So as I understand this Festival celebration: we burn an indulgent amount of elderwood while eating and drinking ourselves silly for three days and three nights, watching our younger hot-headed Scholars beat each other to a pulp.

This is supposed to celebrate the Hero's Ascent?

I confess: I rarely understand tradition. That is why I study dragons.

Yuya

P.S. It is not lost on me that you arranged for me to sit beside ZuanBing when all grudges are supposed to be forgiven. Academic disputes are not grudges. I am perfectly happy to agree with ZuanBing when they choose to be right.

— Note from Head Scholar Yuya to Head Scholar Panmoru, Fallen Star Pavilion

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

Martyker looked up with a bushy smile as Primrose followed Nettie back into the room. He was leaning forward at the balcony, viewing the Arena down below. "You are early if you mean to be late!"

The girl bolted to the balcony next to him, but was too short to look completely over the guardrail. She reached up and tried to lift herself, but Primrose strode forward and picked Nettie up to stop her from potentially falling over the railing. With the girl secure in her arms, Primrose hooked a nearby stool closer with her leg and sat down with Nettie on her lap. The added height provided just enough boost for the girl to get a clear view into the Arena.

"Has Nettie missed something?" The girl asked Martyker.

"No, no, unless you wanted to hear the announcing Priestess address the crowd and explain the rules!"

Primrose tapped Nettie's shoulder, then whispered into her ear. "Everyone here is a distinguished guest, but it's better if you don't use your name for now. We don't know who might be listening."

Nettie frowned. "But names have a —"

"I know, I know," Primrose changed her smile into a look of worry for the girl. "And you have such a wonderful name. But, it would be easier to keep you safe if those who mean you harm don't know who you are, understand?"

After a moment, the girl nodded. "Net— understands. Understood," she corrected herself, then turned her attention back to the Arena and pointed. "Is that the Sage's Mirror?"

Primrose looked down to see the Whale of ZhiXia standing with a Priestess in the Arena's center near a large mirror. Gleaming silver and slightly taller than the Whale himself, the Sage's Mirror floated in the air, the golden runes etched into it running with a stream of aura. Despite being a mirror, the center of the Mirror reflected nothing but dark mists the color of black and green.

"It's beautiful." Nettie whispered, her eyes transfixed. After a moment, her eyebrows raised and she nodded to herself, muttering under her breath before she turned around to tug on Primrose's sleeve. "The Great Sage was a genius!"

For the life of her, Primrose could see nothing particularly intriguing beyond the Mirror's surface. But the Mirror was a good example of appearances being deceiving. If one did not know of the Mirror's extraordinary ability to summon echoes of past warriors, it would look exactly like any other mirror that an alchemist had tinkered with to dazzle without substance. Growing up in ZhiXia City, Primrose had seen many alchemists make the journey to study the Sage's Mirror. She also recalled seeing their defeated faces as they left.

But she had to calm down the current Prodigy as she began excitedly babbling on about the exact layering of runes over the Mirror before people nearby guessed the identity of the little Oasian girl with a working knowledge of alchemy. Primrose placed a finger against Nettie's nose.

"Shhh," she winked at Nettie. "Think about how you'll explain this to me later, as simply as possible. How about a challenge; you have three days to think of how you can explain it to me in one sentence, do you think you could do that?"

"One sentence? But it's —" The girl saw Primrose's look and fell silent, before nodding her head. "Okay. Okay. Understood. Love challenges."

They watched the first competitor come onto the stage. She recognized him; the ringleader of the orphans Priestess Cerelia and Molam had brought from JiangXi to Sanctuary. She remembered the older boy being wary around Molam the entire journey here.

"Oh, that's rare," Martyker observed, stroking his beard. "For someone of his age to have gained the qualifications to participate, he must have worked very hard." The crowd in the Arena cheered heartily, clearly eager to see the boy perform. "Do you know him?"

"We sat with him on the way back from JiangXi!" Nettie informed Martyker. "His name was Bryce!"

"I see, I see," said Martyker. "I look forward to his match."

They watched as the boy approached the Whale and the Priestess responsible for announcing the event.

***

Ji looked down at the boy in front of him, straining to stand to his full height. It had been decades since someone this young had qualified for the Arena. By Ji's reckoning, the boy couldn't have seen more than sixteen Sorrows.

