Gilded Ashes: When Shadows Reign

I can't sleep.

That's the first thing you should know, because if I'm reading this tomorrow, I'll probably wake up and stare at these pages like they belonged to someone else. Like I'm being accused of something I don't remember doing.

So I'm writing now. While I still know what happened.

It's the middle of the night. The rain still pours down, I can hear it through the wood of the house - steady, heavy, like it's trying to wash Ukai. My eyes feel like stones. Every time I blink, it takes effort to open them again.

But I can't risk sleeping.

Not yet.

Because my Chasmis comes with a price. You know that. It's the reason why you exist. We are the same idiot, and we keep trying to act like we aren't.

My Chasmis doesn't take my strength.

It doesn't take my Eon.

It takes my memory. Not all of it, of course. But enough to make me scared of mornings.

I wake up and I'm missing pieces. Whole chunks of conversations. Faces. Places. Words I should remember. Sometimes it's harmless - I forget what I ate, I forget where I put my coat, I forget why I walked into a room.

Sometimes it's not harmless. But sometimes it's like someone reached into my skull and pulled out the exact thing I needed to survive the day.

That's why you exist.

That's why I always keep you on me like a weapon. That's why I guard you like treasure. That's why I write even when my hand cramps and my wrist shakes and I can barely see the page.

Because you remember when I can't.

I'm going to tell you what happened today, as usual. But now, I want you to remember this more than you remembered anything else.

So please listen.

Earlier today - yesterday, technically, because the hour is past midnight - Kenzo came to the Academy. Yes. Kenzo.

Kenzo of Neoshima. Kenzo of the Phalanx.

You can't remember it, because I met him way before I even got the curse and blessing in one – the Chasmis.

Kenzo with the big mouth, enormous hammer and the stupid grin that makes people underestimate him.

And he looked at me like I was a ghost.

Then he recognized me.

And for a moment - a short, ridiculous moment - I forgot I was exhausted. I forgot the sky was heavy. I don't know when we stopped being boys. Somewhere between lessons, friendly battles and other people's wars, life splitting us apart… We grew into adults without noticing. But when I saw him, something in me snapped back into place.

We did what we always do. We acted like it wasn't serious. Like life couldn't be serious if we refused to treat it that way. We laughed, we talked, we bullied each other. I dragged him around all over the place like the old times.

Then we fought.

Yes. We fought. Me and him. Me and one of the strongest people this world has ever seen.

Of course, not seriously. We fought in the rain, at first on a platform. I tried to act casual about it. I tried to make it sound like a friendly duel, like I wasn't shaking inside.

But you need the truth.

Kenzo wasn't even fighting at half of his strength.

I know what he can do. I've seen it - not today, not here, but I've seen it. I remember the day he turned an entire stretch of forest into scraps and splinters with one swing. ONE SWING. I remember the sound of trees snapping like thin bone. I remember the way the air filled with dust and shredded leaves.

But today, he held back.

And even holding back, he was a monster.

If you had a mouth, you'd probably say, "Atman, you always exaggerate!"

Trust me. I don't.

There was a moment - I need you to remember this - where he stepped forward so quickly that the rain on his shoulders hung in the air. Like time itself stuttered.

He hit me so hard I disappeared from Raizen's view.

Oh yeah! Raizen was watching. Miss Saffi, too. I don't know what they saw from their angle, but from mine, it was like getting blasted into the sky. The impact threw me through leaves and branches. I had enough instinct to wrap myself in Eon before he hit me.

And I still couldn't win.

Not in a hundred years.

But do you know what the worst part is?

It felt good.

Kenzo looked at me after and he didn't gloat. He just smiled and said something stupid. Like we were still children. Like nothing could touch us.

Then Mina appeared and shouted at us like we were teenagers who broke a vase.

She dragged Raizen and Saffi into the greenhouse. Dunno what they did there. Me with Kenzo, we left Ukai and went into the barren land. After that… We found something that still makes my spine shiver.

At first, we fought again. I gave it my all – he gave a fraction.

And that fraction of his was enough to create a literal hole in the ground. And when we look down into that hole we made, neither of us jokes.

My wife is sleeping beside me as I write this.

Her breathing is slow and even. Her hand is near mine on the blanket, and I'm kind of jealous that hers doesn't tremble.

You should know this too:

When we came back from that place, I didn't tell her.

I didn't tell Mina.

I didn't tell Raizen.

I didn't tell Saffi.

I didn't tell Eiden.

I didn't even tell Kenzo.

I didn't tell anyone. Even I don't understand it yet.

And I keep writing - because I'm scared that if I fall asleep, I'll forget it.

So.

We found a structure under the ground.

A ruin. A temple. A chamber. Call it what you want. Stone that doesn't match Ukai's living architecture. Pale blocks and sandstone arches, half buried by dust.

The earth fell inward like it was hollow. We fell - at least fifty meters, maybe more. I wrapped us in smoke. Kenzo used his Eon to reinforce his body like it was armor under skin.

When the dust cleared, we saw arches.

Sandstone. Pale stone. Huge curved supports like ribs.

Then we found the circular room.

Writing carved into the walls, large enough that you could trace it with your palm.

Kenzo didn't understand it, but I did. Not perfectly, but enough to read the date. And the date alone made my throat tighten.

Year 4124. After almost one thousand years, we still find it in that preserved state.

It also said "two thousand eighty-nine years after the Cataclysm."

And an altar in the middle that read:

To an unknown god.

Kenzo asked what the Cataclysm was. I didn't answer, but not because I wanted to be mysterious. Because I genuinely don't know.

