Place of the seven votes - moment zero
The ax fell.
A deaf sound.
An impact.
Blood gushes.
And the world stopped.
Ashen, in the crowd, lives Caldor's head roll on the marble.
The chains were still on the tuning.
A howling was born in his belly.
Not a cry.
A fracture.
His legs were shaking.
His teeth slam.
And his heart ...
... exploded.
He opened his mouth.
And yelled.
- Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaldooooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrr !!!!!!
The cry sprayed the air.
Tympans broke out.
windows broke in the surrounding houses.
And the book opened.
But not slowly.
Not magically.
He torn the space.
Pages of fire, ash and shadow rose.
Red words were written in the sky.
Ashen was still screaming.
He laughed. He was bleeding. He was shaking.
- You killed him !!! You scratched it for nothing !!! NOTHING !!!
He laughed. A distorted laugh.
A mixture of injured children, rabid beast, of God who bleeds.
The crowd fell on his knees.
Not out of respect.
By terror.
Some began to cry without reason.
Others scraped their face to blood.
Ashen was advancing.
And each step left a burn on the ground.
The stones shouted its name.
The walls were crying for ancient words.
A nobleman fell on his knees, screaming:
- "Stop singing in my head !!! »»
But there was no sound.
Ashen raised his arms.
Invisible channels sprang from the book.
They wrapped around the skulls.
And locked them.
Each person ...
saw all the souvenirs erased coming back suddenly.
All prohibited names.
All forgotten faces.
All the dead without burial.
They were there.
in their heads.
To scream.
Women vomited.
Children bore eyes.
Old men sank their heads against the columns.
Ashen, standing, laughed.
He was no longer talking. He shouted the world.
Malen tried to flee.
He slipped into the blood of a soldier.
Crawling. Howling.
Ashen lives it.
And smiles.
A smile too wide. Too cruel.
He slowly approached.
Twisted the head.
- "You betrayed me. To keep your name. »»
Malen begged.
But his lips distorted.
The book chains forced him to repeat:
- "I killed him. It's me. It's me. It's me. »»
Ashen put his hand on his head.
And murmured:
- "I'm going to teach you what it is ... to live without name ... without memory ... endless. »»
And he tore her mind.
Not the heart.
Not the soul.
The mind.
A strident howl.
Then nothing.
Malen was emptied of himself.
A puppet. A hole. A shell.
Then Ashen burned him alive.
The fire did not come out of wood.
But book.
And the pages laughed with him.
Ashen went up on the platform.
He took Caldor's corpse in his arms.
He put his head on the chest, slowly.
And he says, one last time:
- His name was Caldor.
And you…
You will have this name in your nightmares.
He turned around.
Looked at the crowd reduced to silence.
And yelled one last time:
- I'm the crazy. I am the memory. I am what remains when everything has been forgotten.
Then he pierced his own throat with the ax.
Suicide.
A ritual.
A return.
"It is not death that scares. It's to come back. »»
Ashen opened his eyes.
Again.
Same sky. Same stone. Same ash smell.
Imperial square.
The crowd.
The platform.
The executioner.
Caldor.
Ashen yelled.
A raw, animal, raucous howling, tearing your throat like a hook.
People turned.
An icy silence.
Then…
He laughs.
Not a light laugh.
A spasm. A convulsion of agony transformed into a farce.
A dementia hiccup.
His body was shaking.
Black tears sank with her eyes.
- "Ahahahah!" I'm there! I KNOW ! You were not mistaken this time! »»
He went up on the platform.
A guard wanted to stop him.
Ashen tore his face to him. Literally. With his hands. Without magic.
Just the rage.
Blood gushes like a geyser.
The public fell, but he locked the place with a gesture.
The power of the madman was activated.
Invisible strings stretched out.
The city became a theater.
He grabs the executioner.
-"Look at me. Do you like to cut guilty? Would you like to cut your mother? Come, I make you hear! »»
He picked his hand to the man's skull.
