Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 443 Love Pledges in a Lost Language

The final step, Fitran escorted her to the altar of emptiness. Not made of stone. Not of light. Only a solidified void, forming a dome that stands above nothingness. A sense of anxiety pierced the depths of her heart, as if each step brought her closer to the darkness enveloping Rinoa, reminding her of how fragile hope is amidst uncertainty.

Inside, a woman stood motionless. A sense of emptiness lingered, enveloping the atmosphere, making each second feel heavier.

Her black hair floated slowly, as if water and air were united. Her eyes were closed. Her tattered magic robe, left over from an era that had perished. Her body was wrapped in unknown symbols—not glyphs, not pactum, but engravings of concepts that the world had rejected. Each detail of the engraving seemed to hold untold stories, as if saying to Fitran, "This is the result of an endless struggle," representing a deeply emotional burden that could not be fully understood.

Rinoa.

Beelzebub stood beside Fitran. Her hair no longer shone like embers, but rather dimmed—like a fire honoring silence. The silence contained all the unspoken tension and hope.

"This is the end," she said softly. "The seal that was not made by anyone. This seal... created itself. Because your love is too great to be understood by any system." In her words, there was a deep wisdom, as if she reminded Fitran of the souls that are bound by dimensions.

Fitran gazed at the engravings surrounding Rinoa's body. Not letters. Not numbers. But fragments of guilt, longing, and sacrifice—carved like an unfinished statue on the walls of the heart. These fragments were the result of magical symbols interconnected in the ecosystem of the Void, where each emotion formed an invisible web that influenced their power, showing how complex and interconnected human experiences are in facing loss and unspoken love.

She tried to raise her hand to form a breaking glyph. But her hand trembled. The magic did not respond. The Void did not answer. In her mind, she battled the shaking belief—was love truly enough to create something deeper than the ego and materialism that approached them? This question erased the boundaries between hope and doubt, creating a complex moral dilemma.

Beelzebub shook her head.

"There is no spell that can open it." "This seal was made by unspoken vows." She added in a deeper tone, "In every neglected promise, there is a power that creates this burden. The Void has witnessed it, guarding it in a forsaken dimension," illustrating humanity's inability to remain faithful to promises amidst the difficulties faced.

Fitran fell silent. They had once been together. Once walked through the night of Atlantis. Once discussed until morning about glyph theory and logical structures. Once accidentally touched hands while rewriting the research pactum. Once gazed at the sky and said nothing.

In that silence, memories flickered like a faint light at the end of a dark corridor. She could still feel the warmth of Rinoa's laughter, her soft voice echoing in her ears, as if the whole world belonged to just the two of them.

And there... she realized something. Not once had she said that she loved her.

She showed concern. She saved Rinoa from political conspiracies. She sacrificed her reputation. She rewrote the national pactum to protect her.

Even though her soul was torn by the desire to whisper in the silence of the night, her tongue was ensnared by fear. In a world of magic filled with deception and hidden truths, she struggled against the whispers of the Void that constantly reminded her that not all love needs to be spoken; rather, sometimes, the truest love is the one kept within the heart.

But she never said it.

"You know," Beelzebub's voice was soft, "in the seventh hell... I once saw that word." "The word that cannot be spoken... because the world has no place for it." "But she knows, Fitran. She always knows."

Beelzebub's words enveloped Fitran like mist, reminding her of the indescribable art of magic. Perhaps, in the emptiness of the Void, there lies a deeper answer—an answer to every unspoken question within them.

Fitran closed her eyes. In her mind, she summoned all the moments with Rinoa.

She summoned... the silence.

When they looked at each other and needed to say nothing. When Rinoa fell asleep at the library table and she quietly covered her. When Rinoa was hurt, and she chose to bear the curse herself. When she almost said, "I—" but held it back. Because the world had no room for that confession.

Each of those memories seemed to vibrate in the magical flow around them, connecting one soul to another, reaching a deeper reality in the silence of the Void beyond the world's reach.

And now...

The world would only open if she spoke the word that could never exist in any language.

Fitran stepped forward, feeling her heartbeat race with hope and fear. She touched the air surrounding Rinoa—air that felt like the boundary between one existence and another, as if embracing and distancing them at the same time.

"Rinoa..." "I don't know how to name this. Our world rejects this word. Glyph does not know it, symbolizing the emptiness that creeps within the soul. Pactum cannot contain it; it does not understand how deep our sorrow is."

She bowed her head, her heart heavy with guilt and hope, amidst the profound silence. Then she whispered, her soft voice almost drowned in the stillness of the night, creating a tone filled with emotion and vulnerability.

"But if there is one word... that could name all my sacrifices, all my silent choices, all my fears... all my longings..."

Each word spoken felt to vibrate in the empty space around them, as if creating a bridge between their hearts. She took a deep breath, realizing how heavy the burden she wanted to release was.

"...then let that word only live in one place." "Within you." "And when you open your eyes... you will know."

No explosion. No sound. Only a breath—like the first breath of a living being, carrying with it new hope in every drop of dew that falls, reminding us of the cycle of life that always continues. She felt the energy of magic, like a gentle flow surrounding them, empowering the hidden love.

The symbols surrounding Rinoa's body began to fade, slowly evaporating like a mist of memories, signaling that the power that had to be hidden was now being released. A sense of relief enveloped them, as if the gods of magic acknowledged their sacrifice.

Her eyes slowly opened, appearing like two stars shining in the darkness of the night, providing light for her soul that had sunk into sorrow.

And in one second... Fitran knew.

She remembered. She heard that word. Even though it was never spoken. The sound that vibrated between them was the echo of connected hearts, stronger than any word that could be spoken.

Rinoa looked at her, there was a depth in her gaze that could not be explained. Then she spoke softly:

"Finally... you named it."

And in that moment, nothing could be erased. Because love that cannot be proven has become love that does not need to be proven, transcending the boundaries of language and the magical systems that constrain it, making it eternal in the emptiness now filled with their courage—showing that true love transcends all obstacles.

Beelzebub smiled faintly. Her tears did not fall. But her face slowly faded—not because she died, but because her purpose had been fulfilled. In her eyes, there was a longing for cherished memories, moments that warmed the soul, even though they now only became shadows in this void.

"Such love does not need witnesses," she said. "I am the eater of will. But for love like that... I am full just by seeing it." Her courage in admitting her natural state revealed the depth of her heart; even though she had no body to feel it, every word spoken seemed to flow from her innermost being.

And with that, she vanished. Leaving no ashes. Leaving no traces. Only one whisper remained: "Never repeat that word. Because if repeated... it will become a system." In that non-existence, something greater seemed to manifest, filling the void she left behind with a resonance that vibrated the soul, reminding us that there is power in unspoken words.

Fitran and Rinoa stood in the emptiness that now began to breathe. No glyphs. No magic. Only two souls, and one word that could never be spoken again. They felt the rumble of energy, though unseen, as if the world remembered the spells that had once been spoken, reweaving the mysteries of magic hidden within that void.

Yet that word now filled the entire world. And in every tangible corner, in the silence that enveloped, they felt the power of the lost magic—a great potential waiting to be awakened, awaiting the right moment to reunite with the emptiness.