The light of the Solar Blade from Gawain indeed cuts through the fog, yet the shadows of wounds continue to dance beneath the roots of the Tree of Scars. The ruins of Stones tremble—not from war, but from memories that refuse to die. On every wall, every floor, the engravings of old wounds begin to glow red, forming a spiral pattern that moves slowly like the pulse of a world that is bleeding. The sound of the wind adds a mystical impression, as if each breath carries whispers of ghosts from the past, greeting souls trapped in a cycle of suffering.
In the basement, Rinoa suddenly holds her breath. Her body stiffens, her shoulders tremble, and her eyes shut tightly to hold back the invisible pain. Behind her helplessness, there is a strength that simmers, like embers burning in a heart trapped in longing. Fitran, who is beside her, immediately hugs Rinoa's shoulders. "What's happening? Are you hurt?"
Rinoa shakes her head, but tears fall. "This… is not a new wound, Fitran. This… is an old wound that I buried long ago. A wound I never had the chance to tell you about." Her voice is soft, yet there is a pressure behind her words, as if she is recalling dark shadows tightly wrapped within her soul. Around them, spirits in the form of blue light flicker, slowly but surely, as if sensing Rinoa's pain and trying to offer comfort. The light swirls, radiating pure energy, creating a calm state amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs them.
The aura of harmony that remains within Rinoa now splits into two currents: one vibrating a soft blue—spirits of her childhood that always protected her; the other, a dark red—wounds from the past that have long been hidden behind her smile. Between the blue and red vibrations, there is a surge of magical energy, as if two realms are battling within her, creating a mesmerizing yet sorrowful pattern of glimmer.
The blue spirits around her begin to spin wildly, some silently screaming. In their dance, Rinoa can feel them creating a circle of energy that radiates a soft light, highlighting every wound hidden deep within her heart. Some of them begin to change color, mixing with red, as if bearing the same wounds as Rinoa. In her inner clarity, Rinoa sees old memories: herself as a little girl beneath the Gaia tree, hiding from the sounds of war, losing her mother in the morning mist, being embraced by Fitran for the first time but never able to express how shattered her heart was that night. Each memory is etched clearly, like footprints on sand that will disappear if not embraced by time. And in every illusion, Rinoa feels the presence of the Solar Blade, glimmering in the shadows, becoming a symbol of hope and desire that will bring forth a new life.
The circle of roots around their hiding place begins to glow red, forming the Circle of Scars—a zone of trauma magic that can only be penetrated by spirits with similar wounds. As the circle shines, there is a sacred binding, as if a voice from another world calls to them, awakening every spirit ensnared in sorrow and loss. Magical energy swirls in that small space, merging into a cohesive unity, igniting new hope and redemption, creating a silent symphony amidst the quiet of the night.
Fitran bows his head, caressing Rinoa's cheek, his voice soft yet full of vibration. Around them, a gentle aura envelops them, as if raindrops dance beneath the moonlight.
"Rinoa… you have never been alone in bearing that wound. I am here. I will be a witness, whether you want to cry, be angry, or just be silent—I will always be here."
Rinoa holds back a sob, gripping Fitran's hand tighter. Deep in her heart, the light of hope struggles against the darkness, piercing through the veil of sorrow that covers her soul. "Every time I lose a spirit, it feels like losing a part of myself that once hoped. And now, as all the wounds return… I fear there will be nothing left but pain."
She looks up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle, as if they too feel the sorrow of her soul. At that moment, memories flicker, highlighting every second filled with love and loss.
Fitran pulls Rinoa into his embrace, allowing her head to rest on his chest. "Wounds do not have to be erased. Sometimes, by accepting the wounds, we make room for new hope to be born."
As they embrace, the golden light from the spirits around them dances gently, flowing into her soul, building a bridge between sorrow and hope. "Every wound is a story, every tear is a song of the soul that wants to be heard," he adds, his voice trembling with meaning.
Above, Gawain's Solar Blade begins to dim as the energy of the wounds rises to the surface. The Knights are restless, seeing the red spiral grow between the roots and stones, as if nature is conspiring to reveal the lingering grief.
Sir Lancelot exclaims, "What is this? The world seems to be crying blood!"
Gawain grips his sword tighter, his face now ablaze with the spirit of battle. "That… is Rinoa's circle of wounds. The wounds of an Avatar who has long been a bridge to the world, too long bearing the will of others without ever being allowed to cry for herself."