And there he yelled a false name.
An invented name.
A cursed name.
The executioner yelled. His teeth fell. His eyes melted.
Her jaw was dislodged, sneering in spite of herself.
Then he fell, convulsing.
Ashen climbed at the top of the platform.
Caldor lives it.
Looked at him.
He says nothing.
He knew.
Ashen fell on his knees.
-"Forgive me ... I'm still too late. always. »»
He wanted to detach it.
But the chains were burning. They were made of memory.
Caldor murmured:
- "It is not you who are late. It's the world. »»
And we cut his throat.
Despite the frozen scene.
Despite the power of the madman.
Someone-an entity, a hidden law-executed death, beyond time.
Ashen yelled.
The ground exploded.
The crowd became flame.
He killed them all. One by one.
He attached them with sons of nerves.
He opened their bellies.
He made them swallow their own names, engraved on molten lead.
He planted laughter in their flesh.
Each corpse laughs.
Like a music box.
Then he looked for Malen.
And he found it.
- "Why ... you ... start again?" He asked, pleading eyes.
Ashen did not answer.
He lived it alive.
Laughing.
He engraved on his back:
"You are just a memory of my weakness. »»
And he forced him to howl Caldor's name in a loop while he was burning.
Then Ashen took his own heart.
Tear it away.
The Broya.
And hangs himself with his nerves.
The loop resumed.
"He died. Again.
And this time ... even death was in pain. »»
Ashen smelled of the ground moving away.
His legs no longer touched anything.
The world collapsed in silence.
He had swallowed the poison.
The one stolen from a dead priest.
He thought he was dying before execution.
But Caldor is dead.
Again.
And Ashen too.
Again.
But this time ...
He reopened his eyes.
Blood dripped from his nostrils.
His nails were torn off.
He was alive in death.
Before him:
A staircase.
In spiral.
Infinity.
Made of bone, open books, names engraved in the flesh.
Each step ... a memory.
Ashen put a foot.
Then another.
And he went up.
Endless.
Each step:
Pain.
A memory.
A flash from another version of itself.
A world.
Ashen smiles at Caldor.
He succeeds. He saves him.
But ... the memory of others is erased.
Caldor is alive.
But no one else remembers him.
The world becomes a desert.
Ashen howls:
"It is not enough! »»
He throws himself into the void.
A world.
Ashen sacrifices 100 children to survive Caldor.
And Caldor rejects him.
"I didn't want to survive like that. »»
Ashen Rit.
Then he eats his hand.
Then he strangles himself with his own guts.
A world.
He is young. Too young.
Caldor is just a teacher.
Ashen admires him.
But he dies from an illness.
And the book does not want to open.
Ashen tears his eyes.
And dies alone, in a corner, whispering:
" Again. »»
Ashen still goes up.
His knees burst.
His hands are reduced to the bone.
But it climbs.
Voices whisper:
"Do you want to save him?" Meurs. Again. Again. Again. »»
He succeeds.
He controls the world.
He prohibits the death of Caldor.
But Caldor ...
becomes a doll, soulless.
Ashen howls:
"I want Caldor. Not a living corpse. **
He exploded the moon.
Then commit suicide by jumping into the book itself.
Ashen kills Caldor himself.
By mistake.
By paranoia.
He thinks Caldor will betray him.
He laughs.
Then kills himself by nailing herself.
Ashen is alone.
The staircase ... bleeds.
The book is open on his back, alive.
He whispers:
-"Is there an end? »»
The steps answer:
- "Only if you abandon. »»
He tears up a nail from his throat.
And climb again.
A level.
A mirror.
And in front of him ...
Forty-four Ashen.
All different.
All mutilated.
Some burned.
Some crazy.
Some dead.
Everyone looks at each other.
And all howl together:
- "Caldor must live!"
The mirror breaks out.
"There is no salvation in the mirror. Only ashes that watch you cry."
They are there.
Forty-four Ashen.
