Chapter 629 Rinoa and the Echo of Gamma

The corridor before them looked no different than before—still shaped by roots and dim light. But the atmosphere had changed drastically. No longer was there an echoing sound. The gentle touch of the Tree of Life's magic was absent. All that remained was a single, piercing, constant tone… like a world holding its breath for too long. This sound reminded Rinoa of the secret whispers long buried in her memory, akin to the unmatched pain of loss. A dizzying shadow felt like it was binding her soul as she stepped deeper. Around her, the walls of the corridor seemed alive, vibrating in a terrifying harmony of chaos, roots creeping like hands reaching out to Rinoa, as if inviting her to understand more deeply.

Rinoa stopped in her tracks.

"This place... I know this place. But I don't know... where from."

Sheena placed her hand on Rinoa's shoulder, but Rinoa's body tensed. In that silence, it felt as if something mysterious was peering from behind the shadows. A sudden cold breeze swept through the room, carrying the scent of damp earth and something sweet, triggering forgotten memories. Her hand brushed against the wall, and suddenly Proto-Speech lit up, not as a glyph, but as a starry line—a cosmic spiral pattern unknown to the Alpha world. The feeling that they were between layers of reality tickled the nape of her neck, stirring doubt and hope simultaneously, like a faint voice whispering an unfulfilled promise.

"Gamma," Fitran murmured.

"But why do the roots of the Tree of Life hold this path?"

Rinoa bowed her head, her breath quickening. Within her… something opened. In the stinging silence, shadowy figures began to emerge, filling the paralyzing void of her thoughts, as if inviting Rinoa to delve deeper into the long-hidden mystery. Inside her, fear and curiosity intertwined, creating a gap for potential she had never realized before.

Images began to dance in her mind:

A slow-moving indigo sky, as if time was functioning outside the laws of physics. Clouds sparkled like shards of diamond, and beneath them, a soft light seeped from a source unseen.

Buildings of white and gold metal, shimmering as if sculpted from dreams, structures as smooth as silk yet sturdy, showcasing an architecture of will that marched in harmony with nature. Every corner whispered secrets into her.

An old woman with an artificial arm called to her: "Rinoa, our child…" Her voice trembled in the wind, a lost note finding its purpose again, inviting Rinoa to interact with memories shrouded by the dew of time.

But the vision soon collapsed, dragged down by an earthquake from within her own soul. In the suffocating darkness, it felt like distant voices were whispering, calling names long forgotten—yet unable to be fully recalled. Each whisper felt like a tangible fragment of a story she had once lived.

She fell to her knees, her soul split by a burden long hanging. In the darkness, shadows of the past materialized, dancing before her, as if wanting Rinoa to recognize her true self.

"I... never... remembered this. But now... why do I feel... like I was the one who left them?"

The corridor ahead narrowed. The light began to change colors—from white to soft blue, then to a deep violet. As if it had a life of its own, the colors danced along the walls, weaving an illusion that revealed pain and longing. Each wave of color carried with it a buried story, seeping into the pores of the universe. The root floor became a metallic surface—a sign that this memory was not from Alpha, nor even from Omega. Meanwhile, the echo of that buried heartbeat created a resonance, as if welcoming her into a deeper journey.

Fitran felt a pressure in his chest, as if he were bearing an unreachable burden, fighting against the urge of a bound soul. The walls of the corridor seemed to vibrate, resonating with his emotional weight, like a gentle voice calling from afar. Hope and fear wrestled within him, creating a strange and touching harmony.

Sheena looked around. "This structure... is not the result of magic. It's technology. But alive. Like... a biostructure." However, as she observed more closely, fragility and strength interacted in a complex dance. The walls seemed to breathe, emitting a rustling sound that synchronized with every heartbeat around her.

Fitran nodded. "Not just biotech. This is... architecture of will." His words carried a depth that stirred, a reflection of the search for identity and meaning. He felt the collective spirit of all that had ever existed, merging into a design that transcended physical boundaries.

And in the middle of the corridor stood a crystal archive shaped like an egg. Its beauty was unmatched, radiating a soft light that created an illusion of space and time flowing together.

As Rinoa touched it, the entire world shook. Its light emitted waves of nostalgia that flooded her mind, bringing forth faces that had once been part of her life. It was as if each memory danced in the light, guiding her back to the moments that shaped her soul.

She saw herself… sitting in a large cylindrical room. Her body was still young, her voice not yet full of confidence. In front of her sat representatives of Gamma, beings that were not just human: some had glowing bodies, others had skin like jade. The room, with its shimmering walls and high ceiling, created an atmosphere as if connected to the universe, a compromise between the seen and the unseen. There, she felt the contrasting energy between life and emptiness, between hope and regret.

One of them—a woman with a robe full of wounds—spoke:

"We do not ask for victory, Rinoa. We only wish to be acknowledged. If the Alpha world rejects us, at least you… you who once lived with us… can carry our voice to the surface." Her voice trembled, hinting at a long history of burdens and buried hopes.

