The Whisper of the Divinities

Shija was submerged in an abyss devoid of shapes and sounds. It was not a dream, for there were no images inhabiting it; it was an absolute nothingness, dense and velvety, that seemed to have devoured even the notion of his own body.

(What was...?)

In that space, his recent memories felt like sand escaping between his fingers: he remembered standing, a slight sound, and then... a white blur.

(I... was... speaking...)

In that state, time did not exist. It was a total disconnection, a silence so deep that not even the echo of his own thoughts could disturb the stillness.

(I... with... whom... was I speaking...?)

His consciousness drifted aimlessly, oblivious to the secrets his body concealed and the threads of fate being woven around him while he remained absent.

"Wake up!"

Suddenly, that perfect blackness was torn by an outside sound.

"Shija, wake up once and for all!"

A shout, charged with an electric urgency, penetrated the void, calling him by name.

"No!!"

Finally, Boudica's shout shattered the veil of unconsciousness like a hammer blow. Shija emerged from the darkness with a violent spasm.

"Haaa... haaa... haaa..."

Shija snapped his eyes open, pure panic reflected in his dilated pupils.

(What happened?!)

In that disoriented state, before his mind could process who was shouting at him or where he was, his hand instinctively shot toward his chest.

"AH...!"

Attempting to sit up as he woke, Shija clung to his torso with force, right over his heart, clutching the bandages as if trying to contain an invisible wound that threatened to tear him in two.

"Hng...!"

His body was drenched in a profuse cold sweat that plastered the fabric to his wounded skin, and every inch of his muscles trembled under an electric tension.

"Sss... ah..."

He breathed heavily, with erratic and painful gasps of air that made his chest heave violently.

"Haah... haah..."

Slowly regaining his composure by regulating his breathing, Shija began to observe his surroundings frantically, with the crazed look of someone who has just escaped a nightmare he cannot remember.

"What...? What happened...?"

His eyes scanned the wooden walls, the medical supplies, and Boudica’s worried face, searching for a trace of salt spray, a cliffside, or a broken laugh that was no longer there.

"Calm the hell down already!"

In the midst of his confusion, Boudica gave him no room to sink into his delirium.

"Breathe, Shija!"

Boudica gripped his shoulders with iron firmness, shaking him slightly while shouting with an authority that cut through the air.

"Haaaa... Haa... Boudica...?"

As he focused his gaze on Boudica's determined eyes and unwavering expression, Shija felt the anchor of reality finally take hold of his mind.

"Ah... haaa..."

He inhaled deeply, forcing his lungs to accept the air rhythmically until the trembling in his hands began to subside.

(Calm down... I... You must... calm down...)

After a brief internal reflection to try and understand the source of his agitation, Shija closed his eyes tightly.

(Silence... Damn it, silence! —khhh-bzzzzzt— The buzzing... it's like a thousand needles of light piercing my forehead.)

Shija then brought his hands to his temples, clutching his head as if trying to soothe a dull, resonant noise echoing in his skull; an echo of thunder and laughter he couldn't identify, but which caused a throbbing migraine.

(I try to remember... it's... —zzzt... vvvvv—... I can't... bzzzzzzzt-khhh)

Amidst the sound interfering like static in his thoughts, Shija began to stabilize.

"Tsk."

Noticing that Shija’s posture was steadying and lucidity was returning to his face, Boudica released him abruptly. She clicked her tongue, hiding any trace of concern behind a mask of annoyance as she stepped away.

"...."

Shija remained silent for a few seconds, closing his eyes to force his mind to silence the residual din.

"Fuff..."

When he finally managed to stabilize his consciousness, he focused his gaze on his surroundings.

(Empty...?)

To his surprise, the interior of the carriage, which before had seemed like a field hospital full of bandaged mercenaries and straw dolls, was now completely empty.

"Ugh... Boudica... What’s happening? Where is everyone?"

Still dealing with what felt like an unbearable mental hangover, Shija clutched his forehead with one hand, feeling the throbbing in his temples as he asked in a hoarse voice, trying to piece together the events.

"Haahhh..."

