Текущая версия на 17:00, 6 мая 2025

 

Перевод на рецензирование

Не вините вкладчиков, но приходите и помогите им 😎

Справочный текст ( Сохраненный текст, используется как ссылка ) :
Примечания : (Nilstilar, 2025-05-06)

“

A crystalline clink echoed down the wide corridor, soon followed by the pounding of hurried footsteps.

"May I help you, Master?", a Zoraï dressed in a white overall said as he pushed open the door to the experiment room, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Yes", Marung replied while releasing the string that worked the bell system and pointing a sharp dagger in his direction, "Give me your hand, please."

Slightly scared, but now accustomed to the sorcerer's whims and aware of the consequences of refusal, the Zorai held out his palm without the slightest hesitation. The blade sliced through his skin with a clean, precise stroke. Marung, holding a bowl with a conical base in his other hand, collected the blood that flowed from the wound. Once this completed, he closed the wound with a simple spell and dismissed the homin.

The degrading way in which Marung treated his staff, and more generally all those he deemed unworthy of interest, had a way of exasperating Pü. Although he had joined the sorcerer several weeks earlier, he still hadn't got used to it. Yet he had no regrets about his decision. When Marung had first asked him to follow him, he had accepted without hesitation. After several years of isolation, with no one to say more than a few words to him before running away, Marung was an exception. Not only did he not fear Pü, but he also showed a genuine interest in him and held him in high esteem. Indeed, the sorcerer had never ceased to emphasise the singularity of his constitution, which he had perceived from the moment they met in the Taï-Toon library, and which he believed explained the special bond he shared with the Black Kami. Suspicious at first, Pü had allowed himself to be seduced by his words. For the first time in a long time, he was relieved that someone saw in him something other than a simple harbinger of doom. He was also a little curious: what would the wizard conclude about him, given his undeniable qualifications? Having watched him work several times, Pü had to admit that Marung's science, rituals and other experiments were very advanced. Watching him like this, he had already wondered how far the sorcerer could progress when he reached the age of Grandmother Bä-Bä, many decades from now.

"I'll leave you to it.", said Marung to Pü, handing him the dagger after cleaning it with an alcohol solution.

"Why didn't you use your own blood?", he replied, grabbing the blade and slashing his palm, letting his blood flow into a second bowl similar to the first.

"Because only the blood of a mere human can reveal your superiority."

Pü rolled his eyes. For Marung, this patronising attitude was not instinctive, but deliberate: the sorcerer used to take every opportunity to remind people that he considered himself to be important. Pü, on the other hand, had never been comfortable with the idea of placing oneself above others. If he had tried to do so over the last few months, that was only to convince the survivors he came across to follow him, and his efforts had invariably ended in failure. Where Pü would have given anything to live and die in the stump of the rainforest where he was born, surrounded by his family and far from the weight of prophecy, Marung had never stopped aspiring to become someone great. Over the weeks they had spent together, Pü had learned that, before becoming the most promising disciple of the Great Sage Min-Cho, Marung had grown up in an influential family, belonging to the cultural and spiritual elite of Zoran, and counting renowned Zorais among its ancestors. Spotted at an early age by the Council of Sages, Marung had quickly established himself as a promising figure, with the potential to someday join the Council of Sages and even claim the prestigious title of Great Sage of the Theocracy. And although the fall of the Zorai civilisation and the hasty flight of the Zoran oligarchy had put an end to Marung's political ambitions, the sorcerer now seemed to be pursuing other goals.

"Thank you again for your patience, he continued, carefully placing the two bowls on a trebuchet on the manipulation table opposite them. I would have liked to show you this earlier, but as you can see, I have lots of commitments: between my research work, the island management and my many trips to the Great Library of Taï-Toon, I don't know where to turn. The ritual I'm about to perform isn't particularly complex, but it's based on a new understanding of the Sap. It was perfected only a few years ago and was still unknown to the general public before the fall of the Theocracy."

Marung paused a moment to check the weight of the bowls. He withdrew a small amount of blood from the heavier one, adjusting its filling with precision until the two containers weighed exactly the same, then raised his mask once he was satisfied.

"Good, then I can get started."

Placing the first bowl in front of him, he then opened a long box from which he took out three objects: two small spheres and a shaft fashioned from the same greyish material. Most likely bone. All three items were decorated with finely traced Zoraïs ideograms. With ceremonial precision, Marung placed one of the two spheres in the centre of the first bowl and waited patiently for the surface of the blood it held to settle. He then dipped the shaft into the bowl and slid it along the rim in a controlled, regular circular movement. Gradually, a whirlpool began to carve into the surface of the liquid. As the movement gained in intensity, the sorcerer began to chant an almost inaudible stanza. His intonations seemed to resonate with the sphere, which gradually slowed before reversing its spinning sense. As the seconds passed, the greyish hue of the sphere slowly turned deep red, while its surface took on a crystalline look and seemed to thicken slightly. Finally, the sorcerer completed his incantation and dipped a spoon into the bowl to remove the sphere. It had grown slightly in size and was glistening scarlet under the light of the room, as if some of the blood had vitrified around it. Marung lifted it to the level of Pü's mask and kept it right in front of his eyes.

"This is the spiritual component of the blood of this devoted subordinate. A Zoraï like the others... A Fortunate. A far cry from what I'm going to show you now."

Marung carefully cleaned the shaft with the same alcoholic solution he had used to sanitise the dagger, then wiped it clean. Once it was clean, he placed the second sphere in the centre of the bowl containing Pü's blood. Repeating the same ritual, he slid the shaft along the edge of the bowl, making the same regular circular movement and uttering the same stanza. When the sphere's spin reversed, Pü noticed a striking difference: the sphere was rotating faster than the previous one, and seemed to be getting bigger by the minute. When the sorcerer had finally finished, he withdrew from the bowl a scarlet orb much more impressive than the one produced by the first. Without a word, he handed the spoon to Pü, who took it carefully and for the orb to examine more closely.

"Nothing to do with it, is it? You're a Called one. Give it to me, I'll weigh it."

Pü looked at the small object for a moment longer before handing the spoon back to Marung. Who, after gently wiping the two orbs with a clean cloth, placed them on the scales to compare weights. The difference was glaring. Pü's was considerably heavier.

