Embers
Isaac woke to the sound of bustling footsteps. It was Hans. His face was covered in scabs from wounds everywhere.
There's nothing there.
Isaac's room was walled entirely with dimegtrium bricks. They'd built it that way with the mineral most resistant to magic, so even if Isaac triggered a mana rampage, no one would get hurt.
But.
Whoosh—
Hans drew back the curtains at the window, and sunlight poured in.
"Ah, you're awake, young master. You've sweated a lot in your sleep. Your face is pale too. Did you have a rough night?"
"……."
Isaac said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Was this a dream or reality? His reason kept insisting it was just a dream, an illusion. The brightest moment before sunset. The final blaze of life before death. A memory from the time he longed for most, the one he yearned to return to.
"Young master? Are you all right? Bad dream?"
Hans asked again, his face full of worry.
"……."
The clearer Hans's voice became. The sharper his vision grew, making Hans's face distinct. The more the details matched his memories. The more Isaac's expression crumpled.
Why, even to the end, can't I escape the stains of my past?
He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted this dream to end quickly. To slip into eternal rest. Into pitch-black darkness with nothing at all. To find peace in complete oblivion.
"Are you hurting somewhere? Caught a cold?"
Isaac flinched. Hans had pressed the back of his hand to Isaac's forehead. The sensation felt too real.
"Good, no fever."
"……."
"The count and madam are very worried. If anything's wrong, even a little, you have to tell me."
Isaac stared blankly at Hans. Scars and bruises big and small dotted his face. All from Isaac's mana rampages. This fool. He'd said it was nothing. Not to worry. Bragged he'd be fine. And then he'd really died.
Isaac gripped the bedsheets. Even the velvet texture felt real under his fingers.
Ominous. Senses this vivid meant the coming tragedy would hit just as hard.
"Hans."
Standing so close, he might get hurt. Isaac swallowed his emotions and spoke coldly.
"Yes, young master. If you need anything…."
"Get out."
I don't want to dream this nightmare to the end.
"Pardon?"
"I said get out! Get out of my sight. Now!"
Isaac snapped at the puzzled Hans. His voice was shrill, not yet broken by puberty. Enough to sour anyone's mood, but Hans just smiled and nodded.
"Understood."
As he turned to leave, Hans paused.
"Don't try to carry everything alone. You can trust us sometimes."
"……."
Hans left through the door. Isaac gave a bitter smile. Words he didn't remember. Maybe his subconscious had conjured what he wanted to hear.
"Too… vivid."
Isaac looked around the room blankly. Everything was exactly the same. The bed and wardrobe. His portrait, born of his father's love. The old oak desk. Bookshelves, desk, storage chest. The full-length mirror, and so on.
"Feels like I've gone back in time."
Isaac sighed. He hadn't lost his reason yet. He wasn't so undiscerning that he'd mistake a brain glitch for reality. He'd clearly fallen into eternal sleep at his family's graves. His eyelids had been too heavy, his fingers unable to twitch. Darkness had rushed in. Death. His first and last time, but unmistakable. Any living thing would sense it instinctively.
"In other words, just embers."
The flame of life long extinguished. Only fading embers left, he thought.
A breeze slipped through the open window. It smelled of spring. Without thinking, Isaac approached.
Through the window, he saw the flower garden in the central courtyard, tended lovingly by his mother. At its center stood the mighty tree that had shared a hundred and forty years with the Goetes, budding new leaves.
I used to play there with Yonas, hanging from those branches.
Yonas climbing to return a fallen fledgling to its nest. Then falling on his butt and bursting into tears. His little brother's face rose vividly.
Cheep— cheep—
"……."
Looking closer at the tree, he saw a nest among the branches. Fledglings peeking out, chirping.
"Ah…."
Isaac's jaw dropped. A groan escaped like a sigh. He wished this were real. Wished he'd crossed back through long years. He'd gladly take any pain for that. So he thought.
"Young master, dangerous!"
The nanny shouted from the courtyard.
"……!"
A little boy was grunting as he climbed the tree. His golden hair sparkled in the sun. Only one child that age in the family had hair that color.
Yonas.
"Hey, big bro!"
Now perched on a thick branch, Yonas waved at Isaac by the window.
Illusion. Dream. Hallucination.
Past memory.
Can't go back.
Too late.
Regret is pointless.
Isaac repeated to himself. But unknowingly, he was already waving back at Yonas. His soul was the one waving.
God's joke, the ferryman's mercy, illusion, deathbed visions, afterlife—whatever. In this moment, it didn't matter. Just greeting his childhood brother made half a century of underground torment feel rewarded. Regrets clinging to his soul like rust, mold, moss—wiped clean.
