The Sea, and the First Step Beyond the Walls
The sea stretched before them like a destiny written in water that never dries.
The waves breathed with a deceptive calm—
the same silence that had settled deep inside their hearts.
The ship moved forward.
Behind them, the island shrank little by little in the mirror of the sea,
until it became nothing more than a thin thread—
like longing… or regret.
Most of the soldiers sat in silence on the deck,
as if they had not yet grasped that they were now stepping straight into the unknown.
Suspended between sky and sea,
with no land beneath them and no walls enclosing them—
only the horizon, vast enough to be more frightening than comforting.
Armin was the first to break the silence.
Standing beside Eren, his eyes followed the way light shattered across the water as he whispered:
"I feel it…
as if we've entered a new book.
But its pages are empty, and I don't know whether we'll write something beautiful inside."
Eren replied, his voice carrying hesitation:
"I feel fear.
Not fear of death…
but fear that we'll reach the end and discover that everything we did changed nothing."
Armin stared at the sea for a moment, then said quietly:
"It's okay to be afraid.
What matters is that we keep going."
⸻
At the front of the ship, where the wind struck faces without mercy,
Sarah stood alone.
Her hair danced wildly in the breeze, her eyes fixed on the horizon—
as if she were trying to see her father, her sister, her childhood,
all at once.
She didn't speak.
She was conversing with the fire inside her—
the one no one else could hear.
Levi approached in silent steps, careful not to disturb the moment.
He stood beside her without a word, gazing into the distance with her,
as if the answers lived there.
After a long stretch of silence, he murmured:
"I haven't seen you this calm in a long time."
She answered, her voice almost absent:
"Is the sea always this vast?
As if it never ends… like pain."
He lifted his gaze slightly, mirroring her deep stare:
"The horizon always seems far away.
Just like the things we want but don't dare to ask for."
A quiet, ironic smile touched her lips without her turning to him:
"You have a strange talent, Levi.
You make meaning rise to the surface—
then let it sink before we can touch it."
He paused, then said softly:
"Maybe… because I'm tired of meanings that don't save anyone."
She turned toward him this time, her eyes firm and honest:
"I don't want meanings.
I don't want answers.
I just want you to be there when I need you—
in your silence, in your presence, in what you do."
Their eyes met for only a few seconds—
but in that brief moment, all the conversations left unspoken were said.
The sea resumed its gentle rhythm against the ship,
as if applauding the birth of a new era.
And the sun, breaking through the clouds, seemed to whisper:
You've begun. Don't return as you were.
Levi left her alone then—
but her final words echoed endlessly in his mind:
"I don't want meanings… just be there."
For the first time, he allowed his heart to think.
And this time—he couldn't silence it.
⸻
As the ship neared the harbor, the scene felt torn from another world.
Marley was not an island.
Not a wall.
Not fear.
It was a city of iron, stone, and glass—
shining beneath the post-war sun,
alive with sounds unlike the whispers of forests,
but the noise of a life that never stopped turning.
Tall buildings brushed the sky.
Steam trains crossed elevated bridges.
Children ran through narrow streets, flags waved in every corner.
And there were people.
So many people.
The members of the Scout Regiment stood at the ship's edge,
staring as if seeing for the first time something they had only ever dreamed of.
Armin gasped softly:
"This… is unbelievable."
Mikasa murmured, her voice like a prayer:
"Is this the outside world?
Or are we dreaming?"
Her eyes shone with the wonder of a child stepping out of a storybook
and into its pages.
But Eren, as always, said nothing.
He stood behind them, eyes sharpened, fists clenched tightly.
Inside him raged a storm—
between what he saw and what he expected,
between hatred and whatever fragments of it still remained.
⸻
On the stone pier, two men waited.
One stood tall, elderly yet dignified, his gray hair neatly styled,
his expression calm, holding a small hat as if he belonged to another era.
Despite his age, his blue eyes remained sharp,
searching for one person alone.
Luka.
Sarah's uncle.
The man who carried the weight of waiting,
and the ache of years stolen by politics.
Beside him stood another man, stern-featured, dressed in a black suit—
like a soldier who had just stepped out of a war that never truly ended.