"What does that tell you?" he asked Marung.

Ignoring the question, the sorcerer grabbed the amber cube that never left his side, currently resting on the worktable. Looking at his mask and seeing his gaze lose itself in the object's orange reflections, Pü realised at once that Marung was magically engraving his thoughts on it. Respectful of this moment of concentration, he kept silent so as not to disturb the process. Once the inscription completed, the sorcerer put the cube down and calmly turned towards Pü.

"What does that tell me? Not much. As expected, your blood is much richer in spiritual particles than that of an ordinary human. In reality, I simply wanted to show you something that, for the moment, is still beyond your perception. Something you'll be able to feel for yourself, once you master kami'o liang better. If you wish, I can help you accelerate its awakening."

Kami'o liang, literally “kamic hearing”, was, according to Marung, the new sense that Pü had developed after the Black Kami's blessing. It was a gift that Marung knew well, having received it himself shortly after the precocious growth of his mask. The first time Marung had named this gift had given rise to a discussion that Pü had found very interesting. While the sorcerer claimed an impression of hearing the Sap flowing, Pü, for his part, had the impression of visualising it. For him, kami'o liang was more like kami'o kai, or “kamic vision”. Marung, who had already met a handful of other Zoraï blessed by the Kamis - most of whom sat on the Council of Sages - was not surprised to find that Pü did not experience this gift as he did. According to Marung, some of them could not even see or hear the Sap, but felt it in a more abstract way, with no connection to the usual senses.

At first pleasantly surprised by Marung's offer of help - a premiere, coming from him, usually so reluctant to share his knowledge - Pü soon suspected an underlying intention. He wondered if Marung wasn't simply trying to divert the conversation, perhaps to conceal information he had gained from the ritual he had just performed, but which he wished to keep to himself. Keen to get him to reveal more of who he was, Pü immediately remembered that insisting might put him off, given the wizard's distrustful nature. So he decided to accept her offer and play along, at least for the time being.

"Thank you for offering to help me. I do think that your knowledge could help me refine some of the lessons that the Black Kami has taught me. His power is matched only by his difficulty in communicating clearly with me.

"I know what you mean," says Marung in a smile. "Kamis aren't very talkative. But I hope you realise the good fortune you've had to spend three whole years alone with one of them to train. I too have had the opportunity to receive teachings from Kamis, invoked by the Sages on certain occasions, but always for much shorter periods.

"Yes, I understand how lucky I have been. I've learnt a lot in three years, even if I'm not quite as good as you in the art of manipulating the Sap."

Pü was deliberately playing on Marung's heartstrings: his sense of self-worth. Although the two Zoraïs were naturally on first-name terms, he knew that he would have to maintain a certain deference for as long as he remained on the sorcerer's island. In a gesture intended to be humble, Marung waved his hand lightly before carefully sliding the reddish orbs into one of the pockets of his mauve jumpsuit. Pü repressed the urge to ask him wether he could get his own, preferring not to jeopardise the rapprochement that seemed to be taking shape. As convinced that he would have the opportunity to present that request some other time, he decided rather to carry on with the conversation.

"Besides, even if my kami'o liang isn't yet fully awake, to the point of being able to distinguish between homins, it's still allowed me to make certain observations. I don't think I can teach you much, but I'd still like to discuss it with you."

After getting rid of the remaining blood in the bowls, Marung had buckled down cleaning them and his worktable. With a gesture, he invited Pü to continue.

"By observing the life forms that inhabit the Jungle, I have discerned several major categories, Pü continued. "They differ in the way the Sap circulates in their bodies: the Kamis produce an extremely dense flux, the flora and animals a dense flux, the homins and kitins a relatively sparse flux, while the agents of the Karavan produce no flux at all. I was struck by two things: firstly, the fact that homins don't have a profile closer to that of Kamis, and secondly, that kitins have a flux so similar to ours. I suppose you've already noticed these differences?"

"Exactly, replied Marung, turning back to him. As far as homins are concerned, I'll even teach you that the flux of Sap also varies according to their race, as well as some of their individual characteristics. It's a nuance you'll be able to perceive too, when you get sufficiently experienced. However, if you've noticed this, it's because you've already mastered your new sense." Marung paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word, then continued.

"I'm going to be honest, he breathed, an enigmatic gleam shining in the eye-slits of his mask. "I have a hypothesis about the subject you just raised. A hypothesis that displeases the Council of Sages of Zoran as much as the Royal College and the Church of Light of Matia. None of them would want it expressed. The Zorais prefer to believe that homins are immaculate creations of the Kamis, while the Matis hold to the idea that they have no connection with them."

The sorcerer moved towards the door, giving Pü a look that invited him to follow.

"Yet I'm convinced that the truth lies somewhere between these two visions, he continued. Yes, the origin of homins is undoubtedly linked to the Kamis. But I don't think we are their pure creation, in the like of plants or animals for example. We're different, and we share that difference with the kitins."

Marung paused for a moment, scrutinising Pü intently. He was mastering the art of silence like a rhetorical weapon, playing with rhythm and trying to gauge the impact of his deliberately enigmatic speech on his interlocutor. But Pü, accustomed to what he described as “grandstanding”, remained perfectly unshaken.

"And to prove it, I intend to take advantage of the misfortune that befell us three years ago. Follow me."

Marung opened the door and stepped into the corridor, Pü hot on his heels. The two of them followed several forks in the maze of passages. This place, which the sorcerer had made his own after the fall of the Theocracy, was once one of the many lao-gongs scattered across the country, temples dedicated to healing, and this one in particular had a special vocation for the treatment of homins suffering from an imbalance in the harmony of their spiritual particles. This imbalance, which disrupted the handling of the Sap and, consequently, the practice of magic, could, in the most serious cases, lead to degenerative diseases that considerably reduced life expectancy of the homins so affected. Marung, who had joined the temple a few years before the kitins began to swarm, joining his older brother already in post, tried to protect the site when the horde swept through the Jungle. Thanks to its insular location, the place had escaped the first assaults, allowing the defenders to hold out for several days. But a massive air attack finally broke their line of defence, taking many lives, including that of his brother.

