Abraão woke up hours later, his head throbbing, in Mahina's lap. They were in a clearing outside the village, the 1000 moons shining like silent witnesses. She gently cradled him, wiping the blood from his face with a damp cloth. The air smelled of dew and moonlit flowers, a stark contrast to the recent horror.
He blinked, saw her green eyes, and reality returned: "Grandma... Elias... no..." Tears streamed down his face, uncontrollable sobs. He cried like a child, his fists clenched against her chest. "Why? I took care of them... I was their protector... but I failed!"
Mahina hugged him tighter, her voice calm and maternal: "It's alright now, it's over. They're in a better place now, among the eternal moons, where there is no pain or cracks. Don't worry... I'll take care of you. You're not alone anymore."
She calmed him for hours, telling gentle stories about Elyria—how the moons watch over the lost, transforming pain into strength. Exhausted, Abraão fell asleep in her lap again.