Cael, a farmer's son, loses his father when a beast stampede masks an attack on his village. His father's last words: find the ones behind this crest. The brassão he presses into Cael's hand marks one of the highest ranks of the Order of the Eternal Flame — but Cael cannot read it.
Left with only his broken uncle Aldren — a man whose fragmented mind drifts between true and false memory — Cael pushes the wheelchair onto the open road.
Along the way, he meets Lys, a young mage bound for a great
Crest in Ashes - Chamber of the Holy Flame — The Millennial Flamekeeper and the Unreadable Bequest
The sound of water echoed off the dark cave walls.
The groundwater, knee-deep, was far colder than the air of the night forest. With every step, ice-like water seeped into his leather boots, and the sensation in his feet slowly faded. Kale Elden bit down hard on the cloth clenched between his lips. Each time he gritted his teeth, the old wound on his flank throbbed with a dull ache.
(Don't make a sound.)
He told himself this in his mind.
From upstream in the waterway, a faint torchlight leaked through. The shadow of a guard wavered on the water's surface. A little further, and they would pass beneath that light. If they were spotted, it was over.
Isara Thialis, walking ahead, quietly raised her right hand.
Her dark brown, twisted long hair slid from her shoulder. Her deep amber eyes reflected almost no light in the darkness. She held the fine, magic-circle-like patterns etched into her forearms just above the water's surface. Then, the guard's shadow upstream flickered unsteadily.
(Curse arts, huh.)
Isara's power was slightly distorting the guard's senses. Now, they wouldn't be noticed.
"...We move."
Isara's voice was quieter than the sound of the water.
Kale nodded and glanced back at Lys Kanal behind him.
Lys wasn't holding a staff. His short black hair, damp from the cold air of the waterway, clung to his white forehead. His silver eyes were a little more moist than usual from fatigue. Even so, he pushed through the water on his own two feet, without relying on a staff. So as not to waste a single drop of mana.
"Lys, are you all right?"
Kale said it from the corner of his mouth, almost with just his breath.
"...I'm fine. You be careful of your footing. It's slippery."
Lys also answered in a whisper.
Noel Grenfield, at the very rear, let out a short breath. The wound where her left shoulder had been shot through was swollen enough to be visible even through the bandages. She gripped her shortbow with her remaining right hand and checked the position of her quiver again and again.
"...Beyond that light, there's a dry passage. Past there, there are no guards. I confirmed it earlier during reconnaissance."
Noel's voice had lost its usual lightness. But for that very reason, her words carried weight.
The four of them proceeded through the waterway, killing all sound.
The cold water reached their thighs. Behind the teeth biting down on the cloth, he desperately suppressed his breathing from turning ragged.
—Eventually.
Deep in the cave, a red light bled through.
It wasn't torchlight. Deeper. More viscous. A blood-like red. It seeped from a crack in the rock wall, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kale stopped his feet.
(Here it is.)
(Beyond this, Uncle is there.)
Deep in his chest, his heart began to pound violently, thump, thump.
"...Can you see that door?"
"Yes. I believe that's the entrance to the Chamber of the Sacred Flame..."
Lys said in a trembling voice.
"It was written in the scorched letter. 'The Chamber of the Sacred Flame lies beyond the door of crimson flame'... it said."
"...That red light isn't just fire."
Isara murmured lowly.
"Mana is mixed in. ...Beyond that door is no longer an ordinary cave."
"Figured. That old man was brought to a place like this. There's no way it's a normal place."
Noel regripped her shortbow.
"We're going. ...Are you ready?"
Kale slowly removed the cloth he'd been biting.
"I'll take the lead. Noel, cover with your bow. Lys, prepare your magic. Isara... I'm counting on you for Uncle."
"...Got it."
"Yes."
"...Understood."
The four of them advanced toward the door where the red light bled through.
—The door opened more easily than expected.
Giii, the old hinges creaked.
Instantly, a stifling heat and a sickly sweet scent of incense enveloped the four of them.
