The silence after Leon's words did not last.
The void itself gave a groan, like the timbers of a ship bending under waves too vast to comprehend. Light fissures ran through the emptiness, not of flame or frost, but of resonance—notes that had no origin, colors that had no name.
Milim's sobs broke against the rising hum, her little hands clutching harder at Leon's burned frame. "No… no, don't—don't leave me."
Liliana's stitches flared brighter, her threads refusing to unravel. She bent low, forehead against his chest, whispering over and over like a prayer, "I won't let you fade. Not now. Not ever."
Roselia looked around, her broken staff quivering as if trying to reforge itself. The ember in her palm, once dying, now pulsed in time with the Tower's unseen heartbeat. "The song isn't stopping. It's spreading."
