Children laughed, elders wept openly, and for the first time, none bowed. They looked at their leaders, equals, standing before them, hands interlaced, rewriting the world without a crown or a throne.Krishna's voice was trembling as she whispered, "It's hearing us."Miyal nodded. “No. It's feeling us.The air rippled and shimmered, and the City sang - a low hum of energy, deep and soft, echoing like the heartbeat of the earth itself.That night, they strolled through the newly awakened streets, the glow of lanterns dancing over the river running through the middle of the City.Miyal paused by the edge of the water, his reflection rippling beside hers. “Do you think Ignatius will ever come back?”Krishna’s expression softened. “He is where he needs to be. Healing in his own way. Sometimes, love means letting go, even for him.He nodded slowly. “He loved you deeply.”“And I'll always be grateful for that,” she said. “Because it reminded me what real love should be — something that sets
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