The sequence of events that had ensued was remaining vague. Pü still wasn't sure how the sorcerer had managed to establish himself as the leader of a small community of survivors, but he was envious of his ability to gather homins around him, offering them both home and shelter, something he hadn't yet been able to achieve. This community was made up of both former temple workers who had escaped the catastrophe and Zorais from outside: mainly former soldiers, tribal warriors and bandit survivors who had ended up as mercenaries in the sorcerer's service. Nor did Pü know what had become of the temple's patients, or whether they had all perished during the assault. The rare people still present who had once been Marung's colleagues before the swarming, showed them little talkative. Pü suspected they had been ordered to remain silent, and he guessed that the sorcerer's takeover was concealing a number of secrets. The only undeniable fact was that, three years after these events, Marung was in charge of around fifty people entirely devoted to him. With no patients to care for, the sorcerer had turned the temple into an immense laboratory, whose access to certain areas were strictly monitored. Notably the lower level, buried in the depths of the small island, whose entrance was strictly forbidden and to which only Marung had the key. Picking up a firefly lantern left on a small piece of furniture, then unlocking the heavy lock of the door, the sorcerer gestured his guest to precede him in the staircase that descended before them. Pü crossed the threshold without hesitation.

Until then, the Voice had never ceased to express to Pü the distrust it felt towards Marung. It had also advised him to keep his own existence secret. Despite this caution and the mistrust he partly shared, Pü was not afraid that Marung might come after him directly. Admittedly, the sorcerer was a much more experienced mage than he was, and his most powerful spells could have killed him in a single blow. However, in hand-to-hand combat, Pü was convinced that he would easily have the upper hand. Marung was no soldier, and he made no secret of the fact. His slim, muscle-free body was clear proof of that. Just ahead of him on the stairs, he began the descent calmly, watching him continuously with his kamic vision and taking care never to outrun him. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the steps carved into the bark, while the temperature gradually dropped. When they reached a deep, wide corridor, Marung took the lead again, moving forward with a confident stride.

"This part of the temple is off-limits. It's where my most confidential experiments take place... which are also the most dangerous."

Following Marung, Pü tried to identify the content of the adjacent rooms. One door in particular caught his attention. Behind it, he perceived four disjointed flows of Sap, corresponding to four living homins, a priori lying down. Intrigued, he slowed down. Marung then stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned around, a cold gleam in his eyes.

"I generously open the heart of my home to you, and you're eavesdropping? That's not very respectful, Pü Fu-Tao. These doors are closed for good reasons. Behind this one, for example, are four seriously ill and contagious homins that I'm trying to cure."

His tone became harsher, almost icy.

"So, are you going to show yourself able to respect my my rules and continue to follow me without sticking your mask everywhere, or would you prefer us to go back upstairs straight away?"

So there were still patients in this temple after all? Only in the basement? When everything indicated that there were none left? Pü remained sceptical. However, he had to admit that Marung was not wrong to criticise his manners. After all, if he had envisaged that he might be caught in the act, he would no doubt have refrained from using his kamic vision, proof that he was aware that he was acting in a questionable manner. Especially as the sorcerer had shown him a certain amount of confidence by inviting him to follow him to such a highly private place.

"You're right, I apologise. I acted without considering. Your work often arouses my curiosity, but there was no malice in my action."

Marung silently nodded before resuming his walk. Pü followed him, this time refraining from trying to guess what was behind the other doors they were walking past. He concentrated rather on the door Marung had just stopped in front of, the lock of which he was now busy unlocking.

Behind it, Pü discovered a soberly lit room, dominated by manipulation tables cluttered with instruments and containers of various sizes. Along one wall, several zorai bathtubs made from taleng - a plant with green, hollow, lignified stems, abundant in jungles - were neatly lined up. Traditionally used for ritual or medicinal baths, they seemed perfectly at home in this temple. Marung invited Pü to enter, and Pü walked slowly forward, intrigued by what he wanted to show him. As he approached the baths, he soon noticed a slight movement on the surface of the liquid contained in one of them. Intrigued, he leaned over.

In one swift movement, Pü drew his daggers and leapt backwards, positioning himself opposite Marung, away from the pools. The sorcerer let out a laugh and raised his hands.

"Come on, come on! The little beast isn't going to eat the big one, Pü Fu-Tao.

"Small? These larvae are gigantic! They're kitin larvae, aren't they? How did you manage to get hold of them? Did you manage to get into a nest?"

The sorcerer shrugged slightly as he approached the tubs without the slightest fear.

"It all depends on what you mean by “nest”. In fact, there are two types of nest. There are the huge nests, called “kitins' lairs” by the Karavan, which house thousands of individuals and are ruled by a queen. These places are impregnable without a sizeable army of perfectly trained soldiers. But there are also smaller nests, with no queen. I'm not yet sure of their usefulness, but they seem to be kind of outposts. In any case, they are much more accessible. These larvae come from this type of nest.

"And what do you do with larvae? Do you hope to make them grow? said Pü, lowering his weapons.

"For the moment, that's not in my plans, said Marung with an enigmatic smile. I'm only interested in these larvae for their cells."

The sorcerer paused, as if to make sure Pü was following, then continued in a professorial tone.

"Do you know what a cell is?

"I know that animals and plants are made up of cells, and that these cells are themselves made up of material and spiritual particles, replied Pü, moving towards the pool. This knowledge was transmitted to hominkind by the Kamis. As for the rest, I understand that we are still a long way from being able to identify these particles precisely, as well as their possible composition.

"In truth, it was the Karavan who passed on this knowledge to the homins, Marung clarified, glancing at Pü, aware of the deliberately provocative nature of his statement. But as for the rest, you're right. As I suggested earlier, I'm convinced that kitins and homins share something unique. A characteristic that the other living species of Atys do not possess, probably linked to physical particles rather than spiritual ones, and which I believe originated with the Karavan."

Marung rested one hand on the edge of the tub, observing the large, whitish larvae undulating lazily in the thick liquid. He remained silent, watching for the slightest reaction from Pü. He knew perfectly well that the young Zorai's tribe had a visceral hatred of the Karavan, and that suggesting such a fundamental link between it and the homins was likely to provoke a cold anger in him. But to his great surprise, the Black Mask did not react. So he continued.

