Chapter 7 - The Book of Names
"It is not death that judges. It's memory. "MORNE FRUMEUX - Old Demorthen Library, Forgotten Valley
A thick mist cracked on the cold stones.
Ashen pushed the heavy rotten wood doors by the centuries.
Inside, the library was just a skeleton.
collapsed shelves. Military scrolls.
And yet, in the center ... a desk still standing.
Above, a large closed book.
Black binding. Silver clasps. No registration.
Malen shivered when entering.
- "Is this where you wanted to go?" It's ... sinister. »»
- "It's silent. It's different. »»
Ashen approached the book.
He put his hand on it.
And whispered:
- Record.
A dry click resonated.
The book opened slowly, alone.
Names began to appear.
Written in living black ink.
Varlan.
Nira.
Tharn.
Sirelle.
Malen approached slowly, devastated eyes.
- "He ... writes the names?" »»
Ashen nodded.
- "He keeps them. Everyone I found. Everyone I have marked. Everyone we forgot. »»
- "What is this book?" »»
Ashen stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then said:
- "It's their grave. And their memory. »»
He caressed the page.
- "As long as I am alive ... They will be too. »»
Later - outside the library, in the rain
Ashen had sat against the stone wall.
He held a notebook in hand, a feather in the other.
Malen settled near him, soaked.
- "Are you going to continue?" »»
- " Yes. Until there is no longer a single name without echo. »»
- "But ... it will never stop. »»
Ashen closed the notebook.
- " Maybe. »»
- "Don't you want to ... stop one day?" »»
He looked at the gray sky.
- " If. But not as long as the living steals the names of the dead.
Same night - a dream
Ashen was alone in an empty room.
In the center, a throne.
And above ... a child.
Not a king. Not a nobleman.
A child. Naked. Trembling. Blindfolded.
Around him, floating masks.
They sang.
"He has no name. He has no name. He does not appear ..."
Ashen advanced.
Stopped the song.
He took the child's headband.
And murmured:
- "You are not forgotten. »»
The dream broke.
Next morning - road to the south
Malen held the book in his arms.
Ashen walked in front, silent.
Suddenly, he stopped.
A half -plagued wooden panel pointed to an isolated town.
"Sarnavel - disused royal domain."
- "Are we going there?" Malen asked.
Ashen did not answer right away.
Then he says:
- "This is where they tested the first purges. »»
- "Are there survivors?" »»
- " Maybe. But above all ... traces. Forgotten names. »»
He adjusted his mask.
And declared:
- "We don't leave any name behind. »»
They resumed the road.
In silence.
In the rain.
With memory for the only torch.
"You can only erase a face if nobody remembers it. »»
Middle of the day - Arrival in Sarnavel
The rain had stopped.
But the water still flowed from split roofs.
Sarnavel.
An old royal domain.
Theoretically abandoned for fifteen years.
But Ashen knew.
We don't give up a place that still has something to hide.
We make him forget.
Malen stopped clearly when entering the village.
- "It's ... too calm. »»
- "It's because they are afraid. »»
- "The survivors?" »»
Ashen shook his head.
- " No. The culprits. »»
The houses were still standing.
But the windows were all blocked.
The doors, nailed.
And no smoke came out of the chimneys.
Ashen knelt near an abandoned well. He touched the stone.
Old letters were engraved there, barely visible.
"Section A - Validated erasure, series 9." Erasure.
Malen approached.
- "What was it, here?" A ... Hospital? »»
Ashen got up slowly.
- " No. A laboratory. To see how many names you could erase without the bodies collapsing. »»
Malen swallowed.
- "Did they ... succeed?" »»
Ashen turned his gaze to the west, where the wind was blowing between two broken towers.
- "Come. There is a building that must be visited. »»
An hour later - former desarnavel orphanage
The large wooden door opened with a painful creak.
Inside, everything had been frozen.
Empty beds. Abandoned toys.
Portraits of children with faces ... scratched.
All.
Without exception.
- "They have ... removed their faces. »»
Malen did not understand.
Ashen, yes.
- "They erased their names, then their memories, then ... what they were. Even on paper. Even on painting. »»
He approached a painting.
An empty, dusty setting.
He stretched his hand.
And, slowly, traced a circle with a finger on the wood.
