Chapter 637 The Song That Cannot Be Silenced

Tharmessan was silent.

But not because he was defeated. Not because he had given up. He was silent because he didn't know what to say when the world finally… listened to him. The night wind whispered softly, flowing through the gaps in the leaves, as if giving her a gentle nudge to speak. The voice of nature harmonized, urging her to express what had been buried deep within. The entire universe seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her presence in this silence, as if the voice from her hidden heart would revolutionize everything. And in the corner of her soul, waves of hope began to vibrate, inviting courage to rise.

Her body, once supported by the roots of resentment, was now slowly wrapped again by the roots of the Tree of Life, not as punishment—but as a return. The acacia roots danced gently as if inviting her soul to shine, assuring her that even the deepest darkness could be transformed. The roots shimmered softly in the flow of light, conveying messages from another world, promising resurrection and enlightenment. Each twist felt like an embrace from life itself, flowing with energy that seemed connected to every spirit that had ever inhabited the realm.

However, something in the atmosphere of Stones still felt fractured.

There was a note that had yet to resonate.

In the distance, faintly, the rustling of leaves seemed to whisper, adding an air of mystery. And the whole world… seemed to hold its breath, waiting. A sense of tension hung in the air, as if time had stopped, and there, in the empty gaps, a miracle appeared to gather, tempting with the promise of voicing something long buried.

Rinoa stood at the center of the altar, her body trembling. The scent of damp earth reminded her of the journey she had traveled, and her hands were bloodied from holding back the explosion of magic from before. Her eyes… gazed at Tharmessan, who now existed as half creature, half will. In her gaze, there was a storm of emotions raging; the creatures of the night outside the altar seemed to form dark shadows, adding weight to the tension. Each heartbeat vibrated with fear and hope, as if the entire resurrection of the world was gathered in this one moment, waiting to be created.

She knew that no magic, no sword, not even any acknowledgment could end a will this strong. The struggle within her echoed in the suffocating silence, as if the whispers from the forest reminded her that everything has a price. As a reflection of a greater power, a power waiting to be affirmed through the beauty of a lost song.

Only one thing remained: the song. But not a song for healing. Not for saving. Rather… to accompany. In the profound silence, the wind blew softly, as if supporting the unspoken hope. A gentle melody began to form from the depths of her soul, as if time and space merged, awakening memories that had long been asleep—a song that told of journeys and steadfast hearts, ready to touch every soul present.

Sheena raised her hand, forming the ancient note from the Third Spiral, then handed it to Rinoa in the form of a light green crystal. A soft light radiated from the crystal, emanating an aura of tranquility that enveloped the entire altar, as if time momentarily stopped to honor that moment. As far as the eye could see, the grass around the altar trembled gently, as if responding to the presence of the energy surrounding them, bringing a magical atmosphere that stirred every soul.

"You don't need to return anything, Rinoa."

"Just sing so that the wound knows… it is not alone."

Fitran cut himself—letting his blood drip onto the altar, which then reflected a line of Proto-Speech from his past: His blood shimmered like dew in the morning, creating a deep emotional trail, as if each drop contained a buried story. The sharp metallic scent mixed with the fragrance of damp earth added to the magical impression, as if this rite had bound them into an inseparable cycle of life and death.

"I have lost too much for not listening long enough."

He handed a fragment of Voidlight to Rinoa. The fragment vibrated with unseen energy, as if trying to grasp the wounded hope, ready to release the flow of magic that had long been buried. Around them, subtle shadows swirled gently, dancing in the light, creating an atmosphere filled with wonder and new hope.

Rinoa stood, holding back tears. In the flowing moments, her soul felt vibrate in tune with the magical rhythm born from the sacrifices before her, and the warmth enveloping her heart gave her new strength to face the darkness. Each heartbeat felt connected to nature, as if the universe applauded her bravery, urging her to step forward with confidence.

"If so…

listen to me. Just this once… not as a sorceress.

But as a woman who has also been unheard."

Rinoa closed her eyes. From her lips, no spell emerged, no ordinary notes came forth. Around her, the wind blew softly, carrying the whispers of ghosts from the past. She breathed out names.