"For lack of having yet been able to examine a Karavan agent, I now have access to biological material from kitins. Through empirical but meticulous comparative experiments, I hope to be able to support my hypothesis. If I can identify the singularity that we share with kitins, it will be a major advance in our understanding of what links us to Karavan, and what differentiates us from Kamis."

Suddenly, Pü sheathed his weapons and headed for the exit. Although he had tried to remain calm, hearing Marung compare homins - and therefore his own family - to kitins, who were responsible for their massacre, and then assert that the Karavan was behind the creation of homins, gave rise to a deep feeling of disgust in him.

"With all due respect, I think you're wrong, he said sharply. Homins are pure creations of the Kamis, like all living beings on Atys, with the exception of the Karavan, who are nothing but dangerous parasites."

Marung smiled behind his mask, pleased to have pierced Pü's emotional armour.

"And how do you explain what you saw and what I heard? he replied, folding his arms. The fact that the Sap passes through us in a way so similar to that of the kitins, and that it doesn't pass through Karavan agents?

"I can't explain it. But if you really want to know the origin of the homins, I agree to lend you the amber cube that presents Ma-Duk and the Black Cult that my tribe dedicated to him. I hope it will help you to see that you're wrong."

Marung let out a disturbing laugh that echoed down the corridor.

"What certainty! This isn't you at all. Listen, Pü Fu-Tao, I accept with great pleasure. I can't wait to decipher this! I hope I'll be as convinced as you seem to be. To thank you, once I've finished studying your amber cube, I propose to pass on some of my teachings to you."

Despite his tone, Marung was not being ironic. Pü knew that the sorcerer coveted his tribe's secrets, a desire he had never tried to hide and had expressed on several occasions. As the shrewd manipulator that he was, perhaps this discussion about the Karavan was just another ploy to get Pü to finally lend him his amber cube. Until then, Pü had always refused. He rejected the violence inherent in the precepts of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk and felt that the cube contained nothing of real use. For him, its contents were more of a burden than a resource, particularly the sections dealing with the ancient precepts.

But the beliefs of his tribe were not the worse thing. There were the kitins and the Karavan. The former had exterminated hominkind, annihilating entire civilisations in their relentless swarms. The latter had been corrupting the minds and hearts of homins since time immemorial, turning them into docile soldiers, complicit in the slow destruction of Atys, plundering its resources, distorting nature and relentlessly hunting down the Kamis.

Pü could not conceive of homins having anything in common with such scourges. Or rather, he didn't want to.

That belief he was prepared to assume.

Pü entered the storeroom, taking care to leave the door wide open, allowing the wind which was sweeping off the island's coasts to rush into the vast room. Sure his power gave him an undeniable advantage, and it would undoubtedly have been fairer not to use it. Not following the rules of the game wasn't correct. He still remembered the day, as a child, when his brother had caught him peering through his fingers when he was supposed to be searching for him after giving him time to hide. Niî told him off for cheating. However, a few years later, Pü discovered that his brother also enjoyed bending the rules, claiming that it made the game more interesting by adding tension and false surprises. Pü had never been convinced by this justification. Not until today, anyway.

Nonchalantly, he passed between several crates, including the one behind which Nung was hiding. Opening the lid, he pretended to look for the child inside while observing, through the wood, the lack of movement in his lungs, a sign that he was holding his breath. He searched the crate for several seconds, deliberately prolonging the moment, before turning back just as Nung began to run out of air. He then moved to another corner of the room, the most crowded and farthest from the door, to offer the child an escape route.

The latter, howling with laughter, rushed towards the exit, delighted to have succeeded in deceiving his playmate. Pü, who had imagined that the child would try to make a more discreet exit, rolled his eyes. At the same time, it showed that he was different from him. That, unlike himself, he hadn't been conditioned to react like a soldier in all circumstances. Which, in the end, was an excellent thing.

"I'll get you next time, Nung! I'm coming!" shouted Pü while emerging into the open air, following the little Zorai to the limit of his kamic perception.

The latter had just entered one of the entrances to the temple that sat at the centre of the small island: a small pyramid with a square base, similar to the multitude of temples scattered around the country, and more particularly on the islands of the Lake of Temples, which bore its name well.

Heading towards the temple, Pü came across several of Marung's mercenaries. Some were absorbed in pawn games, while others were sharing a meal, sitting cross-legged around basic tables set up in front of improvised tents. Not far away, other Zorais were standing, scanning the sky carefully for any possible threat. While some, less superstitious and now accustomed to his presence, greeted him, others carefully avoided meeting his mask. Pü responded to the few greetings with genuine pleasure. After several years of solitude, and despite a sometimes conflictual relationship with Marung, living in society had done him a great deal of good. A society made up of individuals whom he considered, to be sure, miscreants, but a society of homins, nonetheless, and not just made up of him, a Voice and a Black Kami. While the latter had not reappeared since the altercation in the library, the Voice, although very discreet, was always present. At times, Pü worried about this relative absence and felt guilty about not calling on it as often. But it reassured him that it was the natural order of things, saying it was happy to see him reconnecting with other homins, particularly Nung, whose innocence seemed to have calmed it. It was true that Pü's suicidal thoughts were now rare, almost non-existent.

However, Marung's influence on the child remained a source of concern for the Voice. The sorcerer, who was often strict, demanded considerable effort from “his treasure”, encouraging him to study hard despite his young age and to constantly perfect his mastery of the Sap. Even more worryingly, he seemed to be methodically shaping Nung's personality, moulding his aspirations and even his emotions to fit in perfectly with his own ideals. Pü couldn't help but sense an unhealed pain behind this attitude. Perhaps Marung, who had lost his older brother to the kitins, was driven by a fierce desire to avoid history repeating itself. Perhaps he was trying to forge his adopted brother into a being as intelligent as he was powerful, capable of facing the worst trials. A hypothesis difficult to confirm, as the sorcerer categorically refused to talk about his missing brother.

When Pü passed the Zoraï guarding the entrance to the temple where Nung had entered, in charge of letting only authorised people through, Marung emerged from a staircase. He stepped forward and held out an amber cube. The amber cube that Pü had lent him two weeks earlier. Pü reached out to retrieve it, but the sorcerer immediately withdrew his arm.

"Thanks again for lending it to me. It was very interesting. Would you have a few moments to discuss it with me before I return you your property?"

