A silence hung in the air of Stones.
The Tree of Life—reborn as the Tree of Scars—pulsed slowly, its roots no longer clear and glowing, but dark, dense, and filled with whispers of wounds from all corners of the world. Among those whispers, a gentle voice called forth beautiful memories, times when everything was whole before this battle shattered it all. The voice seemed to offer a fragile hope, reminding every soul that heard it of the sacrifices that had been made.
In the center of the arena, Fitran stood still. He reflected on the steps that had brought him to this point, where every decision seemed to shape his complicated fate. With his hand lightly burned by the emotional glyph he wore to create Cantus Fractura, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing against his chest. Sheena sat cross-legged, breathing slowly, maintaining the rhythm of the roots. In her heart, she poured all her love for the friends fighting alongside her, even though she knew the risks were too great. Rinoa stood silently, her right hand still holding the heart of Alexander—now vibrating lightly, as if it were crying. Each beat felt like a call from a lost soul, creating a deep pain of inevitable loss.
And from the dim side of the altar, Sibylla gazed at them… and at herself. She felt trapped between choices and sacrifices, as if even her shadow dared not approach. In her mind, images of the past flickered—times when everything felt easier, before the weight of responsibility piled upon her shoulders. She questioned herself, was there truly a price worth paying? And in the silence, the painful answer came: perhaps sacrifice was the only way to reach peace amidst the darkness.
Within Sibylla's body, the time contract she had bound with Althur—represented by thorned bells symbolizing emotional ties, an inverted spiral as a representation of fate, and the first blood she had shed—vibrated intensely.
Her heart raced with that vibration, recalling Althur's gaze, filled with hope and regret. In every beat, she longed for the times when uncertainty did not haunt her, when the choices she made were the only paths she desired.
She heard her own voice from the past:
"I will seal all possibilities so the world need not choose again."
"I will bear silence so no one has to scream."
But today, a new voice emerged:
"And if the world wishes to remain flawed… will you still silence it?"
Althur felt a shift in will. He did not turn, but he knew.
As that new voice echoed in his mind, guilt haunted Althur. He realized that every choice he made was not just about himself, but about its impact on all he loved. This was the moment where dreams and reality collided, forcing him to confront the painful truth that often we must choose between what we want and what is truly needed.
"Sibylla. If you step back now… then all the time you protect will shatter. All the futures you stabilize will unravel. You… will become an anomaly."
Sibylla replied calmly:
"Then let me be flawed. Because today… I want to choose."
She stepped forward. The time bells bound to her hands began to crack. But she did not waver.
Rinoa looked at her. Fitran squinted—not in suspicion, but ready to accept.
A doubt crossed Rinoa's mind, as if shadows of the past danced in the sky of her thoughts. She remembered the sweet moments when they laughed together, sharing dreams even as the world was shrouded in fog. Now, that hope hung at the tip of a weapon, waiting to awaken or die.
"You… came as an opponent," Fitran said.
"But the world does not need a fight. The world needs those who wish to stay even knowing it will hurt."
Sibylla cried. For the first time.
"I just want the world to have a voice… even if that voice is broken."
She raised her hand. Gazed at the sky. Then… she broke her bells.
Her entire body trembled as if her heart wanted to escape from a body no longer able to bear the weight. In an instant, everything she had ever possessed felt precious, and she remembered every choice that had brought her to this point. To dare to choose meant being willing to lose, and she felt as if she had spent centuries trying to avoid that bitter reality.
Fractum Tempus: Severance of Spiral Vow
The time contract binding her to Althur shattered in a flash of sound without echo.
Time around her leaped—birds flew in broken movements, roots cracked the earth, and Proto-Speech created a silent void.
Longing and regret united in the rhythm of her breath. She wanted to scream, yet the words remained trapped in her heart, like lyrics of a song never sung. Was all of this worth it? That question haunted every step she had taken, reminding her that every action had consequences greater than we could imagine.
Sibylla's body was nearly shattered.
Yet Rinoa approached. She held her body. And sang a short note.
A note that said: "I hear you."
Althur stood still. He did not attack. He simply looked at Sibylla with a gaze mixed with anger and affection.
"You are the core of my silent symphony."
Sibylla bowed her head, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, recalling all the sacrifices she had made. In the silence, she felt two forces clashing within her—the courage to defy fate and the fear of loss.
"And that is the problem. I do not want to be silent anymore."
Sibylla's words pierced through the tension, as if touching Althur's wounded heart. He wanted to understand, wanted to ask, what is the meaning of courage if everything loved must be risked?
The sky of Stones—filled with flawed writings since the beginning of this arc—wrote a new line, with ink of blood and light, as if affirming that even though the world sank in suffering, hope could still be reborn from sacrifice:
ꦲꦶꦤ꧀ꦠꦺꦩ꧀ꦤꦠꦸ ꦥꦺꦤꦺꦏ꧀ ꦱꦭꦸꦩ꧀ꦧꦼꦩ — Indemntu Penek Salumbema
(Those who break promises for the sake of the world… sometimes save the world itself.)
A shadow crossed Sibylla's mind, reminding her of times when hope still shone amidst the darkness. "Was all my sacrifice in vain?" that question escaped silently, swept away by the cold night wind.
Every word in the sky seemed to dance, creating a melody that stirred the spirit. This moment was not just a script, but a lesson on how our choices shape destiny.
Sibylla fell to her knees. Her body did not die. But the time within her was now free—and that was far more painful. She had chosen pain, and that was her first freedom.
For a moment, she felt her heart's fragments coming together again, though with the bitter taste of sacrifice she had to accept. Rinoa embraced her, trying to fill the void left by sorrow.
"We have a greater fight ahead," Rinoa whispered, her eyes shining with determination. "Every step you take is part of our journey." Sheena touched the roots, seeking hope in every weighty decision.
"One by one… our world is not fixed. But acknowledged. And that… is far more enduring."