The blinding light from Iker’s hands intensified, not as a destructive force, but as something fiercely, terrifyingly tender. It pulsed, a sharp, ragged rhythm that echoed the thrum of his own heart. Hodei, caught in the sudden, inexplicable embrace, began to thrash, a low, guttural cry escaping its ash-choked form. But Iker’s grip was absolute, unyielding. He didn’t just hold; he poured. He didn't just touch; he *forced*. It struck inward, not with physical pain, but with raw, untamed emotion. The first thing Iker shoved into Hodei was the image of his parents’ car, twisted metal and silence, the sudden void carved into his world. He pushed the memory itself—the acrid scent of burnt rubber, the crushed chassis, the futile hope—directly into the Calamity. Hodei’s ash form convulsed, a tortured scream tearing through the hollow, not of its own making, but a resonance of Iker’s anguish. Then came the fear. The suffocating, ever-present terror that Nerea, too, would be taken. The late-night nightmares of her small, still hand in his. The obsessive need to build walls around her, to find a place so utterly untouchable that no harm could ever reach. He pushed it all—the cold sweat, the watchful nights, the quiet vows made to himself in the dark—into Hodei. The Calamity’s form bucked and spasmed, the gray ash rippling violently, churning as if caught in an internal maelstrom. Nerea, watching from a distance, her small face etched with concern, instinctively pressed Bihotz closer. The dragon, no longer miniature, had returned to its full, terrifying size when it consumed Gorka, but now it merely rumbled a worried, deep purr, its amber eyes fixed on Iker, a silent sentinel. Iker’s vision blurred. The subterranean hall spun. It felt as if every single suppressed memory, every agonizing thought, every moment of weakness he’d buried beneath layers of indifference and feigned annoyance, was being ripped from him, piece by agonizing piece. The arrogant mask he wore, the prickly exterior, the carefully constructed apathy – it cracked, splintered, and then dissolved under the sheer force of his own internal torrent. He was raw, exposed, a wound laid bare in the heart of the world. He thought of Nerea, her bright laugh, her unwavering trust, the way she squeezed his hand when he felt lost. He thought of the blanket forts, the silly stories, the quiet comfort of her presence. And with that, the grief shifted. It wasn't just sorrow; it was an overwhelming surge of fierce, protective love. The kind of love that made you fight, that made you bleed, that made you move mountains. He channeled that, too, a fierce, blazing current of devotion, into Hodei. The Calamity, once a figure of despair, began to glow. Not with Iker’s terrifying radiance, but with an internal luminescence, a soft, warm hue that fought against its own ash-laden darkness. The gray began to recede, replaced by flickering motes of brass. The stagnant air, heavy with the stench of decay, was suddenly sweet, vibrant. Iker gritted his teeth, his entire being screaming with effort. He was no longer just a conduit; he was a dam breaking, a levee crumbling, unleashing a lifetime of unacknowledged feeling. The light from his hands, now intertwined with Hodei’s pale glow, became a vortex, drawing the ambient toxicity of the Core into its heart. The magical energy, corrupted and stagnant for centuries, overloaded, twisting, transmutating under the sheer, unadulterated force of Iker’s pain and love. The ash clinging to the stone walls, which had formed the mutated beasts, didn’t just disappear; it *bloomed*. First, tiny, shimmering spores burst into existence, bright dust dancing in the air. Then, from the cold, dead rock, vibrant emerald moss unfurled, followed by delicate, sapphire-petaled flora. The yellow pollen, like liquid sunshine, poured from Iker’s grasp, sweeping through the hollow in an ever-expanding crest. The World Core, once a pulsating, sickly green, now pulsed with a joyous, radiant sunburst. It absorbed the new, purified magic, drinking it like parched earth. The air filled with the scent of fresh rain and wildflowers. The once oppressive darkness of the abyss dissolved, illuminated by countless bioluminescent plants and the ever-present, gentle fall of gleaming motes. Hodei’s monstrous form wavered, shedding ash like a forgotten cloak. The tormented cry subsided, replaced by a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. The last vestiges of gray fell away, revealing not a void, but a peaceful, ethereal figure, composed of soft light. It was still recognizable as Hodei, but no longer the Calamity. Just a spirit, calm and serene. “Thank you,” Hodei’s voice was a gentle melody, a whisper of peace that touched Iker’s very soul. “Thank you for… healing us both.” And then, with a final, benevolent smile, the spirit dissolved, not into ash, but into a shower of radiant pollen, carried upwards by an unseen current. The current grew, rushing towards the gaping maw in the vaulted ceiling, the hole Iker had punched through the Cathedral nave. A rush of blooming flowers, their petals unfurling in brilliant shades of amber and saffron, erupted from the underground abyss. They shot upwards, a glorious geyser of life, piercing the gloom of the surface and soaring towards the eternally gray sky. Iker watched, his hands falling to his sides, the blinding light fading as quickly as it had come. A profound exhaustion settled over him, deeper than any physical weariness. He had given everything. He had emptied himself. The living magic cleared the weeping sky above Ohalza. The ceaseless ash clouds parted, revealing, for the first time in centuries, a breathtaking expanse of cerulean blue. Sunlight, pure and untainted, streamed down, bathing the world in a warm, unfamiliar glow. But Iker did not see it. His legs gave out. He collapsed into the newly bloomed, impossibly soft saffron flowers that carpeted the stone floor. Nerea cried out, rushing towards him. Bihotz let out a high whine. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the glowing Core, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips. His pulse was completely gone.

The Anatomy of a Miracle