He was Zeke's trusted ally,
the one Zeke had ordered to remain "the silent shadow behind great plans."
As the ship drew closer, eyes met—
and something happened that could not be written.
The past met the present.
Family met duty.
Marley met an island it never truly knew.
And history opened its doors.
From the deck, Sarah stared at a face she recognized from old photographs—
Luka, the uncle who loved her mother more than life itself,
the man Zeke once said:
"Luka is the only pure thing left in Marley."
She didn't move.
But her heart did.
And as the ship docked,
life prepared itself for a beginning
unlike anything that had come before.
When Sarah stepped down from the ship, she did not feel the ground beneath her feet.
Marley was not a homeland.
It was a delayed courtroom—history carved into her skin.
But then… she saw him.
He stood there with a dignity untouched by time,
a man in his fifties whose presence walked two steps ahead of his age.
Luka.
Her uncle.
The man who had loved her mother—and lost her.
The man she had not seen for ten years,
and toward whom her heart carried something between gratitude and resentment—
a feeling like a lump in the throat when someone says, "We are family,"
yet you lived your entire life without them.
Luka stepped forward with measured calm.
He wore an elegant gray suit,
and in his eyes lived a longing that dared not speak,
though his voice was warm, as if holding the wind itself:
"Welcome… to Marley."
Then he stopped before her, studying her face as though a ghost of the past had returned, flesh and blood.
"Sarah…
My God, you've grown.
You resemble my sister more than I ever imagined."
His voice dropped, carrying a tenderness that could never be spoken aloud.
But Sarah did not smile.
She did not extend her hand.
Not a single tear fell.
She stood like a soldier who had not yet laid down her weapon.
She met his gaze coldly and said, with a clarity that showed no mercy:
"Where is Layla?"
The words struck the harbor like a warning shot.
No greetings. No embrace. No pleasantries.
Only truth—straight to the heart of the matter.
Luka hesitated.
That girl bore Elin's features, yet none of her softness.
She resembled war itself—what politics had done to human beings.
Still, he regained his composure, as a man trained for such moments his entire life, and answered with calculated calm:
"Layla is safe. I swear it.
I kept her somewhere untouchable—unseen by enemies.
And I will take you to her… now."
But Sarah did not move.
Her gaze was a blade without a sheath.
"I don't need your oath," she said.
"I need to see her."
The Scout Regiment watched in silence.
Levi stood in the background, reading the scene with a soldier's instinct.
Luka exhaled slowly, lifting his chin slightly before stepping closer and saying:
"You will see her, Sarah.
But Marley is not your island.
Here, recklessness costs lives,
and truth requires a table—and a key."
Then he added in a voice meant only for her:
"I'm here because your mother…
dreamed that we would be a family.
And I do not forget the promises I failed to keep."
In that moment, Sarah was not ready for an embrace.
But her silence was not rejection—it was a test.
The reunion was not over.
It had only just begun.
Luka led them through the streets of Liberio,
a city that had risen from the ashes of war into a new shape of life.
Stone-paved sidewalks,
cars passing slowly, exhaling thin trails of smoke,
electric lamps hanging from iron poles, casting a warm yellow glow,
men in classic hats and long coats walking with quiet elegance,
women in 1950s dresses, red lips laughing in cafés.
For the members of the Scout Regiment… it was magic of another kind.
"Where are the horses?!" Connie shouted, running toward an old gray car.
"This carriage moves by itself! Is it haunted?!"
"It's a car, Connie," Jean muttered, half-awed as he inspected a radio in a shop window.
"And this box… it talks. Is there a wizard trapped inside?"
Hange nearly jumped with excitement when the streetlights turned on by themselves at dusk.
"How?! Who lights these lamps? Invisible Titans?!"
"Electricity," Sarah replied with a faint smile.
"Something simple called science, Hange."
Hange closed her eyes briefly, then scribbled excitedly in her notebook:
"Marley: Land of enchanted lamps. Theory: Electricity? Or disguised Titans?"
Sasha froze in front of a candy shop.
"What?! Ready-made sweets for sale? No baking? No hunting?!
Who makes all this?! This is unfair! I'm hungry and emotionally overwhelmed!"
Armin walked as though he might collide with passersby, eyes darting everywhere.
