The first light of dawn bathed the reborn world in gold, yet shadows lingered. Somewhere beyond the horizon, a dark figure watched silently, hidden among the trees that had just awakened.
Prava sensed it immediately. Even with the Heart Key now part of her soul, a faint ripple of unrest tickled the edge of her consciousness. She turned to Rafael and Allara, eyes sharp.
"Not everything ends with victory," she whispered. "Some darkness survives."
Rafael clenched his fists, stepping forward. "Then we finish it. Together."
Allara nodded, her face resolute despite the tears still clinging to her cheeks. "No matter what remains, we protect this dawn."
From the shadows, a faint, chilling laugh echoed, carried by the wind. The figure remained unseen, yet its presence was undeniable—a reminder that the world they saved was fragile, its peace still needing guardians.
Prava raised her hand, feeling the heartbeat of the world beneath her fingertips. Light and shadow intertwined, steady and balanced, as if echoing her vow.
"We choose this path every day," she said softly. "And we will face whatever comes… together."
The figure vanished into the forest, leaving only a whisper. But the three knew: even if darkness remained, the courage and unity they forged would light the way forward.
And as the sun rose fully over the horizon, the first true day of the new world began—bright, fragile, and infinitely hopeful.