If this chapter reached you in any way —
a comment, even a single word, means more than you think.
I don't see numbers…
I feel voices.
And your voice is what keeps this story alive.
The Palace Garden – Music from a World Beyond the Walls
That morning, the garden was not as it usually was.
The air was calm, yet carried a quiet anticipation.
The flowers, dulled by autumn's fatigue, seemed to lean closer, as if eavesdropping on something about to be said—something that was neither training nor command.
Then Sarah arrived.
She wasn't wearing her black coat, but something lighter, closer to clarity.
And in her hand—no notebook, no maps—
A small music device.
The Scouts gathered slowly, curiosity drawing them in. Jean muttered under his breath:
"Are we dancing today instead of fighting?"
Sarah didn't answer.
She placed the device on a small wooden table and looked at them with steady depth.
"Before you understand Marley," she said,
"you must understand how the world lives."
She pressed the button.
A gentle melody filled the garden—Marleyan music, woven with sorrow and pride, a sound that resembled the way they spoke of homeland and survival. Everyone fell silent.
Then she played a piece from Hizuru.
Eastern in tone, softer in rhythm yet dignified. Mikasa looked up, something stirring within her, unnamed but familiar.
And then—
A strange sound rose.
A different rhythm.
The voice of an oud… then a flute… then the pulse of a drum.
Arab music.
It stunned them.
Connie leaned toward Jean and whispered,
"Is… is that really human sound?"
Sarah smiled.
"This is music from my father's homeland. From a land called Sham."
Armin murmured in awe,
"It sounds like grief we've never heard before."
Sarah nodded.
"Because it's woven from refugees' tears—and from the dreams of those born on borders."
She crouched slightly and said calmly:
"In the outside world… wars aren't fought only on land.
Sometimes, they are fought in the sky."
Nicolo shook his head.
"I don't understand…"
"There are religious wars," Sarah said.
Jean raised an eyebrow.
"Religious? You mean… because of gods?"
"Yes."
Silence.
Then Armin asked, carefully,
"And you… what is your religion?"
Sarah laughed—truly reminding them what laughter sounded like.
"I was born to a Christian mother and a Muslim father.
But I was raised believing that God listens to honesty, not appearances."
She added warmly:
"I am Muslim."
They exchanged glances—surprised, respectful.
Mikasa spoke quietly:
"On the island… we have nothing like that. Only the Wall priests… and their punishment."
Sarah replied:
"Beliefs don't kill.
Fear does."
She paused, eyes drifting to the roses, as if recalling her father.
"My father wanted me to know every sound in this world…
Because sound… cannot be imprisoned behind walls."
A soft silence followed her words, as though even the air needed time to understand.
Even Eren—who rarely spoke during training—lifted his gaze and asked, low but charged:
"Does the outside world see Paradis as a monster…
or just a shadow in their stories?"
Sarah studied his face for a moment.
Then she answered:
"In their eyes, Paradis isn't a homeland.
It's a frozen pocket of time."
"They speak of it as a place without civilization, without faith, without art—
only titans, instincts, and endless war."
She paused, then continued:
"But who shaped that image?"
"Marley."
"Because whoever controls the narrative… controls the truth."
Armin whispered, as if discovering a hidden thread:
"Then the real battle… is a battle of stories."
Sarah smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
She turned to all of them.
"That's why we are here."
"We will be the first to change this story."
"We will show them that the people of Paradis are not monsters, but humans—
who learned how to survive in a world that forgot them."
"That you understand courage, because you lived voiceless for so long…
and now, it's time they hear you."
❖ The Palace Garden – When Truths Speak Louder Than Walls
A gentle wind slipped through the trees, as if nature itself were agreeing with her.
Sarah paused, then extended her hand toward the training table where a stack of papers lay neatly arranged. Her voice was calm, but carried intent.
"Before they hear us… we must first know who we are."
Connie grinned.
"Finally, a game! I was about to die from thinking."
Soft laughter drifted through the garden.
Sarah continued:
"Each of you will choose a paper.
Each paper holds one question—not about strategies or politics…"
"But about you."
"What you fear… what you desire… whom you lost… and who saved you."
A ripple of surprise passed through them.
Jean raised an eyebrow.
"So… is this a game, or psychological interrogation?"
Sarah smiled faintly.
"Sometimes, the hardest wars begin when you discover what you've been hiding from yourself."
She lifted her gaze.
"When I asked each of you to write a question, I knew you would ask yourselves before asking anyone else."