Boudica, who was still turned away from him, let out a dry laugh, an irritated grimace crossing her face.

"Well, finally the 'hero' decides to join us."

She didn't bother to look back at him as she mocked his disorientation slightly, speaking with sarcasm.

"Everyone has already left the carriage. We couldn't wait for you forever."

Shija frowned, confused by the warrior’s tone.

"Left? To where?"

At that moment, the shock of her answer hit Shija harder than the headache.

"To the city, idiot."

Shija remembered the bandit attack and the encounter with Baron Glutt as if they had happened only a few hours ago.

"We have arrived at Flambell City."

He was stunned by the revelation of their location.

"Flambell City?"

He exclaimed in confusion, sitting up abruptly despite the dizziness.

"How long was I unconscious?"

Unable to wait any longer, Shija pressed for answers.

"How long?"

Boudica rubbed her head, visibly irritated at having to give explanations that, to her, were already water under the bridge.

"Shija, you've been out of commission for weeks."

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye with a mixture of weariness and something akin to pity, she finally answered.

"Weeks?!"

Shija cried out in panic after hearing the answer. He brought his hands to his head as he desperately tried to force his memories back.

"But... what happened? The last thing I remember is the attack and then... nothing."

Noticing his reaction, Boudica crossed her arms. Her gaze fixed on him was heavy, loaded with a suspicion she made no effort to hide.

"That is exactly what I want to ask you."

She then proceeded to interrogate the disoriented Shija, who would not stop trembling, in a cold voice.

"We found you lying in the carriage, without any serious injuries, but in a trance you wouldn't wake from. No matter how hard we tried, you simply weren't there."

Shija remained silent for a long while, sinking into his own thoughts.

(Something is wrong... Bzzzzzzzzzz... But... what is wrong...?)

He tried to find the thread of what had happened after the battle. However, every time he drew near the edge of that memory, he felt a deafening static resonate in his mind.

"I don't know..."

It was as if a wall of electrical interference stood between him and the truth. An artificial void that caused a sharp pang of pain behind his eyes when he tried to force his memory.

"I simply don't know."

But while Shija grappled with the void in his memory, beyond the carriage curtains rose the imposing reason for their journey.

The City of Flame: Flambell.

Flambell City was no ordinary settlement; it was a living monument to purification and light. Founded by the legendary Priestess of Flame, Shula, the city's architecture reflected her devotion to the fiery element. The walls, built from reddish volcanic stone, shimmered under the sun as if they were perpetually red-hot.

The city stood upon a network of canals that, instead of cold water, carried currents of thermal energy and sacred oils that kept eternal flames burning at every corner. For the inhabitants of Flambell, fire was not an element of destruction, but the only means to cleanse the soul and body of the impurities of the outside world.

(Sizzle-sizzle!)

In the center, the Great Temple of Shula rose like a gigantic pyre toward the sky, where smoke scented with incense and healing resins formed a constant haze over the terracotta roofs. It was a place of suffocating yet comforting heat, where it was said that nothing hidden or corrupt could survive the gaze of the sacred fire.

(Ssssssssss...)

But now, the entire city was in a state of ceremonial mourning.

(Fffuuu... whhsh...)

The dense white smoke from the incense pyres rose in lazy spirals from every corner, climbing up the volcanic stone walls. It was no ordinary smoke; it was the whisper of the sacred flames that today burned with a different purpose: to bid farewell to their founder.

"Mmm-mmm~"

The reddish stone streets were being adorned with black silk banners embroidered with gold threads representing the final fire. The citizens, dressed in ash-colored robes, moved with mechanical efficiency, placing funeral decorations on every doorway. The news had shaken the very foundations of the region: the Priestess of Flame, Shula, had passed away.

(Tack... tack... tack...)

In that heavy atmosphere, only the rhythmic sound of shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the alleys as processions of clerics marched toward the Great Temple, the entire city's focus on this day.

"That goes here... Right?"

