In a world where the gods demand pain as tribute, Yuda has served as the Great Shrine Maiden of Asterion for over a century—a Regeneration-blessed tool of the state, burning and healing without end, never permitted to die. She has long since stopped believing in the voice she speaks for.
But when a northern village is reduced to ash by a rogue flame-blessed, Yuda is dispatched to investigate. What she finds is a young man consumed by fire that will not kill him, cradling the charred body of a g
Fire Punch: Flame of Atonement - The old shrine maiden who holds the key — The infiltration of Karkelun, the smile of one who is not a god
The snow fell soundlessly beyond the window.
In the highest tier of the Great Temple Asterion, Yuda's chamber was still. A modest room enclosed by stone walls. A wooden bed, a small desk, an old mirror set against the wall. Into that bare space, the presence of a snowy night seeped cold and slow.
On the desk lay the manuscript for the Oracle Rite, now only two days away.
Yuda sat in her chair, gazing at it without moving. The fingertips peeking from the sleeves of her white robes trembled faintly. Since returning from Calkerun, the trembling had not stopped.
(What did I see, in that place)
Eighty meters underground. The groan of steam turbines. Twenty blessed ones strapped to metal chairs, pipes driven into their backs, screaming as they withered and recovered, recovered and withered. The regeneration-blessed. Those with power like her own. The sight of them burning endlessly as "firewood."
(That is my future)
Yuda closed her eyes. Behind her lids, the scene of the turbine chamber rose again. The old woman's voice echoed in the depths of her ears.
—You too, then.
—You're not special.
—We're all just firewood.
Her fingers clenched white against her knees.
(I have performed the voice of God for a hundred and thirty years)
(I believed that voice existed to save the people)
(But the truth is)
(I myself was firewood, waiting to be burned)
She lowered her eyes to the manuscript on the desk.
"God rejoices in the sacrifice of the people, who are as firewood unto Him."
"The disposal of unregistered flame-blessed is the will of God."
In two days, she would read these words aloud before the people. As the will of God. Aguni's disposal.
A pain like a thorn lodged deep in her throat. She tried to swallow, and could not.
That was when it happened.
A knock sounded against the door, echoing through the quiet room.
A restrained knock, yet without hesitation. Three times.
Yuda raised her head.
"...Enter."
Her voice was flatter than she expected. The mask of a hundred and thirty years as Oracle moved her mouth on its own.
The door opened.
An old woman entered quietly, silver hair bound severely at the back of her head. Deep green eyes. In her left hand, prayer beads, turned slowly between her fingertips. A small frame wrapped in white robes. Yet in her bearing was the dignity of one who stood at the summit of the Great Temple.
High Priestess Serafina.
Yuda's senior, an old woman who had once read oracles as Oracle herself. Now she held the position of overseeing the Great Temple Asterion. In Yuda's hundred and thirty years of life, she was the person who had stood at her side the longest.
Serafina entered, and first let her eyes fall on the manuscript atop the desk. Then she looked at Yuda's face.
"Forgive the intrusion at this hour, Yuda."
Serafina's voice was clear as a bell echoing through the corridors of an ancient temple. But beneath it lurked a sharpness that seemed to measure something.
Yuda did not rise.
"What business does the High Priestess have at such a late hour?"
Serafina's brow moved faintly. Not scolding, not grieving. She simply fixed those deep green eyes on Yuda's face.
"I hear you were summoned to the deepest level of Calkerun."
Yuda's fingertips twitched.
(She knew)
(This woman always does)
(She sees through everything I have experienced)
Serafina advanced slowly into the room and stood beside the desk. The motion of her fingers on the beads quickened faintly.
"I received a report from the Bureau Director. Including what you saw in the deepest level of Calkerun."
Yuda looked up at Serafina.
Blue eyes and deep green eyes crossed in silence.
"So you've come to scold me."
"Yes. On the surface, that is what this is."
For the first time, Serafina's lips softened faintly. But it was not a smile. It was a complex expression, mingled of weariness, resignation, and a sliver of tenderness.
"It must never be that an Oracle is shaken by witnessing the reality of the firewood. You are the one who conveys the voice of God to the people. That one must not let her heart be disturbed by something so trivial as the truth beneath the earth."
A scolding for form's sake. Yuda understood that.
Serafina was an administrator faithful to the logic of the state. She did not believe in God. She had long since accepted that oracles were politics. And yet, to protect the people's faith, she had spent her entire life performing a lie.
That Serafina now stood before Yuda.
"I don't recall being disturbed."
"I see. Then why are your hands trembling?"
Yuda looked at her own hands.
White fingers. Trembling faintly. Ever since returning from Calkerun.
"It's only the cold."
"This room is one of the warmest places in the Great Temple."
Silence fell.
Beyond the window, the snow kept falling. The sound of wind moaned in the distance.
Serafina reached for the manuscript on the desk.
"In two days, you will read these words before the people. That God desires the death of that flame boy."
Yuda could not look away from the manuscript.
"Yes."
"And that lie is burning your throat."
Yuda's breath stopped for an instant.
(How far does this woman see)
Serafina set the manuscript back on the desk. Her fingertip traced the edge of the paper.
"Yuda. I first met you a hundred years ago. You were thirty then, weren't you."
Serafina's voice grew a little softer.
"Back then, you still knew how to laugh. How to cry. How to be angry. ...You were not yet accustomed to performing the voice of God."
Yuda said nothing.
"A hundred and thirty years. You have lived by shaving away your emotions. If you had not, you could not have kept your sanity. I understand that."
