Meanwhile, far above, at the peak of the cracked and rusty clock tower, Fitran stood alone, surrounded by swirling dark clouds that loomed like a menacing giant.
The rain never touched him, though a cold wind whispered by, carrying the scent of damp earth rising from below. Shadows resisted drawing close, seeming to maintain their distance from the tension that enveloped him.
Fitran watched Elena from afar, his heart racing as he felt a strange wave of energy surrounding her. Calm yet powerful, Elena exuded a mystical aura that was both captivating and terrifying, as if she were encircled by a gentle light that contrasted with the surrounding darkness. He knew her name; he recognized her figure from ten versions of the future—in each scenario, he saw her trapped: hanged, burned, or inscribed in history as the mother of the nation. Futuristic and grim, each scenario tortured him with a suffocating emptiness.
"Wounds always seek a tongue to speak. And sometimes, the chosen one is not the sorcerer… but the seamstress."
Fitran stood still. He was neither a god nor a savior. He was merely a guide—sometimes with a gentle light, sometimes with thick darkness. In his silence, his mind spun, contemplating the steps he needed to take, while around him, the sky grew darker and thunder rumbled, creating a tension that flowed through his veins. He felt a vibration within him, as though the world around him pulsed in rhythm with his heart, filled with doubt, terrifying yet captivating.
"It seems I still cannot feel my power," Fitran said, his voice hoarse and soft, like the whisper of the wind carrying bad news.
"They should emerge if he does," Fitran continued, his gaze fixed on the silhouette of Elena, immersed in prayers amidst the darkness, each word uttered crashing like waves against rocks.
Then he turned slightly, sensing something approaching, slipping through the silence. Below, Kael Juno stepped back, and for a brief moment their eyes met, like light and shadow drawing closer to each other. No words were exchanged. Just one understanding:
What is written tonight… will ignite the palace tomorrow. Each word echoed like a forbidden whisper between them, radiating a suffocating vibration. Kael was a complex figure; his presence unfurled like thick fog, wrought with consequences, his myriad emotions clashing and intertwining within his mind.
"Kael Juno," Fitran spoke, his voice drifting into the chilling embrace of the night.
Kael Juno, a man with eyes as dark as the profound night, stood proudly at the entrance to the shadows. His body trembled, not only from the gentle winds swirling around him but from something far more terrifying—a piercing gaze unnoticed by anyone else. He felt a compulsion to protect not just himself, but something greater, something larger than his imagination, ensnared in a web of somber emotions.
"Fitran," Kael uttered, his gaze lifted toward the towering spire, as if challenging the shadow that enveloped him.
"The shadowed one. He is not human," he continued, his voice trembling as if resonating within the ominous void around them.
Outside, the sky burned with a copper hue, enveloping the world in a darkness that mirrored Kael's conflicted soul. Lightning streaked across the heavy, low-hanging clouds, etching the marks of a tumultuous inner struggle upon the overcast sky. Darkness and light engaged in a proud dance, creating sharp whispers that filled the stillness of the night. Each flash of lightning offered a resonant voice, spotlighting the buried names in the corners of Kael's heart—revealing every despair and sorrow that clawed its way to the surface. Kael found himself ensnared in a dilemma: would he remain submerged in the comfortable silence, waiting for fate to unveil what was to come, or would he step forward, daring to face the consequences of choices that might shatter him?
Fitran observed intently, his eyes gleaming in the dim light cast by the lightning illuminating the towering clock tower, the shadows merging to form a haunting silhouette on the ground. He could sense the tension enveloping Kael, and suddenly, a surge of impulse jolted through him—a call to restrain himself, to refrain from charging in. In the grand silence, he forged a mental path toward the inevitable potential of the future, feeling the air brimming with stimuli that made every fiber of his being vibrate.
Meanwhile, Elena Voss felt the presence of two intriguing men, an encounter she could not evade. In the dim light, seemingly shrouded in mist, she understood the dynamics of the emotional game unfolding between them. Her courage intertwined with the uncertainty swirling around her, intensifying the oppressive atmosphere. She was part of a larger narrative, inevitable and sprawling before her, waiting to be revealed. With determined steps, attuned to the rhythmic thrum of her heartbeat, Elena tried to gauge their moods. She sensed an excited vibration signaling that everything was about to change—a shift that carried a fiery energy, capable of overturning the situation in an instant. If this was the end, then they all deserved to explore the future that they ought to seize to move forward. She had to take a bold step.
"We cannot hide from the truth," Elena's voice broke through the tension, resonating with an urgent tone, as if filling the space with an unavoidable energy. "We must face whatever is to come. We cannot be trapped in illusion."
Kael responded with a piercing gaze full of doubt, as if the dim light concealed a storm of emotions within him. "But the truth may not be what we expect. It could very well be a disaster waiting to unfold."