Forty-four versions of himself.
• One has the limited teeth.
• The other is blind.
• A third has too long arms, made of sewn letters.
• A fourth laughs without break, even dead.
They look at him.
In silence.
Then a whisper:
- "You are the one who comes after all. You are not the first. You are not the last. You are only another failure. »»
Ashen looks down.
Then lifts his head.
And he smiles.
Not a human smile.
A mental fold, a fracture.
He advances towards Ashen #6 - The one who had killed Caldor in mistake.
- "You were afraid. You thought he was going to betray. You betrayed love with fear. »»
Ashen #6 does not move.
Ashen hugs him.
And breaks his neck. Slowly.
In a cracking of rope, vertebra, laughter.
Then he screams:
- "One less!"
Ashen #19 tries to flee.
He runs, staggering, the tattooed skin of names.
Ashen catches him, plants his fingers in his eyes.
- "You had too many names. You never chose Caldor. You forgot who was at the center. »»
He drags it to the ground.
And drowning in the ink of the book.
Ashen #1.
The very first.
The one who had not seen anything yet.
A sweet look. Innocent.
He reaches out:
- "If you kill me, you turn out. You become dust again. I am the origin. »»
Ashen hesitates.
Then whisper:
- "So I'm going to kill hope. First of all. And then ... me. »»
And he beheads it suddenly.
The book screams.
The other reflections retreat.
Ashen turns around, covered with blood.
His eyes burn.
- "There is no room for you.
There is only one name.
And I'm going to sculpt it in reality with your bodies. »»
He lights the fire.
Not a natural fire.
A fire of dead memories, betrayed truths, living regrets.
The walls of the room cry.
The reflections burn, howl, laugh, beg.
And Ashen goes up.
Again.
Each step he climbs now is made by himself.
He arrives on a black door.
Above, engraved:
"What if you became Caldor?"
Ashen Rit.
He mutilates his face.
He sculpts Caldor's features with his nails.
Blood flows.
Then he says:
- "I'm going to replace it. If I can't save him, I will be him. And he will never die again. »»
"If you forget who you are, can the pain still find you?" »»
Ashen wakes up on the ground.
But it's not his body.
His hands are old.
His voice is no longer his.
A broken mirror brings him a face that he does not recognize.
He's Caldor.
The world around him ... howls without a sound.
Children look at him with horror.
Soldiers howl his name.
But this name is cursed, twisted, distorted:
"Traitor! Available names! »»
Ashen - or what has become - staggering, trapped in the body of a dead man, in a world that does not forgive.
He hears a voice in his head.
Not a divine voice.
Not an enemy voice.
His own voice.
But divided.
Multiplied.
Each of his thoughts is now a court.
Each memory, dependent proof.
"You haven't saved Caldor. »»
"You killed the reflections. You have become worse. »»
"Did you want to become him?" Here it is. Vomit now. »»
He tries to shout.
But his mouth is sewn.
He is dragged by the crowd to a theater.
An old imperial amphitheater, blackened by the flames, restored only for its torture.
On stage: children.
Not just any.
VEYRA's children.
But ... their faces are hollow. Burned. Filled with ashes.
They sing his trial.
Everyone launches an accusation:
"For replacing the memory with obsession. »»
"For burning your own versions. »»
"For having killed hope by believing to save a man. »»
And every word they say reveals an injury to his body.
Guilt becomes flesh.
Shame becomes nail.
Remorse becomes fire.
He tries to flee.
But the theater extends endlessly.
Each corridor leads to a room where it is tried.
By its former mentors.
By Malen (still alive).
By Caldor, silent, motionless, but the look full of reproach.
Ashen laughs.
No joy.
Survival.
of panic.
Of break.
He whispers:
"If I tear myself in half, maybe one of the two will still save something ..."
And he hits his head against a wall, still, again, until the wall is bleeding with him.
A last corridor.
He enters an empty room.
A mirror. Again.
But this time, he sees Caldor.