Serafina gripped her beads. Her left hand, missing three fingers. Lost in her youth as the price of the oracle.
"I was the same. Reading the voice of God though I did not believe in God. Every time the people wept and prayed, I felt the lie from my own throat rotting my body."
Serafina's green eyes looked into the distance.
"Even so, I kept performing. To protect the people's faith. In this cold, so that the people of this country could keep their sanity, God is necessary. Even if it is a lie."
Yuda gazed at Serafina's profile.
(This woman is the same as me)
(Weary to the bone from performing a lie)
(And still, she thinks of the people)
"God is silent."
The words spilled from Yuda's mouth.
"For a hundred and thirty years, I waited for the voice of God. But God has never once spoken to me. I have only read my own words aloud as the words of God."
Serafina nodded quietly.
"Yes. God is silent. It has always been so."
"Then what meaning is there in the oracles I perform?"
Yuda's voice trembled faintly.
"I have lied to the people, again and again. Pretending it was the will of God. That lie will kill that boy. It will dispose of a flame-blessed as firewood. ...And in two days, I will read that lie aloud again."
"That is the duty of the Oracle."
"What is the duty of the Oracle?"
Yuda looked straight at Serafina.
"I have been kept alive as fuel. For a hundred and thirty years, to perform the voice of God. But the truth of it was a preparation period for becoming firewood. In Calkerun, I learned it. My regeneration blessing is the power to be burned forever. To feel pain endlessly, unable to die, converted into energy without end. ...That is my future."
Yuda's voice was flat. The voice she used to read oracles, carrying no emotion.
But those words were far too heavy.
Serafina gazed at Yuda's face for a while.
Then, slowly, she opened her mouth.
"Yuda. God is silent. But you still have a human voice."
Something stirred faintly deep in Yuda's chest.
(A human, voice)
(Do I still have such a thing)
Serafina took a step closer to Yuda.
"Before you are an Oracle who performs the voice of God, you are one human being. For a hundred and thirty years, you have lived killing your emotions. But now your hands are trembling. Your throat is burned by the lie. That is because you are still human."
Yuda looked at her own hands.
They were trembling.
(This is not from the cold)
(This is proof that I still feel something)
Serafina slipped her hand inside her robes.
And drew something out.
A small metal key.
"This is a spare key to Calkerun."
Yuda looked at the key.
The color of iron. A cold gleam. The key to an underground cell.
"I do not know what you will do with that flame boy. Whether you will read the oracle and dispose of him. Or choose another path."
Serafina took Yuda's hand.
The old woman's hand was surprisingly warm.
"If I stand as your guarantor, you can remain Oracle still. Whatever the Bureau asks of you after the Oracle Rite, I will protect you. ...So walk the path you have chosen."
Serafina pressed the key into Yuda's palm.
The cold of the metal bit into her trembling fingers.
"Why give this to me?"
Serafina smiled quietly.
"For a hundred and thirty years, I have watched your solitude from your side. Closer than anyone, I have watched you perform the voice of God. ...Perhaps I have been waiting all along for the day you would speak in your own words."
Yuda gripped the key.
Cold.
And yet that cold, somehow, kindled a heat deep in her chest.
(For the first time in a hundred and thirty years)
(Someone has called me human)
Serafina turned.
"God is silent. You are doing well. ...Now then, good night, Yuda."
Serafina began walking toward the door.
"Serafina."
At Yuda's voice, Serafina stopped.
She did not turn around.
"...You do not believe in God. So why do you protect the people's faith?"
Serafina was silent for a while.
Then she answered quietly.
"The people live in the cold. The glaciers press close, crops will not grow, and tomorrow's life is uncertain. In such a world, to keep their sanity, people have no choice but to believe in something. God, or fate, or simply that tomorrow will be better than today."
Serafina's voice filled the room quietly, like the incense of an ancient temple.
"My lie is a lie to keep the people alive. Your lie was the same. ...But your lie is now trying to kill you. That is why I gave you the key."
Serafina said nothing more. She opened the door and left.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the quiet room.
Yuda sat alone in her chair.
In her palm, the key shone cold.
(My lie is now trying to kill me)
(This woman has watched me since a hundred years ago)
(She knew that I am human)
Yuda clutched the key before her chest.
The cold of the metal traveled from her fingers to her arm, from her arm to her chest.
(I am still human)
(Then the path I choose is)
Beyond the window, the snow kept falling.
—
The night before the Oracle Rite.
From the highest tier of the Great Temple Asterion, she looked down over the seven-tiered city of the royal capital, Vermina. The city lay buried in snow. White snow filled the stone paving, covered the roofs, dyed the people's breath white.
But the city was not quiet.
Preparations for tomorrow's Oracle Rite were underway in the lower market. Merchants scraped away the snow, assembled stalls, laid out their wares. Candlelight reflected off the snow, and the whole city glowed faintly bright.
Yuda watched the scene from her chamber window.
Over her white robes she wore a gray cloak. The cloak of the Blessed Management Bureau. Not one taken from a Bureau officer. It had long been kept in the Great Temple's supply store. She did not know who had left it there.
(Today, the temple's guard will be thin)
(Every priest will be called out to prepare the altar)
(The watch on the route to the seventh tier will be reduced too)
Yuda turned up the collar of the cloak.
The feel of the key Serafina had given her lingered in her palm.
(From here, I defy the logic of the state)
(For the first time in a hundred and thirty years)
The pit of her stomach went cold.
A heavy cold, like swallowing ice.
But her feet were already moving.
Yuda left the room.
The long corridor of the
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