The Philistines no longer shiver. The ancient city that had long confined itself in destruction and emptiness now falls silent, not out of fear, but out of exhaustion. Like a giant body that has just cried out loudly, then falls asleep in the embrace of the gray sky.
Fitran sits leaning against the ruins of the main temple. His Voidlight sword is planted beside him, glowing softly. Beelzebub sits next to him, examining the minor wounds adorning her lover's body—especially the wound on his shoulder, a result of a direct impact from the light of Anathema Partus.
"I'm still alive," Fitran murmurs, a faint smile on his face.
"You're foolish." Beelzebub replies in a hoarse voice, half crying, half laughing. "I saw you fall like a star losing its sky."
At the same time, a sense of anxiety slips into Beelzebub's heart, as if a precious item is threatened to be lost. She wants to hold Fitran tighter, to pause time for a moment, so that nothing can take away this small happiness. Their love, like morning dew, sparkles yet is fragile, inviting unspoken longing.
Fitran gazes at the sky. "But you're still here. And our child..."
Beelzebub places her hand on her belly, then nods slowly. "Still here too. It even... seems to respond when you were hurt."
At that moment, the feeling of closeness between them flows like a calm river. The wounded and gentle hands meet, giving each other strength amidst uncertainty. It is a reminder of a future glowing with hope, even though darkness lurks around them.
Silence resonates between them. Around them, the wind that once carried whispers of complaints now only blows gently, carrying the remnants of light left from their battle.
However, not far from where they sit, something begins to move.
The stones on the altar of the Temple of Reversal, which were once lifeless, now slowly glow again. Not because of magic, but because of resonance—the echo of the choices made by Fitran and Beelzebub.
With every vibration felt, their hearts reflect gratitude and regret for every step taken. In that silence, they gaze at each other, every look seeming to speak of all the sacrifices made and all the love risked, forming an unbreakable bond that will continue to bind them even as the storm tries to separate them.
An ancient glyph circle slowly forms on the floor of the temple ruins. The Babylonian symbols that were once buried rise one by one. But strangely, the glyphs that appear this time are not just glyphs of birth or emptiness. They are symbols that carry memories… rewriting history.
As if trapped in the surrounding silence, Fitran feels his heartbeat quicken. Each rumble of the glyphs seems to question their souls, reminding them of the decisions made and the risks that accompany them. Amidst this unexpected wonder, fear and hope intertwine; hope for something lost but perhaps can be found again.
Fitran squints. "What is that...?"
Beelzebub stands, approaching the glowing glyph. "I've never seen this pattern before. This isn't from a Babylonian ritual... it's like..."
Curiosity and tension envelop Beelzebub, reminding her of the unexpected whispers of the past; promises once spoken and moments missed. The atmosphere deepens, as if time gives her a chance to reflect on what has been lost and what can still be saved. Waves of emotion flow between them, filled with unforgettable memories.
Then suddenly—from the glowing glyph in the center of the altar—a beam of light emerges. The light forms something in the air. Not a creature. Not magic. But the silhouette of a woman.
With her presence, everything seems to fall silent. The whole world disappears, leaving only them and the beautiful memories etched between the light. Her smile, though sad, seems to bring a glimmer of hope. Her existence reminds them of a love that never fades, even though much has been missed.
Long hair. Eyes that are serene yet sharp. A smile that carries gentle sorrow.
Rinoa.
Beelzebub is silent. Fitran is frozen.
The silhouette does not speak. She merely stands in the center of the glyph circle, gazing at Fitran with an expression that cannot be explained—between love, understanding, and unspoken loss.
In the permeating silence, pain and longing dance between them, as if enveloping space and time. Every second feels like an eternity, wrapped in a nostalgia that never fades.
Then, the glyphs on the floor begin to spin.
🜁 Activation Glyph: Arx Memoria – The Archive of Remembered Names
When forgotten names still resonate in the soul, they will write themselves back into the world—One by one, the ancient symbols begin to emit memories. Not in words. But in moments.
Fitran suddenly sees:
A lake where Rinoa once touched his hand and said, "If you die first, who will remember me?"
