Chapter 57 – Ashes of the Silent Sect

They burned the bodies at dawn.

Though most of the masked enemies had turned to ash and bone, Rael insisted on gathering every fragment, every trace of what remained. He didn't say why, but Yue watched his hands work in silence.

The pyre was lit just outside the ruined village walls. Bones cracked in the fire, and the strange masks curled inward as if reacting to the flame.

The morning sky remained overcast. No birds sang.

Rael stood at the edge of the pyre, arms folded, jaw tight. A wind stirred his robes, carrying with it the smell of scorched bone and incense.

Yue approached him quietly, a small scroll in her hand. The lunar emblem of her clan glinted faintly along its seals.

"I found this in one of their belts," she said.

He accepted it.

The parchment was thin, faded, but the ink had been preserved through some form of sealing technique. He unrolled it carefully. The contents were written in an ancient script, jagged and looping. But the diagram on it was unmistakable—a map.

A hidden sect. Nestled beyond the Whispering Vales.

Beneath it was a name:

Silent Sect – Sanctum of the Forgotten Brands.

Rael's eyes lingered on that line.

"Silent Sect," he repeated, voice hollow.

Yue nodded. "An offshoot of the Broken Path Cult… supposedly erased five centuries ago during the Great Purge. But if they survived…"

Rael's grip tightened around the scroll.

"They're hunting the Brands."

Yue looked up at him. "They don't just want them. They believe only they're worthy to carry them."

He said nothing for a moment.

Then, finally, he looked to her. "Are you still with me?"

She didn't flinch. "I wasn't with you because of your Brand, Rael. I stayed because you don't belong to them."

She stepped away, her expression unreadable. "Let's go."

---

They left the ruined village behind by noon.

No ceremony. No farewell.

Rael wrapped the broken fox mask in cloth and stowed it in his pack. The wind carried the ash behind them, whispering across the path like memory.

The journey toward the Whispering Vales took three days through rough terrain.

They traveled along ancient caravan routes—half-sunken into moss and roots. Dense forests loomed to their left, while jagged cliffs flanked them from the right. The mist never truly left the air, clinging to their robes, dampening their footsteps.

Rael said little, and Yue didn't press.

At night, he practiced.

Not just martial forms, but the commanding technique—trying to learn the limits of the Third Brand without letting it consume him.

He began to understand the rules of it.

The Brand could awaken the dead beneath his feet, but only if they carried remnants of will. That meant warriors, beasts, even those who died violently… not every corpse answered his call.

And each time he used it, it took something—Qi, blood, clarity.

But in return, it gave him a glimpse.

A memory. Of who the fallen once were.

He kept this to himself.

On the third night, as they neared the edge of the Whispering Vales, Yue broke the silence.

"I saw you command a wyrm's bones."

Rael didn't look up from the campfire. "It was buried deep. Took a lot."

She sat beside him. "That Brand… it's not like anything I've seen."

He glanced at her. "Afraid I'll lose control?"

She gave him a wry smile. "If you do, I'll be the one to cut you down. But no. That's not why I'm watching."

"Then why?"

Her eyes flickered toward the firelight. "Because you haven't asked what price you'll pay."

He looked away. "Because I already know I don't want to know."

Yue nodded. "Fair enough."

Then she added, softly, "But one day, it will demand something more than pain."

He didn't sleep that night.

---

The Whispering Vales lived up to their name.

The moment they crossed the threshold of the valley, sound faded. Wind still moved the trees, leaves still rustled—but everything felt muted. Even footsteps echoed without weight.

The stone path twisted through canyons veined with old bones—remnants of battles forgotten by history.

Ancient banners hung from broken spears along the trail, their symbols faded beyond recognition.

Yue walked ahead, her hand never straying far from her blade.

Rael moved slower, eyes scanning the terrain, sensing the presence of something beneath. Not quite dead. Not quite living.

And then they found it.

The entrance to the Silent Sect.

It was no grand temple or fortress—but a maw in the earth. A cave mouth carved into the side of the mountain, shaped like a screaming face. Runes were etched into the stone lips, and the scent of burnt incense drifted from its depths.

No guards.

No wards.

Just silence.

Yue looked to him. "It's a trap."

Rael nodded. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't walk into it."

She gave a dry laugh. "You make a great strategist."

They descended.

---

Inside, the darkness clung to them like oil.

They lit no torches. Yue used a soft glow of Lunar Qi to light their path—enough to see a few paces ahead.

The walls were covered in murals—depictions of masked figures surrounding altars made of bones. One mural showed a man receiving a brand from a ghostly hand. Another showed him tearing his own face off to wear a mask.

Rael said nothing, but he felt the Brand in his chest react. A slow, cold pulse. Almost like recognition.

Then the corridor opened into a wide chamber.

And the doors sealed shut behind them.

A hundred torches lit at once—blue fire dancing across the walls.

In the center stood a dais, and upon it… a throne made of masks.

Empty.

And yet, Rael could feel it.

The pressure in the air. The heavy weight of something watching.

Yue's blade hissed free.

And a voice echoed—not aloud, but within their minds.

"Bearer of the Third Brand. You have entered the Sanctum uninvited. Do you seek to claim… or to be claimed?"

Rael stepped forward.

"I seek the truth."

The voice whispered like wind through a tomb.

"Then offer a piece of your soul."