The night sky of Rodina Nova cast its shadow upon every corner of the earth, allowing nocturnal life to operate according to its own purposes. But within that darkness, there were still those who did not sleep—they were seeking survival against the very thing they were forced to evade.

  A turquoise glow shone down upon a corner of the forest, where the orange light from a campfire embraced a small space amidst the midnight gloom. Tonight was darker than usual, making the air feel thick, making it difficult to sense what might be watching them from any direction.

  The crackling of the fire accompanied the roasting of mushrooms hastily gathered, paired with bread and a bit of coconut jam from the Astaerial continent. This was all they had in the dead of night after hours of fleeing the horror out there. The four members of Blazing Flame and élise sat around the fire, their bodies exhausted from relentless running; at this moment, every breath could be sensed through hearing alone.

  She leaned against a large boulder behind her—a position that provided partial cover to prevent being surprised by an attack without detection. Regardless, detection was difficult for human vision—that was what two years of adventuring had taught her, along with the blood of those she had once met; lessons learned from mistakes and failures leading to loss were of immeasurable experience.

  She herself had many failures, but they would never be spoken of; for élise feared trusting those who appeared friendly, only to receive a bitter harvest. It was naive and ignorant thoughts that had led her current life to this step of despair; but then everything gradually fell back into orbit, a steady rhythm. She still chose to be a good person—albeit a selectively good one—without changing much of her core nature.

  At this moment, Mira watched Kael eat the mushrooms that had turned brown when roasted—a light sweetness, not as cloying as some other types. It made the red-haired girl wonder, but she lacked the strength to ask more questions. She knew élise had chosen to help them without regard for benefit—the brown-haired girl's steady expression had significantly increased Mira's goodwill toward her.

  Lorne sat re-reading his book—inside were the spells he could use or understand. The conditions for using magic were quite strict, forcing the young man to try very hard just to use one of them—let alone master them as élise had done before their eyes.

  A feeling of envy mixed with admiration for the strong young woman made Lorne understand what it meant for a mage to master power. It was as if he were witnessing a hundred-year-old scholar in the form of a young girl. Lorne's curiosity at this moment was immeasurable; the only thing was, he hadn't thought of a way to ask that suited the current scene. It wasn't that Lorne didn't want to ask what had made élise run like that, but it shouldn't be the starting topic—at least that was what he had been taught: one must respect the opening of a story.

  "Ahem... Miss Allerian, right...? Um, do you think the sky is a bit dark tonight?"

  élise was half-dozing when she suddenly opened her eyes to look at Lorne with a hint of reproach; she didn't answer immediately but took a roasted mushroom to enjoy her meal. Her weary gaze turned toward the dense, high canopy, yet it couldn't hide the night sky.

  élise spoke softly: "It must be because there are more clouds than usual tonight, or perhaps it has entered the moon's cycle of chaos..."

  "The moon's cycle of chaos?"

  "You don't know?" élise looked at Lorne—he didn't look lacking in knowledge, yet his tone suggested otherwise. "I thought you would know?"

  Lorne shook his head in denial, his voice hissing in explanation: "I only study the types of spells I need; if there's more, I don't fully understand it all..."

  "Don't explain too much; I'm not the lowly type who thinks I'm better than others... If you don't know yet, let me explain. Although astronomy isn't my major, it's still necessary for traveling at night and predicting the seasons."

  élise stretched her hand slightly, brushing ash from her knee, then continued, her voice as steady as reading old notes rather than telling a story:

  "The moon's cycle of chaos is what people call the phenomenon of the night sky changing abnormally. Usually, the turquoise moon shines steadily, illuminating forests and rivers. But there are periods... when it turns pitch black, the light muddied by a strange mist. People believe that is when the moon is 'sick.' Astronomers call it the 'cycle of chaos,' when the balance of mana in the atmosphere is overturned."

  The fire reflected off her face, revealing a fleeting, faint smile:

  "Superstitious people think that's when monsters grow stronger. Others say the darkness swallows the souls of the lost. But the reality is truly dangerous. Magic often becomes unstable, even basic things like creating fire or barriers. Adventurers must learn to avoid traveling at night when that cycle arrives."

  Lorne narrowed his eyes, clutching his book. "If that's true, then tonight..."

  "Yes," élise nodded. "We are walking right into that phase. It's lucky you have those books; I only rely on experience. When chaos happens, the intellectual is not much better off than the empty-handed."