The vibra framework.
And a whisper went up.
"My name was ... Solen."
Ashen fell.
- "There are echoes left. They forgot. But not them. »»
Malen fixed the frame, upset.
- "Can we ... give them a name?" »»
Ashen nodded.
- " Yes. But not like the others. These, they must be invoked. They don't even remember themselves. »»
He took out the book of names.
Placed it on the ground.
And opened it on a blank page.
A dark rune floated between them.
- " Listen. »»
Ritual of the lost name - in the Dortoirabandonée
Ashen closed his eyes.
He whispered an old incantation.
Not an attack spell.
A call.
- "To those who were stolen.
To those who were torn from the world's book.
Come back. If only for one night. »»
Silence fell.
Then ... voices.
Weak. Trembling.
Children.
Sighs.
And a silhouette appeared in the center of the room.
Blurred.
Faceless.
But present.
Malen came back, eyes wide open.
Ashen murmured:
- "You were Solen. You were eight years old. You loved raisin and red feathers. »»
The vibra silhouette.
And slowly ... a face appeared.
Young. Shy.
Tears rose to the eyes of Malen.
- "It is real ..."
Ashen smiles sadly.
- "He has always been. It's just the world that closed their eyes. »»
He stretched out a parchment. Wrote:
Solen - found
And the book illuminated.
A black page became white.
A name forever inscribed.
Later - leaving the orphanage
They closed the doors.
Slowly. Respectfully.
- "How many are there?" Malen asked.
Ashen did not answer right away.
Then :
- " Too much. But this one ... we won't forget it anymore. »»
He put the notebook in his jacket.
And added:
- "We don't save them all. But one by one, we tear them out of oblivion. »»
"Even without a crown, the executioners keep their hands raised. It takes something other than a name to make them go back. »»
Col des Haïls-late afternoon
The mist started to crawl on the stones.
The silence was heavy, not natural.
Ashen felt it before seeing them.
Not bandits.
Not hunters.
But readers.
the hands of the old power.
Agents of oblivion.
Three black silhouettes, with capes bordered by scarlet wires.
No visible faces.
Just flat and dull masks.
They don't even have names between them. Just Desrôles.
Ashen straightened slowly.
He put a hand on the book of names.
- "Malen. Stay behind. Don't move, whatever happens. »»
The boy obeys, his eyes wide.
The group leader spoke first.
Mechanical voice. Magically filtered.
- "Target: Ashen Valemyr. Priority level: Red sign. »»
- "I am not a target. I am an answer. »»
-"High-rowing order: defilement, confinement, total erasure. »»
Ashen sketched a half-sourire.
- "Always so poetic. »»
The three lifted the arms of the same movement.
Runes of disjunction appeared.
Ashen jumps aside in time.
A purple wave hit the ground.
The stones cracked, exploded.
- Immediate magic erasure? he thought. Not amateurs ...
He struck his palm soil.
An anchoring background extended as a oil spill.
The following spells ricochée, defused.
- "Have you studied me?" So test the unconnected version. »»
The first reader appears with two short blades surrounded in enchanted channels.
Ashen paced with steel whistling against his light armband.
A rush. A fawn fire.
Ashen projected an illusion in the shadows-a double silhouette of himself.
One of the attackers bit the hook.
But the third - a brutal mage - killed a rune of absolute silence.
The world became deaf.
Ashen grima.
They want to deprive me of speech. So of my.Malin calls.
He formed a manual, simple and brutal seal.
An impact sphere springs, spraying a tree.
But the chief jumped through debris, psionic blade in hand.
- "You can't win, Valemyr. You are alone. »»
- "I am accompanied by each name you wanted to erase. »»
Ashen Activa an internal rune.
His right arm ignited an obscure light.
He threw a rain of memory chips, fragments of glaring souls, torn from the book.
The readjusters recung, screaming.
Except the chief.
He advanced.
- "You can make the dead scream." But I silence the living. »»
He pierced Ashen on the side.
Blood.
TRUE.
Malen shouted behind.
Ashen Chancela.
And ... laughs.
A slow laugh. Severe.
- "Do you want to silence him?" »»
The chief fell.
- "This laugh ... no. Not that. Not him. »»
too late.
