Even after exclaiming in such manner, which obviously meant the situation was strange, silence hung between the three of them like frost on a winter morning.
Jasper swallowed hard, discomfort crawling up his spine. His gaze flickered over to Auren, who remained transfixed by the dancing flames, and then to Meredith, sitting cross-legged with her eyes sealed shut in meditation.
A peculiar tension gnawed at him. The awareness that both companions hailed from the Province of Hope while he belonged to the Province of Passion created an invisible barrier between them.
Hope and Passion stood for nearly opposing systems. People from both provinces rarely associated with ease, their belief systems and core values clashing like water against fire.
The Archon of Fire known as Passion embodied the duality of flames—both as a destructive force and a source of transformation. Passion itself represented that driving force of will. It rejected the notion of the Archon of Light, Hope, who was worshipped as a guide through darkness, both literal and emotional, leading eventually to fulfillment.
Put simply, Passion declared: do not hope for it—take action with determination, desperation, and resolve to make it happen. Forge through obstacles if necessary, but make it happen. TheBalladoftheBurningWill captured this philosophy perfectly.
Hope proclaimed: believe in me, follow the path of light. It regarded concepts like determination and resolve with levity, placing greater emphasis on faith and patience.
This fundamental difference had sparked scholarly debates that festered over time, becoming the source of numerous disparities and silent wars between the two Provinces.
Among all six archons, these two harbored the most hostility toward each other.
The Archons rarely staged trials together, and the presence of Nascents from both the Fire Archon and Light Archon in the same trial was even more unusual.
'In the end... no one knows the will of the Archons... hmmm.'
Jasper squinted at the flames, their orange glow reflecting in his narrowed eyes.
'This could be a sign... perhaps Passion wants me to reunite us. Despite our differences in belief, we need not be hostile toward each other!'
Jasper gulped and looked up at Auren first, then swallowed hard again. The visage before him appeared anything but approachable, yet he had to fulfill his purpose. If the Archon had truly bestowed upon him this particular task, it would mean he wasn't as worthless as everyone claimed.
Passion saw something in him and had granted him a chance to prove the entire Province wrong. He could redeem himself with this opportunity and finally silence those who constantly compared him to his twin brother—a Nascent since the tender age of thirteen.
He moistened his lips and spoke.
"Uhm, so, gentleman. If you don't mind... Can I know your name?"
Auren sighed and shifted his attention from the fire, leaning against the wall as he raised one knee and rested his hand upon it. His gaze settled on the strange youth as he responded with cool indifference.
"I am Auren and she's Meredith."
The boy leaned forward, clearly expecting more.
"I don't give a shit about house names so you won't be getting any of that from me."
Jasper recoiled slightly, a subtle wince crossing his features.
'What a boorish manner of speech. He speaks like a commoner—must be a low-ranking noble or perhaps not noble at all. But he looks strong. I suppose that should be all that matters for the trial.'
He glanced at Meredith, who softly opened her eyes as if sensing his gaze upon her. Perhaps she truly could.
"You wouldn't know," she said simply.
'Ah... her voice is amazing!'
Jasper nodded, a moment too late.
"Oh well, I guess it is fine to just be on a first-name basis. Although that would rather insinuate that we are close friends..."
He smiled and flushed, glancing between his two companions.
Auren studied him with thinly veiled disbelief. He shook his head slightly and lowered his gaze to the holy sword resting on the ground.
The prison events remained vivid in his mind—merely hours had passed, after all. He cared little about what this trial... or fester had in store for him.
His goal remained simple.
Payback.
For Auren, this wasn't merely vengeance. It was defiance against whatever cruel fate had been written for him.
He was going to fight a solitary and terrifying battle—a struggle against his own existence, unaware of what he might become with a curse dwelling in his soul.
A conflict with a world that rejected him and would likely deny his very right to exist.
And a confrontation with the sleeping sovereigns of such a realm—Hope in particular, for he was the origin, the source of his suffering, the force that had cast him out.
Auren simply wanted to reject that which rejected him. To seize control of his own destiny.
"So..."
Jasper's voice boomed, drawing Auren's attention forward. His golden blonde hair cascaded in smooth waves down to his shoulders, eerily illuminated by the cantaloupe flames, lending him a relaxed and effortlessly charming appearance.
"What are we doing here? Are we just waiting around for something good to happen?"
Auren's lips curled into a smirk.
"Nothing good will happen to you in a trial. But if the dawn can be counted as something good... Yes, we are waiting for something good to happen to us."
Jasper's brow furrowed slightly in thought.
"What a weird thing for a Blessed of Hope to say. Your sentence arrangement is quite strange but intriguing."
He tilted his head like a curious bird.
"So rearranging everything you just said, it would mean you're saying you guys are waiting for dawn to happen to you?"
"At least you're not completely dumb."
Jasper's expression darkened.
"Hey! That's a rude thing to say!"
Auren ignored him, lifting his gaze toward the lightless abyss that served as the sky, his eyes searching the void as though for answers written in invisible ink.
Jasper sat in silence, his features tensed in concentration. After a while, he shifted and fixed his attention back on Auren.
"I don't think dawn is going to happen though."
Auren withdrew his gaze from the emptiness above and turned to Jasper, subtly alert.
"What did you say?"
Jasper shook his head melancholically, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.
"Dawn, I think it's been stolen."
Auren raised an eyebrow, disbelief and curiosity battling across his features.
"What do you mean dawn has been stolen?"
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[Footnotes]
TheBalladoftheBurningWill
When dawn's first breath does meet the flame,
And shadows cling to night'sdomain,
I burn, I blaze, I will not yield,
For steel is forged on battlefields.
A voice, a fire, the world alight,
I take my fate and shape the fight,
No whispered prayer, no pleading cry,
For hope is but the dream of sky.
Strike iron, bend it to your will,
Against the night, against the chill,
Hope falters when the winds grow cold,
But passion's heart does not grow old.
When mountains rise to block the path,
I'll break the stone or bear the wrath,
When rivers roar and drown the way,
I'll swim, I'll carve, I will not sway.
Do not speak of dreams unseen,
Of faded hopes or crowns unclean,
I'll carve the stars into my name,
And leave behind the timid flame.
Let others seek the hand of fate,
Or beg for dawn at evening'sgate,
But I shall be the roaring sun,
That burns until the night is done.
And when the ashes kiss the earth,
They'll tell of flames that gave them birth,
Of souls that burned despite the night—
A will so fierce it birthed the light.
So heed not words of wistful men,
Nor bend to fear or doubt again,
For in the blaze where hope does fail,
Theburningwill shall still prevail.