  The statement made Mira frown; she gave a dry, hollow laugh: "Sounds like sarcasm... So what's so scary about intellectuals if they're useless when danger strikes?"

  élise turned, her eyes glowing with sternness.

  "That is exactly why it's scary, Mira. Intellectuals aren't strong because they are good at fighting. They are strong because they know more than necessary. Sometimes a head full of words is more cruel than a sword's blade. What I once witnessed... wasn't a beast, but scholars using knowledge to turn a village into an experimental site."

  Charg stopped eating, his aged face revealed after removing his helmet, showing the wrinkles of time—cruel yet strangely gentle. He swallowed a piece of mushroom and turned to ask in a deep voice:

  "Forgive me for asking about your specialty, Allerian...? No offense intended; I just want to know what specialty an experienced mage like you follows."

  élise was silent for a moment, raising her head to look at the near-pitch-black sky—she didn't talk about her passion often, but it was the thing she still clung to so as not to fall into despair or go completely mad. Everything was simple, just coming and taking root in the mind of a young woman hardened by life's trials.

  "A specialty?" She looked at Charg—no particular expression, but he evoked a kind father figure, though no one was sure of the true age of the warrior in semi-plate armor. "You could say I love history dearly. It is a horizon not everyone understands, but when you do..."

  élise paused, took a deep breath, and continued as if fearing she would forget to breathe if submerged in memory.

  "...when you understand it, you see that the past has never died. It only sleeps, then wakes up in circumstances no one expects. To me, history isn't a pile of dusty records, but a mirror reflecting the present. What once happened can happen again—only in a newer cloak."

  She fell silent, her eyes resting on the fading fire, as embers fell like grains of time leaking before her eyes.

  Charg nodded, his eyes pensive. "People who love history are usually stubborn... because they know no tragedy is truly new. But they are also easily hated, because everyone is afraid of being reminded that they are merely repeating old mistakes."

  Mira shuddered, cutting in: "Then how is that different from those scholars who turned a village into an experimental site you mentioned? If knowledge also becomes a dagger, then what is there left to believe in?"

  élise glanced at Mira, her eyes softening this time.

  "There is a difference. The difference lies in what the one holding the knowledge chooses to use it for. A knife in the hands of a blacksmith creates a plowshare; in the hands of the bloodthirsty, it is only a tool for slaughter. Intellectuals are scary because they have the right to choose, and the consequences of that choice are often greater than an arrow or a slash."

  Lorne folded his book slightly, the sound of the leather covers clashing dryly. He stared intently at élise, his voice trembling slightly:

  "Hearing you speak... I feel like intellectuals are no different from those who toy with the fates of others. So you... are you afraid of becoming like that yourself?"

  A silence fell, leaving only the rustling of the canopy in the wind and the crackling of the fire. élise curled her lip, half-smiling, half-sighing:

  "As long as I remember that I too can be wrong, then that is the day I haven't yet become a monster. But Lorne... if there ever comes a day when I am forced to choose, I hope to meet wise people who will stop me."

  Kael stopped eating, an indescribable feeling surrounding élise. He didn't feel it appropriate to say meaningless words like at the beginning; even though he knew few words, morality and virtue were things everyone should learn. He was aware of this, so he understood the best thing was to remain silent. Instead, Kael looked at Charg—he looked back; Kael rolled his eyes to signal what needed to be done.

  "Miss Allerian, I also wonder... to have your current achievements, what kind of journey have you been through?"

  élise was somewhat silent, her lips moving but not yet speaking. Talking about the past was not a topic she looked forward to. But so what? Who had the right to judge? A human being crushed by a deep-seated system of thought? No one.

  But for that very reason, she had to tell others—not to extinguish hope, but to lock the worst path anyone could mistakenly tread. It was élise Allerian herself—a history mage—who had gone through every type of experience a living person could, except death.

  But who understood, who knew? In the end, no experience brings any good if the original purpose was aimless. A historian could be honored for a discovery of the century or boycotted for a different orientation. For her, it was a boycott—a painful process, but enough for her to walk ahead of time.

  "How should I say it so everyone understands? This isn't simple," she leaned over to take more mushrooms and continued. "You all know Edinburg Comprehensive Academy, right?"

