#12:
Five years after Ghei.
Sylvain had grown into a city with two faces: the northern side filled with homes, markets, workshops, and schools—busy, colorful life. The southern side remained enclosed by the Quiet Zone, where the portal stood, surrounded by simple gardens and stone benches. Here, silence was still honored.
Tonight, Aelia walked alone through the Quiet Zone. In her hands, she carried something she had long planned to place there: a small plaque made of cracked crystal stone, engraved with simple words:
Someone once passed through here and chose to leave.
Respect their choice—and your own.
She intended to place it near the portal, not as a grand monument, but as a quiet reminder.
But before she reached it, something happened.
The portal changed.
Usually it was calm—a gray surface slowly rotating like still water. Tonight, it pulsed. The light within shifted colors: gray to pale blue, to gold, to deep black, then back to gray.
And from within the portal, a sound emerged.
Not crying. Not moaning, as usual. But… music. A simple, fragmented melody, played on an unfamiliar instrument—like a piano, but softer; like a harp, but deeper.
Aelia froze. She had never heard the portal produce anything other than whispers.
Then, from within the portal, light shaped itself into a human form.
Not a soul—pure light, without face or detail. It stood before the portal, facing Aelia.
"Who…?" Aelia whispered.
The light did not answer with words. Instead, something formed in her mind—not sound, but direct understanding:
I am not a soul. I am an echo.
An echo of the final meeting.
"An echo? An echo of what?"
An echo of the killing that was longed for.
Then the light shifted, projecting images into the air before her.
IMAGE: THE FINAL MOMENTS AFTER THE AUDIENCE
Devaros stood before Ghei, his marble body cracked, golden light seeping from the fissures. Yet his expression—as much as could be seen on a stone face—was calm.
Ghei raised his hand. The black dust of Null Echo did not merely scatter from his skin—it now formed a small tornado around him, slowly spiraling.
"Will this hurt?" Devaros asked.
"I don't know," Ghei replied. "But it shouldn't last long."
"All right."
Ghei pushed his hand forward. The black dust converged, forming a dark spear—not made of matter, but of pure rejection.
He did not throw it. He simply directed it.
The spear moved slowly—very slowly, as if passing through honey—toward Devaros's chest.
When it touched the marble, there was no explosion. Only… dissolution.
The marble began to turn to dust. The cracks widened. Golden light poured out more intensely, but not violently—calmly, like a river finally finding its way to the sea.
Devaros watched his body break apart. He was not in pain. Instead… he smiled.
"At last," he whispered. "This feeling… this is what I've been waiting for."
"What feeling?" Ghei asked, still holding the spear.
"The feeling… of ending. All this time, I only ever began. Revived. Initiated. Never ended."
Devaros looked at Ghei. "You are fortunate. You can choose your end."
"Now you can too."
"Yes." Devaros nodded. "Thank you."
The spear passed through completely. Devaros's body disintegrated into golden dust and marble. But before vanishing entirely, the golden light formed something—a symbol: an eye within a triangle, the same symbol that once appeared on Soren's chest.
The symbol drifted toward Ghei, entered his chest, merging with the golden trace already there.
And Devaros's final voice, like the wind:
"Now… free yourself as well."
Then he was gone.
The image faded. The human-shaped light before Aelia trembled.
"That was the first echo," the meaning came to her. "Now the second."
A new image appeared.
IMAGE: MOMENTS AFTER THE KILLING
Ghei stood alone in the now-ruined Garden of False Dawn. The plants withered. The fountains dead. The Empyrean sky cracked.
He looked at his hands. The golden mark on his chest shone brightly, pulling him toward somewhere else—toward a portal opening into the Liminal Veil.
But he did not leave immediately.
He sat on the steps of the now-empty throne. He took something from his pocket—a small notebook, the same one Aelia now possessed.
He opened the blank pages at the back, took out a pencil (where had he gotten a pencil in this world? Perhaps carried over from Earth), and began to write.
Aelia tried to read the writing in the image, but it was too small. Still, she caught a few words: "…at last…", "…peaceful…", "…home…".
Ghei wrote for several minutes. Then he closed the notebook, slipped it back into his pocket. He stood and looked around the garden one last time.
There was no regret on his face. No joy. Only… relief.
Like someone finally allowed to set down a burden carried for far too long.
Then he walked toward the portal to the Liminal Veil.
The image faded again. The light was now dimmer.
"Why show this to me?" Aelia asked.
Because you are the one who carried it forward. And you need to know: this was not a tragedy. It was… resolution.
"Did he suffer? When he… disappeared?"
The light trembled and produced a third image—the last.
IMAGE: IN THE LIMINAL VEIL
Ghei stood before a simple wooden door. Around him, eternal gray. Silent monoliths.
He did not hesitate. He did not look back. He simply opened the door.
Beyond it was not darkness. Not blinding light. But neutral light—like moonlight on snow—the same light Aelia had seen in her dreams of souls.
Ghei looked inside, then smiled—a small, almost imperceptible smile, but real.
The first and last smile Aelia had ever seen on his face.
Then he stepped inside.
The door closed gently behind him.
And in the Liminal Veil, all that remained was this: on one of the monoliths, new writing appeared—the same writing Aelia had heard reported by explorers brave enough to enter the Veil.
It read: "Someone once passed through here who only wanted to go home."