Young Rinoa bowed her head, a heavy feeling in her chest like a stone burying hope. The old woman's voice echoed in her mind, like the whisper of the wind seeking justice, but only receiving silence. The space around her felt like it was closing in, adding to the tightness in her chest. Outside the window, thick fog enveloped the world, as if reminding her of all that was lost, and covering the faces she once knew.

"If I carry the voice of Gamma… I will lose my place in the Alpha world."

The woman fell silent. But her answer haunted:

"Then… do not mention us in the future.

Let us die in silence. But do not…

do not make us a trace you call the wounds of others."

She fell to the root floor, feeling a deep soul-shaking. Her body trembled, holding back a tide of emotions she had never anticipated. Tears fell uncontrollably, as if each drop was a confession of the wrongs she had committed, and the pain that had always been buried. A surge of loneliness came in waves, drowning the empty space that had once been filled with laughter and hope.

Sheena and Fitran approached, their eyes filled with glimmers of hope even as their hearts were torn between loyalty and regret. They stood in the shadows, like silhouettes made of sorrow and hope. But Rinoa said:

"I... chose not to help them.

I... am a traitor."

Fitran replied, his voice soft yet firm, like leaves whispering in the quiet night:

"You are human. And humans cannot always carry all voices with them. But what makes you worthy… is that you still wish to hear them now."

On the walls of the corridor, a line of Proto-Speech appeared that could not be read directly. But Rinoa translated it without a Corpus. She understood, it all felt like a message from a stranded soul. Because it was the language of Gamma.

As the voices approached her, shadowy figures danced around her. Each blend of notes seemed to merge, forming a symphony that awakened memories within Rinoa. Those voices were reminders of the journey she had taken, vibrating in frequencies that resonated within her, stirring feelings of longing and hope buried deep in her heart.

꧋ꦲꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺ ꦒꦩ꧀ꦩ ꦏꦶꦤ꧀ꦧꦺꦴꦠꦸ —

Onde Gamma Kinbotu

(We are not dead. We are just... not called again.)

Rinoa closed her eyes, allowing the deep wave of guilt to grip her soul. In that darkness, she found new strength, as if hope could still bloom even in the most desperate of circumstances. In her mind, she envisioned the warmth of a hug, a smile calling her, and all the beautiful moments once created with those who now stood at the boundary between reality and illusion.

"I will call you. But this time… not as wounds. But as part of who I truly am."

꧋ꦲꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺ ꦒꦩ꧀ꦩ ꦏꦶꦤ꧀ꦧꦺꦴꦠꦸ —

Onde Gamma Kinbotu

(We are not dead. We are just... not called again.)

Rinoa closed her eyes. In the depths of her mind, waves of forgotten memories swirled, shaking the foundation of her soul like waves crashing against rocks. The voices stored in the darkness exceeded mere whispers, now striving to take shape, faces, and names. Forms that reminded Rinoa of who she truly was, peeling away layers of doubt that had kept her from accepting the truth that existed.

"I will call you. But this time… not as wounds. But as part of who I truly am."

And from the walls, a spiral light emerged, forming a new Gamma magic crystal, entering Rinoa's body. She felt warmth replacing the coldness that had once dominated her heart. It was as if the light revived the pieces of herself that had been lost, giving new meaning to every step she had taken. Around her, shadows of light moved gently, creating a mystical dance that seemed to express joy at her resurrection. Every corner of the room was filled with the resonance of energy waves flowing smoothly, as if its walls held ancient secrets finally uncovered.

One ability awakened:

Echo Memoria: Voice of the Forgotten Realms

A magic that combined the voices of Gamma with the harmony of Alpha—the ability to revive names forgotten by the world, and make them part of the current structure of magic. The damp aroma of the earth supporting life around began to waft, as if grateful for this discovery. Rinoa closed her eyes, feeling each heartbeat merge with the pulse of life around her, as if heaven and earth united in an eternal harmony. The voices echoing within her began to speak, not as echoes of pain, but as beautiful notes carrying messages from lost time.

The Tree of Life above trembled. Soft purple light flowed into the deepest roots, connecting layers of history hidden in time. Each vibration felt like the heartbeat of the world itself, alive and full of hope, calling all that was forgotten to reclaim their place. In this magical atmosphere, the wind whispered softly, carrying the scent of damp leaves that soothed. Every corner seemed to tell a story, reminding of buried tales, as moments of uncertainty transformed into resurrection.

Fitran and Sheena simply gazed at Rinoa. She stood, not as the princess heir to harmony. But as a bridge from the world she had once left behind. The silence surrounding them was broken by Rinoa's presence, and although everything trembled in tension, a new calm enveloped them, reminding of the power of redemption. Around them, the soft glowing light from the Tree of Life created dancing shadows, as if celebrating Rinoa's presence. Each light seemed to reach out, wanting to invite the lost souls to reunite with the cycle of life.

And the faint voice from the dimension that was no longer named whispered:

"We hear you… at last."