  "Edinburg Comprehensive Academy?!" Lorne opened his mouth wide in shock. Getting in was never simple—besides the entrance exams, the expensive tuition made many talents hesitate. "You studied there?"

  élise nodded, looking at the crackling fire; her mind blurred slightly, almost sinking into sleep. She rubbed her eyes—not having slept enough lately, she lacked strength after so much running today. Without delaying, she began to tell the Blazing Flame group:

  "...Edinburg is not just an academy, but an intellectual forge. They cram into it not just books, but ambition and political calculation. That place produces scholars, mages, officials, even fanatics. You think historians just sit and read library documents? No, there I learned to survive among the crowd called intellectuals."

  élise paused, her eyes scanning the fire with a momentary sharpness that made Mira and Kael unconsciously look away.

  "At Edinburg, everyone is taught to look at history not as a flow, but as a weapon. Every event, war, record... becomes a tool to prove a viewpoint, to crush others. I saw professors use bloody eras just to justify a political lecture. The deaths of thousands became illustrative examples—no more, no less than a politician considering themselves more civilized."

  She gave a dry, hollow laugh heavy with irony.

  "At first, I believed knowledge would save the world. But then I realized: knowledge saves no one. It only gives ways to kill each other more skillfully, to deceive more persuasively. There I understood: intellectuals are scary not because they are strong, but because they can rationalize any crime."

  Charg nodded, his eyes distant as if remembering something old. Mira clenched her fists, her stubborn face hiding anxiety. Lorne was silent, sweat beading on his forehead as if listening to a confession rather than a school story.

  élise let herself lean against the rock, her voice softening almost to a whisper:

  "But I still didn't quit. I still love history. Perhaps because I want to prove it's not just a tool for manipulation. It is also a lamp to guide the way if the one holding it still has a bit of conscience. Only thing is..."

  She looked up at the turquoise moon, almost entirely covered by clouds.

  "...that lamp is bright enough to burn the one holding it if they forget that light comes from the darkness."

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The campfire popped, sparks flying and making everyone startle. The sky above sank into a thicker layer of darkness. No one spoke further—they didn't know where to intervene.

  "That's just poetic talk. In reality, I and those of my kind are often more disdained than respected. Especially at Edinburg, it was even clearer. Glory there did not include different passionate goals; I have a reason to pursue history—not just wanting to know the past, but to find, explain, and interpret it for the present and future to understand."

  Mira was surprised by élise's assertion—it wasn't like the Parish Priest of her village preaching about fairness. If élise wasn't welcomed, then there must be a reason.

  "So..." Mira took a loaf of bread with a jar of coconut jam. "Do you want to tell more?"

  "I don't think sharing the past with new acquaintances is wise, plus what I say is often difficult to understand for a simple mind; no offense intended."

  "It's nothing; you understand it one way, we understand it another," Kael said, making an interested face. The level of knowledge far exceeded the mandatory open classes of the local government.

  "So is there a reason I should go deeper?" élise offered a dry smile, showing no desire to continue.

  Lorne rested his chin in thought. His brain operated like a steam boiler, constantly releasing steam for the engine of his mind.

  If there must be something that makes Miss Allerian speak out, what would it be? History? Conflict? Or... That's it! Lorne's eyes lit up, his mind shifting gears like a Mu steel production line at incredible speed.

  "Miss Allerian, according to what I know, mages from Edinburg would have stable jobs, but why are you in a remote region of Papaldia? Why aren't you in Milishial? Did something happen?"

  The barrage of questions left élise speechless—not knowing what words would be appropriate. Things at Edinburg were like a heaven painted much but no one could step onto.

  She took a long breath, holding the bread spread with coconut jam. One bite slid down her throat, memories replaying in her eyes.

  "I... haven't graduated, and perhaps I don't intend to graduate at Edinburg."

  The information was like a blade cutting the Blazing Flame group's faith in élise to pieces; four pairs of eyes were shocked at the confession, yet they still let her finish.

  "There's a nursery rhyme I once heard... or just a vague hymn in the torn book of a mad scholar:

  'A flock of people walking under a crimson banner,

  A flock of people passing through night and clouds,

  Knowing not where is the sky,

  Knowing not where is blood or rain...'

  I can't tell much more. In four years at the Academy, I only learned to listen to this echo, trying to piece together the shape of something that once existed, or still exists out of sight. Legends say there is a collective life force, guided by a nameless will, a faith hidden in time, flowing into the bodies of fighters—making them no longer entirely human.