The Chamber of the Sacred Flame.
It was a far larger space than they had imagined. The ceiling was high, and countless candlesticks lined the rock walls, every one of them flickering with crimson flame. The floor was polished black stone, and at their feet, the shadows of the four overlapped in layer upon layer.
And in the center of the room, there was an altar.
An ancient altar made of black stone.
Upon it, a thin old man was bound.
"...Uncle!"
A shout burst from Kale's throat.
Aldren Serius.
His hair, a mix of silver and white, was disheveled with sweat and blood, and his deep, composed gray eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. His withered body lay on the altar like a dead tree. Black leather restraints pinned his wrists and ankles to the stone.
"Ka...le..."
Aldren's lips moved faintly.
"You... shouldn't have... come..."
"Uncle! I'll save you right now!"
Just as Kale tried to rush to the altar—
"—Hoh."
From the back of the room, from the shadow of a crimson candlestick, the slow sound of clapping echoed.
"So you've come, boy. ...No, perhaps I should say 'thank you for coming.' If you hadn't come, I wouldn't have been spared the trouble of splitting open this old man's head and dragging out the song."
The owner of the voice was Orbas Rein.
A man clad in a black coat, the lower half of his face covered by a silver mask. Over it, he wore the robes of one of the Twelve Sages. Robes embroidered with the crest of sun and flame in red and gold thread, garments only the highest-ranking members of the Order were permitted to wear.
"Orbas...!"
Kale's voice trembled with rage.
"You did this to Uncle...!"
"Yes. I brought this old man here. And now, I will extract the secret rites of the song from this old man's head, leaving nothing behind."
Orbas twisted the mouth beneath his mask.
"This old man's mana circulatory system is already in tatters. But even so, the secret rites of the song are carved into his soul. ...If I split open his head and read the flow of mana directly, it will become mine. Then the seat of the Flame Keeper will be mine."
"Don't give me that! Don't treat Uncle like a tool!"
"A tool? Yes. This old man is already a tool. A broken, mere tool. ...And so are you. A worthless brat who carries the Flame Keeper's emblem yet can't even read its meaning. You too are less than a tool—just a rat."
Orbas's words echoed coldly through the Chamber of the Sacred Flame.
"...What can you four do? The woman scout has been shot through the shoulder—she can barely draw a bow. The apprentice mage has exhausted her mana and can't even hold a staff. The wandering witch... hmph, curse arts are child's play before me."
Orbas slowly walked over to the side of the altar.
"I will begin the ritual now. ...Watch. Burn into your eyes just how powerless you are."
Orbas raised his right hand.
Black light began to gather in that hand.
—At that moment.
"Like hell I'll let you!"
Kale threw the short sword at his hip, sheath and all, onto the floor.
Clang.
The sound of metal echoed on the stone floor.
"...What are you playing at?"
"I don't need a sword. ...I'll stop you with these hands!"
Kale broke into a full sprint.
"—Insolent fool!"
Black light shot from Orbas's hand.
But Kale charged straight in.
The light grazed his flank. A searing pain ran through him. Even so, his feet didn't stop.
(Don't stop.)
(If I stop, Uncle dies.)
Kale grappled onto Orbas.
"Guh...!"
He threw his weight onto Orbas's body.
"Get off me, boy!"
Orbas's fist struck Kale in the face.
Crack.
His vision flickered white. The taste of iron spread through his mouth.
Even so, Kale lowered his hips and didn't let go.
"I won't... let go!"
"Why you...!"
A second blow. A third.
Orbas's fists pounded Kale's head, his shoulders, his back, again and again and again.
The sound of bones creaking echoed inside his skull.
(Even so...)
(If I let go here...)
(Who will protect Uncle?)
Kale gripped Orbas's robes so hard his fingers turned white.
"—Noel!"
Kale shouted, spitting blood.
"I know!"
Noel pressed hard on the wound on her left shoulder with her right hand.
Agonizing pain.
The color drained from her face.
Even so, Noel raised her shortbow.
