"Memory returns like a fire. Those who have hidden the embers fear burning. »»
Start of the evening - Caldor, in his office with golden canopies
Caldor was alone.
The silence of his office was contrasting violently with the agitation outside.
Since the fall of reflections, everything has moved. Too fast.
The nobles whispered.
The members of the Acorporation Council required accounts.
And he ... had nothing more to say to calm them.
He was rereading a letter.
"Your act of admission of the student Ashen Valemyr breaks seven articles of the statutes of the Academy, in particular the line of the line. You will be summoned."
He burned her without trembling.
But his fingers remained tense long after.
A messenger entered, without hitting.
- "The northern consulate refuses to comment on the disappearance of architects. But they require you to present your intake proofs. »»
Caldor sighed.
- "They don't look for answers. They are looking for a scapegoat. »»
The messenger stared at him.
- "So don't show them your throat. »»
Ashen read the last note that Caldor had sent him.
Not an order.
Not advice.
A simple line:
"What you are going to discover is not what we wanted to hide. This is what we never wanted to understand."
The book of names was closed.
But its weight seemed heavier every day.
Malen watched him walk, worried.
- "Do you feel it, right?" »»
Ashen nodded slowly.
- "Someone started erasing again. Not like architects. Discreetly. Politically. »»
- "And you think Caldor ..."
- "He is alone. And they want an example. »»
Malen murmured:
- "So we save him?" »»
Ashen replied without turning his head:
- " No. We save what he tried to transmit. His name. His reason. His betrayal ... if we want to call him like this. »»
Secret council - within the walls of the academy
Six men. A woman.
All in official dresses.
A red parchment rested in the center of the table.
The dean put his hand on it.
- "He introduced a prohibited name in our sphere. He brought a bearer of forgetting to the very heart of our system. »»
Another added:
- "And this boy broke the order of reflections. He woke up missing names. And engraved them in the sky. »»
A third murmured:
- "And now, even the people are starting to tell their stories. The order crumbles. Authority must be restored. »»
- "Then blood will be our sealing. »»
The red parchment was signed.
official conviction of Caldor Evandrel.
Execution scheduled for the 80th day of the cycle. Guillotine. Place of the seven votes.
Ashen stopped in a village-stage.
An old man asked him, "Are you the one who talks about the names?" »»
Ashen did not answer right away.
Then he says:
- "I am the one who writes them. But for now, I have to protect only one. That of a man you want to silence, not because he lied ... but because he let speak. »»
In his hand, the book vibra.
And on a blank page ... a line was written on its own.
Caldor Evandrel - Voluntary witness of prohibited memory.
Ashen closed the book.
And said in a low voice:
- "You will not die without name. Even if I cannot prevent your blood. »»
"The crime is not to remember. It is to remind others that they forgot. »»
Rainless night - Caldor, under house arrest
The walls seemed narrower each evening.
Officially, Caldor was not imprisoned.
But the constant presence of three sentries at the entrance and the absence of messengers said a lot.
He wrote. Not to defend yourself.
But to preserve.
A roller, barely started, brought in header:
"Reflections of a man who has become a mistake."
The rain struck the windows, as if she wanted to remind her of the time.
He knew that his execution was planned.
Maybe not for tomorrow. But soon.
And he especially knew that his name was going to be torn off, revised, simplified in history books.
"Traitor at the Academy. Accomplice of the book carrier. »»
So he wrote his real role, line after line.
"I do not regret having let Ashen enterI regret not having opened the door to him earlier. "
Meanwhile - Ashen, at the Col de Halthyn
He held the letter of condemnation in his hands.
A copy stolen by Malen, who had infiltrated the archives of a local council.
- "They want to silence him. And with him, all those who spoke. »»
Ashen looked at the sky, closed by clouds.
- "It is not Caldor's death they are looking for. This is the erasure of his choice. »»
Malen hugged his teeth.
- "We can tear it away. Take it out before execution. »»
- "And then?" We become what they fear. Justice thieves. Uncontrollable rebellious. »»
Ashen put his hand on the book.
- "I don't want to save Caldor as you save a body. I want to engrave her voice strong enough for her to speak even after her death. »»
The vibra book.
And a page is written by itself:
Caldor Evandrel - Indexed in the black list by decree of the 79th cycle. Reason: Refusal to erase.
