"Because of the Evil Deity inside you, we've decided to put you to death."

In the confinement room, Dixue spoke with a face like frost, her sentence dropping like winter sleet on the former Ailuna.

"Mhm. I'm ready." Her voice was a still pond under moonlight, no ripple of joy or grief.

"In these last moments, do you want anything?" Dixue’s tone was a lantern in dusk, steady but soft.

"Want…?" The word drifted like a leaf in wind.

"Food or a wish, say it. Treat it like a last meal." Her offer was a warm ember held out in snow.

"Uh… I…" The pink-haired girl looked at her knees, deep red eyes stirring like wine in a glass, memory rising like mist.

Once, elves had surrounded her like a ring of fireflies around a lamp.

She had existed like a princess, a blossom set at the heart of a garden.

Back then, sweet fruit filled each day, and the sun rose from the forest sea, painting the earth a sheet of gold.

When chaos flooded the sky like a storm that blotted the heavens, she and her companions could only march to the battlefield like reeds bent by gale.

Countless lives ebbed with war, like stars snuffed in rain.

Countless memories carved themselves into time, like names etched on stone.

Across a land scarred by fire, she and her friends left tracks like paths cut through ash.

So, there’s no good regret left to carry; her heart lay flat like a calm shore at dusk.

Children of the future had already learned enough courage to face the unknown, like saplings leaning into wind.

Even the Evil Deity had at last been defeated, its shadow scattered like smoke at dawn.

And herself…

The pink-haired girl let her eyes fall shut, lids like petals folding in rain.

"I want… to hear Canary sing once more. Would that be allowed?" Her wish rose like a paper lantern into night.

"Singing?" Dixue’s brows lifted like a bird taking wing.

"Mm…" Lost in old light, Ailuna’s pupils brightened like stars. "Canary used to sing for me… her voice was so wonderful…" Her smile trembled like a chord across water.

"Of course. I understand." Dixue nodded, a snowflake settling, and left the confinement room like a shadow crossing ice.

Alone, the pink-haired girl gazed at the ceiling, a pale sky without clouds.

If it were possible, she still wanted to meet the current Ailuna.

Her successor—the World Tree Maiden who led the girls and sealed the Evil Deity—stood in her thoughts like a young cedar against storm.

To unite companions that brilliant, she must be a remarkable World Tree Maiden, a pillar of green rising through mist.

But… she feared the Evil Deity hiding inside her would stain the present Ailuna, a drop of ink falling into clear water. So she swallowed that wish like a bitter seed.

She looked toward the window. The Rainbow Secret Realm drifted away like a rainbow pulled down a river.

Clouds slid backward across the sky, the horizon sweeping past like a long blade of silver.

Her era had ended like a candle burned to base.

Tomorrow belonged to you, the young, like dawn handed to fresh hands.

…

The pink-haired girl clenched her eyes, fighting the tremor inside like a door braced against a storm.

Pain swelled. She wanted to break everything around her, like a wildfire licking dry grass.

It was the Evil Deity’s revolt, a beast roused by the word of death, trying to seize the reins like iron claws.

Thank the Cataclysm Chain. Its weight held back the chaos, like anchors biting into seabed.

Even so, dryness rasped her mouth like desert sand. Thirst coiled in her throat like a snake.

She felt only blood could still it, a red river to drown a hunger spread across a thousand years.

"Ca…nary… I’m sorry…" She slumped in the chair, a flower cut from stem, and murmured names of her friends like prayer beads slipping from hand.

When she first woke, she thought Canary had finally become a hero’s spirit, bringing a new era’s champion to end this fate like a thread cut at last.

She hadn’t expected Canary to become a favored of the Evil Deity instead, staying by her side for a thousand years like a star that refuses to fall.

That was her one regret, a thorn under silk.

So she had to stay clear before Canary sang, a mind held like a lamp in wind.

She must not yield again to the Evil Deity, no matter how the tide pulled.

Or else she wouldn’t even have a chance to say sorry; the door would slam shut like iron.

Ailuna tightened her fist, bone a white twig beneath skin.

Tears spilled despite her will, like warm rain sliding down a stone.

…

…

Ailuna lifted her head. In front of her stood a girl she didn’t recognize, a figure like a new moon.

Maybe a hero of this era, a swallow flying ahead of spring?