Then she picked up the first paper.
She opened it, read the name, and said:
"Nicolo."
He raised his head, as if he had known his moment would come.
"What is the one thing you regret not doing in your past?"
He inhaled deeply.
"I wish… I had screamed in my father's face."
Silence.
"I wish I had told him that dignity isn't born from blind loyalty… but from choosing who truly deserves your allegiance."
He looked at Sarah, then at the Scouts.
"And that these people… are the ones worth fighting beside. Worth belonging to."
Sarah lifted another paper.
"Sasha."
Sasha stepped forward, took it, and read aloud:
"What's the secret behind your love for food?"
She laughed shyly.
"Because I grew up in a very poor village."
"I always thought every meal… might be my last."
She paused, then whispered:
"But when I began living with you all… food stopped being something I feared losing.
It became the taste of safety."
"Connie."
He hesitated, then read:
"What do you fear more than anything?"
He stared at the ground.
"Losing my mother… again."
"Jean."
His voice carried caution, mixed with buried courage.
"Who is the one person you wish you could confront and question?"
He whispered:
"Reiner."
Faces shifted.
"I want to look him in the eye and ask him… why Marco had to die."
"And I want to know… did he ever sleep peacefully afterward?"
"Armin."
He read carefully:
"Do you like possessing the power of the Colossal Titan?"
He shook his head immediately.
"No."
"And I don't want to use this power to kill anyone."
"It's a weight I can barely carry… and a voice that never stops asking:
Have I become the very thing I once refused to be?"
"Hange."
She held the paper longer before speaking.
"What does friendship mean to you?"
Her voice was dry, controlled—trying to restrain something burning underneath.
"Nothing… since Erwin died."
Then—
She looked at Levi.
"But your presence eases my loneliness, even when you say nothing at all."
"Mikasa."
She read:
"Do you see the strength within you as something good?"
She reflected, then glanced toward Eren.
"Sometimes… yes."
"And sometimes, no."
"Because the people I love… don't want to be protected."
She paused.
"But I don't know how to stop."
"Eren."
He unfolded the paper slowly, as if he already knew the question would hurt.
"Do you fear the future?"
He lifted his eyes.
"I no longer know where the past ends… and where the future begins."
"It's as if time has folded in on itself—
as if my choices come from places I don't understand."
"I fear I've become more than just a person…"
"And less than human."
All eyes turned to Levi.
He lifted his paper.
"What would you have wanted to be… if you weren't Captain Levi?"
He stayed silent.
The silence stretched.
Then, in a voice barely audible:
"I don't know…"
"But if I weren't Captain Levi…"
He looked away.
"Perhaps it would have been better… not to be at all."
A crushing silence fell.
Even Sarah felt her heartbeat falter.
Finally, Sarah lifted her own paper.
She read:
"Do you regret coming to the island?
Are you here only for Layla?"
She looked at them all… and smiled.
"If I could escape Marley with Layla…"
"I would choose this island as our refuge."
Mikasa inhaled sharply.
Even Levi raised an eyebrow.
Eren fixed his gaze on her.
Sarah continued:
"Because I didn't find monsters here…"
"I found people… carrying wounds like ours."
"And I found a new reason… to stay."
❖ A Wind That Cuts Through Silence – The Queen's Arrival
The words had not yet settled, nor had anyone's pulse found its rhythm again,
when the garden gate opened with a sound like the shattering of a fragile moment of safety.
Historia appeared.
Her steps were not gentle as they used to be—
they were the steps of someone carrying news capable of changing the direction of the world.
She looked at them all… then her gaze fell on Sarah.
Her voice did not sound royal.
It sounded human—trembling under the weight of a decision:
"A message has just arrived… from Zeke."
Time stopped.
Even the leaves seemed to forget how to move.
She held the letter out before them, its seal still unbroken.
"I didn't want to read it alone."
She stepped forward and opened it slowly—
a motion closer to prayer than to preparation for war.
Then she read, in a voice that knew no hesitation:
"To the leaders of Paradis,
The world is shedding its skin, and some doors are opening before they are even knocked upon.
I have established contact with an influential Eastern family and political clans at the heart of Marley.
Some seek peace. Others believe stability is only achieved when the other side collapses."
Historia lifted her eyes briefly, as if checking the strength of their faces, then continued:
"There is an opportunity—
not merely for dialogue, but to place the first stone of a new future.