Not an illusion.
The real one.
The one before.
The one who smiled at him in the study room.
Whoever had put a hand on his shoulder.
Ashen advances, his heart on fire.
But Caldor finally speaks.
"You have destroyed too much to find me. I'm not there anymore. I'm what you lost, not what you can recreate. »»
Ashen falls on his knees.
He screams.
But no sound comes out.
Ashen gets up.
He bleeds.
He trembles.
But it climbs again.
Another staircase.
Another world.
Another dream.
He whispers, in a breath that no longer has a voice:
- "I will continue. Even if I have to dissolve myself. I'm going to tear you away from nothing. Even if I become nothingness myself. »»
And behind him, in the empty room ...
The whispering whispering mirror:
"Another one. Another one. Another one. »»
"If there is no outing, then I will make a breach in myself. »»
Ashen woke up. No. Not awake. Just ... aware.
He was on his knees, in an oval corridor, made of thrilling flesh and charred words. Each wall was an eye. Everyone looked at him. Not his reflection. Not his image. Him.
A voice blew, everywhere, nowhere:
- "You died 100 thousand billion times. And yet, you still refuse."
Ashen Trembla. Then he laughs. A broken laugh, torn by memories.
He whispered:
- "It's because he's still dead. As long as he died too."
A step. Then another.
Doors appeared on each side. On each, a name was inscribed:
• Ashen, the one who lied.
• Ashen, the one who forgot.
• Ashen, the one who ate Caldor.
• Ashen, the one who yelled too late.
He entered the first.
A bed. A living caldor. Ashen smiled at him. He says:
- "Everything is fine. You are safe."
But he sees the poison in his own hands. He kills him while believing to save him. He makes him drink, gently, with tenderness.
Caldor dies in peace. Ashen screams in his own stomach. And committed suicide by swallowing the heart.
Ashen no longer remembers. He lives in a perfect world. But Caldor is absent.
He wanders. Children greet him. The book is white.
And a child asks him:
- "Who was Caldor?"
Ashen does not know. And in his terror, a name is planted in the skull, with stone.
But nothing comes back.
He kills himself while crushing his head against the book.
Ashen has gone mad. He devours Caldor's corpse to keep him in him.
- "I'm you, I'm you, I'm you."
He repeats by chewing. He cries while vomiting. He kills himself while choking on the bones.
He gets out of each room. Each time, more misshapen.
An arm less. A punctured eye. Missing teeth. A spirit plagued by repetition.
But he continues.
He whispers, more and more erased:
- "Still ... there is a world where he lives."
The voice of the book creates:
- "What if this world was the one where you die forever?"
Ashen Rit. He throws himself against the walls, crashes, is reduced, with each step.
But he moves forward.
To the next room. Towards the next death. Towards the next truth.
"Each version is a mirror. And I have 100 thousand billion pieces to break before seeing Caldor alive. »»
"We can die a thousand billions of times. It's nothing.
But just a word to kill you inside forever. »»
Ashen falls on his knees.
His legs no longer answer. His breath is grated.
Around him, mental ruins. Ash reflections. Remains of cries.
He feels his skin detach from his body. Slowly. As if his body still refused to be him.
And then…
A whisper.
An ancient voice.
A rhyme.
In the dark, a hooded silhouette recites:
"Pride speaks hard, but dies empty.
The lust kisses, but suffocates.
Avarice is burying.
The desire rots in the shade.
The laziness erases you.
Gourmandise swallows itself.
And anger ... Ah, anger ... it even burns the air. »»
Ashen looks up.
He sees a man, motionless in the light of a memory.
An eyelid poet, dressed in an ink coat.
Every word he says bleeds.
- "You are the seventh.
You are anger.
You are the end.
And you are the one who dies not to understand why he lives. »»
Ashen howls:
-"Who are you?!" »»
The poet replies:
- "I'm you ... before you are.
And I will be there again ... when there is nothing left. »»
Ashen stands, without strength, without sense.