Ashen added a handwritten, unique, personal annotation:
"The one who saw, and let the light pass."
In the dark - the council of the edge
Another list was circulating.
Not a parchment.
Not a decree.
A book with gray coverage, without title.
Inside: a blacklist, kept secret for decades.
Names.
People who had transmitted, spoken, preserved.
and at the bottom of the new version, added by an unknown feather:
Ashen Valemyr - to erase if found.
An old man closed the book.
-"This one will not kill him. We will turn it off. Like a whisper in a crisk room. »»
Another murmured:
- "He begins to understand the power of names. He will try to wake up one that even we have forgotten. »»
The dean stood up.
- "Then we will have to burn more than books. **
Ashen lives from far red glow in the sky.
- "They started. »»
Malen approached, worried.
- " It's what ? »»
- "The first autodafés. They burn the names found. Copies. The songs. The stories. »»
- "What do we do?" »»
Ashen looked up, and replied:
- "We go down. We write. We are serious. We tell. And if that is not enough ... "
He opened a pocket.
Inside, the fragments of the mad mask.
- "... So we dance. »»
"If you burn the words, they will return to singing. And if they sing, you will no longer be able to silence them. »»
Night - Border of the city of Arvahl, south of the kingdom
Flames rose high in the sky.
The priests of silence had gathered the works brought back by the witnesses of the North: fragments of forgotten stories, transcribed oral songs, prohibited genealogies ...
Everything was thrown into a huge pit.
Ashen and Malen observed remotely.
The book of names was shaking on the Ashen belt.
He didn't want to open.
As if he refused to look.
Malen would squeeze his teeth.
- "We can stop them. We have the book. We have power. »»
Ashen did not answer right away.
Then he says:
- "If we answer now, they will be afraid that they are waiting. It is necessary to give them a fear that they have not planned. »»
Malen looked at him, confused.
Ashen straightened up.
- "Not the fear of dying. The fear of being heard. »»
Dawn - Arvahl Public Place, a few hours later
A platform.
A monk.
A still smoking pyre.
The people gathered. Silent.
The monk raised a roll.
- "On this day, we say that false names, poisoned stories and invented songs are no longer tolerated. »»
Murmurs rose into the crowd.
But no one dared to speak.
The monk was going to continue ...
When a sweet song rose.
Clear.
Solemn.
Ancient.
A voice. Alone.
Then another.
Then ten.
The names come back, said the chorus.
The forgotten still work.
Ashen then appeared.
In the midst of the people. Hood lowered.
He also sang.
But his words were the real.
"Caldor, open voice. Sirelle, sliced memory. Nira, buried light. Tarsus, name of way."
"You have burned them, but they sing in us. They burn in return."
Guards rushed.
Ashen raised his hand.
The book of names opened outdoors, its pages deploying like wings.
And one by one, the voices of the names registered came out.
Not cries. Not illusions.
Living echoes.
Floral faces, projected memories, moments taken from the past.
The people saw Caldor young, welcoming Ashen in the Academy.
Saw Nira holding her brother before he was swept away.
Vit solemn smiling through the flames.
The people live.
And the monk, on his platform, went back.
- "Witchcraft!" Abomination! »»
Ashen replied calmly:
- " Truth. and memory. »»
The guards held.
Then ... led.
After action - writing on ashes
The crowd had dispersed, troubled.
But some remained, dumb, moved, shocked.
Ashen knelt near the remains of the pyre.
He took out a blackened wooden board.
And looked up, slowly, with its own blade:
Anonymous 842 - worker who sang his mother's name before the end.
Malen looked at him in silence.
- "Do you think that's enough?" »»
Ashen replied:
- "It is never enough. But each name saved is a wall against oblivion. »»
At the top of a distant tower, a hooded man observed.
In his hand, a fragment of reflection, always active.
He looked at Ashen.
And whispered, almost amused:
- "You make the voices dance. Interesting. Do you think they will sing again ... when you can't hear them anymore? »»
The Vibra fragment.
And in the sky, a new constellation began to flash.
But this time ... in the wrong direction.
"A returned name is not a forgotten name. It is a sleeveless blade, run by the edge. »»
Flieved night - Ashen camp, Orpheas forest
Ashen had moved away from fire.
The book of names was open in front of him.
But tonight, he refused to write.
