind the chaos of the seasons, awaken the sleeping fragments of the godhead, and make the crimes of the Arrogant Tribunal known to the public on the trial stand.
A witch who is afraid of trouble, a girl who cannot cry, and a tough-tongued crow. The hyacinths are not blooming, but the roots are still alive. Spring has come.
Intention: Waiting is not standing still, it is walking a long way and remembering to come back. Remembering is not to dwell on the past, but to plant the dead people in your heart and let them continue walking with you.