The stone had heard everything. Echoes from the past. Echoes from the future. Honest echoes. False echoes. Echoes without names. But it hadn't spoken. Until that day.
In the center of the Carving Garden, a stone from the heart of the archipelago began to glow. Not brightly. But deeply. The light wasn't meant to be seen. It was meant to be felt.
Yohwa approached. But the stone didn't react. Rava touched it. No echo. Numa tried reading its frequency. No pattern.
Raka stood still. "This stone isn't seeking power," he said. "It's seeking a space that can hold everything."
In the village, children began dreaming of a single voice that contained all voices. But they couldn't repeat it. Because it wasn't a word. It was a feeling that couldn't be divided.
Lira, the child who once found the stone that waited, walked into the garden. She wasn't called. But the stone began to tremble.
Yohwa looked at her. "You're not a Satria yet," he said.
Lira replied, "But I haven't closed my ears."
And the stone glowed. The echo it released wasn't one voice. It was all voices. Echoes from Season 1 to Season 17. Echoes of wounds, dreams, refusals, repetitions, and possibilities.
The Soul Eclipse approached. But this time, it didn't absorb. It merged. It became part of the echo.
Rava recorded: "This stone didn't choose strength. It chose the courage to hold every feeling."
Yohwa stood beside Lira. He didn't pass the role. He opened space. And Lira, without a crown, without a title, became the keeper of the echo that couldn't be explained.
And the stone, for the first time, stopped releasing echoes. It began listening again.