The boy, who Priestess Kanteru had identified as Bryce, returned his gaze and Ji saw no hint of fear in his eyes. His brown hair, recently trimmed, framed sharp features, and piercing green eyes hid intelligent determination despite the situation he found himself in. Trepidation, yes. But no fear. Despite his age, his stance spoke of a healthy respect for the person he stood in front of, reflecting a deep understanding of the world and the people in it.

"We will begin when Priestess Kanteru gives us the signal," Ji began, gesturing at the Priestess. "I am the officiant of the Arena's matches, but as the Mirror is intended to provide an absolutely fair fight, my duty is merely to protect you from any lethal blows and keep the consequences of your match contained away from the audience. That means you will be fighting within my Domain. Do you understand?"

Bryce nodded.

"When you are ready, touch the Mirror with aura," Ji instructed. "There is no need to strike it. When the Mirror receives just a bit of your aura, it will gain a memory imprint of you and also summon a memory — an echo — for you to fight. If you have any second thoughts about the Mirror summoning your memory in the future, there is no shame in walking away right now."

The boy nodded again, and Ji approved of his determination. Over the years, Ji found that the Arena's first participants tended to fall into three kinds: those who were unhappy they were first to perform, those who thought they would be the one to set the crowd's expectations, and those who didn't even seem to notice the crowd's existence. Bryce belonged firmly in the last category.

"Finally, you must understand that whichever echo the Mirror summons is fully intended to be your equal, but excelling in an area of combat that would give you difficulty. That means a good half of these matches end in the participant's loss and it is normal for injuries to be sustained. We have several Priestesses at the Arena who specialize in healing and I will intervene if anything looks too dangerous, so feel free to demonstrate your martial prowess and fight with your life on the line. There is no shame in losing; only if you leave having learned nothing. Do you understand?"

Another curt nod. Taciturn and quick on the uptake. Ji could appreciate that.

"Do you have any questions?"

"No," came the reply. A strong and clear voice for his age. Though most would consider it prideful confidence, Ji thought it to be willful determination. He could see in Bryce's eyes.

Ji nodded. "Very well, then. Seeing as you carry no weapon, I assume you will fight barehanded. I sincerely hope you do your best and come away with a better understanding of your abilities." He stepped to the side, gesturing towards the Priestess.

Priestess Kanteru stepped forward, revealing a weathered brown face with short, graying black hair as she lowered her hood. "The Festival begins when Sanctuary's bonfire is lit. At that time, I will officially announce the start of the Martial Arena." Her rich voice, deeper than one would expect from a woman, resonated from deep within her chest. "I will let you know when, then you may touch the Mirror when you are ready."

Bryce nodded.

The Priestess smiled, then turned with them to look towards Sanctuary in the distance.

***

Sanctuary

Molam followed Priestess Komura and Priestess Shantayla through a side door before they walked straight to the front of Sanctuary. This was where Molam told the Priestesses to ensure no one but him approached the woodpile. As the two walked off to carry out his request, Molam made his way towards the bonfire itself.

The World Tree's elderwood, silver-gray bark with black stripes running down its vertical edges, had been stacked in neat high rows for the Festival's bonfire. A crowd had already formed outside Sanctuary's stone pillars, buzzing with excitement for the Festival to begin. They were only held back from entering the premises by a line of Priestesses. Molam approved; he didn't want anyone nearby when he placed the egg within.

As he approached, Molam squinted to see through the darkness of night. Priestess Komura had told him to look for an alcove in the woodpile and that would be where he could start the fire, but everything was hidden in shadows.

Molam snapped his fingers and the flame shot out from his armguard, lighting the torch.

And what, pray, is that?

"A flametool. I had to make do when your feather's aura ran out."

But now that I am with you, you should have just asked me. A tiny spark like that, I could have —

"Oh my, are you worried about being replaced?" Molam whispered, his eyes searching for the alcove. Nothing on the outside; but that made sense. He supposed it would need to be within the wood stacks.

Nonsense. Only I am the light that guides the way. Why, back during the Endless Night, when I accompanied—

"Hush, I'm looking for where to place your egg." He held the torch high and scanned the woodpile as he approached.

The flammable pile loomed in the night. Molam felt a lump form in his throat; he tried to swallow it down but choked instead. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and each beat of his heart became progressively louder, until soon all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The shadows danced beyond the flickering embers of his torch and fear gripped him, rooting him in place. His knees felt locked and his feet seemed to be weighed down in their boots as he forced shallow breaths through flared nostrils, staring wildly about, looking for the gaze he was absolutely certain was there. The look, the look was coming from —

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Molam?

