Iris left the hall, slowly descending the cold, long stone stairs. She walked alone towards the garden within the palace, where the dawn light began to drip through the roots of Genesis. Each step felt heavy, but there was a strange calmness that seeped in: I have done what is right, even if the world refuses to acknowledge it today. The damp aroma of the wet earth felt fresh, mingling with the touching scent—the fragrance of wildflowers just blooming added an odd sense of peace to her heart.

  In the middle of the garden, Fitran stood alone beneath a large tree. His right hand traced the trunk, while his left hand clutched something hidden beneath his robe—a small medal left by Joanna. He resembled a statue that was only half alive: standing tall, but his eyes no longer believed in the morning. He lifted his face, feeling the cold dew trickle over his skin, adding to the loneliness gnawing at his soul. The beating of his heart thudded, as if anxious about what would happen next.

  Iris stepped silently, allowing the grass and dew to witness their meeting. Fitran heard her footsteps, turned, and stared at her for a long time. No words were needed to explain everything. The difficulty of enduring between longing and anxiety created tension in the air, and his fingers clenched behind his robe, revealing how thick the feelings he suppressed were.

  Iris stopped in front of him, taking a deep breath. She touched Fitran's shoulder, then let her hand drop, resting on the man's chest—right above the heart that had always been wagered for the world. In that moment, the soft chirping of birds from afar added to the tranquility, as if nature was trying to encourage them. Suddenly, the pain in her eyes resurfaced, and she lowered her head as if searching for answers in the wet grass.

  "Is it over?" Fitran asked, his voice low but filled with unspoken sorrow. Behind his calm voice, uncertainty was clearly visible as his hand trembled slightly, like it was tossed about in a stormy sea of emotions.

  Iris nodded. "For tonight. The world is still trembling, but new roots are beginning to grow, Fitran. Maybe slowly, but they will continue to seek the light." Hope burned in the glimmer of her eyes, yet it could not hide the underlying anxiety. Her hand trembled slightly as she drew her strength, as if gathering the courage to face the bitter reality that lay ahead.

  Fitran gazed at Iris's belly, his eyes softening. "Are you... afraid?" The expression on his face seemed to depict two feelings at once—a desire to protect and a fear of loss. From the corner of his slightly curved lips, a spark of hope shone, but that light also reflected a shadow of helplessness.

  Iris sighed, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Very much. But every time I feel this child move, I know—no war is big enough to defeat a mother's love. And no grudge is deep enough to drown a world that still wants to give hope." Her steadfast demeanor shone through her tear-filled eyes, as if life resided within them. For a split second, her cheekbones tightened, and tragically contrasted with the wounded smile that blossomed on her lips.

  Fitran gently caressed Iris's belly, then embraced her slowly, their bodies supporting each other. In that embrace, Iris released the remaining tension; there was no crown, no throne, just two people too weary to pretend to be strong. The aroma of wet grass and damp earth enveloped them, awakening memories of togetherness in the past under a bright sky. The evening breeze was extraordinarily gentle, but when it touched their skin, there was a biting cold sensation, causing Iris to press her body closer to Fitran.

  "I want to be a good father," Fitran whispered, his voice nearly breaking. "But the world never lets me stay silent for too long." He shifted his feet slightly, as if impatiently thinking about the future, while his right hand gripping Iris's arm depicted the deep doubts that shone on his face, as if battling between hope facing nature and the deepening uncertainty.

  Iris nodded, closing her eyes. "At least for tonight, be silent with me. The world can wait. This child, and I... we need you as yourself, not as a King, not as a hero." They both smiled softly, igniting each other's spirits even though it felt heavy for them. In that silence, the sound of Iris's heartbeat seemed to resonate with the nature around them, weaving hope amidst the grip of uncertainty.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  They sat on the cold grass. Iris rested her head on Fitran's shoulder. She allowed the world to shrink, letting her dreams of a new morning grow amidst the sounds of birds and falling dew. Just as the dew seeped into the leaves, Fitran's embrace filled the empty space in her heart, and she felt warmth penetrating her bones. Outside, the dim light formed mystical shadows above them, while the melody of the night balanced to soothe the troubled soul.

  After a while, a soft sound approached—eager footsteps and the sound of a spear being dragged. Oda Nobuzan entered the garden, her face full of determination, but her eyes held something that could not be hidden: fear and hope intertwined. In her wavering soul, there was something suffocating, like an unpleasant aroma filling the surrounding air. She felt the rush of wind as if whispering something; tension enveloped the peace of this night. In an instant, Oda's gaze traced the two figures that seemed so united, and her heart trembled in terrifying uncertainty.

  Iris looked at Oda, then held Fitran's hand tighter. The vibration of her heartbeat whispered uncertainty as the sound of the wind rustled slowly, swaying the leaves around them. "It's time for the world to demand another sacrifice, Fitran. Oda will choose her path today." Her voice trembled softly, filling the space between them with longing for peaceful days.

  Fitran stood, approaching Oda. His feelings intertwined, like tangled threads that were hard to untangle; three souls that once envied each other, tested each other, now stood under the shade of the Genesis tree, mutually understanding the meaning of courage. A beam of sunlight broke through the gaps in the leaves, illuminating their faces, creating shadows that seemed to embrace their bond. In the silence that enveloped them, the aroma of wet earth and fallen leaves brought sweet memories of the past.

  Oda raised her spear high. The tension in the air felt gripping; "The roots of Oda's city are cracked, Fitran. If I do not return, please take care of my child. And if I must sacrifice myself for this world... do not let my name fade away. The world needs stories about those who choose to lose for everyone." Her words were spoken with a firm voice, yet her eyes showed deep whispers of doubt.

  Iris embraced Oda, forgiving all old wounds, giving her blessing without words. "No mother wants to lose her fighting companion. But if someone must fall, let your name be the root for new hope." Her voice trembled, as if freeing the heavy burden she carried every moment.

  Oda held back tears, then smiled at Fitran and Iris. That smile was painted with vulnerability; as if she wanted to etch this moment in their memories forever. She knew her departure was not for greatness, but for the life that would grow on the land that had bled for too long. The sweet aroma of blooming flowers around them enveloped the atmosphere, creating a sense of hope even wrapped in sadness.

  Fitran embraced both of them, his heart's voice trembling. He could feel the surge of emotions choking his throat, "This world will remember you. Not for power, but for the courage to choose love—in the darkest of wars." The chorus of birds and the rustle of the wind joined in, coloring his expression with shades of hope.

  The three of them stood, parting to their respective paths. The morning sun slowly chased away the fog and shadows of the night, bringing the world to a new chapter: The chapter of a mother's sacrifice, and the birth of hope from the courage of those who chose to endure. The sound of the wind rustled gently among the clusters of trees, whispering a longing for a past that could never return. With each step, it felt as if a heavy weight wrapped around their feet, resisting the urge to retreat. Their hearts thudded, sometimes halting in anxiety, as if sensing the rumble of uncertainty that was nearly unbearable.

  And among the roots of Genesis, the hearts of mothers and fathers trembled: The world may crumble repeatedly, but there will always be those who choose to give birth to light, even from the deepest wounds. Uncontrollable tears flowed down a mother's cheeks, even as her smile tried to hide the sadness. She gazed at the sky, the blue color beginning to dominate reflecting hope and longing in a single breath. A warm feeling spread within her chest, pumping the spirit to keep moving forward, even as her soul felt burned by longing and loss. Not far from there, a father clenched his hands, his palms sweaty, as if holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. While gazing at the horizon, his mind was filled with images of the children who would one day be born into an uncertain world. Whispering in his heart, he vowed to protect them with all his soul, fighting against all threats.