Soon Limbo and others along with sambha began to head back, the temple slowly began to fade
They did not speak on the way back.
Not because of anyone forbidden to speak.
But because none of them trusted what might come out of they did.
Sambha was carried the same way he had been brought in. His breathing slowly began to steady now, the pale and dead expression slowly began to changed.
And yet.
Limbo felt it, something different than rest.
The weight that had pressed against the land on the journey there was no longer present. It wasn't gone or vanished, but just eased...
Like a tight knot that loosened enough to breath.
No one else commented on it.
They returned to the palace as the sun climbed higher, its light began to cutting through the courtyard in long, quite lines. Servants moved to recieve them, with expression carefully neutral. No question were asked. No fansy announcement.
The second queen was their waiting for the news about sambha.
They take the child back to his chamber first.
The doctors were already there waiting for them.
Why's doctors here? King asked. Who brings them?
Silence.
The king heavy strong voice was enough to spread chill across doctors and servants.
Second queen interrupted.
"They're here on my orders, just in case."
The king didn't say anything, the queen signal them to analyse Sambha.
They examined Sambha again, carefully, thoroughly, and with growing uncertainty.
"No deterioration," the lead physician said at last. "In fact... His condition appears to be more stable."
Rin leaned forward. "Stable how?"
The doctors hesitated. "His body is no longer resisting rest."
Gaja frowned. "That sounds guessing than—be sure."
"It is," the doctor admitted quietly.
Since they don't knew the cause king didn't asked them anything and tell leave.
And signal elders to give them what they need.
Sambha's mother remained by the bed, her fingers gently rest against her son's tiny wrist. She did not smile, nor she had taken proper rest. A dark circles appeared around her eyes.
But she was no longer trembling by weird thoughts, since the elder told he will wakeup naturally or maybe not.
But a mother's heart only focus on positive response.
The elder entered shortly after.
He looked... Older.
Not physically, something deeper.
As if he had remembered something he had hoped to forget, if he didn't tell.
"The place has accepted the moment,he said."
The king nodded once.
Nothing More was said, and he takes his leave.
That night, the palace slept uneasily.
Limbo did not.
He sat by the open window in the guest quarters, staring at the distance silhouettes of towers and old stones. The image of inner statue still lingered behind his eyes and mind—not the rage carved into it, but the restraint.
A system failsafe.
Not designed to act often.
Designed to act last.
His fingers twitched unconsciously, as if scrolling through invisible code.
This world wasn't built to be fair, Limbo thought.
It isn't a place for happiness.
It was built for to endure, and face.
The system stirred faintly.
Without any notification, just...recalibration.
Limbo closed his eyes. Sambha stirred just before dawn.
It was subtle.
His fingers moved— slowly curled, then uncurling.
His breathing shifted slowly.
Seating near chair Rin noticed first.
"Sambha?" She whispered.
But nothing in response.
Then his eyebrows furrowed, as if reacting to something unseen.
His lips parted.
A sound escape.
Not a word yet.
A breath.
Sambha's mother leaned forward instantly.
"Sambha," she said softly. "I'm here."
His eyes fluttered.
Once.
Twice.
Then slowly —hesitantly and shaking they opened.
The room froze.
Sambha stared at ceiling for several seconds, without blinking.
"...It's loud," he murmured.
Everyone leaned closer.
"What is?" His mother asked.
"The quite," sambha said, confused. "It's ...not quite anymore."
Limbo felt his chest tighten.
The doctors rushed forward, checking reflexes l, pupils, pulse.
"He's awake," one of them whispered.
"But something was off," another murmured.
Sambha turned his head slightly.
His gazed landed on Limbo.
He frowned.
"Why do you look like that?" Sambha asked.
Limbo exhaled slowly. "Like what?"
"Like you saw something you can't forget."
Limbo didn't answer.
Sambha's eyes drifted again, unfocussed.
"...I was somewhere," he said quietly. "Not asleep. Just... waiting."
Sambha's mother stiffened.
"Waiting for what?" She asked carefully.
Sambha frowned again. "I don't know. Something told me to."
Silence followed.
The elder stepped back.
The king entered moment later, his presence immediate and absolute.
He looked at his son.
Then he looked at Limbo.
And order all servants and elder to leave.
"Leave us," the king said.
Everyone except Sambha's mother and Limbo paused.
The king met Limbo's gaze.
"You stay."
Something in kings eyes tells something.
Rin and gaja exchange a glance before quietly withdrawing.
The king stepped closer to the bed.
"You are awake," he said to the sambha.
Sambha nodded.
"Do you feel pain?"
"No."
"Any sort of fear?"
Sambha hesitated, "...no."
The king's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"That is good," he said.
Then he turned to Limbo.
"You saw it," the king said.
Limbo di not deny it nor he accepted.
"You understand it is not salvation, the king continued.."
Limbo didn't know how to respond.
He just..."yes." Limbo replied. "It's a boundary."
The nodded once.
"That boundary was not crossed," he said. "But it was acknowledged."
Sambha shifted, suddenly uneasiness.
"Why are you talking like that?" He asked.
The king softened, slightly.
"Because," he said, "you listened when the world spoke."
Sambha looked away.
"I didn't know what... you're saying," he muttered. "I just wanted to the voice to be stopped."
Limbo felt the chill run through him.
The king straightened.
"Rest," he said. "All of you."
As they left the room, Limbo glanced a look back.
Sambha was awake.
Safe.
But no longer untouched like before.
Outside, the palace resumed it's rhythm.
Lessons would return.
Training would continue, but not right now.
Life would move forward with the flow of time leaving all things behind, without waiting for anyone.
But Limbo knew something fundamental had changed.
The land had listened.
And now it would remembered.