"The buildings… tall, but not towering. Everything is structured—like the result of a century of progress.
And no walls."
"Maybe because they don't have Titans," Jean murmured.
Mikasa watched a little girl laughing with a cotton doll in her mother's arms and whispered:
"How do they live like this?
Without fear… without training… without walls?"
Levi remained silent.
He said nothing, but his eyes examined everything—
the roads, the people, the glances, the noise.
A world he did not yet trust,
but one he silently acknowledged as both beautiful and dangerous.
Eren, unlike the others, was not dazzled.
He walked beside Armin, eyes fixed on the smoke-filled sky of Marley's factories.
"All this beauty," he said finally,
"but will it ever make room for us?"
Mikasa walked beside him, said nothing, but lightly gripped his arm—as if to say:
If it doesn't, we'll make room ourselves.
At the back of the group, Sarah walked beside Luka, occasionally explaining shop names or engines to her friends.
But her mind was elsewhere.
With Layla.
With the night that stole everything.
She glanced back—
and saw Levi watching her in silence.
He wasn't smiling.
But he was seeing her.
As he always did.
❖ The Sisters' Reunion — When the Soul Returns to Its Shadow
It was not the palace, nor its splendor, that stole their breath first.
Not the lanterns hanging from trees like fallen stars lighting the path of return.
It was the heavy stillness.
The stillness that comes before a door opens—
not onto a courtyard,
but onto a fate that has been waiting.
The gates slowly parted,
as if the iron itself feared disturbing a moment born of prayer and long-held tears.
❖ When Souls Find Their Way Back
And as the opening widened…
she appeared.
Leila.
As if the light itself hesitated at her presence.
Her wide, trembling eyes searched the faces before her,
looking for features the soul could never mistake—
as though she feared what she saw was only a mirage,
born from longing stretched so far it exhausted even dreams.
Sarah did not move.
It was as if life had frozen within her body,
as if five months of waiting,
of fear,
of sleeping on the edge of loss,
had all fallen onto her shoulders at once.
One step…
then another.
Leila raised her shaking hand into the air,
touching the emptiness as one tests reality before daring to grasp it.
She whispered, a voice shattered and barely held together:
"Sarah?"
It wasn't a word.
It was condensed crying, a vow of survival, a prayer that brushed the sky before falling back down.
And in a moment that felt almost divine—
the distance between them collapsed.
Sarah ran, crashing into Leila's chest like someone returning to life itself.
Every war slipped from Sarah's shoulders in that second.
Her arms wrapped around her sister with the force of someone holding the world together so it would not fall.
A torn gasp escaped Leila's chest—not a scream of fear,
but the cry of someone who had finally found herself after a long wandering:
"Where were you? I was dying alone…"
Sarah buried her face in Leila's hair.
She broke.
She let go of her armor, her reason, her strength that had endured armies of pain.
And she cried with a voice forged by years of silent battles:
"I was coming to you… even if I had to walk across the ashes of the world."
The Corps stood frozen.
They had never seen Sarah this fragile.
And only now did they understand what it meant to love someone so deeply that survival itself becomes a sacred promise.
Hange covered her mouth, hiding the tremble of her tears.
Armin wiped his eyes quietly, like a child ashamed of his honesty.
Jean lowered his head, as if losing something his heart recognized.
Connie turned away, murmuring,
"God…"
Even Mikasa—who never cried—felt her hand shake.
Eren, watching in silence, looked away and whispered inwardly:
If I had someone like that… I would fight the world without hesitation.
And Levi…
Stillness stood in his eyes.
He saw in Sarah what he had never seen before:
the child who carried two wars just to protect one heart.
And he understood, suddenly, that there was a strength greater than steel blades—
the strength of living for someone else.
Leila lifted her hands, brushing Sarah's face as if reshaping her features,
making sure she was not a dream:
"You've grown thinner… you're so tired."
Sarah smiled through her tears, a smile like light returning after a storm:
"And you've grown… stronger."
Leila lowered her head, whispering in a broken voice:
"Every night I prayed… that if there was even one justice left in this world, it would bring you back to me."
Sarah pulled her closer, as if trying to merge their souls,
binding them with a thread the world could never sever again:
"We won't be separated again… unless the world itself collapses."