Ashen straightened his head.
His eyes ... changed.
A red circle turned slowly in its pupils.
And a voice resonated in the air, distorted, old.
- "The curtain opens, and the room starts again. »»
- "On his knees, spectator. You're going to laugh until you forget. »»
The trees shred.
The shadow of a theater emerged around them.
Dummy. Magic.
But real in the mind.
Ashen raised his arms.
A mask formed in the air.
The madman's mask.
Ancient. Invoked.
He grabs it. Put him on his face.
And everything changed.
The readers fell on his knees, unable to speak.
Their spells disintegrate in the air.
- "Welcome to the stage. »»
Ashen walks slowly.
Each step made their thoughts tremble.
He handed his hand towards the chief.
-"Tell me ... who were you before we reduce you to that?" »»
The chef's mask fissuated.
A man's face. Young. Fatigue. lost.
Ashen put two fingers on his forehead.
And murmured:
- "I give you your name. And with, your judgment. »»
A flood of memories springs.
Cries. Orders. Fear. Murder.
Then silence.
The chief collapsed.
Not dead.
But emptied. Exposed.
After the fight - Rava camp
Ashen removed the madman's mask.
He was pampering. Treated.
Blood flowed from his nose.
Malen ran towards him.
- " Are you doing well ?! »»
Ashen made no head.
- " Not yet. But the theater ... was necessary. »»
He held out the book. Opened it with a bloody hand.
Wrote:
Ardan Velm - Erased reader, Name returned
Then slowly added:
The madman does not kill. He forces to look.
And in his laughter, this time there was something calm.
"The ashes fall slowly ... but they always end up stifling the fire they accuse. »»
End of the night - Lorth forest
Ashen was walking.
Box, rather.
Its flank was still bleeding despite the closing spells.
The madman's mask had returned to his case, warm as a living heart.
Malen was walking behind him, the book tight against him like a shield.
- "You should stop. You still bleed. »»
- "If I stop, he will come back. »»
- " Who ? The madman? »»
Ashen did not answer. He looked up towards the dark branches.
- " No. Not him. Me. The ego before. The one who looked ... and was silent. »»
They had found refuge under rocky formation.
The wind was screaming between the trees.
Malen installed magical protection like Ashen had taught him.
Simple circle, carbon traced.
Ashen wrote.
Day 26 - Three neutralized readers.
A rendered name. The mask used. Too long. He starts to go to sleep. The madman does not lie. He laughs at what is true. It is, the problem. For this time - high district of ordergris
A mature man, with shaved skull and bland eyes, observed a rune that was pulsed in the center of a table.
Each pulsation returned an image:
The book.
The mask.
Ashen.
The man murmured:
- "He used the mask. The real one. »»
A hooded woman, sitting in the shadows, replied:
- "It consumes him. It will not last long. »»
- "He doesn't need to hold. He must just ... overturn everything. »»
- "Do you let him continue?" »»
- " No. »»
He stretched his hand. A file appeared.
Above, one word:
Tarsus project.
-"Send them. Let it know that even ashes can burn. »»
Ashen had straightened suddenly.
Something came.
not an ambush.
Not trackers.
Older.
Larger.
He seized the book of names.
And the book ... Vibra.
Letters appeared without his writing.
You have called forgotten.
You have the erased.
Their judgment is approaching. Are you ready to hear them?
Malen approached.
- " What is this ? »»
Ashen fixed the letters, frozen.
- "It's ... them. All those whose names have been registered. The book ... doesn't just keep. He listens. »»
- "And now, is he talking?" »»
- " No. He judges. »»
Shared vision - Ash sphere
Suddenly, the world disappeared.
Ashen and Malen found themselves in an empty plain.
Gray sand.
An endless sky.
And silhouettes.
Children. Women. Men.
All blurred, ethereal.
Their voices spoke at the same time.
Not accusing.
Just ... tired.
"You have engraved our names. But you can't wear all of weight. "" We don't want revenge. We want peace. "" You condemn yourself to burn so that we were. Why? " »»
Ashen fell on his knees.
- "Because if I don't ... No one will do it. »»
A silence.
Then only one voice, clear, feminine, young.
"What if you get worse than those you judge?" »»
He looked up.
A little girl looked at him.
