Dying Embers.....

Sorrow is a relentless and faithful companion. Neither fading nor yielding, untouched by time's passage, only growing heavier and more profound with its mercy.—Hollow Litany

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Amidst the relentless deluge of the Surge, a minor noble house stood within one of the great four Cardinal territories. Well, minor when compared to the monarchial might of the Cardinal Dukes of the four Great Cardinal Territories.

But the Siverflame House stood at the apex of the Silverflame province of the East Cardinal of Astrea. Their provincial might in the East Cardinal was only second to the Flameheart province, another province in the East cardinal

And while the Flamehearts were more mysterious in their rule, who was to say that the Silverflames were truly all up in the know?

The Silverflame House was humble in stature; they never made the commoners feel like they didn't deserve to eat at the same table as they did, like most of the nobility that reminded them with each turn, so they were deeply revered by the people they safeguarded year after year.

They may not have been the first among the elite to serve their people, but something ineffable set them apart—a quiet distinction that stood out among the grandeur of nobility.

And so, as had happened countless times before in Astrea, the Surge arrived with the Season of Blackfire.

A season only those of noble heritage were privileged to know.

And just as it had five years prior, they succeeded in their duty. Protecting the people of the Silverflame Province from the abominations that sought to steal the Eternal Flame.

Yet again, as had happened many times before, she lost her betrothed to the surge.

Since the moment she was named heiress, from the time she reached the age of betrothal, every intended husband had succumbed to the Lurker's sorrow.

Fading deep into the annuls of time and history

They would die in her arms, choking on their very own blood, as the fire and embers In every one of their... eyes wilted out—never to be rekindled. 

With each death, she would gently close their lusterless eyes, granting them the final mercy of beholding her face; they would otherwise never have seen, 

If not on the day they were truly wed as husband and wife.

And each time she would have a graceful but empty smile underneath that veil that hid her face from the waning light of the Great Diearch.

One would think that after so many such occurrences, suitors would recoil in fear of such a grim fate. And indeed, whispers of a curse spread, branding the Silverflame Lineage as a product of taint by the progeny of the Lurker.

Somehow though, those whispers could never stand the test of time, as they would swiftly be dealt with with none the wiser. And only those in the inner circle of nobility dared to even utter such words.

Yet still, they came, as numerous as before.

Each believed they would not suffer the same fate as the last. only to fall five years later, in her arms, as all the others had before them.

Perhaps their persistence with dancing with grim fate was understandable to those in the know of why they would eagerly send themselves off to sure death.

For beauty itself seemed inadequate in describing her. For one whose birth had promoted the descent of a great being.

She was the most exquisite woman in all of Astrea, surpassed only by three others. However, even that was subject to personal judgment, social interests, and 'other factors'.

But did she... take pride in all this...?

Well, maybe..who would not want to be the object of desire that could never be obtained?

"hahaha~"

A stifled laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to control her reactions. After all, she had just lost 'her would-be husband'.

------

Istrabell kneeled beneath the waning rain, sorrow dripping from the darkened skies as she cradled the almost lifeless body of the young man who had been her betrothed for the past five years. 

At sixteen, she had already lost three. She did not know whether her 'heart could endure another loss', though she knew such hope was futile.

"Hehehe~"

Her family might have appeared noble—benevolent rulers of the Province, saints in the eyes of the people—but she knew better.

And soon another would be promised to her.

And he too would die.

Just as gruesome as the last, if not more.

In her arms... lay the last remaining piece of Sebastian Flameheart.

His torso rested against her, his entrails spilling onto the rain-darkened earth. Blood oozed slowly as though it were fighting the little chance to remain alive. The wounds inflicted by the horrors lurking within the darkness now settled in finality. Nothing could be done about his situation; he was left with only his upper body, the lower seemingly lost to chaos.

Not that anything would have been done even if he were to have the slightest chance at living.

