Poliah asks.
To the one who initiated a duel with snow and cold.
“Why is there a Horuah Sled yet no one is riding it?”
…says he.
Ah, that whisper is so secretive, as frail and faint as the breath of wood drifting into one’s ears during winter, it is not easily understood. Yet, how could one who respects the goddess of snow fail to hear such words?
Even if my hands freeze, how can I resist the desire to caress such beauty just once?
Thus, following his words, I placed someone upon the Horuah Sled for the sled race, gripping hair like snow and setting it there.
“Cough.”
Are you nervous? Or are you too joyful at the thought of the sled’s speed to dare aim your body?
You who ride the sled. A person who wishes to devote this fleeting life to the sled. You exhale clouds of breath into the cold, trembling your old body.
You are not dead yet, so it’s a joyful thing, indeed.
So, controlling plants, I formed them into vines, brought my face close to the body bound securely to the Horuah sled, and said while gazing into your eyes:
“Kenneth. Poor wretch known as the Calamity Sorcerer. Do you know who I am?”
I ask the one who is about to depart. Do you truly know who I am?
Jinseong cast his gaze at Kenneth while posing the question, observing the flickering perception of clarity in his eyes. In the moments of sharpness, wisdom and knowledge lingered, judging Jinseong fairly, yet that clarity vanished as fleetingly as mist at dawn, quickly becoming hazy and replaced by foolishness.
The stark transformation between a wise old man and a reckless youth unfolds in an instant.
Ah, delusion has set in.
Clarity diminishes, wisdom scatters, and the specter of confusion fills that place; indeed, foolishness has taken hold!
This confusion, that muddles the mind, emerges not from the body bestowed at birth, nor from one’s diet, neither stemming from someone’s wrath. So irreparably damaged is it, that even the desire to heal is rendered futile; arriving at a point where restoring it to normalcy is genuinely difficult…
Ah.
This is the cost of magic. The great cost imposed by the Great Ritual of Magic, burdensome to bear alone…
The degradation of the flesh might have held up under mental strain. Yet with the brain broken and the vessel of thought shattered, it is only natural that the spirit too becomes imperfect.
Before time becomes twisted, I discern the reason for the spreading of something inhuman, and my gaze reveals the depth of that truth.
Those with such eyes have witnessed their bodies eroding through time, how can the spirit maintain its wholeness?
Degraded and broken, the past self has turned into mere fragments; it is hardly distinguishable from a madman, incapable of performing anything perfectly. Knowledge has been eaten away by insects, leaving behind holes and a stunted version of itself, while the wisdom hoarded has become a body that cannot even be properly utilized.
Ah, what a pity; what a regretful soul.
A fleeting life that never attained its grand ambitions.
“Look at me. Do you truly know who I am?”
Had you perished while pursuing the goals you established, you might have clung to some regrets. If you had walked with the stars and sailed the seas, perishing in misfortune without reaching your destination, you might have at least offered solace to yourself.
Ah, how unutterably tragic it is to wander endlessly, unable to grasp what the purpose or goal even was, in the midst of the hazy fog!
Thus, here and now, Jinseong poses the question to Kenneth.
And Kenneth, struggling, barely manages to utter his reply.
“…Young… sorcerer….”
… he stated.
Yet Jinseong frowned slightly, as if dissatisfied with that response.
“No.”
If what you answered was wrong, then what is the right answer?
“Do you intend to… offer me as a human sacrifice…?”
What is the correct answer? That curiosity, that intrigue fills his head.
The traits that once led him down the path of a scholar arise once more.
“What do you want to do with me as a sacrifice?”
And so he poses the question, just as he did to a professor during his university days, ignited by the fervor of learning, asking countless questions back then.
“Poliah… I know…. The adversary of the goddess Pele…. The goddess who took a part of the volcano as her domain…. The most beautiful goddess among the four goddesses of snow who oppose Pele….”
