Time flowed slowly down from the sky, which began to close again, as if the world was stitching itself together with the threads left from the long night that had just passed. The soft light of dawn delivered a calm atmosphere, caressing every corner of the altar with gentle warmth. Amidst the sharp shadows, a mystical aura enveloped this place, making every second feel like ten.

  In the center of the main altar, Joanna lay still in Fitran's embrace. Her body was no longer bleeding, but she was not fully alive as usual. Her eyes were open, yet her gaze pierced through anything visible, as if she were communicating with another world. Her lips were tightly sealed, but her breath was calm—she seemed to be caught between dreams and reality. Fitran observed his daughter's face, searching for something familiar among the soft lines of her pale visage. Worry enveloped his heart, and his large hands gently stroked Joanna's hair, providing warmth that seemed to flow through his fingers.

  Fitran held her tighter, resting his forehead on her hair, whispering words that could only be heard by those who shared the same wounds: "Father is here... you don’t have to bear all the burdens alone." In his voice was a tone of struggle, an acknowledgment of his helplessness to fix everything, feeling part of the same sorrow. Meanwhile, two tears gently traced down Joanna's cheeks, even though she was not fully aware of the world around her. Yet, among the delicate veins in her palms, the small roots of Genesis grew. It was as if she had become part of the tree itself, a warmth in that bond, as if the tree itself was providing strength.

  Iris Gaia approached slowly, her steps gentle like morning dew. Rinoa followed by her side, still singing softly, her voice like clear water flowing over smooth stones. Rinoa's voice—Song of Aegis—wrapped the altar in sacred tranquility, keeping the magical field intact and focused. The song was neither loud nor conventionally beautiful; there was a vibration that resonated with the soul, as if the song became a bridge between the world and the higher realms. Yet within it was something that awakened memories of home, of embraces left unspoken, of names that longed to be saved. Iris drew closer, feeling the energy flowing around them, gazing at Rinoa, whose eyes were closed in devotion, her face serene.

  Iris knelt beside Fitran, gently touching Joanna's shoulder, her hand's movement like a cooling breeze. "She is still here, among us," Iris said softly, her eyes filled with hope and determination. Slowly, she closed her eyes, ignoring everything outside, focusing solely on Joanna's presence. Every heartbeat seemed to harmonize with the notes of Rinoa's song, creating a connection that linked their world with the mystical.

  "I can see her," Iris whispered, her voice soft like the whisper of the night wind. She observed closely, her round eyes sparkling with hope. "She is not just trapped between time. She is stitching her soul together so it won’t unravel," she added, her lips trembling with empathy.

  Fitran turned, his expression tense as if bearing the weight of the world. "Can you help her?" he asked, his voice hoarse and deep, radiating a profound sense of urgency.

  Iris nodded, her head slightly bowed, adding tension to the atmosphere. "With a spiral. Not a spiral to protect the world... but to embrace the meaning of existence that remains unfinished," she explained, her delicate hands moving her fingers as if weaving the universe.

  She summoned her spiral staff, and as it appeared, silver light shone like a star just born. The light merged with the roots of Genesis growing from Joanna's body, creating a sacred aura around them. Slowly, Iris sat cross-legged, her eyes sparkling as she held Joanna's cold and trembling hand. In a gentle voice, she called her incantation:

  "Spiral of Genesis: Reconciliation."

  A new spiral wave emerged from the ground, curling gently with a mystical nuance, but it did not attack, nor did it protect. It touched everything that was cracked, not to patch it up, but to make peace. Each spiral intertwined with time and wounds, as if reminding every inch of the buried pain, then stitching it into something new: not as it was before, but something strong enough to remain whole, offering new hope for those awake.

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  Joanna slowly grasped Iris's hand, her weak fingers trembling as they felt the warmth from that grip.

  Her body shook, restless like leaves tossed by the wind, before she finally cried.

  A silent cry, tears flowing freely from her open eyes, falling onto Fitran's chest. But it was not a cry of pain. It was the cry of someone who finally realized: she was not alone in stitching the wounds of this world, and in that uncertainty, a relief slowly enveloped her heart.

  Rinoa bowed her head, a small smile warming the atmosphere like sunlight breaking through the fog. "You have returned to me, Joanna," she said with love, her eyes sparkling as if finding light again after a long journey in the dark.

  Joanna slowly opened her mouth, her voice hoarse, small, yet full: with softly sparkling eyes, she whispered, "I am afraid of losing... everything. But the spiral never disappears, right? It just moves..."

  Iris looked at her with tenderness, her eyes shining as if savoring every word spoken, "The spiral does not move. It grows. It becomes a new form in the hearts of those willing to accept wounds as part of life." Her voice was warm, birthing a peace that enveloped the space around them, as if they were in a magical embrace flowing.

  Fitran, with furrows on his brow showing his concern, touched Joanna's cheek, his fingers gentle as they caressed her tear-streaked face. "You don’t have to stitch the world, Jo. Just be the thread that binds us all to keep believing," he said, his voice calm and soothing, resembling the gentle whisper of the night wind. His large, warm hands made Joanna feel safe, as if the world around her vibrated with a new rhythm of hope.

  Joanna nodded slowly, gripping her father's hand tightly, her small fingers intertwined firmly between Fitran's. "Then... let’s bind this world again. This time with love." Her smile, though not wide, radiated a strength newly born within her, as if a light emerged from the darkness.

  At that moment, the roots of Genesis grew around the altar, creating a circle of living magic that glowed softly under the pale moonlight. The light of the spiral and the light of the roots merged, forming a network of new existence energy that vibrated with the rhythm of life. There were no explosions, no flames. Just... peace enveloping like a soft blanket at night, erasing all fear and doubt. Something that had always felt impossible under the shadow of Tiamat, working together to form new hope.

  And in that peace, all who survived began to feel the complete presence of the world, a miracle that awakened deep gratitude. Time began to merge again, slow but sure, like water flowing back into a once-dry river. The separated meanings connected, forming a harmonious weave of vibrating energy fields. The soldiers who had previously been dazed now awakened, their once-empty eyes now filled with understanding. Some young sorcerers lost in the fractures of time returned to the embrace of their teachers, gazes filled with gratitude and relief, as if they had just been brought home from a long, exhausting journey.

  Thirtos, though still charred and broken, now had a new foundation of existence—thanks to them. In the remnants of emptiness, there was a glimmer of hope, reminding everyone of the power of love and unity.

  "Joanna almost died because she rejected an imperfect world. But she also almost became a deity because she loved that imperfection."

  Fitran simply replied with a nod. His expression was calm, but there was a depth of sorrow visible in his eyes, as if embracing memories he could not let go.

  "I have lost so much," Iris added, her voice trembling softly filling the night air, "but tonight I know—the world will not fall as long as there are people willing to stitch wounds, not with victory... but with the courage to stay." She raised her hand, pointing to the sky glittering with stars, as if inviting Fitran to feel the enduring hope.

  And Fitran turned to Joanna, who was sleeping beside the roots of Genesis—the woman looked comfortable, though shadows of darkness covered her face. He felt a deep protective urge, a desire to fight against all darkness to see Joanna's smile return. For the first time since this war began...

  ...that the world, though broken, vibrated with the potential for rebirth.

  ...was still worth saving. The fresh scent of the sea mingled with the breeze, reviving hope that felt buried, while the sound of the waves flowed like a song of tranquility amidst the chaos.