Echo of the Embers

The mountain foothills stretched impressively beneath a sooty, windswept sky. The rock, charred and marked by the passing of time, rose in dark ridges defying the horizon. This is where my recent explorations had taken me. I can still remember the pain in my legs as I climbed the steep slopes. Anyone who had passed by would easily have been able to spot my silhouette, clear and almost lost in this imposing mass of darkness.

***

But I'm failing in all my duties! Before I tell you more about this story, it's worth putting it into context. Settled comfortably in an armchair at the inn I had chosen for the night, I was listening distractedly to the various conversations around me, half-sleeping, when one of them piqued my curiosity. At the next table, two men with ruddy faces were chatting excitedly about the fantastic and frightening creature that guarded the mountain overlooking the region. Whatever one thinks of local folklore, it can sometimes hold more truth than superstition, so I decided to give them a little more careful listening.

The words of the two companions became less and less audible, and less and less relevant, as one pint followed another around them. They brought me nothing more than a profound boredom which finally reinforced my already advanced drowsiness. The fall of one of them, who slumped drunkenly on his table, marked the end of their conversation and encouraged me to return quickly to my room to avoid tiredness making me follow the path of the unfortunate drunkard. Luckily, the region had a renowned library where I could no doubt find traces of the legend that had aroused my interest.

The next day, refreshed and ready to go, I got my things together and made my way to the site. The building, whose reputation was well established, was at first sight far less impressive than I had hoped. Behind its weathered stone frontage, I discovered a jumble of parchments and books piled up without any apparent logic, placed wherever space allowed. The smell of old paper and cold wax permeated the air, while a few old men with hesitant gaits wandered between the shelves, as crumpled and silent as the manuscripts they guarded. I wondered for a moment about the reputation of the place, but as I rummaged around, I discovered hidden underneath the clutter some real treasures: illuminated manuscripts, expertly annotated maps and works said to be lost. This apparent chaos was perhaps the key to so many forgotten treasures. Fortunately, and as unlikely as it may seem, the wise men of the place seemed to find their way around. One of them, after observing me with a wrinkled but lively eye, finally extracted from a shaky pile the book I was looking for, documenting the local myths.

***

At the end of the path, a gaping chasm opened up in the mountainside. Its blackened edges, somewhat menacing, seemed to guard the entrance to an ancient sanctuary. The emptiness there, which seemed to suck in the surrounding light, was nonetheless insidiously attractive, as if designed to capture the attention of unwary travellers and lead them to their doom.

I stepped into it and immediately the shadow engulfed me. As I groped blindly along, I felt the burning breath all the more keenly. It was as if, not far away, a gigantic furnace was burning continuously, although its glow was in no way perceptible. Fearing that the slightest spark would set the air around me ablaze, I continued on my way in the dark, hoping nevertheless that my eyes would eventually get used to the surrounding darkness. This was hardly the case. The darkness remained total, thick and oppressive. Each step dragged on in a heavy wait, making my progress even more trying. Then, at last, I caught a glimpse of light. It was fragile and flickering at first, barely a flicker in the half-light. It became clearer as I went on, revealing, a few metres further on, a new gap in the rock, which this time opened onto a vast room probably carved out of the mountain. Here, imposing ornate pillars, vestiges of an ancient civilisation, stood supporting the vault so high up that it was out of sight. Some of them, however, had not survived the ravages of time and lay broken on the ground, where their fall had caused impressive cracks.

In the centre of this vast space, a large slab appeared to bear the scars of a long-extinguished blaze. In addition to traces of soot and charred pieces of wood, a thick layer of ashes had accumulated. Yet something strange seemed to be at work. There was every indication that the fire that had once burned here had been consumed long ago, but the embers visible beneath the dust were still glowing in places, like a burning heart that had never really stopped beating. Cautiously, I approached it, sensing with every step a kind of diffuse presence, a latent energy. Discerning an almost imperceptible movement, I paused for a moment, my instincts telling me to be cautious... but curiosity was stronger, so I slowly resolved to move my hand towards the cracked surface.

A shudder ran through the air, a vibration that was barely perceptible at first, but then grew, filling the cavern with an electric crackle. An invisible wave spread with a dull roar, and before I knew what was happening, I was swept away, thrown to the ground with the sensation of having been caught in the blast of a silent explosion. In front of me, something was taking shape. A luminous glow appeared in the half-light, at first diffuse, then brilliant, outlining the silhouette emerging from the flames. Its huge wings spread out in a sovereign gesture, casting the trembling shadow of a being of fire on the stone. His aura pulsed, pushing the darkness to the very corners of the sanctuary.

I stood transfixed. This apparition, though devoid of flesh and bone, was in no way spectral. The image flickered, like a flame in the wind, then rose, defying the vault, before breaking up in a shower of sparks. Silence fell again, but something had changed. The cavern was no mere relic of stone. Far from being just a burnt-out hearth, it was a shrine to an unsuspected force lurking beneath the rock.

Cautiously, I straightened up, my senses still buzzing from the shock I had just received. A glow persisted in the hollow of the stone, quivering like a fire about to go out, but stubbornly alive. Intrigued, I took a step forward. With a measured gesture, I untied a flask from my belt and crouched down to pick up a handful of intertwined ashes and embers, whose glow seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the mountain itself. As soon as my fingers touched them, I could feel their radiance, more an afterglow of energy than real heat. They throbbed beneath my palm, almost quivering, as if endowed with a will of their own. Yet they didn't burn me. I let the burning fragments slide into my container, holding my breath, watching for the slightest tremor. But nothing came. Only this diffuse presence remained, impregnating the glass with a still vibrant glow. It was as if the fire within them had recognised me... or at least tolerated me.

I backed away slowly, my gaze still fixed on the heart of the great hall, as if watching a sleeping monster, dreading to see it awaken at any moment. Nothing moved. And yet, as I left the room, the echo of my footsteps on the stone was accompanied by a dull roar.

Had I witnessed an illusion shaped by the mountain itself, was it a memory trapped in stone, condemned to repeat itself over and over again, was it a warning, or was it the echo of a patient force, waiting for the right moment to be reborn? I had no idea, and to this day I still don't, but one thing was certain: the ashes I carried with me, far from being inert, were just waiting for the right impulse to ignite anew.

This collection is composed of four medium-sized eggs and one larger egg.

The shop will be updated on 9 April at 8.30pm.