Fitran felt the tension in his voice, which trembled with emotion. Despite his efforts to hold back, a flicker of hope began to grow within him, much like a plant forcing its way through cracks in damp soil. They could help each other; they could join hands to confront the encroaching darkness. Yet this hope clashed with the stark reality before them; with every passing moment, a dark future loomed ever closer, casting a shadow that pressed at the edges of his mind.
Elena glanced at Fitran, her eyes glinting in the dim light, as if seeking support in the enveloping gloom.
"Please," she said, her voice soft but laden with urgency, like dew glistening on leaves in a dismal morning.
Yet, Fitran dismissed that plea; this was not his stage, and the dark aura enveloping him seemed to repel silence, carrying a damp scent that sparked a sense of unease. The oppressive atmosphere crept back in, with long shadows quivering beneath the dim light. The wind curled around them like a spectral entity, whispering secrets that were beyond comprehension, leaving a chilling sensation on their skin. Raindrops began to drench the muddy ground, cooling the increasingly heavy air and creating the saturated scent of wet earth. In the distance, lightning struck with arrogance, shattering the night's silence with a thunderous roar that resounded within their souls, signifying that time was not on their side.
Now, Kael turned, sensing the urgent call of an impending future, as if a faint voice pierced through the thick fog of doubt that enveloped him. He faced uncertainty but was guided by a small torch of hope—a promise of change that was both exhilarating and terrifying. Elena stood there—as two complementary forces, balanced between light and shadow with a steadfast gleam in her eyes. In the realm of possibility and reality, they could find a way out of the encroaching darkness, if they were willing to confront it together, even though it was cloaked in an ominous sense of dread.
Hope wove an unbroken thread in Kael's mind, mingling with the scent of damp earth and the aroma of rain hanging in the air. He envisioned a resurgence; tapping into their individual potentials to stand united and undivided, like a beam of light piercing through the cracks of night. With a growing confidence, he stepped forward, each step feeling heavy yet filled with determination, as if navigating an unseen battlefield. A decision was made, urgent and resolute. "We will do this together," Kael said, his words emerging with renewed fervor, resonating in the biting silence. "No more hiding. We face the darkness within us—the obstructive force waiting to be confronted—ready to meet the uncertain future that looms with its shadows."
Fitran realized that there was a profound understanding between them, akin to inseparable magnetic poles; this was a turning point that shook the very foundation of their existence. However, Elena, gazing into Fitran's eyes filled with hope and doubt, felt the weight of this choice pressing on her soul. This decision not only unsettled them but also had the potential to influence a larger future, like waves crashing onto the shore with unexpected force. In the thick darkness of night, the three of them felt disconnected, like colliding stars creating ripples in the dark and mysterious sky.
"Let us paint our truth," Elena continued, her voice unexpectedly piercing through the fog of darkness, echoing as if it were stone against the night wind. Fueled by a fiery determination in her chest, she stepped forward, their intertwined hands feeling warm amidst the chill of the night. Together, they would navigate the remainder of this mysterious night, united in the blend of fear and hope. In the flash of lightning illuminating the sky, they watched their future's shadows tremble in hopeful light, supporting each other, writing their fate together on the slick remnants of rain, where each drop seemed to contain both hope and regret.
Elena eagerly anticipated Fitran's assistance, as the laws he enacted had drastically transformed life in Gaia, creating a stark contrast between day and night; a new light shone bright against the dark horizon, splitting through the shadows of uncertainty.
In the mysterious gaze of the night, stars twinkled in the deep sky, making tomorrow seem so close yet ultimately so distant, like dreams just out of reach. Peering into the hidden darkness, they all understood one thing: what was written tonight would ignite, not only the place but their very souls, leaving an indelible mark.
Fitran was aware of their Ritual, a bridge of hope stretching between them, destined to change everything forever.
One must reread the forbidden sections of history while touching the cold, gleaming obsidian stone from the ruins of the Old Tower—the site where the covenant between Gaia and Earth was first signed, where the moonlight pierced through the gaps of ancient wood, creating dancing shadows upon the ground.
After this, their name would be erased from public records. They would become "Unrecorded."
No names, only marks: a red thread on the left wrist, glowing vividly to symbolize the unseen sacrifices and suffering.
Their symbol is a closed eye within a broken circle, resembling a trace of forgotten history, radiating a mysterious and ominous aura. Their mantra is not an assault but rather a method of hiding, camouflaging, and erasing names from magical documents that whisper in the stillness of the night. They develop "ideological weapons"—poems, ciphers, and false folklore that gradually tarnish the names of nobility, much like rain seeping into parched earth, transforming it into troublesome mud.
Moreover, if the group appears, Atlantis will move in a chilling silence, as if time slows down and the whisper of the wind carries threats among the trees. Fitran is reluctant to get too involved in this matter, especially with the prospect of facing Rinoa later on.