Forgetting Nung, Pü nodded and followed Marung up the stairs towards a private room dedicated to his reading moments, whose walls were lined with shelves of amber cubes. In the centre was a low table surrounded by soft cushions and covered with an intricately embroidered sheet that fell gracefully to the floor. Marung placed the amber cube in the centre of the table. As Pü had noticed on several occasions, the sorcerer was allowing himself a luxury that he offered only to a handful of privileged members of his community. Pü, for his part, had always preferred the simple comforts of the hut he had built for himself at the top of a dorao on the north coast of the island.

Marung invited him to sit down and took hold of an oblong, finely-crafted pot with a spout whose smooth surface was delicately engraved with plant scrolls. He filled two small bowls with chai, the richly spiced amber infusion made from an ancient blend of dried leaves, barks and spices. Marung handed him one of the steaming bowls before sitting down opposite him. Slipping his legs under the sheet, he resumed the conversation.

"First of all, I don't intend to discuss the Black Cult of Ma-Duk and its precepts, but rather exchange views with you about your tribe's vision of the genesis of Atys. My aim is not to discuss our points of disagreement, but rather to highlight what I found interesting. Are you happy with that?

"Go ahead, I'm listening." replied Pü, bringing the small spout of the bowl to the mouth slit of his mask.

The aroma of the beverage, both sweet and full-bodied, exuded notes of wild flowers and lush undergrowth, reminiscent of the olfactory richness of the Jungle.

"To begin with, I found it interesting that your tribe dates the birth of the Supreme Kami, whom you call Ma-Duk, the Great Genitor, to around 2190, which is more or less the same time as the first traces of human history that we have. Personally, I imagined that our history dated back to a much earlier period, forgotten or lost for reasons that escape us. Anyway. If I've understood correctly, you see Atys as the body and Ma-Duk as the mind. And, according to your beliefs, the body was not born at the same time as the spirit, but has always existed in what you call Ma-Kyo, the Great Void. It was the advent of the Karavan that prompted Ma-Duk to awaken for the first time, in order to contain the threat it represented. To defend himself, he would have created the homins and the Kamis, the latter having the role of guiding the former."

The sorcerer paused for a moment, waiting for Pü to correct his summary, and then continued.

"What surprised me most about this story is how often the Karavan is mentioned while to dwell on its origin is neglected. It is descsribed as a horde of demons from a distant world, led by Jena, a radiant cosmic entity whose tempting light is reminiscent of that of the Day Star, and who seeks to appropriate anything of value in the Great Void. But that's where it stops. No assumptions are made about this distant world, about the Karavan or about Jena herself. Where do they come from? Who is Jena, whom your tribe consider to be a goddess, and who, according to its own beliefs, is much older than Ma-Duk?"

Marung took a sip of chai, then, without waiting for an answer to these questions which were really only intended for himself, he continued:

"On this precise point, for example. I was convinced that you had your own calendar, but in fact you've adopted the Jena calendar shared by all the nations but transmitted by the Karavan to the homins, without ever questioning it. Now, one of the main roles of a calendar is to retrace the great events of the past. This calendar would therefore attribute a history of almost 2,500 years to the Karavan, or at least to Jena, an inordinate amount of time compared to the awakening of Ma-Duk and the appearance of homins, which you date at barely 300 years. Why adopt the idea of such an ancient enemy while remaining so vague and mysterious about its origins, when you have accurately imagined the awakening of Ma-Duk, as well as the birth of the first homins and the Kamis? It lacks coherence."

Pü took a sip of chai, then put the bowl back on the table. Although Marung had begun by saying that he did not wish to dwell on their points of disagreement, he had just stated that his tribe's beliefs made no sense. The sorcerer remained true to himself. Taking a few seconds to think about his answer, Pü finally launched into it.

"You use the terms “imagined” and “coherence”, as if you were talking about a work of fiction. But this is not an invented story. What you've read has been passed on to us as it is by the Kamis, and that's how we've recorded it, without omitting or adding anything. If any information is missing, it may be that the Kamis have chosen not to reveal it to us, or perhaps they simply don't have it. The Kamis are not omnipotent, as their inability to stop the swarm of kitins proved. So maybe they're not omniscient either…"

Unsatisfied by the answer, Marung was about to go on, but thought better of it, realising that he had already broken the rules he himself had set for the discussion. Pü had time to take two long sips of chai before the sorcerer spoke again.

"Let's move on… As far as Ma-Duk is concerned, and regardless of the origin you attribute to him, I find the idea that the heart of Atys is the Supreme Kami perfectly logical. Much more so, in any case, than considering Jena to be the Supreme Kami, given that she is openly worshipped by the agents of the Karavan, and that no Kami has ever, to my knowledge, claimed to serve her. Of course, no Kami would have claimed not to worship her either. After all, their enigmatic nature and their taste for cryptic words make these questions delicate…"

Marung glanced towards the door, hesitated for a moment, then changed his mind with a slight laugh before bringing the bowl to the mouth slit of her mask.

"I would never have dared say that a few years ago. These words could have been used against me and my ambitions. But things have changed… In my opinion, it was the Zorais themselves who made Jena the Supreme Kami, under the influence of the Karavan and through lack of clarity from the Kamis. Personally, I've never subscribed to the official discourse of the Sages claiming that Jena occupies this position. I've always thought that there was no rigid hierarchy among the Kamis, even if some of them occasionally give the impression of being more influential or powerful than others… like the Black Kami who accompanied you, for example.

"I couldn't tell you more about a possible hierarchy of Kamis," replied Pü, thoughtfully. "But I can tell you that the Supreme Kami exists. I've seen him.

"You've seen him?" stammered Marung, half-spitting out his chai.

"Yes. The image has just come back to me. Do you remember what I told you about my encounter with the Black Kami? When I freed him from the Antekami by removing the Karavan spear from his body, at first I thought he was dead: he instantly liquefied on the ground. Then, just as I was about to succumb to the fifty or so Antekami who had pounced on me, he regained consciousness. I've just remembered what happened when I touched him so that he could teleport me."

Pü gently placed his bowl in front of him, his hands suspended for a moment, hesitating. He seemed to be searching for words, his gaze fixed on an invisible point.

