The power of our temple has been enough to halt the spread of the poison on Tallon IV, but that which remains thrives and grows more concentrated, gnawing on itself in the dark passages beneath the planet's surface. Whether it can ever be truly destroyed is not for our eyes to see. But there is something else. We Chozo are drifting, tumbling through space and time as the Great Poison eats away at our sanity. We wake in dreams. As the veil of lunacy descends, as past and future blend and shuffle, one image appears and flickers through the landscape, wraithlike. It is the Hatchling, the Newborn, walking the path of corruption, a lone figure shining in the toxic shadows. She comes dressed for war, and her wrath is terrible. Do our eyes look backward, seeing the Hatchling as she once was? Or does she approach even now, arriving in our race's last hour, a savior clothed in machines crafted long ago by Chozo hands? Poisonous clouds drift across our vision.