  Mad scholars call it by fragmented words: Ideology, Order, Blood, Will... but when I look at myself, I only see something shapeless, a crimson wave flowing through the mind, both surviving and consuming. I don't know who they are, don't know whose the crimson banner is, only sensing an order imposed by fear, the horror that this will, though distant, still creeps into every breath."

  Time flowed slowly, unwilling to move forward—just as the listeners here didn't want to give up anything. élise took a breath; they saw tears gathering inside but not falling—as if a layer of invisible, hardened will prevented them.

  "The Red Ones... The legend of the Red Ones, the thing I believe in and live for until now is also because of it; it's also because of it that I chose this major. Sounds nonsense, right?"

  "No! No!" Lorne and Mira cried out in unison—neither expected élise's words to reach this level. Charg cut in to pull the mood back.

  "There's no need to be ashamed of what you believe in. Everyone needs a wild dream to keep moving. If a dream were easy to achieve, it wouldn't be worth pursuing."

  Those words were like salt in an open wound. élise shook her head in denial of Charg's words. "No, if my belief is a delusion... then isn't this entire world a delusion? Both you and I; everyone immersed in their own illusions? So I'm not the only one who believes in the Red Ones then."

  Charg was silent—his meager life experience made it hard to refute something carved into the heart. It was like an unshakeable faith—to élise, did that belief truly become a faith? Or had it evolved into an obsession?

  Kael, sitting opposite, decided not to be silent anymore—he asked a serious question. Not showing off, but wanting to learn a necessary lesson; even if the two sides didn't fit, a king's lesson could be a commoner's lesson—just a different way of understanding, the essence of the problem remained.

  "Miss Allerian, what do you think of Edinburg Academy as a whole? I mean everything: subjects, instructors, fellow students, and more." He smiled somewhat mysteriously but kept a hint of arrogance; hand on chin, ready for a long time.

  "It's bad... bad in many aspects, not just the sky-high tuition but more social factors than financial; just think: how much do you all earn a week?"

  Kael didn't know how to answer, but stayed honest: "It depends; before officially being adventurers, a good week was as much as 2 Argentiers, a poor one was only 5 Solérie—generally hard to meet needs, especially Lorne; that book was 7 Solérie, a cut-throat price. That's even with us being acquainted for three months."

  "...You see, with such unstable income, what were Edinburg's costs? Frankly, it was 27 Solidus, converted to 32 Napoléor; exactly 40,375 Demi-sol for the four years when I left."

  The Blazing Flame group couldn't suppress their reaction. Mira jumped up, her face red to the tips of her ears:

  "What?! 40,375 Demi-sol for four years? That sounds like stealing students' blood and sweat! There's no way a normal person could pay that amount!"

  Kael burst out in anger: "It's... sky-high! Compared to an adventurer's salary, that's more than a year's work! I don't understand who prices education so high!"

  Lorne clenched his hands, his chin trembling: "True... terrifying. If everyone pays that price to learn, only the extremely rich or extremely reckless could survive!"

  Charg frowned, and instead of losing his temper, he gave a harsh sigh: "It's not just money. It's the way the system selects, eliminating those who don't fit or won't bow to the imposed order. The Academy doesn't cultivate intellect, but forges discipline and eliminates free spirit."

  Mira couldn't stay calm, her hands clenched tight as she shouted: "It's not fair! She dared to oppose the academy, survive, and quit because of money or stupid order! I swear if I were in that situation, I would have exploded long ago!"

  Kael nodded firmly, eyes bright: "Right! I don't understand why a 'prestigious' place would treat students like that!"

  Lorne's face was red with indignation: "Those people... what kind of scholarship is so heartless? It truly is a cruel education!"

  Charg solemnly tapped his staff on the ground, echoing through the forest: "This is what needs to be remembered: education is never fair. Those in power decide the laws that determine who survives and who leaves. And Miss Allerian... dared to oppose that power."

  Mira looked at élise, her hands trembling but eyes burning: "You... are truly brave! Not just good at magic or understanding history, but daring to stand up before a giant system! I... admire you!"

  Kael smirked and shrugged: "No wonder you aren't in Milishial. Edinburg is just a cage, and you are a free person—free from being locked in any boundaries."

