They wade through green shadows littered with overgrown roots and wet flattened heaps of fallen leaves. Here and there the goddess proves that she is not always graceful in her steps, and should she not hang onto the knight’s arm her feet would slip and she would skid. Though here and there she would also hide a giggle or two and whisper of old memories even as she tries to establish her participation in the solemn mood of the hunt. The knight has only known of two occasions he ventured so deep into a forest, both belonging to that expedition that became embers and ashes. Perhaps that is why he does not feel his armour wearing him down like before, though it might also be due to the lucky charm clinging onto his elbow, for the goddess herself seems at full breath when even Nadi and Greufard are slightly panting.
As the journey into the forest goes on and deeper, the knight feels the hair on his body standing on end. For a while now Iacy has remained quiet, empty of her little laughs and more cautious in her footing such that she is barely holding onto him; she is aware of it as well. And though the both of them do not appear to be affected, their two other companions are feeling the weight of the forest’s ambience. So Iacy calls for rest as soon as she finds a spot, as unlikely as it is, or so the knight thinks.
“Challenge not my luck, Knight Diastre, though I need none here. If ashes to you are capsules of the past, this is a whole forest of ash. There are lost spirits here, several very recent…The war left this region some decades ago, but there are still remnants of it echoing throughout.” Iacy keeps her voice at a low whisper, and between her sentences she pulls at her hair. “I wonder if it is truly lucky that I find a link to a Bonfire here; that would be ill-minded of me to think so, don’t you agree? To hope that I stumble upon a place where dreams and realities are snatched away and burned down to cinders, I cannot say it is lucky, can I?
“But do we not really require one now? So at least let the dreaming dreamless do their parts in this reality that remains. Oh? To not…Ah, I understand. To see this as a just wish…A wish for us to come across one of the world’s lost graveyards so that – at the very least – one more group of lost souls could have a proper farewell. My,” she exclaims in a hushed tone, though her eyes are loudly glowing gold, then she smiles, “but then I remember you were quite the poet too. Hm, what’s with that smile? Thank you, my good knight, I appreciate it.”
A site was eventually discovered in an area of the forest seemingly just like any other, yet the tree trunks here spark in the senses a brief-but-distinct burn. As the party rests, out of the corner of any eye, it might even seem as if the bark is wrapped in red-hot veins very violently entangled; but face them directly and the trees appear normal. Perhaps the conjuration of the Bonfire Of Dreams triggered a shift in the nearby reality, for something else has caught the knight’s attention; and though it is quite far off, the knight recognises it: a familiar whirl of faint sparkles – those capsules of the past.
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“When has it fallen so dark?” Nadi flinches at her own voice and unconsciously shivers, her hands on her arms and her muscles tensed. “I apologise. And there is a chill, even though…What unusually spectacular fire.” She becomes entranced by the swirling tongues of flame, then she flinches again before turning to Greufard, who is squinting at his palm. “Are we close? But you said-…Anywhathow, I am usually much better at trekking. Yet for some strange reason my head feels terribly heavy. My Lady? T-t-touch the flame? There’s no-…But if you say so.” There is a languid reluctance, but she heeds the goddess’ request. “Incredible. What is this? I have never heard of such a thing. Have my gratitude.”
The knight brings himself to point, and everyone turns. At Iacy’s bidding, they bow in reverence to the Bonfire before it is dispelled and – observing their immediate surroundings – walk over to the sphere of ash, leaving the unreally-blazing trees behind them. The day still appears to be falling into night, as Nadi has addressed, dark and eerie and peculiar; but their energy was replenished and so there was no other decision but to keep at the investigation. Greufard strikes a torch and hands it to the knight, while Nadi looks on with interest as she holds onto the goddess’ hand for reassurance.
“This is bigger than the one before.” Greufard gestures to its size, and he is not wrong. The sphere towers over them, twice to thrice larger than even the one that was in Moonmorn’s upper courtyard. “I must admit that it also seemed to be expanding as we approached it. Perhaps it is a memory belonging to one in the merchant’s entourage, or maybe even of a battle long ago, but what if it is something different? Maybe it’s simply a cloud of ash awaiting ignition just to explode. It looks…” He trails off, gauging the expressions of who he assumed to be a priestess and her knight. “Well, no point in speculating. Let’s get this over with. On you then.” But he slings his axe into his hand in a smooth habitual motion, his other hand grasping at his pocket. “Careful now.”
And as the knight reaches out to thrust the flame into the sphere just as he did so many times these recent days, Greufard speaks up: “Wait, hold on-”, but Greufard never got to finish the sentence, or might be the knight did not get to finish hearing it. The sphere explodes, an eruption so furious it deafens him, with a burst of fiery light so sudden and sharp it blinds him. He feels himself evaporating as the white void swells up and consumes him; he senses his existence being snatched from reality, shredded and punctured and warped. The torch is no longer in his hands. And in the place of the jarring brightness that gradually dies down is a looming inferno. The flames lick mercilessly, and the world burns.
But only for a moment as short as blinking eternity, the knight realises as he stares at his hands, his palms flat on a mossy ground. Though flooded with relief, he can scarcely breathe, and his mind feels to be engulfed in misty fog, his vision hazing and clearing intermittently as he blankly stares at the unlit torch in front of his trembling fingers, his body shaking and rebalancing. A scream – or several all at once – jogs him out of the trance and plunges him back into reality.