In the heart of the Sanctuary, still shattered by war and despair, two dark rooms became the center of all anxiety and hope: the treatment room where Iris, the queen of the Gaia nation, and Oda Nobuzan, the commander of the Oda kingdom, underwent their extraordinary examinations.
Iris's Room
The lantern light flickered between the hastily hung thin white curtains, partially blocking the view from the eyes of traitors and panic. The tight security was evident; one small mistake could be fatal. Mitsuyori Aketsu, the protective figure now acting as the head of security, stood in the corner of the room, his face tense every time a shadow passed outside. He was always on high alert, his mind fully awake with tension, ready to face the worst. By the bedside, an old healer—smuggled from the remnants of the loyal Earth nation—examined Iris's abdomen with trembling hands, as if every second could mean life or death.
Iris lay calm, but her eyes could not hide the swirling fear within. She gripped the sheets tightly, her fingers pressing the fabric as if trying to find a hold on a reality that was becoming increasingly blurred. Every touch on her abdomen felt like a spark of lightning within her soul. "How… is my child?" Iris's voice trembled, barely audible, yet filled with hope and fear. She had heard news of the spiral babies, symbols of hope for their nation, but the dark shadow of destruction that haunted her could not be erased from her mind. She feared that the seed of destruction also lived within her womb, threatening not only her life but also the future of her people.
The healer pressed a magical detection amulet to Iris's abdomen, anxious as he witnessed the unusual aura's vibrations. On its surface, a faint spiral glowed, as if wanting to penetrate her skin. "In our tradition, this amulet is a protector, but this time... something is different," he whispered softly, as if speaking more to himself than to Iris. The spiral aura flowed warm yet cold—a paradox that made the healer step back. A sense of anxiety filled the room, while hope and fear battled within Iris's soul, creating an almost unbearable tension.
"There is… something here, Your Highness. The protective magic is still strong, but… there is another flow dancing beneath it. I—I have never seen this before." Iris took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In a half-dream state, she felt a gentle movement within her body, something that was not just life, but a will. A faint voice whispered in her ear, "The spiral blood has awakened. You are the gateway."
The healer held his breath, then very slowly pressed points around Iris's navel. His movements were so careful, as if afraid to disturb a hidden secret. Suddenly, Iris's body tensed. An unusual pulse was felt from within—not the heartbeat of a fetus, but a strange vibration that sent small spiral images to the surface of her skin. For a moment, everyone in the room could see it: a spiral of blue-purple light slowly spinning before disappearing back into the depths of flesh. In that moment, tension rose among them, giving a sense of worry and anxiety that was almost unbearable, wrapping the room like dark fog.
"This is not human magic… nor is it angelic magic…" the healer gasped, his voice caught in his throat, difficult to continue. "This is something older." All who heard it felt a thread of fear creeping down their spines, knocking back distant memories of ancient legends that spoke of entities greater than humans and angels, something that had been worshipped and feared in their traditions.
Mitsuyori stepped forward, his gaze cold and burdened. "The protective seal needs to be strengthened. No one must know your position." Amid his firm words, there was a hidden panic in his tone. Iris weakly grasped Mitsuyori's hand, as if trying to strengthen herself and those who depended on her. "If I die, protect my child. Whatever form it takes." Mitsuyori's head lifted, his eyes showing empathy, yet firmness filled his figure. At that moment, among his shadows, there was a weight that felt deep—a statement that should not have been spoken, but the words slipped out heavily. Mitsuyori nodded, then gazed at the sky through a small window. The night had turned to dawn, but its light remained blue-purple, unnatural. It felt as if everything was connected, where the end and the beginning collided, creating a state that was uncertain and sorrowful.