He turned his pages back, again and again, until I come back to the very first names.
Solen.
Varlan.
Nira.
Ardan.
All present.
All registered.
But something was wrong.
On one of the pages ... A name was reversed.
ɈǝUɿɘƨ
Ashen frowned.
He recognized it.
SIREN.
But upside down.
And not a simple reversal: the memory was also upside down.
He saw a scene.
A howl.
A frozen flame.
A outstretched hand… towards nothing.
Then the image closed violently.
The vibra book, and a new page appeared.
Not white.
Black.
White ink.
Illegible text.
A constellation was engraved there. Upwards from the sky.
Ashen Chuchota:
-"What are you, you ...? »»
And a response mounted.
Not a voice.
A counterchant.
severe. Slow. Dislocated.
"The overturned names arrive. Those you have not saved. The ones you woke up ... but bad."
Meanwhile - in an unknown underground temple
The old -fashioned old man held a fragment of mirror, always brilliant.
Around him, kneeling silhouettes.
- "He opened the book, yes. He brought the forgotten. But some ... didn't want to come back. »»
An acolyte raised his head:
-"So why are they coming back anyway?" »»
The old man caressed the fragment.
- "Because ink does not choose. She records. Even the error. Even pain. »»
He got up slowly.
- "And now, the sky overturns. The first inverted constellation was born. A perfect reversal. A cursed memory. »»
He raised the fragment.
And murmured:
- "We are going to send him a name that he will not be able to wear. »»
Back to camp - The name of the poison
Ashen was barely sleeping.
But the book opened without him.
And a page was written in the middle of the night.
Malen, awakened by the light, approached.
He read the page with slowness, dreadful.
- "Ashen ... there is a name. New. You didn't write it. »»
Ashen opened his eyes.
And live the name:
Kahrélis - The escape.
Just below, an automatic annotation of the book:
"Name recorded despite the absence of origin. Refusal of memory. Unstable trace. Erase impossible."
Ashen got up suddenly.
- "This name does not come from a memory. He comes from the void. »»
Malen froze.
- "Is it ... an inverted name? »»
Ashen nodded, slowly.
- "It's more than that. It is a name that has never been worn, and which nevertheless wants to remember. »»
Above them, in the night sky, a constellation was bursting.
Then ... his stars pivoted.
Forming the same pattern as before, but reversed, as a reflection in dirty water.
And immediately, somewhere in the world, a voice yelled.
A voice that no one recognized.
A voice ... who didn't want to exist.
"Some names are not forgotten. They are denied. And what is denied, becomes a form of monster. »»
Pale dawn - camp, a few hours after
The fire was turned off.
Malen hadn't slept.
Ashen, he said nothing.
He stared at the black page of the book.
Kahrélis - The escape.
Whenever he read it, deaf pain hammered his skull.
And the book ... Bleed ink around the name.
As if he wanted to reject him, but had no right.
Malen murmured:
- "Ashen ... this name ... He has neither image, no voice nor past. But he's there. It's ... Impossible. »»
Ashen closed the book forcefully.
- "This is not a name. It's a flaw. An injury. Someone, somewhere, has reversed a memory so deeply that he became an entity. »»
He closed his eyes.
And felt something look through the book.
Not a person.
Something.
During this time - temple of the silencer, lower in the south
The hooded old man was alone, kneeling in front of a black mirror.
The reflection did not show his face.
He showed Kahrélis.
Not in image.
In abyss.
A moving vacuum.
A name that refused language.
- "He was born twice. First as a memory. Then as a failure. »»
He handed one hand to the mirror.
- "And now ... he is looking for the one who aroused the names. »»
A crack appeared on the glass.
A low, hoarse, indescribable voice, murmured:
"He called me. I'm coming."
Back to Ashen-On the way to the Tower of Stone-Muettes
Ashen and Malen advanced quickly.
The tower of stones-mutes, a vestige of the ancient worship of the unfathomable, was the only place never mentioned in the tales associated with Kahrélis.
Not like a name.
But as an absence of history.
A whisper in ancient writings said:
"Those who dreamed of Kahrélis never remembered their dream."
Malen read aloud an extract from the broken codex:
- "When the voiceless name approaches, the world does not cry. He is silent. "
Ashen closed his eyes.
