At the End of the Ashen Forest, the Sage Learns of the Boy's Past Life
The continent's frontier, where the forest elves once flourished and are now said to have perished. The deep Ashen Woods spread everywhere, where miasma and beasts keep people away. Magic remains only as ancient relics and curses, never systematized. Villages are isolated, and the closed societies fiercely expel heretics. The village where the boy was born has a law to quarantine, not kill, the cursed children.
Sol, a boy with memories of a past life, has lived in lonely isolation as the cursed
At the End of the Ashen Forest, the Sage Learns of the Boy's Past Life - Dawnlight
The air in the square clung to his skin.
It was a full moon.
In a sky without a single cloud, the white moon hung overhead as though looking down on everything below. Its light bathed the village square of Rusta in a pale, ghostly glow.
At the center stood the purification ash censer. Ash-white smoke rose in a thin, straight line. The smell of it — bitter and sweet, like rotting flowers. Soru had been breathing that scent for sixteen years.
Around the censer, firewood had been piled high.
Dry ash-pine logs. The smell of resin. Once lit, they would consume everything in an instant.
(That's the wood they'll burn me with.)
Soru stood at the edge of the square.
His arms were bound behind his back. The rough rope bit into his wrists. The fibers scraped against his skin. There was no pain.
There was no room left for pain.
The villagers surrounded the square.
Old and young, men and women, children too. All hundred and twenty souls of Rusta were there. Every one of them was looking at Soru.
(They're watching me.)
(That's fine.)
(I chose to stand here myself.)
At the center of the square, before the censer, stood Fedo.
His white hair, streaked with mouse-gray, was slicked back. His sharp gray eyes glinted coldly under the moonlight. The old scar running vertically through his right eye seemed carved even deeper in the pale light. The killstone ring on his left hand gave off a dull shine.
Beside Fedo stood the prayer-keeper, Margu.
An old man wrapped in black robes, his thin frame swallowed by the fabric, a white beard hanging to his chest. Whenever his eyes fell on Soru, they narrowed as though weighing something.
Behind Margu, the hunters stood in a row.
Eight of them. All gripping killstones, all trailing the scent of wormwood. Two hounds crouched at their feet, growling low in their throats.
"By the old law, I now begin the Rite of Purification Ash."
Fedo's voice rang across the square.
Low, flat, without inflection. And yet it carried a weight that allowed no argument.
"Soru, the cursed child. You bear the defilement of the Forest Folk within you, and you have brought calamity upon this village. The poor harvests, the plague, the fires — all of it stems from your corruption."
Fedo began reciting the old statutes from memory.
"The vessel of defilement must be cleansed in the flame of purification ash. Then shall peace return to the village, and the wrath of the Ashen Forest be appeased. So it is written, handed down from ages past."
A small murmur rippled through the villagers.
The elders began chanting the words of purification. Low, muffled, incantation-like voices. Those voices made the air of the square even heavier.
The young people watched Soru, holding their breath.
(They're wavering.)
(Those who heard my words in the square that day.)
(But they still can't move.)
Soru looked at each villager's face, one by one.
A young man averted his eyes.
A middle-aged woman hung her head.
A child buried their face in their parent's back.
No one was looking at Soru.
(I see.)
(So you'll stay silent, then.)
Fedo raised his right hand.
"Bind him."
Two of the hunters approached Soru from either side.
One looped a thick rope around Soru's neck.
The feel of it. The rough fibers biting into the skin of his throat.
(This is the sacrificial rope.)
(For sixteen years, I feared this rope.)
(But not now.)
Soru lifted his head.
And looked straight into Fedo's eyes.
Fedo's gray eyes faltered — just for an instant.
(Ah, that's right.)
(You're afraid of these eyes of mine.)
(You've been afraid of something all along.)
Just before the rope was tightened, Soru reached toward his chest.
His bound wrists. His fingertips touched what had been pressed inside his clothing.
Parchment.
A copy of the old law.
Stolen back from beneath the floorboards of the village chief's house last night.
And with Yorgen's and Margu's help, deciphered.
Soru pulled it out.
"Stop."
His voice came out.
Even he was surprised by how calm it sounded.
Fedo's hand stopped.
The villagers' murmuring cut off cleanly.
The square went silent as though struck by water.
Soru held the parchment high with both bound hands.
The moonlight shone through the old parchment.
"I want you to see this."
He said.
"This is a copy of the law handed down in this village. It was hidden beneath the floor of the village chief's house."
A stir ran through the villagers.
"What nonsense from the child of defilement."
Fedo's voice cut sharply.
"Where did you steal such a thing? In the hands of a cursed child, even a pure law is defiled. Throw that filthy thing away at once."
Fedo took a step toward Soru.
But Soru did not lower the parchment.
"I didn't steal this. It was returned to me."
Soru fixed his gaze on Fedo.
"What you hid. What you couldn't afford to let the villagers know."
"Silence!"
For the first time, emotion entered Fedo's voice.
Anger. And beneath it, a shakenness he couldn't quite hide.
"Who would believe the ravings of a cursed child? What of that scrap of paper? It's a forgery, obviously. Something the cursed child fabricated to confuse the village."
Fedo swept his gaze across the villagers.
"Everyone, do not be deceived. This man is a cursed child. One who bears the defilement of the Forest Folk and brings calamity upon the village. Do not lend your ears to his words."
The villagers were silent.
No one said anything.
But everyone was looking at the parchment Soru held aloft.
Soru slowly unfolded the parchment.
"The law is written on this copy in letters of blood."
He said.
