The sun rose slower in Keitha now. As if the city herself was still healing, relearning how to breathe.
Zora stood at the edge of the high cliffs, wind tugging at her curls, the hum of Keitha's restored heartbeat pulsing beneath her boots. Beside her, Zion leaned on the hilt of a blade made from the forest's oldest tree — a gift from the city when she accepted him.
"You okay?" he asked, voice quieter than the breeze.
She didn't answer right away. "She almost died, Zion. We all almost did."
"But we didn't," he said. "Because you chose her. We chose her."
Behind them, the others were adjusting to their new lives.
Athena taught Keitha's spirits how to paint in the air, sketching memories in brilliant light.
Blair built an amphitheater from crystal and vine, where her lyrics altered gravity and time.
Ace had finally finished rewriting the master script — and the city listened.
Enzo mapped the ruins deeper below, discovering cities within cities.
Axel was up and walking again, though slower. He said the pain reminded him that he lived.
And Asher... well, he made friends with the city's tech-beasts. No one knew how he did it, but they now followed him like loyal pets.
Zion had become Keitha's guardian. Like Zora. Like family.
But Sylvia...
She'd stood in the final sanctum and held each of their hands. Her voice had cracked as she sang one last goodbye note — a blessing woven into Keitha's roots.
"I have to go back," she'd whispered to Zora. "My family... my world..."
Zora had nodded, heart aching. "I know."
But just before Sylvia vanished through the shimmer of the portal, she turned back, smile fierce and bright through the tears.
"I'll come back. Someday. I promise."
And they believed her.
Because even now, when the wind passed through the Archive Trees or danced across the lakes of light, it carried her melody. As if the city remembered her. Waited for her.
Hoped.
And far, far away, in a quiet bedroom filled with forgotten books and fresh laundry, Sylvia sat by the window at dawn — humming a tune only Keitha would know.