It was Nira.
-"So ... remember me. Remind me. And let me remember you too. »»
Ashen handed her hand to her.
But she went back, smiling.
" I am here. But I'm not yours. Let us go, one day. »Back to reality
Ashen reopens his eyes, sweaty.
The book was closed.
Malen stared at him, worried.
- "You ... cried. »»
Ashen touched his cheek. Yes. Cold tears.
- "The book judged me. not convicted. But ... warned. »»
He got up slowly.
- "The next name I like ... I should deserve it. »»
- "What does that mean?" »»
Ashen looked at the horizon.
- "It means that we are not going to simply punish. We will have to choose. Which can still be saved. And who not. »»
"Some names were born in fire, forged not to be worn, but to scare. »»
Downing evening - Eastern bangs of the Hautesfaisses
The wind was sharp, the cliffs cried under steps.
Ashen and Malen along a forgotten path, where even the cards refused to draw the reliefs.
The book was silent.
No murmurs.
No judgment.
But Ashen knew.
Something happens. It is no longer a squad. This is no longer a warning. It is an official response.
And he was right.
Meanwhile-Kel-Ordan fortress, lower room
A round room. Dark.
Runes of control on the walls.
In the center, a glass box.
Inside: a body.
Immense. Muscular. Motionless.
But alive.
Enchanted veins ran along his arms.
And with each beat, a red radiance pulled in its chest.
A voice echoed in the shadows.
- "Designated target: Ashen Valemyr. Absolute prohibition mark. Activation of the Tarsus project. »»
A second man, dressed in gray, replied:
- "Do you want to send it against him?" »»
- "He woke up the book. Invoked the madman. Unleashed memory. He is no longer a man. It is a break. And for a break ... you need a mass. »»
The box opened.
The eyes of the creature opened.
Red. Soulless.
And she whispered, for herself:
- "Name: Tarsus. Mission: burn the echo. »»
Three days later - old plain indar'velan
Ashen had stopped net.
Malen, a few meters behind, looked up.
- "Do you feel, too?" »»
Ashen closed his eyes. The ground vibrated.
But it was not magic.
It was physical.
A beat.
A step.
A rhythm.
And then ... it appeared.
Two meters fifty meters.
Skin like cracked rock.
Red runes engraved in the arms, neck, chest.
No mask.
No weapon.
Just a presence.
And a voice, digs like a grave:
- "I am the counterssort to your existence. »»
Ashen drank slowly.
- "Tarsus. Created to kill me, or just to scare? »»
- "I was born without name. I was given one so that I crash you. »»
Malen advanced, worried.
- "Ashen ..."
- "Stay back. This one ... He cannot be erased. Only broken. »»
Tarsus loaded like an avalanche.
Ashen rolled on the side. Too late.
An arm reached him on the shoulder.
The impact projected him against a trunk.
Craching of bones.
Immediate pain.
Not human. Not slowed down. Not hesitant. He is not there to play. He is there to destroy.
Ashen drew a repulsion rune in the air.
Tarsus crossed the spell without slowing down.
No fear.
No conscience.
He has no soul. Or she is sipperfly locked up that nothing filters.
Ashen fell, launched three explosive talismans.
Flames.
Smoke.
Nothing.
Tarsus arises on the other side, the brighter red runes.
He struck.
Ashen did not bloc.
He disappeared.
Shadow.
Reappeared behind.
A breath. A blade.
But Tarsus pivota without looking and grabbing Ashen by the throat.
Raised. Strangled.
Malen yelled.
- "Ashen! »»
Ashen was going to lose consciousness.
And then...
The mask burned him.
His right hand stretched itself towards the case.
And the inner voice of the madman blew:
Do you want to live? Make me dance.
The mask placed on his face.
And the air changed.
Tarsus hesitated half a second.
Too much.
Ashen, possessed by the cold laugh of the madman, murmured:
- "Do you have no name?" Let me give you one. »»
He stretched his hand.
A stage circle appeared under Tarsus.
Invisible strings. Mental projectors.
And a name was written in light above his head:
"DOG."
Tarsus roars, tried to resist.
But the runes of control brown ... and obeyed.
-"You're erected, don't you?" So ... sit down. »»
Tarsus collapsed suddenly.