I bring you an open road, and a promise of meeting those who fear the world as much as the island's children do."
She paused, then read the final line slowly, heavily:
"And Sarah must come.
Not only for the negotiations…
but because Layla will be waiting for her there."
The words fell like arrows in the air.
Someone's breath caught—no one knew whose.
Historia straightened, a strange firmness in her posture, and said:
"This is no longer the decision of a queen."
She looked at each of them in turn, slowly, deeply—
granting them a moment as sacred as choosing between war and peace:
"This… is your decision."
Then she turned to Sarah—not as a ruler, but as a woman who understood what it meant to retrieve a lost piece of the soul:
"Time is short.
And the world is waiting for someone to dare first."
No one spoke.
They knew this moment was writing history,
and that silence itself could be louder than any declaration.
In the heart of that shock, only one sound was heard—
the faint tremor of Sarah's breathing,
as if her first true inhale in years had finally returned to her.
The letter still trembled in Historia's hand,
but its meaning had already settled in their eyes.
Sarah stepped forward.
Her face held neither excitement nor hesitation—
only something resembling wisdom born of loss.
She spoke calmly, with certainty:
"It seems some voices in Marley are growing tired of the narrative of fear."
She glanced at the map before her and continued:
"And some no longer see Paradis as an enemy…
but as an opportunity.
An opportunity for a new kind of power—
especially now that four of the great Titans are in the island's hands."
She turned to them all:
"But let us be realistic.
Not everyone seeks peace.
Some see our resources—our gas, our land, the isolation that protected us for centuries—
and see only profit."
She ran her hand across the table:
"The island is no longer just a battlefield.
It is a gambling table.
Every side wants to play…
or burn the other's cards."
Jean, his frustration barely contained:
"So does this mean we become like them?
Playing politics, fighting over scraps?"
Sasha, hands clenched, whispering:
"And will they let us live…
once they know the island holds food enough to tempt their hunger?"
Connie, his voice unsteady:
"All of this feels bigger than us.
But I only understand one thing—
my mother.
If I go to Marley, who guarantees I'll come back to see her?"
Armin, after long silence:
"The message wasn't clear.
Zeke didn't state—he hinted.
Like tossing a spark into dry grass,
waiting to see who burns first."
Hange, eyes bright, voice steady yet unhinged:
"Politics is a cruel game.
Those who play it know that losing isn't a round—
it's a life.
And if we fail… there won't be a second chance."
Mikasa, quiet but unwavering:
"Are we truly ready
to walk into enemy land not as soldiers, but as envoys?
Do we remembered how to stand unarmed,
with nothing but words?"
Levi's Moment
Silence fell.
All eyes turned to him,
as though the decision were bound to his gaze.
Levi stood like an ancient wall, then spoke in his low, dry voice:
"We'll go.
Not because we trust Zeke…
but because we can't afford hesitation."
Then he added, looking at Sarah in a way only she could read:
"Sarah has said enough.
Everyone will play their cards soon.
So let us be the ones to shuffle the deck—
before we're forced into a role we never chose."
Sarah met his eyes, gratitude and silence intertwined, and said firmly:
"We're not going only because Layla is there.
We're going because the world has finally begun
to open its windows to an island cursed for centuries.
And we no longer have the luxury
of hiding behind walls,
waiting quietly for death."
She gathered the papers calmly, then said softly:
"We'll take a short break.
In an hour, the final lesson begins."
She paused, scanning their faces:
"This time, leave your training uniforms.
Wear something elegant.
There will be a display not everyone will like."
She turned to leave—
but her gaze lingered briefly on Levi.
Brief… yet full.
She walked toward her room, her steps carrying a calm unfamiliar to her.
Just as her hand reached the door handle, his voice came from behind—
low, fragile, real:
"Sarah…"
She turned slowly.
He stepped closer—only one step—and spoke without raising his voice:
"When you said the island became your refuge…
were you serious?"
She didn't look away this time.
She smiled gently and answered:
"Maybe because I've started to love it.
Or maybe because I've started to love those who live in it."
She said no more—
but it was enough.
Something in his chest struck hard, unexpectedly.
As if she meant him—
without saying his name.
She took a small step closer and whispered:
"And you…
do you truly believe death is kinder than being anything other than 'Captain Levi'?"
He fell silent.
Closed his eyes for a moment, as if the question bled inside him.
When he opened them, the commander was gone—
only a tired man remained.
He spoke so softly only she could hear:
"If I'm not the soldier…
then I am nothing.
