The night beneath the Genesis tree was never truly silent. Amidst the cracks of the city, the wind caressed the roots and branches, carrying the scent of wet earth, the ashes of war, and the dew of hope that dripped from the leaves of the aurora. The sky still rumbled in the distance; the shadow of Tiamat loomed like an old wound that had yet to heal, but at the center of the Thirtos altar, a small flame remained lit—weak, yet refusing to extinguish.

  In the midst of a circle of refugees huddled beneath the tree, Joanna stood alone. The shadows of her figure fell upon the stones and earth that had witnessed too many deaths. The faces around her, from children who had lost their fathers and mothers to weary old soldiers too tired to dream, looked at her with hope as thin as mist. At that moment, a gentle breeze brought a cold presence that touched her skin, and Joanna felt the tension in the air, like a bird about to take flight, yet trapped in the heavy cavity of her heart.

  Joanna took a deep breath. The trembling voice in her chest felt as if every word was the weight of the world. Yet she knew that it was precisely at that moment that her voice needed to be raised—for those who had almost forgotten how to dream, and for herself, who had only known survival until now. With slightly trembling fingers, she wiped away a single drop of dew that lingered on her cheek, depicting a hope that would not fade, even as doubts raged within her heart.

  She raised her hand, calling forth a little light from Genesis into her palm, then gazed at the refugees one by one. With a voice as calm as dew, she began to speak:

  "I know… none of us chose to be born in a time of destruction. No one wants to witness a world falling apart, losing homes, families, and futures. But before you, I stand not as the daughter of the Genesis tree, not as the protector of time, nor as anyone's child—I stand as a single soul who has once lost, and has chosen to endure."

  "I lost my mother even before I could remember her face. I lost my home before I knew the meaning of returning. For a long time, I believed the world was merely a place to survive… until I met all of you—humans, golems, sorceresses, even beings said to have no soul. You who remain here, beneath the Genesis tree, are the answer to all the prayers and cries I have entrusted to the long nights."

  She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The dim light of dusk filtered through the gaps in the leaves of the Genesis tree, creating beautiful patterns on the faces of her listeners. A longing was visible in her gaze, as if she were reflecting on all the bitter memories etched within her. The gentle wind carried the scent of wet earth, creating a poignant atmosphere that enveloped them all.

  "You, who are still here, who plant seeds of hope in the soil of wounds, who dare to rise every morning even though you do not know for whom anymore… you are the reason the world has not yet ended."

  Among the refugees, some began to cry. Some small children ran into the arms of their siblings or grandparents. Perhaps there was a sense of security, as those embraces became the last bastion amidst this chaos. An old man held the hand of a broken golem that had accompanied him since the first war; his fingers trembled weakly, yet full of hope. Joanna's gentle song, though lacking a grand melody, warmed their hearts—creating space for tears that had not yet fallen, for names that had not yet been spoken.

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  In the crowd, a woman with cascading gray hair bowed her head, wiping away the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Her eyes were filled with memories of the beautiful times that had vanished, when the world was still whole. Joanna observed, feeling the vibrations of emotions gripping everyone around her, and she continued, her voice growing softer.

  Joanna closed her eyes, gathering the remnants of her strength. From her lips, an old song began to flow—the song of Sheena, a melody once whispered as a mantra of solace. She could feel the cool breath of the wind, like a gentle breeze caressing her cheek, as if nature itself sympathized with her sorrow.

  "Upon the ruins, I plant hope, Beneath the gray sky, I raise my voice, For those who are lost, for names that were never called, I weave prayers into the song of the night…

  If the world shatters, let us be seeds in its cracks. If dawn is slow, let us be candles in the darkness. For every tear is a river, And every memory—a bridge home."

  Joanna's voice was not merely a tune, but a mantra of time. Its magic lay not in power, but in the courage to acknowledge wounds and not be ashamed to cry. With every verse she sang, tears fell from her eyes, mingling with the hope that was being reborn. Slowly, the light of Genesis above the altar danced along with the song, touching the heads of each person with a tenderness that logic could not comprehend.

  Amidst the gentle melody, soft sobs could be heard from several listeners, signaling that their shoulders were trembling. A mother held her child tighter, clutching him as if she never wanted to let go of the miracle that was unfolding. An unexpected strength flowed through the room, a new reality transforming feelings of loss into a sense of belonging.

  The vibrations of the Song of the Lost spread to every corner of the refugee camp. Mothers lulled their babies to sleep peacefully for the first time since the war. The soft sounds of sleeping infants mingled with the melancholic melody, creating a soothing harmony in the hearts of every listener. Young people who had wanted to end their lives just yesterday now looked to the sky with renewed determination. Some golems, who had lost half their bodies, reached for the roots of Genesis, merging with the earth and waiting for dawn. The gentle rumble of the living earth created a profound sense of connection among those who had fought.

  Fitran watched Joanna from a distance, his heart trembling with pride and love that could not be spoken. He could see the soft light blending around Joanna, as if an aura inviting peace surrounded her. Rinoa squeezed Iris's hand, holding back tears; her palm felt warm, sharing unspoken emotions. Iris wrote in her small diary, trying to capture every word Joanna spoke so that one day she could tell those born after this long night. Her fingers danced gracefully over the paper, full of spirit, as if each letter was a promise to remember this moment forever.

  That night, when Joanna's song ended, the sky above Thirtos was for the first time not just dark—but also a deep blue, a color that had long been thought dead along with the ocean. The cold night wind blew gently, caressing the faces of everyone as if giving them new hope. The Aurora Genesis descended slowly, like a mother's hand brushing the forehead of her child before sleep. The shimmering light reflected new hope, reigniting the weary souls.

  Joanna sat beneath the tree, surrounded by children who now dared to smile, even laugh. Her soft voice flowed, enchanting the children as if they were hearing a long-lost fairy tale. She closed her eyes, allowing her voice to linger in the air, as if wanting to immortalize this moment in everyone's memory. Her gentle and rhythmic breath created a calm atmosphere, even as the world outside still struggled to rise.

  "Fate writes wounds on the body of the world, But the song… the song is a bridge for those left behind."

  And on that night, no soul was truly alone. Every heart was connected, reminding that in darkness, there is always light to be found.