By the edge of the lake, he can still feel Rinoa's gentle touch and the laughter that echoes, as if that voice reverberates in his soul, piercing the boundaries of time. A love etched upon the waves of memory, carried away in its deep current.
A moment of Rinoa singing a song in a language only they understood—a lullaby for the unborn child.
Rinoa's face as she vanished, as she was absorbed into the Void. As she said, "If I disappear from all records, please remember my heart."
Every word is now etched in Fitran's heart, creating an unbreakable bond of feelings, like a star that will never fade in the night sky. He feels trapped between two worlds—one, where they were once united, and the other, where all hope hangs on invisible ink.
Beelzebub looks at Fitran, her face full of curiosity yet not wanting to hurt him. "You... never told me about her."
Fitran looks down, his voice choked. "Because part of me... died when she left."
The silhouette of Rinoa steps closer, yet does not touch. She merely stands before Fitran, tilting her head as if asking, "Do you still love me?"
Her soft voice flows like a whisper of the night wind, reminding Fitran of the unspoken promise. In every breath she takes, there is an extended hope, as if life is held at the tips of her fingers. Every second, every breath, invites Fitran to explore the depths of his feelings.
Fitran stands.
He gazes at the silhouette for a long time, then speaks in a calm voice:
"I love you. But not with the same hands as before. Those hands I now use to protect Beelzebub... and our child."
Within those words lies a subtle sacrifice—a reminder that deep love often involves loss. In the calmness of Fitran's voice, there is a glimmer of unspoken longing, as if every note spoken is filled with profound sorrow.
The silhouette of Rinoa shows no wounds. Instead, her smile warms. She raises one hand, and for the first time... touches Beelzebub's shoulder.
As the tenderness of that touch spreads, Beelzebub's heart feels the warmth of sincere love, as if time stops for a moment to allow memories to envelop her in a warm embrace—an embrace without boundaries between life and death.
And she says—without sound:
"Don't be afraid to love him. I do not hate you."
Tears fall from Beelzebub's eyes.
"Thank you... I don't know if you're real or just a memory. But thank you for giving a place to Fitran... before I had the chance to love him."
In the chilling silence, Beelzebub feels how true love seems to bridge the chasm between those separated by fate. A feeling that teaches that although sacrifice is painful, true love finds a way to cross those boundaries.
The silhouette slowly fades. But before completely disappearing, one last thing happens:
One of the glyphs on the floor glows brighter than the others. Its shape is a vertical spiral, extending from bottom to top. Then an ancient inscription appears:
"Lux Inherita – The Light Given Through the Name That is Loved."
Fitran approaches, placing his hand on the glyph. And suddenly...
...a new name is written on the altar.
A name that has never appeared in Babylonian texts. A name that does not come from darkness, or from the system. A name that comes from the heart of humanity and the void that unites.
Elyra. (The Light Born Without the Gods' Permission)
"Name..." Beelzebub stares at the glyph with wide eyes. "That... is our child's name?"
Fitran turns and smiles. "She chose it herself."
In his smile, there is a new hope born—a light that guides through the darkness. It is a song unspoken, a melody echoing between their hearts, assuring that love is still alive despite being separated by a harsh world.
Then from the sky, a drop of water falls. Not rain. But tears from the sky itself. The first tears from the Void—not out of sadness, but because the Void now allows one life to be born from it.
Amidst those drops, a gentle vibration is felt, as if the universe holds its breath. Every corner of the city of Philistines seems to capture this sacred moment when new life shines, vibrating the souls that have long been trapped in darkness.
And the city of Philistines... bears witness.
The gray clouds that have long shrouded the world now seem to promise, allowing new light to seep in, carving a path of resurrection. In the flame of hope that ignites, an unexpected love flows, gently embracing everything, as if painting beauty amidst emptiness.
Among the crowd, hearts that were once broken now seem to reconnect, etching words of sincerity that remain unspoken, crossing the edge of the chasm between loss and acceptance. Everything spins in an eternal dance, to celebrate this birth.