The morning after the ritual, the valley was bathed in soft gold.
Mist still lingered, but it was gentle now — not a veil of sorrow, but a promise of peace.
Lalin, Emma, and Allia stood before the ancient altar one last time.
The offerings from the previous night remained — bowls of rice, wildflowers, and candles flickering against the dawn breeze.
From the forest's edge came a whisper, low and melodic.
Then, the silhouettes of spirits appeared — ancestors, guardians, and gods of the land.
Their forms shimmered like silver dust, their eyes filled with warmth.
> "Children of the Three Bloodlines,"
the voice of the Elder Spirit spoke,
"You have undone what the old world could not.
You have given balance to the land once more."
A soft wind circled the three girls, brushing their faces with warmth and peace.
The spirits bowed, one by one, and the light of their forms began to rise —
merging with the sky above, turning it into a vast sea of light.
Allia stepped forward first, her eyes glistening.
"So this… is what they meant by freedom."
Lalin nodded, smiling through her tears. "Freedom that came from love."
Emma whispered, "And love that came from pain."
They knelt together, pressing their palms to the soil.
The earth pulsed gently beneath their hands — alive, renewed.
The ancestors' voices echoed softly,
> "May your hearts remain true,
and may the Three Mists forever remember your names."
When they rose, the sky had cleared completely.
The mist was gone, but the scent of rain and life lingered.
The three girls looked at one another — no longer bound by curse or sorrow,
but connected by something far deeper: faith, memory, and rebirth.
Hand in hand, they walked toward the sunlit horizon —
the path ahead unknown, but blessed by the sky itself.