--------

If not for the soft, ethereal silver glow emanating from her, allowing her to at least see her immediate surroundings in this darkened rain, then she would not have been able to see the last flicker of life fade from his once-vivid emerald eyes, now dulled and streaked with blood.

Even in his final moments, love for her smoldered within them.

Even in death, he had never regretted being hers.

He would die without regrets.

"Uh...uh..."

Sebastian tried to speak, but his throat was choked with blood thick and clotted, as fragments of flesh threatened to escape his mouth.

Istrabel merely shook her head at this sight, choosing to remain silent even at this point.

Sebastian understood.

A pained smile curled his beaten and bloody lips as realization dawned upon him.

Throughout their short time together, even though she had never refused his show of affection, he had never truly been in her heart.

Should he feel betrayal? Should he feel rage at his wasted emotions and life? Should he feel at peace that in the end he had finally known what she truly thought without all the mystery that surrounded her?

He truly did not understand what a dying man should do in this situation.

The pain had long faded from his mind, and now maybe his head was clearer than it had ever been, and for the first time in those short few years, he had started to question some instances that should have never made sense in the first place.

How in the hell did everyone come to the conclusion that she was a beauty if all she did was cover her face all year round?.....

And yet, he did not want to seek those answers. He could finally rest, knowing the woman he had loved had never truly been his to claim. 

And was it even truly love...?

With a final breath, his body yielded to stillness.

His emerald eyes, once ablaze, remained open. gazing into the heart of the woman he had 'thought' he adored

Istrabel gently reached forward, closing his dying emerald embers for the last time.

Lifting his body, or what had remained of it, she carried him toward his eternal rest. As the rest of the world seemed oblivious. And until now, not a single drop of the dark rain had touched her body. An unsual phenomenon considering that everyone engaged in the battle was drenched through and through.

Strangely again, despite her slight frame, she bore his weight effortlessly, as though the burden of death had long since become second nature.

"Well, I guess you were quite unlucky...hahaha...not even seeing my face for the first and last time?"

"Truly unlucky... or maybe it was your luck? Who would know?"

------

Beyond the Veil between realities and mysteries

Sebastian, who just died in the arms of the woman for whom he had been willing to lay down his pride, now stood in an abyss.

A void devoid of color, absent of warmth—only an oppressive, suffocating coldness.

Even when his mind could not seem to make sense of what was happening.

Just the fact that he should have been dead was surprising enough—or maybe this was the place where the dead ended up.

But the sheer chill in the surroundings overrode his curiosity.

It was exceedingly cold.

There was a unique scent that hung in the air, omnipresent and inescapable.

His emerald eyes seemed to be the only color in this void.

His once-bronzed skin had darkened, twisted into an unnatural hue—something in the deepest browns. It was so profound he wondered whether this was truly his own body.

His hair, a bright shade of orange-gold, had now taken on a deeper quality.

Yet none of this truly took his attention away, like the large, monolithic gates before him—colossal and overwhelming—that threatened to overload his mortal mind, shattering his perception.

Then a voice resonated through the abyss.

A voice neither ancient nor young.

A voice both omnipotent and incosquential.

A voice that taunted and consoled.

A voice both unsettled and reassured.

Slitthere through the void of the abyss. thrading through his mind like an elusive weave. Yet the gates were undisturbed.

In that moment Sebastian understood,

This was madness!

"Now the fun can truly begin... . Ahhh, little pride...just how long do you think you can last in this game of mine?"

It was a whisper laced with amusement.

A whisper that carried the weight of boundless might

-------------

Then, a laughter, deep and unerving was born.

Another swelled to hysteria.

Haha~

Hahahah~

HAHAHAHAH~

A frenzied cackle erupted from the very depths of Sebastian's soul.

He should have been terrified.

No, he was terrified.

And yet, the madness clung to him, wrapping around him like a long-lost lover, seeping into his very bones.

And... he.. could not help... but embrace it too.

Hhahaha~