  Lorne emphasized: "The most amazing thing... you kept your passion. Despite being rejected, disdained, dropping out... you still moved forward, still loved history. Truly hard to believe."

  élise looked at them, her eyes briefly sad but she gave a faint smile: "Come now, just talking about money and you've all collapsed. Financial pressure has never been easy, but it wasn't enough to make me leave. As I said, the social issues were more than the financial—in four years there, many things were harsher, piling up into mountains."

  Feeling her throat dry—not a drop of water since the afternoon—she borrowed Charg's water skin, which the warrior did not refuse. "Ha..." A long breath made her mood slightly better; returning the skin, élise continued in another direction.

  "There was a time like this. When I brought an essay on the origins of the Milis language to a professor in the same specialty; he proposed a hypothesis that Milis didn't develop from the Milian language due to its irrational complexity, so it must be a standard of unique linguistic import. The essence of the essay explained the development of Milis within the Milishial community from the Third Great Era—though some evidence suggests it was from the Second Great Era, causing a major conflict.

  If Milis was truly from the Third Great Era, why didn't it leave long-term sound change traces? On the contrary, ancient texts excavated at Sidoria show a nearly complete form of Milis, with strangely stable syntax and vocabulary.

  The professor concluded—though not publicly—that Milis did not 'naturally' evolve as a language, but was a result of a clash of civilizations; an unexpected import from a source outside Milishial. I didn't dare record this hypothesis directly in the thesis, but the irrationality of the formation of the Milis language was clearly exposed.

  Even a few radical linguists think Milis was a 'complete language' right at its birth—not created gradually by a community, but imposed all at once. Sounds crazy, but the lack of intermediate crude forms makes it hard to refute.

  And you know, it was that conclusion that pulled me into a dangerous debate: if language was 'imported' from elsewhere, then how many other things in this civilization didn't originally belong to it?"

  Kael heard and understood almost nothing, asking immediately after she finished: "What does this have to do with... you know."

  "Of course it does," élise said. "Because of that very professor, our history department was hated more and more—especially me. I often participated in theses related to the Red Ones; the formation of the Milis language was one of them. I didn't admit that Red Ones research wasted resources because ancient texts mentioned them very little—usually only tribes thousands of years old have a few passages."

  "So what are the current research results?" Lorne asked with great interest.

  "The results aren't certain, but I provided concrete evidence. The Red Ones were actually the name of a giant army marching through frozen lands—often called the 'Saints of the North' by a few southern Papaldia tribes. Their appearance was no different from humans except for being slightly taller. They were said to single-handedly fight alliances or dark forces to bring world peace. The time the war ended was the first half of the Salomour Dawn Era."

  Charg rubbed his chin, leaning back a bit like a scholar in the same field as élise.

  "Sounds interesting. I have a question: If the Red Ones were a giant army, which nation did they belong to? Otherwise, it would have to be an allied army to achieve that; quite similar to the legend of the demon king's invasion. Because it's impossible for an army to appear and fight for a long time without being under the authority of something larger."

  élise pointed her finger at Charg in full agreement. "That is exactly the point I researched further; I bought more journals and records of the same era. Although it narrowed my financial resources significantly, it remained within the capacity to maintain for a long time.

  The results, though without any evidence yet—as if someone manually erased it—the flow of history before the Fourth Great Era is currently extremely chaotic; if not rearranged, understanding the Third Great Era is impossible. Nevertheless, I still walk on this impossible path, no matter what society considers me to be."

  Kael had a fleeting, grim smile—the negative emotions that weren't being released were filling élise's soul, making it easy for one to lose their emotional way without anyone noticing. Perhaps we must wait for the future to answer who understands that kind of emotion, or if élise will escape it herself.

  Mira felt the conversation had become too heavy for teammates. She felt forced to ask about another topic—though a counter-argument, it had been hot for many months.

  "Miss élise, hearing that, we understand how difficult it has been for you. Hard to imagine a human could overcome it, right?"

  élise didn't answer immediately, only glancing lightly at each person. It had been a very long time since she had spoken so freely—without needing to look at others' faces, deciding her own words. After all, everything ended here—perhaps after realizing she had wasted her life on vanities.

  As the silence returned to the space, she felt quite tired. Unlike the vibrant Blazing Flame group, she had faint dark circles under her eyes. Although no one noticed, the weariness was there. Thinking constantly, but her mind only wanted rest. It was impossibly difficult.

