The trees thinned with every step Aaron took deeper into the Mourning Vale. The leaves grew sparse, the canopy above faded, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath—as if the forest itself waited in silent anticipation.
At the center of a small clearing, he finally saw him.
Ashen stood motionless, his back turned. Smoke curled around his feet, his body swaying faintly like a marionette barely tethered to its strings.
"Ashen!" Aaron called out.
No answer.
Aaron stepped closer. "You ran," he said quietly. "Why?"
Still, there was only silence.
Only when Aaron was within arm's reach did Ashen slowly turn. His eyes were wide—and entirely white, empty like deep, endless voids.
---
Without warning, the ground beneath Aaron pulsed. Runes ignited in a glowing circle around him, the air growing sharply cold. A sudden pressure crushed his chest—and then, darkness swallowed him whole.
When he opened his eyes, the forest was gone.
He found himself inside a room made of ash, its walls shifting and flowing like smoke caught in a restless wind. A mirror hovered at the center, its surface shimmering.
In the glass, he saw himself—much younger, no older than six years. Beside him, his mother smiled gently, lighting a small flame upon his open palm.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered. "That's not power. That's memory."
Aaron reached out—but his hand passed through the reflection as if it were nothing but mist.
Behind him, a voice echoed.
"Memories are prisons when you don't know how to escape them."
Lucien.
Aaron spun around.
Lucien stood calmly beside Ashen, who floated suspended midair, surrounded by glowing glyphs.
"What are you doing to him?" Aaron demanded.
Lucien's gaze was cold and unwavering. "Teaching him what you refuse to face. What you're too afraid to remember."
---
Lucien waved his hand, and the mirror shattered.
From the scattered ash, a scene began to take shape—a living memory.
A small cage appeared.
Inside it, Aaron as a frightened boy, crying.
Outside, two children—a boy and a girl—burned alive in flickering flames.
"You were there," Lucien said quietly.
Aaron's breath caught in his throat.
"No… I wasn't," he whispered.
"Yes, you were. You just chose to forget. Because remembering would have broken you."
Aaron dropped to his knees, the ash tightening around him like an unforgiving vice.
"Ashen saw it. That's why he ran," Lucien continued. "He couldn't bear your burden and his own."
---
But then, from deep within, a spark ignited.
Aaron's flame flared to life—small at first, flickering uncertainly, then growing stronger.
He rose to his feet.
"Maybe I forgot. Maybe I was weak. But that flame—that fire—is mine. Not yours."
With a sudden force, he slammed his palm against the ash-covered floor.
The world shattered around them.
---
Ashen collapsed from midair, gasping as the smoke exploded outward in all directions.
Lucien vanished into a swirl of cinders.
The forest returned—quiet, watching, as if nothing had happened.
Aaron caught Ashen before he hit the ground.
"I remember enough," Aaron said, eyes burning with fierce light. "Enough to never run again."
Ashen looked up, tears silently tracing pale cheeks.
"I saw what you hid," he whispered. "And I still came back."
---
They sat together in silence.
The weak morning light filtered through blackened branches above.
Not all memories had to be pure.
Some… only needed to be shared.