Nobuzan's Room
On the other side of the Sanctuary, Oda Nobuzan sat upright, yet her face was pale and sweaty. She stared blankly at the old wooden wall, trying to divert her mind from the pain radiating in her abdomen. The wound on her belly—resulting from a previous battle—was still bleeding faintly, and the pain radiated down to her womb. In front of her, a young healer from the Yamato clan brought simple tools and a paper amulet inscribed with ancient glyphs. As the healer arranged his equipment, Nobuzan recalled the tradition of the Yamato clan that had been passed down through generations, that every birth is both a celebration and a sorrow, if blood and tears are inseparable in the process.
The healer checked Nobuzan's pulse, then placed a detection seal on her abdomen. Immediately, an intense heat radiated. Glyphs of fire appeared faintly around her navel, and in the center: a small silver spiral, glowing within the whirlpool of fire glyphs. Nobuzan's body trembled, not from fear—but from a deep sense of responsibility and sorrow. In her heart, she prayed to her ancestors, hoping they would grant strength and protection for the child born from this struggle. With every pulsating heartbeat, she felt hope and uncertainty wrestling within her.
"This child… is not just the heir of Oda," the healer whispered, "but something born from the boundary of two worlds—human and spiral. Your protective magic is strong, but this spiral seeks a way out… as if it wants to merge with the world." The healer's voice flowed like water, but there was something within it that conveyed a deep sense of urgency. Nobuzan looked at the healer, searching for reassurance in his eyes, but instead, she found anxiety almost equal to her own. That was one of the challenges in their tradition; not every soul born could fulfill the destiny that had been predetermined.
Nobuzan held back the pain, biting her lip. Every movement of the fetus felt like a burning ember and ice at the same time. She imagined her child's face, born into an uncertain world, amidst battles and destruction. Sometimes, she heard a whispering voice from within herself, a foreign voice that refused to be named. That voice was a reminder of every decision she had made—decisions that could affect this child's fate. There was no room for error anymore.
"I am ready to die," Nobuzan murmured, her voice filled with determination, "as long as they survive. I know I cannot escape the sins of war—but I will not let my child become a victim of Tiamat." As her words slipped from her lips, she felt a weight lifted from her heart, but a greater fear enveloped her mind. She remembered what happened to those who failed; they were marked as traitors, ostracized from their own society. With her head held high and hands clenched, Nobuzan resolved to face whatever was to come.
The healer placed the amulet on Nobuzan's abdomen, strengthening the fire glyph with the Yamato clan's incantation, then bowed deeply. "Your Highness, this fetus… may be the only hope for a crumbling world." The healer's face appeared tense, as if every passing second brought more weight to their existence. His trembling hands and uneven breath reflected how one of these choices could change everything.
Outside the room, the faint sounds of explosions and the howls of citizens having nightmares could still be heard. But inside, time seemed to stand still—only the soft breaths, heartbeat, and the whispering spiral shadowing the fate of the world remained. In the corner of the room, Bret, a loyal follower of the Yamato clan, clenched his hands, feeling a wave of deep anxiety. "What we are doing here could be the end of everything," he said softly, his eyes shining with an undeniable fear.
Iris and Nobuzan, each in their own stuffy and silent rooms, felt a significant change within their bodies. They were no longer just carrying life—they were carrying a gateway, a destiny, and the remnants of the world's hope. The spiral voices within them were not just the sounds of a fetus, but the echoes of Fitran's blood refusing to fade. Iris, with her heavy fingers, clutched the side of the bed, as if grasping a past full of hope, hoping that this ignorance would not lead to emptiness. That gentle movement showed how every heartbeat newly born within her also shook her soul.
And as night began to fall, the sky above the Sanctuary once again sparkled with spiral light. Every pulse in their wombs was a sign that the old world was being judged, and the new world—whether full of hope or destruction—was ready to be born. Out there, the usually peaceful sky now roared with the power of the elements, as if reminding them that the traditions and beliefs of the Yamato clan always emphasized the importance of this moment—the choice between sacrifice and moving forward. With one small movement, possibilities and destinies rolled, waiting to be determined in one tense night.