With each question posed, clarity begins to return slowly.
The pain permeating his body forces his brain into waking, releasing substances to alleviate the suffering and escape the crisis. In the midst of this turmoil, the haze in his clarity begins to retreat, and his wisdom starts to push away the foolishness, gradually taking its place.
“Cold, ice, snow. Young sorcerer… Will you curse me as Aiwohikupua and Princess Maui once did? Will you freeze my bones and transform it into heat, leading me to die in agony? Will you freeze me to death?”
With clarity returning, his mouth loosens.
His tongue glides smoothly, swimming through his mouth as he speaks, while his lips, once burdened with pain, now enunciate distinctly.
That scene resembles a creature just before death, moving with the utmost vigor.
It feels as if the flame at the cusp of death is squeezing out every bit of strength to shine the brightest.
Thus Kenneth, in truth, begins to sense his impending end.
Ah.
I am to die here.
I am to die at the hands of this young sorcerer.
It is not something that can be easily accepted, even as a mere phrase.
So Kenneth could do nothing but gaze at Jinseong with eyes full of lingering regret.
The returning clarity expressed disappointment through his gaze, his tone dripping with emotion.
“You’ve misspoken.”
Yet as if to negate Kenneth’s thoughts, Jinseong announces.
What you said was wrong.
“What was wrong?”
What was this ‘wrong’ Jinseong spoke of?
Was it the initial claim of being a young sorcerer?
Was it the manner of answering a question with another question that brought fault?
Or perhaps the content of what he asked was erroneous?
Could it be that the unexpressed regret was indeed wrong?
What precisely was wrong?
What has Kenneth done wrong?
Kenneth swims through the ceaseless thoughts swirling in his mind, lifting his gaze.
He rolls his eyes to meet Jinseong’s, attempting to read the answer embedded within those pupils.
But the gaze of that young sorcerer meeting his is so vacant.
That window to the heart, exposing the inner self, holds not a single emotion.
Thus, Kenneth finds it impossible to discern the response.
Like a mathematician confronted by a problem, he knows an answer exists yet cannot approach it, trapped in the agony of ignorance…
Those eyes.
He sees those seemingly hollow eyes.
He sees rocks worn down by wind and sculpted by rain over the years.
He sees something that has melded into nature over a long period.
That sense of emptiness, unreachable by mere realizations, resides within those eyes.
It is not something that arises from within, but rather, can be considered the shape of that heart.
What form has that heart been carved into?
How is it possible that without holding anything, it embodies such a shape?
“Ah….”
No.
It is not that it holds nothing.
He sees it.
He sees the flame.
Like the small campfire lit in the woods.
Like the sparks that pop and fly as the moisture-laden firewood burns.
A small ember swims within the eyes of that sorcerer.
Swimming, it reveals that there is indeed flame here, that fire is indeed burning.
It indicates that somewhere deep within that heart, something is blazing.
Ah, that window to the heart has revealed nothing but a mere fragment of the soul.
Only a minuscule part of the heart was shown.
The heart is so vast and immense that it could not be guessed at all…
“…Fire… you are fire….”
Thus Kenneth spoke it aloud.
Though that flame might merely be a remnant of that sorcerer.
No, it certainly must be.
But he could not help but express it.
He could not refrain from defining the fire that burns deep within his heart…
“…You are a different flame….”
The fire that Kenneth grasped, even if it was just a glimpse, was truly different from that of other sorcerers.
It appeared to encompass everything yet seemed close to the essence, while conversely could appear distant, burning with mere concepts and ideas.
Like an illusion that might flicker away into the void, it felt intangible, a mere phantasm wrought from scattered light.
What is it?
How does this sorcerer hold such a thing?
And….
Ah.
I understand.
“Oh, I see now.”
Kenneth recalled the flame and looked into Jinseong’s eyes.
And with his heart, he realized.
“Your words are true! You were wrong!”