Like morning dew touching the surface of leaves, each name spread gently, penetrating the deep darkness. The names flowed, filled with hope and sorrow, painting forgotten trails in the air. As if the universe paused for a moment to hear this call, each letter stored like a secret unworthy of being taken away.

Not great names. But names that had only been spoken once, buried in shadows.

A Gamma child who starved to death, trapped in silence, waiting for the acknowledgment that never came.

A wife left behind for war, her heart shattered by deep longing, hoping for the voice of her husband who never returned.

A teacher forgotten by his students, patiently waiting, igniting the torch of knowledge in the darkness of memory.

A shadow never seen by anyone, floating in solitude, searching for a mirror to paint its existence.

Cantus Veneris: The Lullaby for the Unremembered

This song did not make the world bright again. But it made the world brave enough to open a window. As if fresh air flowed in, bringing new hope to a heart that seemed frozen.

This song did not heal. But it said that the wound deserved to be heard. In every note, the sound of tears finding their way back could be heard, telling the story that had been neglected.

And slowly… Tharmessan's body cracked. The cracks sounded like the branches of an old tree, echoing in the silence of the night, as if feeling the weight of every memory.

Then, the voice trembled, resonating in the stillness of the night. Supernatural energy surged from his body, creating a vibrating light. As if each crack was a bridge to lost memories, connecting the forgotten world with bitter reality.

But not because he was broken.

But because he began to cry. His tears flowed like a trapped river, calling to see again what had been lost.

A heavy voice emerged from Tharmessan's open chest, echoing like thunder in the darkness of the night. Each word felt like waves of energy vibrating the space around him, as if creating resonance in the soul of every listener, awakening the buried hope.

"If I stop being angry…

will you forget me again?" In his voice lay deep doubt, as if his restlessness echoed between the walls of shadows.

Rinoa stepped forward, touching the roots of his body that were still burning. It felt as if she were touching an electric current flowing, giving a warm yet painful sensation at her fingertips. Around her, the air vibrated with energy, as if every second carried a mix of hope and fear.

"We cannot promise the world will always remember you rightly.

But we can name you.

And for the will… that is more than enough." Though her words were gentle, the wind whispered as if shedding the secrets hidden in her heart.

From above the sky, a flash of ancient proto-symbols appeared, used only once in the history of Stones—Spiral Nomen: a structure to hold wounds as part of harmony, not a disruptor of harmony. The light of the symbol spread, forming a weave in the air, as if dancing to the rhythm of Tharmessan's heart. Behind that light, ancient shadows danced, challenging time to return.

The Tree of Life recorded Tharmessan… not as an enemy. But as an entity that contained the will of wounds. In a single glance, the tears of the five elements united, feeling like dew flowing gently, embracing every gaping wound. Amidst the roar of nature, there was an unspoken sympathy and understanding that caressed the soul.

That name now became part of the roots. Each letter vibrated in soft harmony, calling forth deep resonance from nature. At an immeasurable distance, the voices of nature responded, as if the whole world united to listen to his story.

"Tharmessan," Sheena said, her voice filled with a tension that was palpable.

"You have been named. Therefore, the world must provide space for you." With each word, the atmosphere grew more intense, as if the starlight dimmed to make way for a new presence.

Tharmessan's body vanished into the whirl of roots. He did not disappear. He was planted. In the calming silence, the roots whispered, merging with new hope and releasing the pent-up energy.

Like dew settling on leaves, his presence merged with the earth. The roots curved toward his body, as if welcoming back the lost, providing warmth and protection. Around him, the silent sounds of the forest vibrated, each heartbeat and silent breath forming a poetic symphony. Laid to rest at the center of the Tree of Life.

As memory.

In the air, one last sentence flowed:

ꦱꦸꦤꦶꦪ ꦏꦼꦢꦼꦤ꧀ ꦏꦸꦭꦁꦏꦺꦴꦤ꧀ꦢꦺ — Suniya Keden Kulangkondé

(A song that cannot be silenced… is the most honest song.)

The gentle wind whispered, flowing like a stream that touched the soul, calling all forest beings to gather. Soft light illuminated the remnants of Tharmessan's life, revealing a mystical glow that tickled every corner among the roots. In the dimness, wild shadows danced along with the passage of time. As the magic flowed, it seemed as if the past and future merged, creating a bridge between memories and new hopes.