"When I grabbed his black fur, I caught my first glimpse of the network of Sap that runs through Atys. The one that you perceive as a melody. What strikes me, looking back, is the immensity of what I was able to observe, far beyond the limits of the kamic vision I later acquired. I saw these flows stretching from the highest peaks of the Canopy to the deepest Prime Roots, all converging on a single point at the centre of Atys. That point was a pulsating globe of light, far more dazzling than the Daystar. A beating heart, radiating energy. It's a wonderful memory."

Pü paused, absent-mindedly stirring the little chai left in his bowl with his index finger, as if he were somewhere else.

"Talking to you about all this has left me with a strange impression. This memory seems almost unreal. Like a dream. How could I forget?"

He sighed slightly, thinking.

"Then a liturgical chant rose up, strange and captivating, almost hypnotic. I felt my body dissolve, but without pain, as if I were becoming part of the network of Sap. Then everything changed. When I regained consciousness, I was there, in the heart of the Eternal Garden, with a Kami sentinel at my side. That's it, I think."

There was a silence, heavy and reflective, before Marung broke it abruptly:

"Listen, I believe you. This link between you and the Black Kami seems unique. You say he can see through your eyes, and sometimes you seem to be able to command him. Perhaps, on that day, he gave you a glimpse of Atys as he himself sees it on a daily basis."

Marung smiled enigmatically, his piercing gaze fixed on Pü.

"You are definitely fascinating, Pü Fu-Tao…"

That was the moment Nung chose to jump out from under the table, startling his playing partner.

"I caught you!

"But… It was… It was I who was the one supposed to catch you, Nung!"stammered Pü, surprised not to have noticed the child earlier.

" But all you do is talk about the Karavan and the Kamis while we were playing! So I decided to change roles."

Noticing that Marung had not reacted to the child's intervention, Pü realised that he had spotted Nung long before he did. The wizard stood up calmly.

"I'd say you were playing instead of revising for the anatomy lesson to come , Nung!" retorted the wizard sternly. "I hope our conversation has been at least instructive for you.

 !!! WIP !!!

В настоящее время еще 100 11 статей находятся в стадии подготовки в Категория: "WIP"

Статья находится на стадии подготовки. Пожалуйста, дайте автору закончить его, прежде чем вносить изменения.
Последнее редактирование было из Nilstilar на 06.05.2025

---

"It was just a bit, Marung, I promise…"murmured the child, lowering his head.

"Marung, Nung's working hard," Pü intervened, rising to his feet. "You should…

"Did I ask your opinion, Pü Fu-Tao," the sorcerer cut him off coldly. "This child is my responsibility, and… "

There was a knock at the door. Marung, without looking away from Pü, gave a curt invitation. The door creaked open, revealing Zu-Gon's imposing arm in the frame, followed by his small, white, hornless mask.

'"Ma… Rung. Sick ma… masks. Arrived.

"Ah! let out the sorcerer, while turning to the hunchback. That's excellent news! I was convinced that a patrol of kitins had got the better of them, and that I'd never get what they'd promised me. I'm going to collect what's owed to them. Go and warn them, Zu-Gon, and tell them to wait for me."

Marung picked up the amber cube still lying in the centre of the table and handed it to Pü.

"I thank you for sharing this knowledge with me. And if it's all right with you, I'd love to ask you more questions some other time. I was also serious when I offered to pass on some of my teachings to you, once I'd finished reading your amber cube. Give it some thought. In the meantime, all you have to do is go with Zu-Gon. You should be interested in what's being delivered here."

Then he knelt down in front of Nung and put a hand on the child's shoulder.

"As for you, do you know what you have to do?

"Yes, Marung, I have to revise for my anatomy class," he said in a small voice.

"And why is it important to revise for this course, like all the others?

"Because, if I want to change the world, I need to know everything about it," he recited in a monotonous tone, like a lesson learnt by heart.

"Yes, but with a smile. Because you like that, don't forget."

Pü was about to protest, but changed his mind, judging that this would only make Nung's situation worse. Without another word, the four Zoraïs left the room and went down to the ground floor. As Marung made his way into the depths of the temple and Nung, mask down, headed for his study room, Pü and Zu-Gon passed the guard posted at the entrance. Not knowing where the meeting was to take place, Pü followed the hunchback as he hobbled towards the east coast of the island.

On the way, he thought about Marung's proposal. The sorcerer certainly had a lot to teach him, but his mysterious ways were arousing in Pü a growing distrust. And above all, his manipulative nature worried him.

"Zu-Gon, you who spend a lot of time with Marung, do you think I should accept his proposal and follow his teachings?"

There was no reply. Pü found it very difficult to communicate with Zu-Gon. Not because of his slurred speech, but because he never gave any substance to the conversation. Getting anything out of him other than a “yes” or a “no” was quite a feat, and Marung was the only one who could maintain a dialogue with him. When Pü had tried to find out more, the sorcerer had explained that he had found Zu-Gon wandering near Taï-Toon, a few months after the kitins had attacked the island, and that his deformities were shortening his life expectancy. The hunchback could say neither where he had come from nor what had caused his physical and mental state. Once again, the details remained vague, and Pü had quickly realised that Marung was not prepared to say any more. Mysteries. Always mysteries.

Lorsque tous deux atteignirent la côte, il découvrit quatre mercenaires de Marung en train de surveiller silencieusement un groupe de cinq Zoraïs affalés sur le rivage. Ces derniers étaient vêtus d’armures sales et particulièrement abîmées, témoignant d’un long périple. À leurs côtés se trouvait une large embarcation accostée, recouverte d’une bâche en toile usée, dont les bords claquaient doucement sous l’effet du vent lacustre. Dès qu’ils remarquèrent Pü, les Zoraïs se mirent à le désigner du doigt, chuchotant entre eux. En examinant leurs masques, Pü crut d’abord qu’ils étaient des Antékamis, mais en y regardant de plus près, il remarqua que leurs blessures ne semblaient pas volontaires. Elles n’évoquaient pas des automutilations rituelles, mais plutôt des plaies infectées ou mal soignées, ne se limitant d’ailleurs pas à leurs masques. Dans l’ensemble, ces Zoraïs semblaient maigres et en mauvaise santé.

