The chapter unfolded not in ink or stone, but in breath, in heartbeat, in the quiet choices of those who now lived beneath the Fifth Path's gaze.
Villages that had once trembled before the unknown now flourished in daring innovation. Farmers planted seeds not merely for sustenance, but for guidance, knowing that each leaf, each tendril, could whisper wisdom back to the faithful. Warriors trained not to conquer, but to understand the weight of their strikes, their honor reflected back through rivers of liquid silver and mountains of molten stone. Children ran freely, laughter echoing through forests that tested, shaped, and nurtured them in equal measure.
Aria's roots reached farther than ever, entwining with every pulse of the lattice. She could feel the patterns of growth, the cycles of trial, the subtle corrections of consequence. "It's… alive," she murmured. "Not as a god. Not as a judge. But as a teacher. Patient. Unforgiving. Infinite."