  She briefly heard the words of that year—vanity, insults, and humiliation toward someone different like her. Those words were like sharp blades still echoing in élise's mind—not just passing comments, but deep cuts etched into the memory where she tried to bury them but couldn't erase them completely.

  "A girl from a lowly land, thinking she's equal to those born to lead?"

  "A historian? Ha, a scavenger of past trash, creating nothing for the future." "

  Don't act smart, Allerian. Here, your intellect is just a toy for the truly powerful."

  Those words from the arrogant faces in the marble halls of Edinburg once made her heart contract, wondering if she belonged there. But it was those very insults that lit a stubborn fire, a determination not to yield. She didn't want to bow—even at the price of isolation, of disdainful looks, of long nights sitting alone in the library amidst piles of old books trying to find a reason to continue.

  élise closed her eyes and took a deep breath—the smell of the campfire pulled her back to reality. The Blazing Flame group was still looking at her, each with their own expression: Mira curious and worried, Kael indifferent but caring, Lorne clutching his book for fear of it disappearing, Charg calm and understanding. They weren't the first people she had met on her adventurer journey—but they were the first to truly listen, if only for a brief moment.

  "Miss Allerian," Mira spoke up hesitantly, afraid to break the heavy atmosphere, "you talked about the Red Ones... that army. But why do you believe in them so much? If it's just a legend, aren't you chasing a ghost? Something that isn't real?"

  élise gave a raspy laugh—not exactly happy but not entirely bitter. She shook her head, her gaze sweeping over Mira then stopping at the dying fire.

  "If it were just a ghost, then this entire world is a ghost, Mira. History is not a story told clearly from start to finish. It's fragments, a puzzle we piece together ourselves. The Red Ones... might not be a real army or a specific group. It might just be a symbol—the way the ancients explained power beyond understanding. But I believe, because even a legend must originate somewhere. Truth is hidden, distorted through time."

  She paused, her hand unconsciously mimicking the motion of holding a document—a personal instinctive action. "I don't seek the Red Ones to prove they exist. I seek them to understand why they disappeared, why the world is afraid to mention them."

  Charg nodded slightly, his voice deep and firm: "You're right. There are things that, whether real or not, still leave traces. Those traces are often hidden by those who don't want us to know the truth. I've seen villages wiped out just because of a folktale, books burned just because of a passage. Fear doesn't come from what we know, but from what we might know."

  Lorne was still digesting élise's words, suddenly speaking up tremulously but with determination: "So... if you find the truth about the Red Ones, what will you do? If it's truly dangerous? Or if it proves everything we believe about history and this world is a mistake?"

  élise looked at Lorne—a strange spark in her eyes as if the question had touched a deep corner of her soul. "If that day comes, Lorne, I must face my own fear. Knowledge is a double-edged sword. It illuminates but also cuts away everything we believe. I'm not sure what I'll do, but I hope I'm strong enough not to become one who uses knowledge to destroy."

  Kael, who had kept his indifference from the start, suddenly burst into a sincere, non-mocking laugh: "You're truly strange, Allerian. Talking to you is like reading a book without knowing the final chapter. But... I like that. At least you aren't fake—not like those academy types, talking poetically to hide their emptiness."

  Mira nodded, her hand still clutching the bread as if to keep her composure: "I don't understand everything you say, but I know you aren't lying. And... I think if you've come this far, you will surely find the answer. No matter what."

  The atmosphere softened—like the small fire dispelling the cold of the night. élise looked at each member of the Blazing Flame group—a strange feeling rising in her heart. Not complete trust—because she had learned not to give trust easily—but a bit of warmth, a hope that not everyone in the world only takes advantage or judges.

  "Thank you," she said softly and sincerely. "I don't know how far I can go, but at least tonight I don't feel like I'm walking alone."

  The fire crackled as if in agreement. The sky was still pitch black—but somewhere a faint turquoise light pierced through the clouds, as a reminder that even the cycle of chaos, however terrifying, would eventually pass.

  Then suddenly, a roar echoed—a reminder of the truth that nothing escapes its own fate. élise frowned when she heard it, stood up abruptly, gripping her staff firmly and taking a deep breath; beside her, the Blazing Flame group immediately went into defensive stances upon hearing it.