Yonas climbed down and vanished somewhere. As the tree's shadow tilted faintly, bit by bit. Isaac lingered in that feeling, that emotion. He didn't want to let go.
And when he'd savored it enough, admitting it to himself.
"Traveler on the journey. Can you stand alone before the infinite, solitary and alone?"
Isaac quietly recited the verse he'd written. Meditation had been his longest attempt to control mana rampage. When closing his eyes and focusing on breath brought endless worries. When past memories tormented him. He'd weave his favorite passages from research logs—written like diaries—into poetry and recite them. Then he'd know nightmares were nightmares. Dreams were dreams. Memories were memories. Illusions faded. Only self, present, reality remained.
And now. His final prayer to accept death.
"A lonely world where only you exist before mana. You, shall know yourself."
Isaac took a deep breath and continued. Sunlight so brilliant. Breeze so fresh. Room so cozy. Senses so sharp. Time to leave. To vanish completely into comforting darkness.
"…Let go of thoughts. Discard life's etched views. Free from past's leash, become you, you."
Now everything would fade. This illusion. His very existence. Death was like that.
So Isaac thought.
But.
Cheep— cheep—
Fledglings still chirped. Sunlight still blazed. Breeze still fresh. Room still cozy. Senses still sharp.
"Why…?"
Isaac blinked repeatedly. Rubbed his eyes. Closed and opened them. Slapped his own cheek.
Smack—
It hurt.
"…It hurts?"
Isaac rubbed his stinging cheek. He scanned the room again.
Where am I?
He knew. This was his room. But he wanted something more fundamental. Where he truly was.
But the question flew from his mind. He lost himself staring at the full-length mirror in the corner.
It was Isaac. Isaac, but not the one he knew. Ash-gray hair like his mother's. Piercing blue eyes like his father's. Sharp gaze. Straight nose. Pale skin. Not the mountain-like corpse of an old man.
Skinny and peevish-looking kid, but a refined boy stood before the mirror.
"……."
Isaac stared at his widened eyes. He'd completely forgotten. He'd had such a time too. Even the wretched old man left with only rags and ugliness.
Once, he'd shone in his own way. The boy's eyes in the mirror deepened with regret. At least the gaze was still Isaac's. A sigh escaped his lips.
"Big bro!"
Suddenly, Yonas knocked. A voice much younger and cuter than he remembered.
"Big bro, can I come in? Bro?"
Isaac stared blankly at the door. Wanting to see Yonas warred with not daring. Reason said it was just past memory. His soul screamed how to endure the longing. Voices tangled his mind.
"Isaac? Bro?"
Before Isaac could decide, Yonas peeked through the cracked door he'd already opened.
Maybe just turned ten. The young Yonas looked utterly different from Isaac's last memory. Curly golden hair, chubby cheeks full of life, sparkling eyes, beaming smile. Above all, his adorable right hand still there.
"Let's play knights! Yeah?"
Isaac just gawked at Yonas like an idiot. Which was the dream? Last winter. Yonas's too-light corpse. Stump of a right wrist. Eyes, bodies, ruins, frozen earth.
—I really, truly loved you.
The old Yonas's voice suddenly echoed.
"Bro? Crying?"
At Yonas's question, Isaac turned away.
"Get out."
"Huh?"
"Out."
Isaac spoke calmly but firmly.
"No time to play now."
"Bro."
"I said out!?"
Isaac raised his voice, and Yonas flinched, shoulders trembling.
"Okay, don't yell… I'm going."
Yonas glanced back repeatedly toward the door, but Isaac never looked.
Isaac stood frozen like a statue, fists clenched. He wanted to hug Yonas. Ruffle that curly hair. But the uneasy resonance inside. The vessel cracking. Felt too real.
Does the manor have materials for a rune stone?
After a moment's thought, Isaac moved. His lifelong research to overcome his unique constitution swirled in his mind—the method that had finally succeeded.
Dream or reality, doesn't matter. No mana rampage.
Half a day passed. In the annex lab. A rune stone in one hand. And the other.
Whoosh.
Flames roared.
What… the hell…
Chills ran down his spine. Mana in various states forming stable structures to cause phenomena—this sensation. No dream or hallucination could mimic it.
Embers burning mana. Reflected in Isaac's blue eyes.
He stood in stark reality. Past become present. Isaac existed here.
Fwoosh—
Suddenly, flames surged as if to devour everything.
"……!?"
A novel sensation stimulated his senses. The single mana circulation stem splitting into multiple side paths. Like using unused muscles for the first time. Utterly alien.