Everything went still.

  No gusts, no light, no trembling. All that remained was the dust drifting up—and the aftertaste of vibration lingering deep inside my ears.

  Ra?k was still moving, but it wasn’t the movement of someone fighting anymore. Ren had him pinned with his body. Not with force, not crushing him—just not letting him slip away.

  I walked up slowly.

  The kyōmei was still there, but not fully open. It felt like it had returned to standby—ready to connect again the instant we needed it.

  Ra?k was leaking sound through clenched teeth. Not words. More like fragments of noise.

  “…Not… over… Lord Gaheris… chose… me…”

  There was no strength in it. Not a scream—just empty spinning. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  Ren looked at me, then dropped his gaze to his own arm.

  “…There’s more crystal than before.”

  I saw it too. Spelarita had crept up toward his neck. The nearby veins had turned a wrong color—opaque, like something had clogged them.

  “Nael.”

  When I called, he hurried over. He looked exhausted, but he crouched immediately.

  “What? Something broken?”

  “…I don’t know. But he won’t calm down at all, and the crystal’s getting worse.”

  Nael’s face tightened as he examined Ra?k.

  “So? What do you want me to do—sing to him?”

  “Nael.”

  This time I met his eyes properly.

  “Try what you were doing at Elthariel. The… cup of water. The thing where you tune it.”

  There was a short silence. He looked at me, then at Ra?k, then let out a breath.

  “…You’re serious.”

  I nodded, small.

  “Please.”

  He dropped his shoulders and held both hands over Ra?k’s chest, hovering. Not touching, but close. He inhaled and closed his eyes.

  After a few seconds of silence, his brows drew together slightly.

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  “It’s not water… but something’s… moving. Really slow, but moving. Like a flow that’s almost stopped.”

  Ra?k’s body jerked once, like a final twitch.

  Then his eyes closed, and the strength drained out of him.

  His breathing softened.

  The fight was over.

  Only then did I notice: the air felt a little lighter.

  Not completely. But something had changed.

  And for the first time in a while—I could breathe deeply.

  The first thing I heard was footsteps.

  One step, then another. Then more, gradually multiplying.

  When I turned, people were coming out of their houses. An older woman first, then a mother holding a child, then others behind them.

  Every face carried unease. Like they couldn’t decide whether to run or come closer.

  Ra?k lay on the ground, unconscious.

  Ren was still holding him down, but he wasn’t pressing with strength—just keeping him from getting away.

  Then someone murmured, very softly.

  “…Princess…?”

  I didn’t turn my face toward them.

  “Did you hear that?” Nael whispered near my ear.

  I nodded once.

  I didn’t need to hear it again.

  More voices followed—people whispering, people staring at me without speaking. Everyone had noticed something.

  Ren glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

  He didn’t say anything.

  I didn’t either.

  Then an older man stepped out of the crowd.

  He was thin, his hands trembling a little. He had the same eyes as Ra?k.

  He knelt beside Ra?k and, without a word, placed a hand on his chest.

  “…That’s his father, isn’t it,” I said.

  “Looks like it,” Nael answered quietly.

  No one asked anything. No accusations, no scolding, no raised voices.

  They just watched.

  The man stood up slowly, faced us, and said in a calm voice, “Stay here tonight. There’s an empty house up on the hill. We can’t offer anything fancy to eat, but there are futons.”

  Ren looked like he was about to respond, but I lightly took his arm and nodded instead.

  Right now, that was enough.

  The villagers quietly opened a path for us.

  We headed to the house on the hill.

  On the way, I noticed it again: the air… was a little lighter.

  The house was small, but clean. Only one room. Three futons and a low wooden table. The walls carried the scent of old smoke, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

  It felt like a place you could settle your breathing.

  Ren wrapped Ra?k’s rod in cloth and set it in the center of the table.

  Nael and I stared at it in silence.

  “So what now?” Nael asked in a low voice.

  Ren shrugged.

  “Selem said stagnant mana can only be purified by letting it flow. But this…” He looked at the rod without touching it. “There’s no flow in it. It’s clogged.”

  “Then what about forcing it to flow?” I suggested. “Like treatment—if we run it through inside the kyōmei…”

  “Run it through us?” Nael took a step back. “Did you see Ra?k’s neck?”

  “This isn’t for Ra?k,” I said quietly. “It’s for the village. If we leave it, it might affect someone else again.”

  Ren didn’t cut in. He stepped in front of me.

  Our eyes met.

  And the kyōmei answered.

  Just matching our breathing made the marks rise on our arms. Quieter than usual, but unmistakable.

  I held out my hand. Ren did the same.

  We didn’t touch the rod.

  The mana inside was packed tight, writhing—like it was refusing us.

  Ren took it first. Just a little.

  His fingertips trembled.

  “Ugh… this is the worst,” he muttered.

  I felt it too.

  Like hot mud. Sticky, foul—like it had a smell, even though there was no smell.

  “Little by little,” I said.

  “If we let it flow together, it shouldn’t burn.”

  Ren nodded.

  And we started.

  Mana moved from me to Ren, from Ren to me. Each pass made it a little lighter.

  It hurt. But it was changing, undeniably.

  Nael watched without saying a word.

  The moment the last of the murky mana vanished, the rod creaked.

  The Spelarita lost its light.

  There was no explosion.

  It simply cracked, like it had been hollowed out from the inside.

  I sank down where I was.

  Ren slumped beside me.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah… but next time, do that with someone other than us.”

  Ren grimaced.

  I let out a weak laugh.

  “Fine. We’ll do that.”