Unless… I'm escaping toward you."
She gasped quietly, something loosening in her chest.
But she said nothing.
She wanted to say everything—
yet only smiled, flustered, lowered her head, and disappeared into the room.
And he remained.
Shaking.
Wishing he had said:
You are the refuge… not the island.
❖ The Palace Hall — Beneath Soft Lights
When Sarah entered the hall, everyone was already waiting.
Even Historia was there, seated quietly in the front row, observing faces that were slowly shedding the sharp edges of soldiers… and taking on something else entirely.
Sarah raised her hand gently. Nicolo gave a subtle signal to the three musicians behind the curtain.
The moment the strings began to play a soft melody, silence fell over the hall—heavy with surprise.
Sarah spoke warmly:
"Our final lesson is not about weapons.
Not about politics."
She smiled.
"It is about presence.
About how to exist… at gatherings."
She lifted an eyebrow slightly.
"Dancing, my friends, is the hidden language of politics.
When words fail… footsteps speak."
She stepped confidently into the center of the hall and turned to Nicolo.
"Will you grant me this dance?"
Nicolo, visibly tense, bowed lightly and laughed:
"As the son of a noble house… I could never refuse such an honor."
As the music swelled, they moved together with unexpected harmony.
Sarah smiled. Nicolo followed her steps with effortless grace.
But—
From the corner of the hall, Levi watched.
As if witnessing a war he could not fight.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Not jealousy.
Something else.
Something he refused to name.
Hange slipped up beside him and suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Come on, Captain of Hell… show us the dance of death."
He shot her a sharp look.
"Are you serious?"
She laughed.
"Completely.
Or I'll go sabotage Nicolo and make Sarah choose you instead."
He inhaled sharply.
And she dragged him forward.
He stood stiffly, like a man being led into a minefield.
"I don't dance."
"Neither do I.
But we're about to make history."
One step.
Two.
He stepped on her foot.
Hange yelped, laughing:
"Ow! Was that revenge?"
He murmured:
"This is war."
Sarah laughed from the center of the hall—and looked at him.
And perhaps, for a brief moment, she wished he were the one dancing with her.
But she said nothing.
Then, unexpectedly, Mikasa silently took Eren's hand and pulled him into a slow dance.
Footsteps.
Music.
Scattered laughter.
The hall filled with a warmth they had almost forgotten how to recognize.
Even Connie and Sasha began taking turns.
Jean muttered:
"Are we fighting… or living?"
From a quiet corner, Historia watched Sarah.
She smiled to herself and whispered:
"Well done…
You who opened the door to the world."
The music softened.
The voices faded.
Sarah looked at the faces before her—faces that, within hours, had transformed from exhaustion into laughter, movement, breath.
She lifted her head, her voice carrying a gentle gravity:
"Tomorrow… we begin a new phase."
She continued, meeting their eyes:
"Prepare yourselves.
Formal clothing. Personal belongings.
Everything you might need—if invited to a banquet… or to a confrontation."
"We are standing at the threshold of a different world.
You will not enter it as soldiers alone,
but as voices, as eyes… and perhaps as hearts capable of piercing ancient walls."
Historia stepped forward, her gaze locking onto Nicolo.
"Everyone will go—except you."
Silence fell.
She continued:
"You will remain here to guard the royal wing.
We need someone we trust here… as much as we need them there."
Nicolo wanted to protest—but her eyes said enough.
He bowed in silence, swallowing his disappointment with quiet courage.
Sarah turned to everyone and said:
"Rest tonight.
Close the chapters of war—for now."
Then added:
"Tomorrow, we open a new book.
And its title is:
Marley."
As they began to leave, Levi remained by the window, staring into the night, wrapped in heavy silence.
Sarah passed him without a word.
But just before she left, she whispered—barely audible:
"Sometimes… life doesn't begin in your homeland.
But where you think you do not belong."
He didn't turn.
But his eyes followed her shadow as it disappeared—
as if she had already left, long before the journey began.
That night, none of them were soldiers.
Nor monsters.
Nor heirs to titan blood.
They were simply human.
They laughed.
They danced.
They hesitated.
They cried.
As if war had never touched them at all.
But tomorrow is not for laughter.
Tomorrow belongs to choice.
And Sarah will be the first to step onto the land of wolves—
with a mother's heart searching for her sister,
and a woman's mind negotiating with a merciless world.
Did this chapter feel like the right change for the story?