He pierces his heart with the key to the book.
He swallows ashes.
He screams Caldor's name, then exploded him inside himself.
And just before dying, he whispers:
- "I killed myself a hundred thousand billion times.
And I have never been as alive as this moment of hatred. »»
It is reborn.
But in a white, frozen world.
His hands are shaking. He has no mouths. Just a feather planted in the throat.
He bleeds from words.
On the walls, worms.
Folie stanzas.
Names transformed into insults.
And in front of him, a silhouette.
The poet. Again.
But this time, he has a mirror as a face.
Ashen sees it as a screaming child. A bloody man. A god on fire.
The poet says:
- "Each death you live ... I move away from you a little more from who you wanted to be.
Soon there will be any more Ashen.
Only ruins.
And me, to look at you fall. »»
Ashen tears the pen.
He writes a single word on the burning ground:
"Anger."
And the word ignites.
Everything is burning.
The world. Words. The poet.
Ashen too.
And screaming, he still jumps into the void.
- "Caldor!" Let's start again! AGAIN ! »»
"You don't suddenly go crazy.
We just lose the most tender songs ...
Then we stand, surrounded by ashes, calling them: memories. »»
Ashen reopens his eyes.
He's in a child's room, but everything is upside down.
The floor is on the ceiling. The toys are suspended, burned.
The cradle ... contains an empty, trembling, breathing book.
Letters crawl on the walls.
Floral faces appear and then melt.
And above all:
He hears crying.
Not his.
But the tears of a younger Ashen. An Ashen forgotten.
He is looking for the source.
He falls on his knees.
And under the bed-he is himself, knotted in a name rope.
- "I can't hold them back ... Caldor slips my fingers ... even dead, I forget it. Even alive, it does not remain. »»
Ashen howls.
His own cry turns into a child's howling.
His voice is divided.
He claws the walls. He bites his wrists. He swallows a piece of the book.
Each torn page screams in his throat.
He opens his throat.
Not with a blade.
With the word "truth".
Slowly engraved on the finger. Letter by letter.
Until blood looks like ink.
He dies while sufficient on his own name.
He wakes up in a broken mirror.
Each radiance is a distorted memory.
• Him and Caldor, laughing. But the faces are reversed.
• Him and Malen. But it's Malen who begs him.
• Him alone, repeating his name in a loop.
• A skinless reflection, which recites:
- "You killed yourself so often that even death has forgotten your name. »»
Ashen bangs his head against the mirror.
Again. Again.
And said:
- "It's no longer pain. It's… the only thing I still recognize. »»
The poet returns.
But it is divided into seven, now.
Seven figures dressed in shadows.
Each speaks with their mouth.
- "You are anger.
But each anger has an object.
Yours is blurred. So you destroy everything.
You don't like Caldor. You want him to love you.
You don't want to save him.
You want him to thank you.
You want him to tell yourself that your hell makes sense. »»
Ashen howls:
- " SHUT UP ! »»
And a feather is planted in the eye.
Ashen walks, blind, bleeding, broken.
He recites the seven sins upside down.
Then the names of all the reflections he killed.
Then all the children of Veyra.
Then…
Nothing.
He tears off his name from his own language.
And fall into a vacuum.
- "Ashen no longer exists. Only the cry remains. And the cry wants to start again. Again. »»
"There is a limit to the cry.
Afterwards, there is just a breath left ...
And a name that no longer responds. »»
Ashen opens his eyes.
But this time, he doesn't scream.
The world is calm.
A field of flowers.
Thousands of ash and honey colored petals, waving in a warm wind.
No trace of blood.
No trace of pain.
He walks slowly.
His clothes are in tatters.
His hands are shaking.
His curved back always wears the book ...
But this one does not move anymore. It is closed. Silent.
In front of him, on the hill: a simple grave.
He approaches.
A stone slab, cracked, in the center of a circle of white flowers.
Engraved on it:
Caldor
Whoever carried without ever weighing.