Leila breathed between her sister's chest and fate, asking with childlike fear:
"And if the world collapses?"
Sarah lifted her head, her eyes glowing with a resolve they had never seen before:
"Then we will rebuild it… together."
In that moment—
Marley's air itself seemed to pause in reverence.
This was not merely the reunion of two bodies,
but the return of two souls
that had been fighting alone
until they finally found each other.
❖ The Corps' Awe… Laughter Beneath the Ruins of Exhaustion
They stood as if frozen in a silent theatrical scene,
each breath caught in their chests, struggling not to break the sanctity of the moment.
The two sisters clung to one another as though time itself had split open, granting them a second chance at life.
Even the most hardened among them—Levi—
remained standing in the shadows,
arms crossed, eyes fixed on Sarah's face,
as if something deep within him was being reshaped… quietly, irreversibly.
On the other side,
Jean found himself staring at Layla in stunned silence,
as though he'd glimpsed a soft glow amid the ruins of fatigue.
Her gentle laugh, her delicate features touched with natural shyness, made him whisper to himself:
"Who is she…?
It feels like I've known her before."
Sasha, who hadn't missed his gaze for a second, turned toward him with a teasing smile and said softly:
"Jean… it looks like your heart is dancing without music."
Connie laughed and added:
"Careful, everyone—
we might lose Jean to Marley!"
Laughter spread through the Corps despite the exhaustion,
as if their souls had found a brief moment of lightness within all that weight.
Jean's face flushed, as it always did when he was exposed, and he quickly turned away:
"Stop this nonsense…"
But Sasha was already looking around with the excitement of a child at a festival:
"Does this palace serve food?
Please tell me yes."
"Sasha!" Mikasa exclaimed, trying—and failing—to suppress her laughter.
In that moment, laughter was an act of resistance against sorrow,
a clever evasion of memory.
❖ Speaking with the Grandmother… When Dignity Is Tested by Truth
As the noise slowly faded,
the grandmother stepped forward with heavy yet steady steps.
Her face seemed carved from longing and caution at once.
A woman in her seventies,
elegant despite the simplicity of her clothes,
her gray hair neatly arranged.
But her eyes…
they spoke what her lips dared not confess.
Wrinkles etched by waiting framed her gaze,
and when her voice finally emerged, it carried the weight of years upon her back:
"Welcome home, Sarah…
This house—no matter how long the distance—has always been, and will always be, your home."
Sarah stepped forward,
her eyes sharp, dissecting the words, searching for what lay beneath them.
"Where is he?
Where is my grandfather?"
A heavy silence fell… then a long exhale.
"He passed away two years ago,"
the grandmother said, her voice barely audible.
"But he… he was full of regret.
I swear he tried to find you both.
When he finally realized what he had done, old age had already devoured his memory.
He no longer knew where to look for you."
Sarah raised an eyebrow in bitter irony,
as though the pain in her chest still refused to die:
"Regret?
And what does regret do after pain has already grown up?
Where was he when we cried behind walls that knew no warmth?
When my mother died without a single hand to hold hers?"
The grandmother closed her eyes, receiving the blow in silence,
then whispered:
"I don't have an answer that will satisfy you…
I am not asking for forgiveness today—
only offering you my hand."
At that moment, Layla stepped forward.
Tears still shimmered on her face,
but her voice was strong despite the tremor:
"Sarah… don't let the past kill this moment.
We're not here to judge the dead.
We're here to begin again—
for me… and for you."
Sarah looked at her for a long moment,
then turned to the grandmother.
Her eyes were steady now, her voice free of anger, filled instead with hard-earned clarity:
"I don't hate you.
But I won't forget easily.
My presence here is not approval—
it's a promise I made to myself.
I'm staying for Layla.
Only Layla."
The grandmother nodded in understanding,
as though she had expected nothing else, and said softly:
"That is enough for me.
Your being here… heals something in my heart."
❖ The Dinner Invitation — When Souls Test Their First Warmth After War
Leila smiled as she held her sister's hand with a tenderness unlike anything else—
as if she feared letting go even for a second,
as if Sarah might vanish the moment her fingers slipped away,
the way dreams dissolve at dawn.