Personne ne parlant, et Pü ignorant ce que Marung voulait lui montrer, il se posta à l’écart et attendit en silence. Pendant ce temps, Zu-Gon alla s’asseoir auprès des mercenaires, partageant leur mutisme. Ce fut environ dix minutes plus tard que Marung fit son apparition, un gros sac en osier accroché dans le dos. Ignorant Pü, il poursuivit sa route jusqu’au groupe de Zoraïs, faisant se lever l’une d’entre eux. Probablement la cheffe du petit groupe.

« Ce serait mentir de dire que je ne suis pas heureux de vous voir, déclara Marung en avançant directement vers l’embarcation, sans même jeter un regard ni saluer la Zoraï.

– Att… Attendez, notre récompense d’abord ! lança la Zoraï en s’interposant, bras écartés, entre Marung et le bateau. »

Son geste déclencha une réaction immédiate chez ses camarades, qui se redressèrent d’un seul élan. Une tension palpable s’abattit aussitôt sur le rivage. Les mercenaires de Marung, sur le qui-vive, adoptèrent une posture défensive, leurs mains glissant instinctivement vers leurs armes. Le sorcier, stoppé net par l’audace de la Zoraï, la fixa d'un regard intense.

« Votre récompense d’abord ? Qu’est ce que cela change ? répondit-il froidement, laissant quelques secondes s'écouler avant de poursuivre. Peu importe. Si vous êtes si pressés, je vais vous montrer. J'ai tenu mon engagement et vous ai bien gâtés, croyez-moi. »

Marung fit glisser le sac de son dos avec précaution, révélant, par la lenteur de ses gestes, la fragilité de son contenu. Lorsqu’il l’ouvrit, la Zoraï et ses compagnons se regroupèrent autour de lui, ce qui poussa les mercenaires à s’approcher à leur tour, méfiants. Pendant ce temps, seuls Pü et Zu-Gon restaient en retrait, observant la scène de loin. Marung continua.

« Le produit est dans ces pots. Je l’ai synthétisé moi-même, et je garantis sa pureté. J’ai estimé environ quatre cents doses, en restant raisonnable sur les quantités. Ici, le matériel : fragile, mais réutilisable de nombreuses fois si vous en prenez soin. Et là, une solution alcoolisée, indispensable pour désinfecter avant et après l’application, ainsi que pour nettoyer le matériel. Je sais que je me répète, mais c’est essentiel. »

Intrigué, Pü s’approcha finalement du groupe. Dans le panier, il distingua des récipients contenant un liquide ocre bien connu : la foa-foo, une drogue de synthèse à base d’huile qui avait autrefois semé le chaos dans la Jungle et dans les régions administrées par la Fédération de Trykoth. D’autres contenaient un liquide transparent, probablement le désinfectant mentionné, et il aperçut également des seringues. Ces outils médicaux, principalement utilisés par les Matis, étaient généralement fabriqués à partir de dards ou d’épines issus d’animaux et de plantes, un savoir-faire qui leur avait été transmis avec d'autres par la Karavan. La Karavan. Ce simple constat fit monter une vague d’irritation chez Pü.

« Je croyais que tu avais rejoint ce temple pour soigner des homins, Marung, pas pour leur détruire la santé ! Et tu utilises des seringues, ces outils transmis par la Karavan aux Matis pour encourager leurs expériences abominables visant à altérer la nature dans le but ultime d’atteindre les Kamis. En agissant ainsi, tu propages à la fois des maladies et ce savoir corrupteur. C’est irresponsable ! »

Un silence pesant s’installa. Mercenaires et Zoraïs aux masques abîmés échangèrent des regards nerveux. Tous savaient qu’il était impensable de s’adresser à Marung sur un tel ton. Le sorcier se releva lentement et se tourna vers Pü.

« Depuis quand la santé des infidèles te préoccupe, Pü Fu-Tao ? J’ai bien lu les règles prescrites par ton culte, et à priori, tu devrais plutôt te réjouir. Ces Zoraïs, à peine kamistes, seront plus faciles à éliminer. »

La Zoraï qui dirigeait a priori le groupe croisa ses bras chétifs.

« Attendez Marung. C’est de nous que vous parlez, là ?

– Silence ! hurla le sorcier, perdant alors son sang froid et faisant reculer tout le monde de quelques pas, hormis Pü.

– Je t’ai déjà dit que je ne suivais plus les préceptes du Culte Noir de Ma-Duk, Marung, retorqua Pü. Garde ton second degré pour toi. La foa-foo est hautement toxique et addictive, et tu le sais.

– Ne me fais pas croire que c’est cela qui te dérange, Pü Fu-Tao ! Le recours à des substances psychoactives est courant dans les spiritualités Zoraï. Ta tribu aussi en consommait.

– Cela n’a rien à voir ! La foa-foo est une drogue de synthèse fabriquée par des trafiquants uniquement motivés par l’appât du gain. Regarde-les, bon sang ! Ils sont malades !

– Évidemment qu’ils sont malades ! Ce n’est pas toi qui va me l’apprendre. Mais si je ne leur fournissais pas ça, sais-tu ce qu’ils feraient ? Ils iraient consommer de la Goo ! Regarde donc ces misérables ! Ce n’est pas seulement à cause des effets de la la foa-foo que leur corps est dans cet état. »

Marung se retourna vers le groupe de Zoraïs, qui, dans une démonstration silencieuse de soumission, baissa la tête à l’unisson, acceptant sans protester l’insulte exprimée.

« C’est cela que tu préférerais, Pü Fu-Tao ? Oui, ils sont malades. Oui, ils sont esclaves de ce produit. Et oui, je pourrais évidemment soigner leur addiction, au prix de longs et pénibles mois de cures. Mais aucun d’entre eux ne le souhaite. Pourquoi ? Parce que, il y a trois ans, le monde a sombré. Et aujourd’hui, il ne leur reste que ça. »

Marung s’avança vers la Zoraï, tendit une main et caressa ses cheveux bleus et sales avec une douceur glaçante. Elle frissonna, incapable de dissimuler sa peur.