- "He approaches. I don't know why ... but he wants me. »»
- "Because you woke it up? »»
- " No. Because I am the only one who can write it without understanding it. »»
Circle of stones - close to the tower, end of the day
The sky was dark without the sun going to bed.
The tower of stones was held straight, but split.
Around her, a circle of stones.
Engraved not of letters ... but of holes.
Absences. Oblivion sculpted.
Ashen entered alone.
The book vibrated so hard that he almost slid his hands.
Then he opened it. Slowly.
And the name Kahrélis began to turn on the page.
Like an eye.
Like a spiral.
And then ... it appeared.
Not a man.
Not a voice.
Not a silhouette.
A lack.
A form made of silences.
A outline without content.
And Ashen heard a sentence, not in his mind ... But in his teeth, in his bones:
"If you write to me again ... you become me."
Ashen fell.
And instead of writing, he tore the page.
The book yelled. Literally. A cry wave.
But the name disappeared.
And Kahrélis, the unspeakable, went back.
not defeated.
But repelled.
Malen ran to join him, breathless.
-"What did you do?! You wrapped a name! »»
Ashen replied, empty eyes:
- "I chose nothingness rather than a cursed memory. For once. »»
He handed his hand to the sky.
And said:
- "This name will only come back if someone sings it. So let's pray ... that silence is. »»
"There are battles that we do not win with weapons, but with voices that no one can silence. »»
Three days after the meeting with Kahrélis - along the way to Veyra
The dust of failure was still stuck to their boots.
Ashen and Malen walked in silence.
The book was sealed, silent, almost shameful.
But in the interior pocket of the Ashen coat ...
The page torn from Kahrélis, withdrawn into twelve.
Malen looked at him:
- "Do you think it will come back?" »»
- "He cannot come back as long as he does not say his name. »»
- "But you wrote it. »»
Ashen stopped.
- " No. I listened to it. It's worse. But I learned one thing. »»
He turned his head towards the valley:
- "There are names that should not be engraved. They must be… transmitted differently. »»
Malen leaned his head, intrigued.
- " How ? »»
Ashen replied:
- "By echo. »»
VEYRA - The old northern school, abandoned since the mirror war
A stone building, ruined but standing.
split arches, a silent bell, a library without parchment.
Ashen entered without hesitation.
He touched the walls, the benches, the remains.
- "Here, we never had ink. They taught in naked voice. The students retained, then transmitted. »»
Malen frowned:
- "A school ... without writing? »»
Ashen nodded.
- "They called it the echo. »»
He put the book on the ground, opened a blank page.
And instead of writing, he began to speak.
"Caldor Evandrel. Witness of the renewal. Name protector.
He opened a door. He let the light pass.
And the world wanted to close his throat.
So listen: as long as that voice speaks, he will not be dead. »»
The vibra book.
And repeated his voice. Once. Then two. Then ten.
Malen fell, open mouth.
- "It's you ... but it's not you. It's ... echo. »»
Ashen smiles.
- "The ink is burning. But not the echo. »»
Ashen looked around.
- "We will restore this place. Not as before. But so that he survives. »»
- "Do you mean ... Teaching?" »»
- " No. I mean: sow. »»
He showed the book.
- "We will register names. But only aloud. Each student will have to listen to a name, keep him in him, and give him back to someone else. **
- "A living transmission. »»
- "An invisible army. »»
Malen smiled slowly.
- "Do you want to save Caldor ... with children?" »»
Ashen looked at him straight in the eyes.
- " No. I want you can never erase what it was again. Even if it falls. **
At the Central Council of the Academy, a spy transmitted a report.
- "Ashen was seen in Veyra. He reopens the old school. »»
A scholar frowned.
- "Does he prepare an uprising?" »»
- "Worse," replied the dean. "He prepares a free memory. »»
An icy voice cut the discussion.
A woman, covered face, spoke:
-"Let him do it. That he sows. We will only have to burn the earth afterwards. »»
She put a list on the table.
A blacklist.
With below:
"Echo school - authorized destruction. To be coincided with the execution of Caldor Evandrel."
Ashen looked at the ruins.
Then turned to Malen:
-"Promise me one thing. If I fall before the end ... you will continue. »»
Malen replied without hesitation:
- " No. You will not fall. I will fall in your place. »»
Ashen says nothing.
But that night, the book engraved their voice to both of them.
Not as registered names.
But as living songs.