Not one look. Many. Many gazes. All the gazes of the villagers who had watched. The thumping in his ears roared painfully and within it, Molam could hear the crackling of the bonfire. They had watched silently, watched as he was dragged from his parents' abandoned house, the two adults had —

Molam's hand fumbled against the straps of his armguard, ripping it off his arm. In that moment, the constricting thing reminded him of an adult's hands, grasping tightly and dragging him towards the towering pile of bonfire wood. He raised it and prepared to dash it to the ground when the feather inside seared his fingers, causing him to almost drop it.

Boy, are you fine?

The spirit's voice split through his cluttered thoughts and Molam stumbled through the fog. He panted, then became alarmed as the wood underneath his hand shifted from his weight. When had he placed his hand there?

Molam looked around, exhaling through his mouth now as he sucked in air. He was alone. There was no one here. He wasn't being dragged. The gazes were there, yes, but the people here were Priestesses, and they had no reason to —

I see your shadows still follow. We should ask for a Priestess to do this, then. Perhaps it is too cruel to expect you to —

"I will manage." Molam glared at the shadows as he forced himself to breathe slowly, fighting the urge to suck in air. His heart slowed, and the pounding in his ears faded away with each thump. Only when the shadows moving at the edge of his vision stopped did Molam resume his way forward.

Are you certain?

"I said —" Molam gritted his teeth, paused, then bit down the rest. Realizing tears ran down his cheeks, he wiped them away with the sleeve of his shirt before swallowing dryly, then whispered, "Let me do this. It's something I decided."

A moment later, he found it. A small alcove had been shaped into the stacked wood, perfect for Molam to place the torch and the egg. No one was nearby and the Priestesses stood far away at the edges. No one would see him place the egg.

But he needed to be sure. Molam scanned around him. "Is anyone else here?"

No.

"I… had the feeling of being watched."

By me?

"No. It was… different." Molam couldn't quite explain why his heartbeat had jumped. Was it purely because of the woodpile? He looked up at the stack of elderwood kindling. No. The one that haunted his memories had been smaller than this, even if it towered in his memories.

There are many Priestesses in the surroundings, if that is what you mean. But they are only watching the general area to ensure no one enters. I assure you — not even a Titled One can fully hide their presence from me. You can proceed.

He knelt down and shifted his pack forward, reaching in for the egg. It pulsed a warm red in his hands as he placed it deep into the alcove, then pushed the torch in right after. The flames licked eagerly at the new kindling, and soon the fire spread. Molam took several steps back, ensuring the flames had completely overtaken the alcove before he retreated to a safe distance.

It has begun. The feather in his armguard pulsed. Stay safe during the Festival. My attention will be focused elsewhere for some time and I will not be able to respond to help you, but I understand your companions are here as well.

"What?" Molam, distracted from the shadows dancing in his vision, glared at them until they only flickered from the bonfire's light. "What will you be doing?"

The Oracle needs to rest and I will maintain the Seal's focal point in her stead. Surely you know how important it is to maintain the leylines, having grown up under RainBringer's wing.

"Oh." The Oracle needed to rest? Molam didn't know that. It never occurred to him that the Oracle would ever need to rest; that she was anything close to being a normal human. "Well then, at least I won't need to listen to you prattling about while I'm trying to enjoy the Festival."

Your continued irreverence is as endearing as ever, the spirit managed a dry tone in his head. But as your friend, this feather will heal you anytime you need it and protect you from any hostile Domains. However, remember it has its limits.

Molam blinked. "I didn't think you'd care enough to lend me more of your aura."

You came back down for me, after all.

"I'll try to not drink so much I'll need healing," Molam responded as he stared into the bonfire. The flames had spread throughout the elderwood, but no one would need to add more kindling; elderwood was said to burn slowly, yet brightly. "But since we're on the topic, this is Sanctuary. Even if the Oracle is resting, Master Ji is here; and the Submerged Leviathan, too. No one would dare act out."

If I recall, that one is fickle and does not consider ZhiXia City to be in her Domain. The spirit flooded him with a sense of annoyed derision. If I trusted her to act to save you, I would not have bothered to imbue this feather with aura. A moment later, it added, Stay safe, Molam. I would like to see you after my rebirth.

"I always try. You know that." Molam said dryly, then softened his tone as well. "I'll see you when you wake up then. I'm sure I need a backup candle lighter."

Hmph.

When the spirit's presence receded from his mind, Molam retreated from the burning wood. The flames had spread throughout the bonfire and now multiple stacks were burning in tandem, the heat pressing against his face. Molam lingered a moment longer to ensure the shadows weren't just from his mind before returning to Priestess Komura and Priestess Shantayla.