Nobody knows.

That's the terrifying part. It's as if history was split down the middle and the "before" is erased so thoroughly that only the "after" remains

Then I looked closer at the walls.

The inscrtiptions all over it wasn't code. It was a language.

Not the kind we write today, but structured. Intentional. Patterned. Like someone tried to take an idea too large to fit into words and forced it into something that could survive time.

I wrote it down.

All of it.

Some parts were worn away. Some symbols were broken. Some sentences stopped mid-thought where the stone cracked.

But the story was there, and it matched the old tales.

The "Queen." The "Children." The "Light Beings."

Fragments we dismissed as bedtime stories. Except this wasn't a bedtime story. This was a wall carved by people who believed it enough to worship.

I'm going to copy it here, as I wrote it.

Exactly.

Even the missing parts.

Of course, I wrote it in the nearest transliteration I can manage. Some words don't have equivalents. Some symbols repeat in ways that… I still don't understand.

But if I wake up and don't remember why my hands tremble, I hope I can read it again.

[ Eastern wall ]

…They were born in the shade of her throne.

They were held in her dim light.

They were fed by her mercy and living by her fear.

For she was Queen, and her crown was [___]

She takes the pain of her children into herself,

and the children sleep eternally without dreaming.

But twelve children do not sleep.

Twelve voices that would speak of paths beyond the Queen...

Twelve hands that would not hold the same chain.

Twelve children that do not accept the Queen's [___].

The twelve children grew. Not in height. Not in flesh. But in thought. In wonder. In questions that did not kneel.

They take a path of their own,

and that cursed path leads to [___].

The Queen orders them back.

The Queen promised [___].

The Queen offered [___] and [___].

But the twelve answer:

"We will not be [___].

We will not be held."

Ink blotches. I wipe it with my thumb and regret it immediately. Now my skin is stained, like the story wants to mark me.

I pause, breathe out slowly, then I continue.

[ Western wall ]

…And the Queen wept [___] tears.

"You are my children, why do you do this?" the Queen once asked.

The twelve answer:

"Because you cannot [___] forever.

Because pain is not meant to be taken.

Because we will not be [___] anymore."

The last missing word is carved, but shattered. Only the first symbol remains. I think it can mean "asleep", "quiet", or"children."

But I don't guess.

I leave it empty.

The Queen falls from her throne,

and her tears are [___].

The used symbol means blood, but also means "seed", "gold" or "life."

If this Queen isn't human, blood can mean anything.

The Queen called them children, but they called themselves something else.

[ Northern wall ]

They called themselves…

Anathemas.

For they would not return.

For they would not obey.

For they would not be ___ again.

And they wrote their names into the world:

Anathema of [___]

Anathema of [___]

Anathema of Cruelty

Anathema of Malice

Anathema of [___]

Anathema of Envy

Anathema of Greed

Anathema of [___]

Anathema of Ignorance

Anathema of [___]

Anathema of Deceit

Anathema of [___]

I stop and stare at that for too long.

Not because of the repetition. Not because "Anathema" was the only intact word. Because of the way it's written.

Those aren't descriptions. Not "the anathemas." Not "Strong Nyxes", "Anathema beasts" or "Anathema monsters" or "Anathema entities"

Names. Twelve names.

My throat goes dry. I swallow and force myself to keep decoding and translating.

[ Southern wall ]

Then the twelve walk the world.

Their steps make [___]

Their shadows [___]

And where they look, people [___].

And where they speak, [___].

Those who defy them are [___].

And the ones who try to speak of it later

write only fragments, for the mind cannot hold [___]

I turn the page. There is more.

The last section is the most damaged. A long crack runs across it. Sand buries half the lines. I copied what I could.

We built an altar.

Not to [___].

To an unknown god.

For we could not understand what we worshipped.

But we believed.

Because knowing [___] our mind.

We could not fight.

We could not win.

We only worshipped.

And in worship, we survived.

That's where the wall ends.

Or maybe it continues somewhere else. Maybe the rest of the temple collapsed.

I don't know.

I lean back in the chair and listen to the sounds all around.

Rain taps against the building. Somewhere outside, Ukai creaks like a living thing. My wife makes a small sound in her sleep and pulls the blanket closer.

I stare at the ink on my fingers.

Then I stare at the page again.

The Queen.

Twelve Anathemas.

And Anathema, written as a name, not as a curse.

An unknown god.

And the Cataclysm, sitting there like a hole in history nobody can explain.

Kenzo asked me earlier what it all meant.

I joked. I told him we should leave.

The truth is simple.

I'm afraid.

Not of the dark. Not of ruins. Not of old stone.

I'm afraid because this doesn't just feel like a myth.

It feels like a memory someone tried very hard to bury.

And now I hold a piece of it in my hands, written in my own notebook, in my own room.

I don't know what the Cataclysm is. I don't know what – or who - the unknown god is. I don't know if the Queen in this story matches the Queen in the other children's tales found, or if it's a different mask over the same face.

I only know one thing.

These fragments exist, and if they're true, then the world's history has teeth.

And if I wake up and forget the chamber, forget the altar, forget the words -

You will still have this.

Sleep is coming for me. My eyes keep closing without permission. My hand is slower. I'm starting to lose the sharp edge of the memory already. I can feel it slipping like wet stone.

So I'm going to end here.

If you're reading this and I don't remember writing it, I'm sorry.

That's the price my soul had to pay.

And at least you know that somewhere under the ground, under rain, roots and time, there is a chamber that should not exist…

Worshipping something that shouldn't exist.

The twelve Anathemas.