The one that ASEN could not save.
Ashen falls on his knees.
His hands bleed.
His lips are split.
He tries to speak ...
But no word comes out.
So it cries.
For the first time, without howl. Without ritual. Without fire.
He puts his head against the stone.
And whisper, in a broken voice:
- " Pardon.
For not having been enough.
For having replaced you with my anger.
To have locked you in my curls.
To have forgotten you ... even by repeating yourself. »»
The wind stops.
The ground is shaking.
Flowers fade suddenly.
The roots tear.
And under the grave ...
A vacuum.
A chasm.
Bottomless.
Without light.
Ashen gets up.
He does not fight.
He looks at the grave one last time.
Then smiles weakly.
- "I yelled your name a hundred thousand billion times.
Now ... I'm going to be silent. And let you go. »»
He jumps.
The emptiness swallows him.
He falls.
He falls.
He falls.
His open arms.
His eyes closed.
No resistance.
And in this nothingness ...
One last sentence resonates.
A voice he does not recognize.
Gentle. Calm. Clear.
- "Dying is easy, Ashen.
Living ... that was that, your test. »»
The void swallows him, but he laughs.
Not a laugh of joy.
A split, deformed, wild, animal laugh.
Her hair flies.
His arms are open.
And his eyes - spread - shine with madness.
- "I cried. I killed. I scattered on the walls of time!
I swallowed my own reflections!
I fucked my throat of the abyss, whispering his name!
Do you think it's over?!
Do you think I'm broken?!
I'm going to make you suffer.
I will spit out your bones one by one!
And in each of my suicides ...
I noted a lesson. »»
He reaches his arms to the sky of nothingness.
- "I'm anger.
I am the seventh poison.
I am the unnamed, endless, skinless carrier.
And I'll make you scream the name you have erased. »»
A black lightning hits its back.
The book opens.
Empty.
Ashen screams with laughter.
Then…
Impact.
"There is no unique truth, only forty-four bursts of the same cracked mirror. »»
Ashen reopens his eyes in a cry that no his sound was wearing.
It was not the first time.
He knew it immediately. Pale light. Deaf silence. The silver mist swallowing the walls. Everything was just like before. Like this day he was dead.
The circular room. Immense. out of time.
The table.
And the forty-three other faces.
He closed his eyes. Reopens them. Nothing had changed.
-Damn, he whispered.
The red chair rumbled under him, creaky, split. The 44. The last. His. The only one that seemed ready to collapse.
He looked at them. All. one by one.
They were already standing.
As if they were waiting for it.
- We meet, said the first.
Chair number 1. The judge. Black dress, look without heat.
- You know who I am.
- You still haunted me, whispered Ashen.
- And yet you understand me. Justice has a price. You alone can pay it.
Chair 2. The martyr.
- I yelled for others to live, Ashen. Do you remember? I am the nails in your dreams. You almost chose me once.
- I failed, yeah. But I no longer want to bleed for hollow causes.
Chair 3. The traitor.
He sneered.
- You also betrayed, little brother. You betrayed yourself every time you have curled up.
- And you, are you proud? They begged you.
- And I survived.
Ashen looked away.
Chair 4. The hero. Resplendent, empty.
- Do you know what's behind admiration? Nothingness. The statues do not cry. You know me better than you want to admit.
- I'm tired of being seen as what I'm not.
- So be what you fear.
Chair 5. The tyrant.
He advanced. His coat hung up the blood on the ground.
- I reigned, Ashen. I too started in the mud. Do you think the world will listen to you without forcing silence?
Ashen took a step back.
- No. Not you. Not this time.
Chair 6. The pilgrim.
A broken stick, from blood to blood.
- Every step I made ... It was to buy a fault that we all committed. Even you. You still hear her, his cry, right?
Ashen did not answer.
Chair 7. The butcher. The empty look, the red arms to the elbows.
- The taste of blood ... it remains. Even when you turn your eyes.