"I see the bonfire is lit." Priestess Komura held out Molam's cloak. "Did you do what you needed to do?"

"Yes." Molam wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. "You can tell the Oracle it is done."

"Winter's Sorrow may be over, but the nights are still chilly. You should take care to not get a cold." The aging Priestess reached forward and buttoned up the cloak around Molam's neck. Molam held down his impatience while Priestess Komura fussed at his clothes, smoothing out the folds on his shoulder. "What will you do now? You are free to join us and listen to the Storytelling. Priestess Shantayla here," she indicated to her side, "will be here to memorize it."

"No thank you." Molam gave Priestess Shantayla a look of understanding, "Let Priestess Komura tell the same stories to you every evening before bedtime and you'll have it committed to memory just like me." He stood patiently while Priestess Komura's fingers fumbled with the button on his cloak. "I think I'll go see the rest of the Festival. I have missed some good food."

The elder Priestess nodded, pressing a handful of coins to him. "Stay warm then, and be careful to count your change." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And, I expect to have tea with you again before the end of the Festival."

"I always count my change," Molam laughed. "And of course, Priestess Komura. We will have tea again."

Priestess Komura gave him one last appraising look before she nodded, then turned to signal to the line of Priestesses at the edges. As one, they walked back from the perimeter keeping the crowd out and the people began flowing in. Molam retreated back to Sanctuary, watching as people filled up the area, making a ring around the bonfire.

The trickle of festival-goers swiftly became a tide as people pushed forward, eager to get a good position around the bonfire. The bonfire would be where people celebrated the Sun, the culmination of the Companions' journey and their fervent wish to end the Endless Night. Many thought of this event as the time to make their own wishes, some having brought their own prayer mats to kneel on. Perhaps if one was lucky, the Gods would hear their prayer and answer.

Molam certainly believed it. God Yven had heard his.

***

Martial Arena

The red-orange glow of the bonfire started low then grew in stature, becoming visible even against the bright day.

"It's lit." Primrose pointed for Nettie.

"It's lit!" Nettie squirmed on Primrose's lap attempting to stand up, but Primrose held her fast.

"If you stand up, you might fall into the Arena," she warned. "We can just watch from here."

"The pretty flower lady is right, you know, Nettie." Martyker ruffled Nettie's hair lightly. "Just watch it from here. It's a nice view!"

"Her name is Primrose," Nettie reminded the man sternly. "Names have a purpose!"

Down at the stage, the Priestess standing next to Master Ji and Bryce turned to the crowd. She raised her arms, shaking aside her white sleeves and holding her hands open.

"The Festival of the Hero is a celebration of the Companions and their journey!" Her amplified voice, louder and deeper than Primrose would have believed, echoed throughout the Arena. "Before the Companions asked the Gods to create the Sun, we suffered the Eternal Night! A time when our people were born, lived, and died in darkness!"

"This," her voice dropped in tone but not in intensity, "was a time when demons roamed the land. When our ancestors were hunted for sport and mercilessly slaughtered like cattle. When a painless death was a blessing everyone craved, yet few ever received. And yet!" Her voice rose again, covering the crowd, "It was during this time that the Companions made a pact! That they would no longer suffer the demons; they dared to dream! They would ask the Gods to change Creation itself!"

"And so the Companions banded together and fought! They forced their way through the Eternal Night, beset by demons from all sides, harried at all turns from the darkness with only a lone torch lighting their way! When they finally struggled to the Stairs, they battled an endless horde, holding desperately against the tide of night, until the Gods relented and extended an invitation for an audience!"

She raised her clenched fists high, waiting for the crowd to finish cheering. "In light of their accomplishment, the Gods agreed to grant the Companions their wish! And now, every day, we see the fruit of their labors in the sky: the Sun that brings us reprieve from the Eternal Night and Seals away the demons from our lands!"

"We hold the Festival of the Hero to celebrate the bravery and actions of the Companions! They wished that their descendants would be capable of defending the lives of the people in case a new enemy ever arises!" The Priestess gestured to the Sage's Mirror. "They say the Great Sage Vareon created this Mirror for that very purpose, so that future generations would always strive to be better than the ones before them."

The Priestess let her hands fall down to her side, before she clasped them gently in front of her chest. "To that end, I now pronounce the beginning of this year's Martial Arena, where we show the Companions what our generation is capable of! As we watch this generation show their prowess, know that we are showing the Companions: We have not forgotten!"

