The fire had burned low in Ramon's refuge. Sparks drifted into the fractured sky, where dead stars blinked faintly through the veil of smoke. The four sat in silence after his words: Mateo steady, Jun restless, Liwayway grim, Ramon immovable. The weight of memory pressed on them all.
Jun broke first, groaning as he nursed his side. "Well, Witness or not, I'm dying over here. My ribs feel like shattered glass. And your big speech, warrior, didn't make them hurt less."
Ramon snorted. "Pain teaches."
"Yeah?" Jun muttered. "Then I've learned enough to write a book."
Mateo said nothing, though his shoulder still bled beneath his torn sleeve where Liwayway's staff had grazed him. Liwayway's own eyes were shadowed, as if dawn itself dimmed within her. Ramon ignored his own scars as always. The night deepened around them, heavy and dry.
And then — the sound of leaves.
A whisper, impossible here in this barren quarter where no trees stood, no soil lived. A rustle, gentle as wind through branches.
Jun sat up, frowning. "Do you hear that?"
Ramon's hand moved to his blade. Liwayway raised her staff. Mateo lifted his gaze.
From the ruins she came.
A woman, her skin glowing faintly as if kissed by sun, golden-brown and smooth as polished stone. Black hair flowed to her waist, adorned with blossoms that glimmered with their own light. She did not walk; she drifted, the ground blooming beneath her bare feet. Moss spread over broken concrete, tiny flowers cracked through the pavement, and even the neon veins in the walls flickered with green glow as she passed.
Her presence was neither threat nor storm. It was serenity.
Jun's jaw dropped. "Okay. That's… new."
Ramon did not lower his weapon. "Spirit." His tone was both warning and reverence.
Liwayway bowed her head slightly. "Diwata."
The woman's eyes, dark and deep as river pools, settled on them. Her voice was soft, carrying more weight than thunder.
"You are wounded," she said.
Mateo rose slowly. "And you are…?"
"I am Dalisay," she answered. "Healer of what remains. Keeper of the green memory. When the Rupture tore the earth, I retreated to hidden groves. But tonight, mercy has led me here. Sit. You need not suffer more than the world already demands."
Ramon frowned. "We have no coin, no relic to pay."
Dalisay smiled faintly. "I do not heal for payment. I heal because mercy does not vanish, even here."
They obeyed.
She came first to Jun, who winced and tried to joke. "Careful, I'm fragile."
Her hand brushed his ribs. A warmth flowed through him, not burning but cool, like spring water over stone. The bruises faded, the ache eased. Jun's eyes widened. "That… actually worked."
"You carry laughter," Dalisay whispered to him. "Do not lose it. Even folly has a place. Laughter shields hearts where armor fails."
Jun, for once, had no reply.
She turned to Mateo. He tried to step back, but she laid a hand upon his bloodied shoulder. Light sank into the wound, closing it, leaving only a faint mark. His body eased — but more than that, a weight in his chest lifted, the heaviness of memory softened.
"Witness," she said, her gaze piercing. "You bear remembrance. But memory without gentleness turns truth into a blade that cuts all. Do not forget the seed."
Mateo bowed his head.
Then she came to Liwayway. The archmage straightened, proud even in weariness. Dalisay touched her brow, and the strain in her aura eased, the fire of dawnlight steadied.
"Dawn without humility becomes fire," she murmured. "Light must warm before it burns. Guard your pride, child of the sun."
Liwayway's lips tightened, but she did not resist. She closed her eyes, as if receiving a command from heaven itself.
At last, Dalisay stood before Ramon.
He towered over her, scars like armor. "Your magic cannot mend me," he said.
Her hand touched the scar along his chest, and for the first time, his breath shuddered. The ache in his old wounds faded — but more than that, something beneath the scars loosened, some hardness he had carried too long.
"Your scars are not chains," she told him. "Do not let them bind your spirit more than the abyss ever did."
Ramon's eyes glistened, though no tear fell. He bowed his head, once, like a soldier saluting.
When all were healed, the fire flared brighter, fed by no wood, only by her presence. The ruined courtyard seemed less broken, touched with green threads, blossoms pushing through cracks. Even the neon hum softened into a harmony with her aura.
Dalisay seated herself on a stone, hair flowing like riverwater. "Hear me. The city is not only ruin. Roots sleep beneath. Life breathes where you cannot see. You walk in ash, but even ash nourishes the seed. Do not forget this. You seek to endure, but endurance without renewal is only waiting for death."
She looked at each of them. "You carry strength. You carry memory. You carry fire. But you must also carry gentleness, or you will become as empty as the machines that betrayed you. Steel alone will not save you. Balance will."
Mateo asked softly, "Then why show yourself now?"
Her eyes, serene and ancient, fixed on him. "Because He wills that even in judgment, mercy lingers. Because you are not only survivors — you are chosen to walk further than others dare. You will face what comes not only with blade and fire, but with compassion. If not, you will fall."
The silence was deep.
Jun muttered, almost sheepishly, "I like her better than the warrior. No offense."
Ramon gave a grunt, half amusement, half warning. Liwayway's gaze softened, just a fraction. Mateo's lips moved in a silent prayer.
The blossoms in Dalisay's hair shimmered once more. Then, as dawn dissolves into morning, she faded. Her form became mist, drifting upward. The flowers she had left behind withered into sparks of light, rising to the sky like fireflies. The moss shrank back into cracks, though the memory of green lingered.
Her voice remained, gentle as echo. "Do not forget the seed."
Then she was gone.
The fire burned low again. Yet the four sat changed. Their wounds were healed, their burdens eased. Even Ramon seemed less iron, more flesh.
Mateo broke the silence, his voice low. "Even here, He leaves signs."
Jun stretched, grinning faintly. "Well, I'm not dead. That's a miracle already."
Liwayway's eyes glowed faintly. "She is right. Without balance, light itself devours. I will remember."
Ramon touched the scar across his chest. For once, he did not scowl. "Her words cut deeper than any blade."
Mateo gazed at the sparks fading into the sky. "Then let us carry them."
And so, healed in body and tempered in spirit, the fellowship rose from the firelight. The ruins loomed still, neon veins throbbing, shadows whispering. Yet in their hearts lingered the scent of blossoms, the memory of gentleness.
The city was ash, but seeds still waited.
And the Witness walked on.