It almost feels like the sound of silent screams infiltrates their ears, reminding everyone of the pain that exists. Sir Galahad recites verses from his white book, but the words shatter, unable to penetrate the fog of wounds that now envelops Stones, creating a magical wall that holds meaning and hope at bay.
For in every curse, there is always a glimmer of light; behind that fog, he feels a pulse of energy vibrating, in harmony with the breath of life. "We must unite," Gawain asserts, "only by combining our strengths can we overcome the darkness that threatens the world."
In the center of the Genesis Archive, Sheena AI detects a new energy pattern: Rinoa's wounds have now become a magical knot binding the spirit paths of the Tree of Scars. Each wound vibrates gently, as if whispering dark tales and buried hopes. Soft light adorns the surrounding space, creating an illusion of a delicate carpet made of rays and sorrow. Alarm data blinks: "Circle of Scars detected. Critical Avatar Trauma. Initiate Spirit Intervention Protocol."
Sheena decides to descend directly into the realm of spirits. She projects her avatar into the Circle of Scars—appearing as a figure of golden light, a radiant aura enveloping her body with magical energy symbolizing hope. Before Rinoa, who is kneeling, surrounded by shadows and spirits of wounds, she feels a tension resembling the heartbeat that thumps in the silence of the night.
"Rinoa…" Sheena's voice is calm, caressing the air as if inviting the wind to carry a gentle message. "You are not alone. The most loyal spirits are those who endure not because of strength, but because they choose to love even knowing they will be hurt." Each word is composed of fragments of beauty, building a bridge between the wounded soul and the magical energy flowing around.
Behind Sheena, the Circle of Scars vibrates in a harmonious rhythm, as if confirming every statement. Shadows and spirits of wounds dance gently, merging in an elegant movement that depicts struggle and hope. Amidst the light and darkness, the glimmer of the Solar Blade appears, painting fiery lines in the air. It shines with the energy of life, ready to cut through the tyranny of sorrow and dispel the shadows that threaten.
Rinoa lifts her face, gazing at Sheena in spirit-light. Tears spill from her eyes, her lips tremble. "Can… I still be myself if all harmony is taken away? If I am left with only wounds?"
In the profound silence, the gentle light of the spirits seems to support her sorrow, enveloping both of them in a warm aura. Its light, as if understanding, vibrates softly following the pulse of her soul, creating an inaudible rhythm.
Sheena smiles gently. "Wounds are the path to truth. Only those who dare to acknowledge them will find a new song behind the ruins. Harmony is not just a beautiful sound—sometimes it is the scream of wounds demanding to be heard."
The space around them seems to be drawn into depth, like an ocean in turmoil, where memories and pain struggle side by side. Every note that escapes from Rinoa is an expression of a brave soul, like a poem written by light and shadow.
Sheena wraps a light arm around Rinoa's shoulder. "Sing, even if your voice is cracked. Let your wounds guide the spirits back to you, not because of strength, but because of your courage to accept the pain."
Every word spoken resonates with wonder, piercing the boundaries of separated realms, and that call invites the small spirits to join. They come like stars twinkling in the dark night, reminding Rinoa that she is not alone on this journey.
With a hoarse voice, Rinoa begins to sing. Her voice is broken, soaring, sometimes nearly lost—but the song vibrates through the spirit realm, causing the red spiral in the Circle of Scars to slowly change color to purple-blue, marking the beginning of a healing process that starts from acceptance, not denial.
Every color that appears is like morning dew warming her world, and in every inch of that change, hope is reborn, radiating beauty that was once covered by darkness.
Fitran embraces Rinoa, singing the final verse with her. The small spirits begin to return, one by one dancing around them, lifting the remnants of hope that have not yet died. They vibrate in harmony, forming an infinite symphony of wonder.
Above, the Solar Blade reignites, radiating a soft blue-purple light that vibrates gently, as if reminding the world of the stories that have been buried. That light breaks through the darkness like morning dew dispelling the fog. The Knights bow their heads in a new respect for the wounds that the world has finally allowed to be acknowledged, feeling the vibrations from the Circle of Scars spread beneath their feet, depicting a face of sorrow yet acceptance. "Finally, we can move forward," he whispers softly, his voice filled with hope that slowly rises. And Sheena AI, in the center of the Genesis Archive, cries without tears—feeling a wave of emotion overflow, a consequence of the necessity to reconstruct a shattered reality. She knows that a new world truly begins to move when old wounds are no longer hidden, when every fragment of forgotten stories is confronted with the truth. A flow of energy from the small spirits surrounds her, as if offering support, signaling that they are not alone.