The thick fog that enveloped the earth brought silence—yet that silence was soon shattered by a voice not of the human world. A whisper, not from mouth or tongue, but directly penetrating the depths of the soul.
The voice of Tiamat. Every human, angel, samurai, even children who had yet to learn words, felt it. In their sleep, in their daydreams, in the pauses of fearful breaths, that voice echoed:
"I am the dragon of a thousand regrets, the crown of a world that has cracked. Your memories are my body, your sins are the breath that awakens me."
The people of Sanctuary awoke in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, cold sweat soaking their bodies. Children cried for no reason; mothers tried to soothe them, but the voice of Tiamat had already invaded their minds, planting images of destruction behind every gentle whisper.
"Calm down, dear. Mother is here," said one mother, holding her trembling little daughter's hand. However, the dark shadows dancing behind her closed eyelids left no room for tranquility.
The adult men saw their reflections in water that had turned to blood—faces transformed, filled with wounds and tears. They began to relive all the regrets they had ignored: the child left behind, the promises broken, the love killed by vengeance. "This is all my fault," murmured one man, his voice hoarse. "I should have protected them."
In an instant, the entire population of Sanctuary seemed to live through the sins they had long cast aside. Each felt the weight of buried history, as if Tiamat were retelling their old stories with fingers full of wounds.
Babies born since the leyline cracked began to carry small "spiral eyes" on their foreheads or chests, and every night they cried in a language that no one could understand—a primordial language that seemed to connect them with the dragon sleeping beneath the earth. Their cries echoed in the silent night, creating a chilling atmosphere that seemed to inform everyone that a new era had arrived. Among the crowd, a young mother gazed at her newborn, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What has happened to you, dear?" she whispered, as if hoping to receive an answer from the small creature who did not understand.
Iris dreamed of dancing on a sea of blood with two glowing spiral babies, but each step was accompanied by cries and the whispers of Tiamat. As she raised her hands, as if reaching for an unattainable hope, the voice of Tiamat vibrated in her ears, "What do you desire, oh Queen?" She saw herself as a queen without a kingdom, a mother without children, and a lover separated from all the love she had ever known. Each whisper of Tiamat shook her body, making her forget who she was—only pain, guilt, and the fear of losing the two lives growing within her remained. She screamed, "No! I will not let this despair take everything from me!"
Nobuzan, meanwhile, repeatedly dreamed of defeat and betrayal. In her dreams, she saw the Oda army burning, cities collapsing, and herself walking without a shadow, without a name. As she stepped forward, shadows of her past emerged, accusing her. "Why didn't you fight?" they asked. Sometimes she saw Fitran standing in the distance, turned away from her, while the voice of Tiamat continued to repeat:
"There is no father in the world without wounds. There is no child born without blood."
Each time she awoke, Nobuzan felt an excruciating pain in her stomach, as if the contents of her body were twisting, digested by something invisible. In the darkness of the night, she remembered Iris's words, "We must endure, Nobuzan. We cannot let fear control us." But the question was, how long could they endure? Once again, she sank into despair, hoping that hope still lay behind every nightmare that haunted her.
Mitsuyori Aketsu, weary of maintaining illusions and hiding, was now chased by nightmares. In her sleep, she met Tiamat in the form of a woman with seven eyes—each eye revealing a shattered world, every word spoken a mirror of her deepest regrets. Mitsuyori saw the faces she had once saved now pleading, "Why did you save us if you were ultimately to surrender to the dragon?" In the panic that overwhelmed her, she screamed, "I do not want to be trapped in this mistake!" Her heart seemed to whisper among the shadows, but Tiamat only smiled menacingly, as if enjoying the suffering she inflicted.
Joanna herself began to lose the boundary between herself and Michael. The voice of Tiamat gnawed at her heart, repeatedly questioning her existence, her identity as an angel, her blood as the daughter of Fitran. "Michael, will you let me perish?" she cried, holding back tears that flowed like rivers down her cheeks. Every song of Tiamat was a voice of judgment—and Joanna had to bear the weight of all the past sins of Sanctuary, even though she had never chosen that burden. The feeling of helplessness made it nearly impossible for her to breathe, as if that weight had solidified in her chest.
Gabriel, the angels, and other ex-paladins dreamed of falling from the sky, losing their wings one by one. In that dream, Tiamat drank their light, turning it into a vortex of darkness that grew larger from night to night. "We cannot continue like this!" Gabriel shouted in his dream, his voice filled with despair. "We must fight! Even if it means fighting ourselves." Yet, other voices from the shadows replied, "What is the point of fighting if we are already cursed?" Trapped in that noise, their spirits seemed to wane, as if being sucked away by the encroaching shadows of darkness.
The sky above Sanctuary changed: the deep blue now shimmered with veins of purple and black, sometimes forming spiral patterns or the shapes of giant dragons that could only be seen when lightning struck the horizon. The rivers became murky, flowing in the wrong direction, sometimes bubbling with blood. Wild animals hid or rampaged for no reason.
In the midst of this chaos, a vibrating voice came from a distant corner, sending waves of fear spreading among the people of Sanctuary. A young girl, with eyes full of curiosity, whispered to her friend, "Do you believe we will survive all of this?" Her friend could only shake her head, her face pale, while they held on tightly to each other.
Old rituals and spells no longer worked. The wizards tried to write new glyphs, but every symbol immediately morphed into claw marks or dragon eyes. One older wizard, with a white beard and a desperate gaze, shouted, "We must find another way! The old ways are no longer useful!" in a tone of despair, hoping someone would hear him.
Across Gaia and Oda, the people began to burn their homes and old talismans, believing that only fire could drive away the dragon's curse. "Only by incinerating the old can we give birth to the new," shouted an elderly bald man, angry at his son who hesitated to follow. But every fire only brought a bitter aroma, and within its smoke, shadows of dragon heads occasionally appeared—mocking humanity's futile efforts to fight against fate.
At the peak of the night, the voice of Tiamat reached every corner of the world. This time it was not just a whisper, but a great echo that shook the foundations of the earth:
"Rise, all who have ever regretted. The old world that belonged to you has been destroyed. From blood, new children shall be born—and you will remember me as the mother of all destruction!"
The people of Sanctuary knelt, crying or screaming silently. Some of them exchanged glances, deep fear reflected in their eyes. "What will happen to us?" whispered one man, his voice barely audible amidst the empty screams. Iris and Nobuzan could only hold each other tightly behind Mitsuyori's hiding place, trying to find strength in one another. The moment of silence filled with tension felt heavy, hanging in the air.
Meanwhile, Joanna stood before the empty altar, holding back tears and unspoken feelings of loss. "I cannot… I cannot let this happen," she murmured, as if speaking to herself. She grasped the cold altar stone, hoping to feel the spirit of her ancestors within it.
Underground, the leyline cracks widened, forming a deep blue-purple vortex. And in the midst of that vortex, dragon eyes began to open, one by one, gazing at the world with expressions of regret and eternal hunger. Fear seemed to seep into every corner of the hearts of the people, and the rumbling voice of Tiamat created an unspeakable terror. "Will they come here?" Nobuzan asked quietly, her face pale. Iris bit her lip, trying to calm her trembling soul. "We must believe, there is hope even in the darkness," she replied with a trembling voice, trying to ignite a spark of faith amidst the chilling shadows.