She wore soft blue hair, a waterfall of sky, and big blue eyes deep as ocean.

Her small frame was adorably neat, and her dress was a style Ailuna had never seen, a petal cut from another season.

Perhaps she was a leader of heroes. But the World Tree Maiden’s gift had left Ailuna long ago, like sap drained from trunk; even life-force was gone, a quiet field in frost.

"Are… you here to execute me?" Her voice came out old, like wood worn by salt.

"Yes." The answer was clean as steel.

"Be careful of the Evil Deity inside me, and the power that lingers like smoke."

"Mm! I know, don’t worry!" The blue-haired girl’s smile was sunlight on waves. "We’re out in the cosmos now. The remaining chaos will bleed off on its own, and won’t touch the planet."

"That’s… good…" Relief spread through Ailuna like warmth through cold fingers.

At last, the thousand-year mission had ended, like a long winter lifting. She could go without fear, like a leaf letting go of branch.

Only… one more thing hung in her chest like a bell.

"Where’s Canary…?"

"Mm, please come this way."

"Huh? What’s this…?"

"Please, step in." Her gesture was a breeze opening a curtain.

The blue-haired girl nodded and led Ailuna into a room wrapped in green, like a grove under glass.

On the left, flowers of many kinds grew, full of sap and breath, a riot of color like dawn on a hillside.

On the right stood counters of every make, bearing new tech and magic crafted by elves—objects like badges for the New Land’s recent climb.

At the far end, Canary sat there, a quiet star at the end of a path.

She wore a simple white dress—Ailuna didn’t know it was a wedding gown—white as first snow, waiting with open arms.

Warm light fell from the ceiling like sunlight through leaves, easy and kind.

"Canary…?"

"Ailuna, you came…" Canary’s voice was a spring, and Ailuna’s heart thawed like ice in sun.

Canary had her elf skin back, cheeks bright as porcelain, a happy, confident smile blooming like camellia.

Just like before; that look always made Ailuna want to tease her, a cat pawing at ribbon.

Afterward, Canary would pretend to be mad and run to Alisa, like a sparrow winging to another branch.

But Ailuna knew she did it to make her jealous, a playful ember under ash.

The next day Canary returned, obedient as a lamb, soft as moss.

That look… so cute, so dear, like a cherry in spring.

And somehow… all that time had slipped by like sand through fingers.

Yet they could never go back, like a bridge washed out by flood.

Never again…

…

"Ailuna, why are you crying? That’s not like you." Canary’s thumb was a feather under tears.

"No, I’m just not used to it." The words were a sigh lost in reeds.

"Want me to sing?"

"Mm…" She took the hand offered like a lifeline tossed across a river.

Ailuna closed her eyes, night settling under gentle wings.

…

“To the True You”

A blue planet turns, and I watch it with you like two stars sharing one sky.

But if our fingers lace, my face still drops, shy as a lily under rain.

Alone won’t work; a single spark can’t light midnight. Hear it—everyone’s calling your name like a chorus of bells.

At last I shed my masks like autumn leaves, and I return to the me that breathes like spring.

If I wish to the sky, will tomorrow let me stay by you like a shadow at noon?

I want to savor this moment with you, slow as tea and sweet as honey in sun.

If I cry alone, will you sit beside me like a tree by a tired traveler?

I pray to become that streak of white across stars, a flower of dust carving night.

The world I saw as a child is crumbling, a castle of sand melting in tide.

The future you showed me is plain yet lit, a small lamp bright on a quiet road.

I laugh and scold your naivety like a fox teasing a fawn, then say yes through tears to spend my life with you like two threads twined.

Complicated ties stay complicated, a knot refusing to loosen.

Maybe dusk is too beautiful, and my words break like waves on a stony shore.

So I let long-held feelings turn to lines, spilling out like rain from a swollen cloud.

Hey—what kind of life earns rescue, like a boat pulled from storm?

Eyes that never reflected tomorrow—what words can rewrite them like ink over faded script?

Can we still walk the whole road, hand in hand, like travelers under one moon?

Hey—what kind of world allows me, a stain in white silk, to belong like a drop in the sea?

If there’s an answer, I’d rather not know, a secret left shut in a box.

Hey—what kind of future can we weave, two looms clacking in evening?

Even if I’m filthy, cracked and flawed like a chipped cup, can I still do it…?