The light was now extremely faint, like a candle about to go out.
"Who are you, really?" Aelia asked, tears unknowingly streaming down her face.
I am the echo of their choices. Devaros chose to end. Ghei chose to end. Those choices were so powerful they left an imprint on reality. I am that imprint.
"And why appear now?"
Because the time has come. Five years. The first cycle is complete. And you… you are the one who tends this place. You deserve to know: this was not violence. It was mutual mercy.
The light began to fade, returning to the portal.
Before vanishing completely, a final message:
Do not be sad. They received what they wanted. And because of them, you received what you wanted: choice.
Then the light disappeared. The portal returned to calm, slowly rotating as usual.
The music stopped.
Aelia collapsed onto a stone bench, the small plaque still in her hands. She cried—not from sorrow, but from understanding.
All this time, she and the others had imagined the killing as something dark, full of rage, tragic.
But the truth was… peaceful.
Two beings helping each other reach the end they both longed for.
Like two people, equally exhausted, deciding to stop walking together.
Aelia looked at the portal. Now she fully understood why it had never felt frightening. Because the energy behind it was not the energy of forced death.
It was the energy of choice fulfilled.
The next day, Aelia told Kael and several elders what had happened. She did not show the images—they were meant only for her—but she shared the essence.
"So we were wrong all this time?" Kael asked after hearing it.
"Not wrong. Just incomplete." Aelia held the plaque, now placed near the portal. "We thought it was a battle. But it was… consent."
"Does that change anything?"
"For me, yes. Now I understand why Ghei left no anger behind. Because there was no one to be angry at. Just… two paths meeting at the same point: the desire to rest."
The elders fell silent, considering.
One of them—an old woman named Mira, who had once died of old age—spoke softly: "Perhaps that is the lesson for those of us who remain alive. That sometimes, stopping is not failure. It may be… an achievement."
"Or simply stopping," Kael added. "No need to label it."
They agreed not to change the official story. Let people hold their own interpretations. But for those who asked, they would share this truth: that the killing was longed for by both sides.
That night, Aelia could not sleep again. She went to the library, took the novel Dust Among the Stars and Ghei's notebook.
She opened the final page of the notebook—the page Ghei had written in the Garden of False Dawn. Until now, the writing had been too faint to read. But tonight, under a certain candlelight, she could see it:
"At last.
The final task is complete.
He is free.
I will be soon.
No regrets.
Only relief.
Like returning a book borrowed for too long.
Now…
I am going home."
Below it was an addition in different ink—perhaps written later, in the Liminal Veil:
"The door is simple.
Just as I hoped.
I enter.
And for the last time,
I choose."
Aelia closed the notebook and hugged it.
Now it was complete.
Several weeks later, Elara—now officially a teenager—came to the Quiet Zone with a question.
"Teacher Aelia, I heard a new story about… that killing."
"What did you hear?"
"That it wasn't a murder. But… consent."
Aelia nodded. "Yes. They both wanted it."
Elara sat on the bench, gazing at the portal. "Does that mean… sometimes helping someone die is good?"
A heavy question. Aelia answered carefully.
"Not always. But if the person's desire is clear, and we merely open the path… it can be an act of mercy. But it must be handled with extreme care. Because life is precious. And sometimes, those who want to die actually only want their suffering to stop—not their life."
"But Ghei truly wanted to die, right?"
"Yes. From the beginning."
"And Devaros too?"
"In the end, yes."
Elara thought. "So… they found someone who understood. That's rare."
"Very rare."
"I hope someday, if I want to stop, there will be someone who understands."
Aelia looked at her. "I hope you never want to stop. But if it happens… I will try to understand."
Elara smiled. "That's enough."
Aelia finally placed the plaque near the portal. No ceremony. Just alone, at dawn.
The cracked crystal stone bore its simple inscription:
Someone once passed through here and chose to leave.
Respect their choice—and your own.
She added a small stone beside it—an ordinary stone, with smaller writing:
And someone who chose to let him go.
For Devaros.
Two stones. Two choices. One outcome: freedom.
On the final night of this chapter, Aelia dreamed not of Ghei or Devaros.
She dreamed of a simple wooden door.
In her dream, she stood before it. Not afraid. Only curious.
She did not open it. She simply sat before it, knowing that one day—perhaps very far in the future—she would decide whether to open it or not.
And for now, it was enough to know that the door existed.
And that opening it—or not—was her choice.
Waking in the morning, Aelia felt lighter. As if a burden she hadn't realized she carried had finally been lifted.
She went to the window and looked toward the Quiet Zone in the distance. The two small stones there were barely visible.
But she knew they were there.
Like Ghei and Devaros—almost invisible in the grand history of the world, but to those who knew, they existed.
And their existence changed everything.
Because sometimes, the greatest rebellion is not against tyranny.
But against the assumption that we must keep living, keep struggling, keep meaning.
Sometimes, the greatest rebellion is stopping.
And in that silence, perhaps there is the peace we have long yearned for.
Just as two beings found it in a garden that now lies in ruins.
#12
Elara's poem, written after hearing the full story:
Two paths meet in a shattered garden:
one of marble, one of dust.
Both weary.
Both longing for an end.
So they give each other
what they could not give themselves:
permission to stop.
And in that stopping,
there is a peace greater
than all the eternities
ever promised.