She said softly, with the certainty of someone who had survived:
"Come… dinner is ready. Everyone is exhausted.
Let's give this night a chance to be warm."
Sarah didn't answer, but she gave a small nod, casting a brief glance toward the Scout Regiment—
who looked like strangers unsure where to place their feet in this unfamiliar land.
With uncharacteristic caution, Sasha asked in a hushed voice, trying to break the tension:
"Does this mean… the food here is different?"
Leila laughed shyly and nodded.
"I think you'll discover that for yourselves."
A short laugh escaped Connie before he quickly suppressed it, leaning toward Jean and whispering:
"So… are you going to eat tonight,
or just keep staring at Leila?"
Jean didn't reply.
His eyes were still fixed on her—
on her gentle face, her soft movements, her laughter that seemed almost out of place in a world soaked in misery.
They all moved toward the palace with hesitant steps.
Time had not prepared them for this.
How do you sleep in a Marleyan palace?
How do you eat at the table of those you were raised to hate?
Was this a truce? A trap? Or a miracle?
Mikasa observed everything with a vigilant gaze, her hand still close to the blade at her waist—
her body unconvinced by peace.
Armin stared at the palace ceiling, thinking of history being rewritten beneath his feet.
And Eren…
He was silent, his face carved from stone.
Deep down, he saw neither food nor palace—
he saw his childhood revived before him,
when Sarah had held her sister the way his mother once held him
before betrayal devoured her.
He thought:
Did we really have to endure all this death… just to reach a dinner table?
No one heard him.
❖ A Moment on the Edge — A Man Watching from Afar
Levi walked behind them all—
his steps quiet, yet heavy,
his presence shaped like deliberate silence.
He wasn't watching the palace, the lanterns, nor the ground beneath his boots.
He was watching Sarah.
Tonight, he saw her differently.
The face that had always been hard now looked unmistakably human.
The eyes that once stared straight into danger shimmered with tears that refused to fall.
For the first time since this war began,
he understood that Sarah was not only a scientist,
nor merely a fighter—
She was a sister.
A woman who had fought for a heart
before she ever fought for continents.
Yet he did not approach her.
It was as though an invisible shield stood between them—
unbreakable.
He thought:
Is there still distance between us…
or am I the one afraid to cross it?
He looked away before she could turn toward him.
❖ Whispers of Unease — Steps Across Enemy Ground
Each member of the regiment entered the palace as if passing beneath an arch between two worlds.
The furniture was lavish.
The scents unfamiliar.
The décor carried a taste they had never known.
They tried not to show their fear.
But the table, the polished cups, the slow-burning candles—
made their hearts beat with unease.
Connie wanted to speak… then stopped.
Sasha wanted to laugh loudly… then held back.
Armin thought:
We're eating in the enemy's house.
Does one meal make us friends?
And yet… they sat.
As if telling the world:
We didn't come just to eat.
We came to taste something called peace.
❖ The Dinner Table — When Civilizations Meet on One Plate
Dinner at Sarah's family estate was anything but ordinary.
Golden candelabras lined the vast hall, casting soft light over walls adorned with the grandeur of old glory.
Servants moved silently, carrying dishes strange in shape and scent—
yet unsettlingly appetizing.
The Scouts sat shoulder to shoulder like soldiers in formation, their eyes darting between silverware, crystal glasses, and delicately decorated plates they couldn't name.
Leila sat beside her sister, radiant under the light, her lively voice contrasting sharply with Sarah's restrained calm.
"If the food seems strange," she said cheerfully,
"trust me—your stomach will love it before your tongue does."
Sasha laughed lightly.
"As long as it doesn't try to eat me, I'm fine."
Connie raised a brow, curiosity unfiltered:
"Leila, since Sarah's a scientist…
are you one too? Or are you inventing a new bomb?"
Leila laughed, lifting her glass playfully.
"I'm a psychotherapist.
I don't invent bombs—I defuse them… inside people's minds."
Silence fell.
Jean muttered, trying not to laugh:
"Is that like making a chicken fall asleep when you rub its beak?"
Leila smiled.
"Not exactly.
It's a modern science—guiding the mind into deep awareness,
where trauma hides,
so we can talk to it… until it heals."