"But the newer the clause, the more the blood letters have been erased. In their place, different words have been added."
Soru traced a point on the parchment with his finger.
"Here. The words that were originally here were 'Atonement to the Forest Folk.' But now they've been rewritten to 'Purification of Defilement.'"
The villagers stirred.
"This clause too. The part that read 'To atone for the sins of the Expeditionary Force' has been changed to 'To purge defilement.' You can still see the marks where the blood letters were scraped away."
Soru held the parchment up to the moonlight.
"Can you see it? The scraped marks. The blood color has faded. New ink has been written over it with different words."
The villagers stared at the parchment.
But they could not read.
Only three people in the village could.
Fedo, Margu, and Yorgen.
"Margu."
Soru called the prayer-keeper's name.
"You should be able to read it. Whether this copy is genuine. Whether these words have been rewritten."
Margu did not move.
A thin old man in black robes. His white beard swayed faintly in the wind.
"...You must have known."
Soru continued.
"That the law had been rewritten. The true meaning of the sacrificial rite. But you stayed silent. For sixteen years, all along."
Silence.
Everyone in the square was looking at Margu.
Margu slowly closed his eyes.
And then opened them again.
"...That copy is genuine."
Margu's voice was hoarse.
"I know that copy. I also knew it was hidden beneath the floor of the village chief's house."
A wave of unrest ran through the villagers.
"And I knew that the blood letters on that copy had been erased and rewritten with different words."
Margu exhaled deeply.
"The law of sacrifice was originally created for atonement to the Forest Folk. To atone for the sin of our ancestors, who destroyed the Forest Folk in the Ashburn Expedition."
"Silence, Margu!"
Fedo shouted.
"Have you too been deceived by the cursed child's ravings?! Have you forgotten your position as prayer-keeper?!"
But Margu shook his head.
"...It's enough now, Fedo."
Margu's voice was quiet.
"I'm tired of staying silent. For sixteen years, I let this child be killed before my eyes. No — more than that. Since I became prayer-keeper, I have sent countless cursed children to their deaths with these hands."
Margu looked at his own hands.
"These hands are already stained with blood. The blood of children burned in the purification flame. But it was never for the law. It was never for the village's peace. I killed those children simply to hide the truth."
Margu looked across the villagers.
"You should know too. This village's law was a lie from the very beginning. The sacrifice was never atonement to the Forest Folk, nor purification of defilement. It was simply an offering to hide the sin in our own blood."
The square fell silent.
The purification chants of the elders could no longer be heard.
Everyone was listening to Margu's words.
Fedo's face, under the pale moonlight, grew even paler.
"Silence... silence, silence!"
Fedo shouted.
"This is for the village! A necessary rite to protect the village's peace! Have you forgotten the poor harvests, the plague?! The cursed child's defilement brings calamity upon the village — that is why purification is needed!"
Fedo spread both arms toward the villagers.
"This child of defilement is trying to deceive you! With a false copy, he means to destroy the law, to destroy the village! Don't listen! Don't lend your ears! Only the flame of purification can save us!"
But the villagers did not look at Fedo's eyes.
Everyone hung their heads.
Or looked at Soru.
Or looked at Margu.
Fedo's words no longer reached anyone.
Soru held the parchment against his chest.
"There's one more thing I have to tell you."
Soru's voice was quiet.
But it reached every corner of the square.
"I found another truth in the archive."
Soru looked at each villager, one by one.
"The Ashburn Expedition. The human army that destroyed the Forest Folk. Its roster was preserved in the archive."
Soru continued.
"And the first villagers of this village were survivors of that expedition. Soldiers. Those who killed the Forest Folk."
A stir ran through the villagers.
"Your ancestors destroyed the Forest Folk. And to hide that sin, they rewrote the law. They switched the sacrifice from atonement to the Forest Folk into purification of defilement."
Soru touched his right shoulder with his left hand.
The ash mark.
A gray birthmark-like pattern running from his right shoulder to his collarbone.
"I'm the same."
He said.
"My past life was a survivor of the expedition. A member of the army that destroyed the Forest Folk."
The square froze.
"I've been despised by you as a cursed child. Nearly killed as a child of defilement. But my blood and your blood are the same. The same blood of the expedition. Carrying the same weight — the blood of those who killed the Forest Folk."
Soru looked at Fedo.
"I don't blame you. I have no right to blame anyone. My past life committed the same sin. Cornered the Forest Folk. Destroyed them."
Soru looked at Margu.
"But I can't forgive you either. The sin of rewriting the law and making children into sacrifices. I cannot forgive that."
Soru looked across the villagers.
"I can neither blame nor forgive. So I will simply confront you with the facts."
Soru held the parchment high.
"What you call defilement is not my blood. You have simply pinned onto me the sin your own ancestors committed."
Silence covered the village.
A heavy, heavy silence.
Only the moonlight shone pale over the square.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
That was when it happened.
One old man moved.
From behind Soru, he approached slowly.
A wrinkled hand grabbed Soru's bound arm.
"...Silence."
The old man's voice was trembling.
"Silence, child of defilement. Who would believe your words? You are a cursed child. A sacrifice. Your very existence defiles this village."
The old man yanked Soru's arm with all his strength.
Soru's body staggered.
Another old man grabbed Soru's shoulder.
"That's right. Hurry this one into the fire. Burn away the defilement with the purification flame."
Multiple hands reached for Soru.
Soru did not resist.
(So this is the village's answer.)
(Even so, it's fine.)
(I told them the truth.)
(The rest is for them to choose.)
Soru clo
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