"Take off yer shirt," Haldrin said with a straight face—like he hadn't just shattered the solemn atmosphere with the most suspicious request Luciel had ever heard.
He blinked thrice, not sure how to respond. 'Is this how old people flirt?' he thought, somewhere between confusion and concern.
Seeing the boy's dumbfounded expression, Haldrin noticed his abysmal phrasing and let out a dry cough. "Ahem. It ain't like that, boy. Ain't tryin' to court ya. Ya just look like yer soul got snatched by the devil." Haldrin snorted and tapped his cane against Luciel's leg.
"Now hold the cane for me. I'm givin' ya some new clothes."
With a grunt, Haldrin began peeling off a few layers of his colorful patchwork clothing and handed them to Luciel one by one.
Luciel accepted the garments and looked at them with complicated eyes. He had forgotten what it felt like to receive kindness without a catch.
He wanted to tell him that he didn't need them because he could regulate flame within his body to stay warm, but that would be foolish. No one could ever know about him being a Resonator. Not until he turned sixteen.
Besides, Haldrin didn't seem as ridiculous as before now that some of the layers were removed, so in a way, he'd helped the old man look more presentable.
In an instant, Luciel slipped into his new high fashion comfortably, discarded his blood-stained shirt, and gave Haldrin his cane back. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Haldrin gave a light nod and took the cane off Luciel's hand. The two resumed their walk along the beaten path. Luciel didn't ask where they were headed—he simply followed Haldrin's pace for now. Perhaps the old man wasn't in the mood to talk just yet, so only silence hung between them.
Luciel wasn't much of a talker. His life had been ruled by action and silence because talk was a luxury—totally unnecessary but desirable. He couldn't even communicate with someone of the same age range, let alone an old geezer. He wanted to ask about many subjects, including what happened to Aurelleth, but he couldn't find the words at all.
The old man then led him further down the terrace until they reached a set of granite steps that led into a dense canopy of frostbitten pines. Luciel lifted his brow in surprise—he'd never seen this place before. He felt like entering a gateway to a mythical world.
And at the end of the path, half-concealed by growing ivy and a pile of snow, stood a shrine. It was such an odd sight—while the town above crumbled, this place seemed untouched and well-kept, as if forgotten by the world but remembered by its guardian.
A vermillion gate marked the entrance, decorated by white and red ribbons hung from its crossbeam. Flanking the granite path were two ancient stone statues, possibly depicting guardian beasts of Aurelleth. One had lost its snout, the other its tail, their fangs chipped and paws mossy, yet both still instilled a sense of timeless gravitas of sentinels keeping evil at bay.
"Ya know," Haldrin solemnly spoke, slowing down his steps. "This ol' shrine's been sittin' just like this for thousands o' years. Aurelleth? Just one o' many poor souls who tried buildin' round it. Truth be told, the name came from the shrine itself—ain't the town's to begin with."
Luciel's eyes swept across the quiet grandeur of the shrine. For some reason, he felt a strong sense of familiarity and nostalgia, as if he'd walked here for thousands of years himself. Thinking it was just the solemn atmosphere that toyed with his emotion, he played it off.
"Is that so?" he responded. "Is the shrine dedicated to some kind of god?"
Haldrin stopped in front of the vermillion gate, his cane sinking into the snow-covered granite path. "Aye, but 'tis different, ya see. The god ain't from the heavens, lookin' down at us mortals with a beard—'tis a human. But ain't just any ol' human, but the one buried deep in all o' us."
He ran his weathered hand along the gate's pillar, his eyes sharp with wisdom and his voice reverent. "This shrine don't beg for miracles," he said quietly. "It prays for humanity n' mankind itself."
Luciel stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the mural from afar. "That's at least more believable. I've never believed in gods, anyway. If they did exist, aren't they just lazy old geezers doing anything but safeguarding humanity? Look at the ever-expanding Shattered Realm."
Haldrin looked amused. The words didn't fit his age at all. He felt that his company held a bigger vessel than he thought.
"Folks say that no god holds more ruin than the human heart. I reckon ya see it that way, too."
Luciel remained quiet. He'd understood what humanity could do once they abandoned dignity. He'd experienced more than enough. He wasn't benevolent, either.
He shifted his gaze back to Haldrin as he breathed in the clean but mossy air of the shrine, his voice low but firm. "So... why did you bring me here?"
Haldrin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he wandered toward the mural that Luciel had just been eyeing. He followed the old man without a word, curiosity lingering in the back of his mind.