- Cleared.
- You have already worn me. You loved me. You called me justice.
Chair 8. The Sage. Book in hand, fingers stained with ink.
- I know everything. And I'm still in you. You have not yet understood that all truth is poison.
- And you, you never knew how to live.
Chair 9. The dead.
He floated, blur, child.
- You killed me, do you remember? When you have given up. You were ten years old. And you left me alone.
- I'm sorry, whisper Ashen.
Chair 10. The poet.
A sad smile, words like blades.
- I could offer you a beautiful sentence as a suicide. But you wouldn't know what to do with it.
- You said that, already, the last time. And I'm still dreaming of it.
Chair 11.The child.
Mute. Motionless. Trembling.
- Was you afraid, huh? You too. You buried me.
Ashen looked down.
- I'm sorry...
Chair 12. The mask. Face in perpetual mutation.
- You have no name. Me neither. But I don't suffer from it anymore.
Chair 13. Forgotten.
- Say your name, Ashen. Say it out loud.
- I ... I am ...
Silence.
Chair 14. The knight.
- I fought for dead oaths. Do you remember? You have sworn loyalty to your father. To your king. To your love. And they left you all.
Ashen clenched his fists.
Chair 15. The scribe.
- You write their stories. Never yours. That's your punishment. Silence between words.
Chair 16. The apostle.
- You prayed, right? Even if you don't say it. Even if you didn't believe. I am this prayer. The one who has never received an answer.
Chair 17. The monster.
A bestial silhouette, in children's eyes.
- You hated me. But I protected you.
Ashen lowered his head.
Chair 18. The vagabond.
- I no longer have a home. Like you. Wherever you go ... you flee.
- Not this time.
Chair 19. The madman.
A sad laugh, dripping with tears.
- Do you want my madness? She burns, but she sings.
Chair 20. The witness.
- You look. Always. You understand. But you don't act.
Ashen closed his eyes.
Chair 21. The architect.
- I build. Worlds. But never a refuge. You tried too, right?
Chair 22. The hunter.
- I'm looking for the truth. She killed me. Do you really want to know?
- No. Not yet.
Chair 23. The twin.
- I took its place. And I live with his shadow. You would do the same.
Chair 24. The brilliance.
- I'm a piece of you. Like a thumb that you never withdraw.
Chair 25. The mute.
- ...
Ashen nodded.
- Sometimes it's better.
Chair 26. The rebellion.
- I made everything fart. Just to look at me. Do you remember?
- Yes...
Chair 27. The Fou de War.
- I offered you the rage. You took it. Don't deny me.
Chair 28. The alchemist.
- You wanted to understand. And now you are collapsing. This is the truth.
Chair 29. The loose.
- You fled. So many times. But not today, huh?
Ashen looked up.
- No. More now.
Chair 30. The dreamer.
- You loved me. You wanted my world. But it is too late to sleep.
Chair 31. The puppeteer.
- You shoot the strings. Even here. You know it.
Chair 32. The mute screaming.
A silent cry.
Ashena.
- You are still suffering ...
Chair 33. The mirror.
- You are me. I am everyone. And nobody.
Chair 34. The skinned.
- I was torn everything. And yet I am still there.
Chair 35. The hanged.
- Suspended. Between two breaths. That's what you are.
Chair 36. The clumber.
- You were used. Thrown. Like me.
Chair 37. The sleeper.
- I slept a thousand years so as not to feel.
- You didn't dream.
Chair 38. Le Noyé.
- I drowned in memories that were not even mine.
Chair 39. The empty laugh.
- I laugh because I have nothing more to say.
Chair 40. The broken.
- I didn't win. But I survived.
Ashen closed his eyes.
- You ... I remember.
Chair 41. Infinity.
- You will start again. Again and again. Until you accept yourself.
Chair 42. The hourglass.
- I see you slide, grain grain. Do you think you have time?
Chair 43. The judged.
- You fled our looks. You have to answer.