(My shoulder couldn't protect that child anymore.)
(But this time...)
(This time, I'll protect.)
Noel loosed an arrow.
Whoosh.
The sound of air being torn.
The arrow flew straight, sucked into Orbas's left shoulder.
Thunk.
"Guaaaaaaah!"
Orbas's scream echoed through the Chamber of the Sacred Flame.
The arrow pierced deep into Orbas's left shoulder.
"Now, Lys! Isara!"
At Kale's shout, Lys ran her fingers across the ground.
She traced into the dust on the floor a fragment of the melody—the song Aldren had sung that night.
And she hummed.
"...♪"
It was a faint melody, not forming words.
But that sound made the air of the Chamber of the Sacred Flame tremble.
"—What!?"
Orbas's body stiffened with a jolt.
"This melody is... could it be, the secret rites of the song...!"
"...Now."
Isara pressed the patterns on both her arms against the floor.
"Bind."
Her curse arts crawled across the stone floor beneath Orbas's feet.
Black vines sprouted from the gaps in the stone.
The vines coiled around both of Orbas's legs, tightening.
"Kuh...! Mere weeds like this...!"
Orbas tried to shake his legs free.
But the vines, matching his movements, coiled tighter and tighter.
"...The finishing blow."
Isara told Kale shortly.
"...Yeah."
Kale slowly pulled his body away from Orbas.
His face, swollen from the beating.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
Even so, Kale's eyes were fixed straight on Orbas.
"...You said Uncle was a tool."
Kale picked up the short sword that had fallen on the floor.
"...You too end here, now."
Kale held the short sword in a reverse grip.
—At that moment.
"That will be enough."
A voice spoke.
Further beyond the crimson candlesticks.
From the deep shadows in the corner of the room, an old woman slowly stepped forward.
White hair.
Pure white hair reaching her waist.
Her wrinkled face held a sharp light that belied her age.
She held no staff.
Just her frail, small body, walking slowly.
"...Who are you?"
Kale asked the old woman, still holding his short sword ready.
The old woman didn't answer Kale's question, and stood before Orbas.
"...Y-you are...!"
Orbas's voice trembled with fear for the first time.
"...Rosalind Eterna...! Why are you here...! You should have died long ago...!"
"I have not died. ...I have continued to guard this sacred flame for over a thousand years."
The old woman who called herself Rosalind said this quietly.
"Orbas. You wear the robes of the Twelve Sages and do this in this sacred chamber?"
"...S-shut up! I am trying to return the seat of the Flame Keeper to the hands of the righteous...!"
"The righteous? You mean yourself."
Rosalind walked up before Orbas.
"...Stop! Don't come closer!"
Orbas tried to unleash black light at Rosalind.
But.
Rosalind's movement was faster than the light.
Her right hand was sucked into Orbas's solar plexus.
—Thud.
A single blow.
No staff, no magic, nothing—just a palm strike.
It bent Orbas's body into a crooked shape.
"Guh...eh..."
Orbas rolled his eyes back and collapsed on the spot.
He didn't twitch.
Silence fell over the Chamber of the Sacred Flame.
"...No way."
Noel muttered, dumbfounded.
"That Orbas, in a single blow..."
"...If you live a thousand years, this much is only natural."
Rosalind turned toward Kale.
"...You are Kale Elden, are you not."
"...Yeah. That's right."
Kale lowered his short sword.
"...That copper emblem at your neck. Show it to me."
Rosalind reached her hand toward Kale's chest.
Kale hesitated for a moment.
But he couldn't defy this old woman.
He felt such an inexplicable pressure.
Kale held out the copper emblem hanging from his neck.
Rosalind stroked the emblem slowly with her wrinkled fingers.
"...There's no mistake. This is what the other Flame Keeper carried."
"...The other Flame Keeper?"
"Yes. ...Your uncle, Aldren Serius, was once my partner."
Kale was at a loss for words.
(Uncle... a Flame Keeper?)
(This broken old man in a whe
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