There, the mural depicted a lone figure cloaked in streaks of red and white flame, standing against a dark, sunless sky. Time had worn away the face and left the identity with an indescribable void. Luciel didn't know what it meant—but he found it suspiciously irritating and eerie.
Haldrin, however, looked at the mural with warmth and pride.
"Ever since I returned to these old bones of a town, I been starin' at this mural damn near every day. Can't say I understand it fully—just a rough feelin', ya know. But it gives me hope, somehow. Before I knew it, I'd become a guardian of this shrine... even if I came too damn late."
Haldrin sighed, his expression drawing regret. "An old soul watching over a forgotten part of humanity... Quite fitting, ain't it?"
Luciel listened to the old man's rambling without judgment. Haldrin seemed to bear a strong attachment to Aurelleth, something Luciel couldn't understand. What made this part of the Outlands so special to him?
Even if he'd asked, he wouldn't have been able to sympathize with Haldrin anyway. It was best to just listen.
Luciel examined the mural again before drifting his eyes upward, to the faint runic letters smeared in old blood. They looked like gibberish at first glance, but somehow, he understood it. He read it silently; the words haunted him like forbidden knowledge:
'In salvation lies not a god, but a vow etched in fire.
To walk forward is to burn—
to burn is to live.
He who rises from ash and awakens the first flame
shall remember the Scarlet Oath.'
Immediately, Luciel felt a splitting headache and fell to his knees. The moment he tried to recall the runic message, a sickening sensation spread through his body, as if some parasite was eating away at his memories and thoughts.
He gritted his teeth and clutched his skull, trying to suppress the scream. He'd never experienced pain so immense. He felt like his whole existence was being ripped out.
Haldrin rushed to the fallen boy with worry, yet his eyes were calm and solemn, as if he'd expected the outcome. "Ya alright, Luciel?"
Haldrin knelt beside the boy and gently rubbed his back, his voice low. "I'll shoot ya straight, boy. I saw the flame within ya—one that ain't ordinary, flame that brings life, not destruction. Somethin' told me to bring ya here. Just followin' my gut, that's all," he said, eyes switching between Luciel and the mural.
'He... saw the flame?'
Upon hearing Haldrin's confession, Luciel wanted to kill him immediately. He didn't feel shocked, just a mechanical alert to kill Haldrin before the secret was revealed to the world. Just one strike—quick, clean, like always.
However, his body refused to move. Even though the cacophony of the runes had faded, another wave crashed like a tide and chained him—his own flame. The flame was swirling violently in his chest—it was searing, volatile, chaotic.
Luciel tried to fight against it, but the more he tried to control the flame, the more it became defiant and unbothered, as if it had a mind of its own. Worse, it wanted to kill its owner.
"Stop fightin' it." Haldrin's solemn voice rang.
"Ya keep wranglin' the flame like it's a beast to tame, but it ain't. Let it resonate with yer soul, boy. Let it flow through bone, flesh, and thought. Only then'll it become one with ya."
Luciel looked at Haldrin with doubt and hesitation, his eyes showing slight killing intent. How could this old man know so much? He asked himself all sorts of questions, trying to reason it out—but what could he do at this point but to trust Haldrin?
The pain only amplified as time passed. At his wits' end, he decided to trust the old man's words and allowed the flame free rein.
'I'll ask questions later... about who this old man is.'
Soon as he let the flame go, pain spiked several times—like knives sliding beneath his skin, like fire peeling away his nerves and bones from the inside out.
Then, everything came to a halt.
The world fell silent.
A pulse then suddenly erupted from his heart, and in the next instant, a scarlet blaze burst out of his body, enveloping him in light. Snow beneath him melted into mist. Even frost on nearby pine trees hissed into steam.
The flame came alive, mindlessly spitting out scorching flares. From a distance, it looked picturesque and serene—like a ribbon of light unfurling through the snow-covered shrine.
The flame wasn't any ordinary fire and heat. It shimmered brightly under the mural—scarlet at the edges, a flicker of white at its core, as if it was blessed by divinity.
Luciel's eyes widened. His breathing had stopped. He didn't even twitch a muscle. He was entirely still but unmistakably alive, of course. Every nerve of his now settled in comfort as the warmth engulfed him.
He felt reborn. Awakened.
The aftertaste of burn struck a buried memory of his. The dream he had two months ago, when he first obtained the scarlet flame. He felt warmth and love exactly like that time.
Then, his wrist burned. The tattered bandage couldn't stand a chance and turned into ash.
He turned his hand over. What had been the faint mark now blazed with clarity, glowing with a scarlet hue.
At last, Luciel had successfully conquered the first flame and claimed the journey of the Scarlet Oath.