On his knees.
Shaken. Howling.
Ashen was lounging. The mask was sweating a burning magic.
The madman laughed in him.
- "It is not a killing ... it's a humiliation."
Ashen slowly removed the mask.
Tarsus was on the ground. Motionless.
But alive.
And for the first time ... aware of his own horror.
A few hours later - paleued evening clarity
Ashen, Tremblant, wrote in the book.
Malen was sitting near him, in silence.
Tarsus - made subject. Name returned by Lahonte. Not erased. Observed.
Then, smaller:
Even those who are born unnamed can wear it. Even a bad.
He closed the book.
And murmured:
- "I think they will no longer send soldiers. »»
Malen asked:
- "So what? »»
Ashen looked at him.
- "Architects. Those who give orders. Those who erase names from a throne. »»
"The mask ment. The hand behind it never apologizes. »»
The wind was blowing like a hungry animal.
Ashen was on his knees, his hands still burning from the power of the madman.
The mask rested next to him, cracked, as if he no longer wanted to be worn.
Tarsus was there too, unconscious but alive.
Attached, not by strings ... but by names.
Ashen had engraved them in a circle around him.
Each name, pain.
Each name, a chain.
- "You will stay there. To think. To feel. You are not a tool. You are a reminder. »»
He didn't know if Tarsus heard.
But it was not important.
Malen approached.
- "We can no longer stay here. They will come back. »»
- " I know. And this time ... they will not be soldiers. »»
- "Who then?" »»
Ashen got up slowly.
- "Hands. Those you never see. »»
Meanwhile - Mirror turn, capital of Isaleon
An empty room.
A huge mirror, embedded in a wall without door.
And around ... seven silhouettes.
Seven architects.
No name.
Just titles.
- "He neutralized Tarsus. »»
- "He broke the pact of silence. »»
- "He invoked the madman three times. »»
-"The book opens itself. »»
- "You have to close history. Definitely. »»
One of them, smaller than the others, finally spoke.
Her voice was soft, but each word fell like a sentence.
- "We are going to offer him an audience. »»
- "He will not come. »»
- "He will come. He wants answers. Let's offer them. Then ... let's locate them. »»
The vibra mirror.
And a portal opened, leading to a place that did not exist on the cards.
Two days later - en route to Lecclie d'Argueil
Ashen read a parchment.
A message, arrived by a bird that he had not seen coming.
"If you want to understand why the names are, come on. Alone. Argueil circle. Place where the first futeffacked. - Hands."
Malen cleaned his fists.
- "It's a trap. »»
- " Obviously. »»
- "So why are you going?" »»
Ashen closed the book.
- "Because I want to know. Because I need it. »»
- "What if you die?" »»
Ashen turned his eyes to him.
- "So you will continue. »»
Malen looked down.
Then murmured:
- "Promised. »»
The Circle of Argueil - Black Night
An empty place.
Surrounded by old stones.
The sky above was frozen, as if time was afraid of entering it.
Ashen arrived alone.
Not armed.
Not masked.
Facing him ... the seven.
Each dressed in a dust color coat.
One advanced.
- "You are looking for names. But ignorant who stole them. »»
- "I'm trying to return them. And now I want to understand. »»
The largest of the seven spoke.
- "There are too many names. Too many shadows. Too much pain. The world cannot wear everything. »»
Ashen fixed him.
- "So you decided to sort. To erase. To choose. »»
- " Yes. »»
The smallest added:
- "You think you do justice. But you turn back on memory. You open the wounds. »»
- "The wounds never healed. »»
Ashen advanced a step.
- "You claim to preserve the balance. But you erase to protect your mistakes. »»
- " And you ? Do you want to restore everything, even those who deserved oblivion? »»
Ashen closed his eyes for a moment.
Then replied:
- "I want each name to have its truth. Even dirty. Even painful. »»
Silence fell.
The mirror behind them shudders.
The greatest then said:
- " Alright. We will show you. A memory that even the book contains. »»
- "At what price?" »»
- "To that of your certainty. »»
Ashen took a step back.
The ground under him began to tremble.
The mirror opened.
And behind, a spiral staircase ... towards a buried place.
A place from which no name has ever returned.
He breathed deeply.
Then entered.
And the mirror closed.