Something about the Priestess' words struck Primrose as similar to Molam's style, making her wonder if this Priestess was the one who had taught Molam how to give speeches.

"Our first challenger for the Sage's Mirror may look young, but passed the preliminary test all on his own! The youngest challenger in decades, who heard that he can join Sanctuary's ranks as a Messenger if he wins! Please raise your voices for our first contestant: Bryce!"

The crowd roared and clapped with approval. The deafening sound washed over Primrose as she watched the Priestess signal to Bryce before she walked off the stage. Master Ji gestured at the boy to come forward and Primrose felt the aura in the air shift; a blue tint coalesced into a wall around the stage in her Sight.

Bryce walked up to the Sage's Mirror. He didn't immediately place his hand on it, and seemed to Primrose as though he was entranced by the swirling black and green mists inside the Mirror. Then, as though he had woken up, he shook his hands before reaching forward to touch the Mirror.

The mists billowed away from the area he touched, repelled by an expanding ring of orange aura. Bryce backed away from the Mirror as the spiraling light covered the Mirror's surface and coalesced into a figure walking out of the depths.

Audible gasps could be heard from the crowd. Primrose couldn't blame them; she imagined this was the first time for some attendees to see the Sage's Mirror actually summon an echo. The orange aura surrounding the echo condensed into a ghostly visage of the person it mimicked: a man, half a head taller than Bryce, wearing clothes in a style unfamiliar to Primrose. If it wasn't somewhat transparent and orange, most onlookers could be forgiven for thinking that a real person had just walked out of the Mirror.

The echo faced Bryce and held out both hands. Orange aura circulated without Primrose needing to use her Sight; the aura formed a short spear and a round shield in the echo's hands.

"It looks like the boy summoned a Sand Spear." Martyker stroked his beard. A lump formed in Primrose's throat at the name. "Only the upper aristocrats of Oasis wear that style now… the short spear and shield armaments were phased out two centuries ago, so this must be an older fighting style…" Martyker leaned forward against the balcony, staring down at the stage with expectations gleaming in his eyes, "But, to summon a fully trained Sand Spear at that age. Unfurled buds are a sight to behold."

Bryce had settled into a stance that Primrose recognized as one taught to all of the city guards in the Empire. Perhaps the boy had seen the city guards of JiangXi practice it and learned from them. Knees bent slightly, with the body rotated to the side and keeping the adversary in sight, the forward hand meant to defend or parry and another held back for a strike or support. Primrose focused her Sight. Bryce's fierce orange aura was concentrated on his hands, an impressive feat for his age. Shurra would approve.

"Do you think he'll win?" Nettie asked Martyker from Primrose's lap.

"Hm? The boy, Bryce?"

Nettie nodded.

"Well, at first glance he looks like a fish picking a fight with a hawk in the air. Fighting barehanded against a weapon and shield is tough unless there's a massive difference in strength or skill. In this particular case, it's a trained Sand Spear, so the skill and strength is not one to be doubted." Martyker shrugged as they watched the stage. Master Ji hadn't moved from his place near the Mirror, but the echo had begun circling Bryce. It held up its shield between the two of them, chambering the spear behind it with the tip pointed straight at Bryce. Bryce did not move from his position, pivoting his stance so he always faced the shielded echo. "Not to mention, the spear gives the echo far more reach than pure arms and fists."

Martyker added, "Then again, the Mirror always summons a fair fight. If the Mirror has judged the Sand Spear to be the boy's equal opponent, then we can reason that the boy must be capable of winning somehow."

"Net—" the girl stopped herself, then said, "That reasoning is loveable."

"Of course. Alchemists love good reasoning just like kirins love apples."

The standoff continued, the echo circling Bryce slowly. Sliding steps, executed smoothly and effortlessly, with the feet never crossing paths. Primrose approved; it was a technique taught to Petals at an early age, allowing one to move without lifting their feet unnecessarily off the ground. Being firmly grounded gave one a movement advantage when everything hinged on a moment's reaction.

Primrose wondered who would attack first. She personally wouldn't, of course. The moment she was out in an open field like that with few obstacles against a spear-wielder, she would have chosen to escape and look for another opportunity unless she was forced to fight the battle at hand. From a purely environment and weapons standpoint, she agreed with Martyker: the boy was at a disadvantage no matter how she looked at it. And if one held the disadvantage, then the best course of action was to avoid fighting unless necessary. Which meant…

The echo lunged.