Most unsettling was the mystery surrounding her passing. Shula, who had disappeared from public view long ago, had been returned to the city anonymously. Unknown sources had delivered her body to the temple gates during the night, wrapped in fabrics of royal quality. After an exhaustive examination, the cause of death was confirmed as old age—a peaceful end for a woman whose life had been a constant fire. However, the anonymity of those who brought her left a trail of questions that no one could answer.

(Chhh... sssss...)

And while the city of Flambell sank into the weight of incense and sadness, a figure glided through the darkened streets with a lightness that defied the gravity of the moment.

"I found it already~!"

There, Melioris walked among the crowd with a relaxed smile, a mask of perfect joy that had been molded on the cliffside, now etched onto her face as if it were her true nature.

(Tack... tack... tack...)

She moved through the mass of mourning citizens and hurried clerics, yet her presence seemed to slip right past the perception of others. She passed by them like a gust of warm wind or a fleeting shadow; no one turned their head, no one blocked her path. It was as if, to the mortal world of Flambell, she simply did not exist.

(Fffuuu... sssss...)

The smoke from the sacred flames seemed to part at her passage, clearing a path as she veered away from the main avenues. With a graceful, almost playful movement, she stepped into a narrow, dark alley where the lights from the funeral pyres cast long, distorted shadows against the volcanic stone walls.

(Tack... Click... Tack...)

The rhythmic sound of her shoes against the reddish pavement was no ordinary walk. Melioris advanced with an elegant tap-dance, a subtle dance that only she could hear in her mind. Each step was a note in her own private symphony, a mocking response to the funereal silence surrounding her.

"What a gloomy place~"

Melioris had entered an alley that narrowed around her like a volcanic stone tunnel. There, the air was heavy, and the heat from Flambell's funeral pyres turned into a sticky dampness.

(Plip... ploc... plip...)

Water dripped rhythmically from rusted copper pipes, hitting the ground with a hollow echo.

"One... Two... One... Two..."

Paying no mind to her surroundings, Melioris began to climb a metal staircase with her characteristic tapping, making the old iron protest beneath her feet.

(Iiiiii-crack! ... Iiiiii-crack!)

As she ascended, her expression was barely visible, hidden by her constantly moving hair.

(Tack-tack-click... tack-click...)

Each step was a percussion accompanying her ascent, as steam from a nearby pipe enveloped her silhouette in a spectral haze.

(Ploc! ... Ssssss!)

Finally, upon reaching her destination, the reinforced wooden door awaited in the shadows before her.

(EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-CLACK!)

Melioris pushed the door open. The screech of the rusted hinges was a long, metallic wail that announced her arrival.

"I knew you were here..."

The room was plunged into dense darkness, barely broken by the dim light filtering in from the hallway.

"Who...? Well, I didn't expect visitors in this corner of the world, much less one so... peculiar."

From the shadows, a deep and velvety voice responded, tinged with a hint of bewilderment that she could not hide.

(Sssss... shhh...)

The female figure inside moved from the darkness toward the center of the room, where water dripped rhythmically.

"Pleasure to meet you."

As she emerged, she revealed her appearance, projecting a beauty as aggressive as it was perfect. She possessed a body of ideal proportions, with sculpted curves that seemed to have been molded by desire itself. Every line of her anatomy, from the firmness of her bust to the sway of her hips, exhaled an overwhelming carnal magnetism.

(Fffuuu... hsssh...)

She wore suggestive attire: a set of black silks, almost liquid in appearance, that clung to her marble-like skin. The outfit exposed much of her abdomen and her long legs, adorned with silver threads that shimmered with every breath.

"As such, I abandoned my name a long time ago, but tell me..."

Her eyes narrowed with curiosity, scanning Melioris from head to toe.

"Would you be so kind as to reveal your name to me?"

She did not know her; she knew nothing of her origin or her "dance," yet the presence of the silver girl sparked an instinctive interest in her.

(Tack... Click...)

She arched her back suggestively as she rested a hand on her waist. With her gaze fixed on her visitor's face, she waited for the answer.

"My name is Melioris, darling~"

Melioris replied nonchalantly as she met her gaze, thus sealing the encounter in that shadow-drenched room.