- I'm here, said Ashen.
Chair 44. The madman.
Ashen got up. He looked at his empty chair.
- I am the one who saw everything. Everything was undergone. And who still smiles.
Total silence.
Then a white light springs from the center of the table.
The Gronda voice:
"Ashen, broken, twisted, sacrificed ... choose your mask. And start again."
He did not move.
Everyone turned to him.
The judge (1) spoke:
- SO ? What mask do you choose?
Ashen got up. He put his hand on the file of his own chair, the 44.
- I'm staying crazy.
Silence.
- For what ? asked the mask.
Ashen planted his gaze in each of his family.
- Because I still have accounts to settle. Because I'm not over. Because I'm broken, but whole. And you all know it.
The laughter burst out laughing.
- Yes ! He comes back! It is still on fire!
The light in the center of the table was unleashed.
A titanic voice resonated, old and inhuman:
"Ashen, Validated choice. Mask: the madman. Reinjection in progress."
He yelled. Again.
His reflections reached out. Some supported him. Others claw it.
The table was dislocated in a cry of light.
Ashen opened his eyes.
Cold.
Smell of wet stone. Murmurs, cries, cart wheels.
Edelstadt.
Not the same. Younger. Alive. He recognized the walls. The taste of coal in the air.
He straightened up.
-You sent me here ... He said, a cold smile on his lips.
He clenched his fist.
- Alright. The madman still has debts to settle.
Ashen opened his eyes in a brutal start.
There was no longer white light, round table, or whispers.
Only a wooden ceiling. Low light filtered by curtains.
And ... silence. Too gentle, almost unreal silence. Suffocating.
His breathing will accelerate suddenly.
His fingers closed on the sheet, soaked in cold sweat. He straightened up too quickly - pain turned his neck. His gaze turned in all directions.
He was shaking.
- No ... no no no ...
He put his hand to his face.
His eyes were there. His nose. His skin.
He checked his arms, legs. His chest. No trace of the book. No symbol. No scar.
- I ... I am ... alive?
He groped. Then shook his head, feverish.
- No. No, it's a lure. They are still trying. It's still a reflection. Another test.
He jumped out of bed, weak legs, and fell on his knees.
The floor cracked.
A door opened. A woman entered - an unnamed career, benevolent, but prudent features.
- Oh ! Gently ! You are awake ... it's incredible. You ... you slept three whole days. We thought ...
- Shut up.
His voice came out chopped. Hoarse.
He looked up at her, his look wide, as hunted.
- Who are you ?! Where am I?! Where is the mirror? Where are the others?!
- ... Others? What mirror? You are in the southern wing of Edelstadt. The wind temple. You ... We found you unconscious near the markers' well. You were alone.
Ashen shook his head, even more violently.
- No. No, it's impossible. There were 43 other me. I saw them. I ... I killed them!
She went back, alarmed.
- I'm going to get the priest. Stay calm. You are safe now.
- Security ?!
He laughed. A dry, strangled laughter, without warmth.
- I saw myself killing me. Again. Again. Again ! Do you understand?!
He struck his temple with his fist.
- They ... took everything. My name. My form. My voice. Nothing remains. NOTHING.
He grabbed the chest of drawers and threw it on the ground.
The career jumped.
- ENOUGH ! she cried out, out of her.
She knelt gently, but firmly, facing him.
- You are alive. Here. NOW. Breathe, damn it! You are real!
Ashen Haleta, out of breath.
- What if I am the bad me?
His eyes were burning.
-What if the good stayed there? In the circle?
The caregiver whispered:
- I don't know what you went through. But you are there.
She put a hand on her shoulder, timidly.
-Maybe it's enough ... to start.
Ashen remained frozen. Then whispered, almost inaudible:
- ... and Caldor?
- Caldor?
He looked down.
- Nothing. Forget.
He curled up on himself.
The career remained a silent moment. Then got up. She opened the door.
-Rest.
He did not answer.