Hange's eyes lit up.
"Could you try it on someone?
Say… Captain Levi?"
All eyes turned toward him.
He lifted his head slowly, gaze icy and calm.
"I don't allow anyone to tamper with my head."
Hange laughed nervously.
"He's terrifying… even when he refuses politely."
Sarah glanced sideways at Levi, a faint, unreadable smile touching her lips.
"Who would've thought the man who's slain dozens of Titans
would fear a relaxation session?"
Levi took a quiet sip from his glass without replying—
but something burned inside him.
❖ The Grandmother's Voice — Above All Barriers
The grandmother broke the tension with a gentle smile and a voice that carried truth like a blade wrapped in silk:
"I spent half my life hearing about the devils of Paradis.
And today I see you—pale with exhaustion, hungry, hearts beating like any human's.
Perhaps the real devils were those hiding behind masks."
Mikasa looked at her calmly.
"We don't wear masks.
We were called monsters because we refused to kneel."
Eren murmured, almost to himself:
"Survivors are always described in the worst ways."
The grandmother nodded.
"Maybe it's time survival meant something different—
not at someone's expense,
but with someone."
❖ Luca — Politics Under the Microscope
Luca spoke with measured confidence:
"I suggest you postpone your worries until tomorrow.
You are our guests in Marley.
You have three days of rest before the mission begins.
Explore the city. Taste our culture.
Learn—not only through war, but through life."
Connie's eyes lit up.
"Three days? With food like this?"
Luca smiled.
Hange studied him closely.
"You sound like Commander Erwin—
smart, calm, slipping plans inside gentle sentences."
Luca answered without hesitation:
"Intelligence isn't about deceiving others.
It's about giving them a smart choice."
Silence followed.
This dinner had become something else entirely.
❖ Scattered Moments — Before the Night Ends
Sasha asked Leila curiously:
"How do you know so much about food?"
Leila replied softly:
"Whoever loves people… loves their food.
It's the shortest road to the heart."
Jean watched her, something unfamiliar glowing in his eyes.
Leila laughed.
Jean smiled—
as if hearing a melody played only once.
Sarah studied her sister's face and breathed deeply.
"Is it possible," she whispered,
"that tomorrow begins without killing anyone?"
Leila didn't answer.
She simply placed her hand over Sarah's.
And that… was more than enough.
❖ End of the Scene
Luca stood and said warmly:
"Tomorrow morning, you'll receive formal attire and local guides.
Play the tourists—just this once."
Then, turning to Sarah:
"Don't worry about your outfit.
It knows exactly when to return."
They left the table amid soft voices and scattered laughter,
but beneath it all, their hearts burned with questions:
Is this the beginning of peace?
Or merely a fragile pause—
before another quake?
Flashback: (The Night of the Necklace)
On a cold night, before their departure, while the palace was drowned in silence, Sarah sat by the window, gazing at the stars that seemed farther away than ever.
She took out the necklace Levi had given her. Her fingers traced it gently, as if she were touching his heart rather than cold metal. She whispered to herself:
"Why would he give me something like this… and then pull away?"
She closed her hand around the necklace and pressed it against her chest, as though drawing from it a warmth she had been missing.
In that moment, a rare memory surfaced—something that had happened two weeks earlier…
—
(An earlier scene – days before the journey):
Late at night, while everyone else slept, Sarah awoke to the sound of quiet footsteps in the corridor. She opened her door carefully and saw a shadow moving toward Levi's room. No one else was watching him, but her eyes followed him in silence.
She lingered in the shadows, watching him enter his room and close the door softly behind him.
Several moments passed before curiosity tugged at her heart.
"Why did he come back so late tonight?"
She didn't dare move closer. She simply stood there, her fingers brushing the necklace at her chest, whispering:
"If only I could understand you… a little more.
If you were in Levi's place…
would you protect Sarah by staying silent —
or risk everything by finally speaking?
What moment hit you the hardest in this chapter?
🔹 The reunion between Sarah and Laila
🔹 Levi placing his coat on her in silence
🔹 The song by the fire near Wall Maria
🔹 Arriving in Marley and seeing the world beyond the walls
🔹 The necklace — what was given, and what wasn't said