« Ce ne sont pas des Appelés, comme toi, Nung ou moi. Ce sont des Fortunés, des êtres sans destinée, dont les vies sont condamnées à être entraînées par des pulsions futiles. Pour autant, ils ne doivent pas être blâmés pour cela, car, qu’il s’agisse de drogue, d’amour, de foi, de quête de puissance, de savoir, ou de je ne sais quoi d’autre, n’oublie jamais que nous avons tous besoin d’une obsession pour tenir debout, pour continuer à avancer. Nous sommes tous esclaves de quelque chose, Pü Fu-Tao. Eux, évidemment. Mais toi aussi. »

Pü s’apprêta à décrypter les paroles de Marung, mais se ravisa instantanément.

« Des belles formules et de grands discours, comme toujours ! fulmina Pü. Te rends-tu compte de tout ce que tu es obligé d’inventer pour justifier tes actions ? Tu n’arriveras pas à me convaincre que tu fais ça pour leur bien, alors que tu monnayes leurs services contre le poison qui les tue à petit feu. On dit d’ailleurs que la foa-foo a été inventée par la Karavan pour asservir les Zoraïs afin de les retourner contre les Kam…

– La Karavan ! Toujours la Karavan ! l’interrompit Marung. Tu m’accuses d’utiliser des formules, mais regarde leur justesse : tu es obsédé par elle ! Le monde s’est effondré, et toi, tu n’arrêtes pas de la voir partout. Toi qui es d’ordinaire si calme, tu perds tout contrôle dès qu’on prononce son nom. Ces dernières semaines, tu m’as plusieurs fois affirmé que ton rêve était de venir en aide aux homins ayant survécu à l’invasion des kitins. Pourtant, tu n’as réussi à sauver personne. Tu es arrivé à moi seul. Pourquoi ? Parce que ta véritable obsession, celle qui te dévore, c’est la Karavan. Au plus profond de toi, tout ce que tu désires, c’est anéantir ses fidèles au nom des Kamis. Et tous ces Zoraïs que tu as croisés ces derniers mois, et qui n’ont pas voulu te suivre, l’ont compris. Cette haine émane de toi, elle te trahit. Elle est inscrite sur ton masque. »

Les mots de Marung frappèrent Pü en plein cœur. Figé, il resta silencieux, tandis que Marung poursuivait.

« Ta tribu serait sans doute fière de te voir si prosélyte, alors que les civilisations se sont effondrées et qu’il ne reste presque plus d’homins à convaincre. Tu as beau avoir rejeté les préceptes de ton culte, quoi que tu en dises, tu restes un apôtre zélé, Pü Fu-Tao. »

Toujours figé, Pü était envahi par ses pensées. Il était obsédé par la Karavan ? Trois ans plus tôt, à peine sorti de sa souche, il s’était fixé pour objectif d’éradiquer chaque kitin croisant sa route. Puis, une fois cette fièvre vengeresse apaisée, une autre obsession s’était imposée à lui : celle de parcourir Atys, non pour répandre la foi en Ma-Duk et mener la Guerre Sacrée, mais pour rassembler des survivants et les protéger des kitins. Or, Marung venait de lui faire remarquer que s’il n’avait jusqu’alors réussit à rassembler personne, il continuait bien à prêcher contre la Karavan, en faveur des Kamis, alors qu’il s’était pourtant senti méprisé par le Kami Noir lorsque ce dernier lui avait fait comprendre que sa vie ne lui appartenait pas, et qu’il n’avait d’autre choix que d’agir en tant que Guerrier Sacré. Au bout du compte, au-delà de tous ses rêves et de ses aspirations, Marung voulait lui imposer une vérité implacable : sa volonté de combattre la Karavan dominait tout et agissait en lui tel un parasite. Ainsi, en rejetant les aspects les plus barbares du culte de sa tribu, tout en continuant son prêche, alimenté par une enfance entière de conditionnement, Pü avait le sentiment d’être devenu un pâle reflet de ce qu’il voulait être : un libérateur dévoyé, et une version encore plus décevante de ce que sa tribu auraient voulu qu’il soit… un prédicateur sans foi.

Voyant que sa remarque avait atteint Pü, qui ne savait quoi répondre, Marung se dirigea vers l’embarcation. Frustré par son inconséquence, l’irritation de Pü se transforma en colère. Une colère qu’il aurait aimé diriger contre lui-même, mais qui se tournait désormais vers Marung. Il s’avança vers le sorcier, et ses mercenaires, qui d’abord voulurent s'interposer, se figèrent en croisant son regard. Tous ressentirent que Pü était prêt à en découdre, et aucun d’entre eux n’avait l’intention de défier le Masque Noir.

« Et toi, Marung ! Toi, l’héritier malchanceux du trône de la théocratie, abandonné par la Karavan alors que les Sages ont été sauvés, oublié par les Kamis alors qu’ils m’ont choisi ! Toi, qui ne crois en rien d’autre qu’en toi-même ! Quelle est ton obsession ? »

Sans se retourner, ne se sentant a priori pas menacé outre mesure par Pü, Marung éclata de son rire dérangeant caractéristique .

« Tes attaques sont basses, Pü Fu-Tao. Mais c’est de bonne guerre, j’admets m’être moi aussi emporté. Je dois en revanche te corriger : je ne crois pas seulement en moi-même, je crois aussi, et avant tout, en la science. Quant à mon obsession, elle me semble pourtant évidente : je veux tout savoir de ce monde ! »

À ces mots, Marung tira sur la bâche, dévoilant un ensemble d’objets noirs, faits de cette matière brillante et froide que Pü avait déjà observée à plusieurs reprises, et qu’il supposait exogène à Atys. Cette matière utilisée par la Karavan pour construire ses armures, ses armes et ses machines infernales. Entre les débris d’engins, Pü reconnut le casque gravement abîmé d’un agent, dont la partie cervicale indiquait qu’il renfermait une tête, ainsi qu’une lance identique à celle qu’il avait retirée du corps du Kami Noir. Ce geste qui avait permis à la créature de se libérer, mais qui avait aussi irrémédiablement lié son destin au sien.

À la vision de ces objets, une bouffée de haine monta en lui. Elle fut immédiatement suivie par une seconde, plus violente encore, dirigée cette fois contre lui-même, alors qu’il prenait conscience du caractère incontrôlé de sa réaction. Il était persuadé que Marung l’avait sciemment conduit ici pour le provoquer, et il se sentit pris au piège. Pris au piège par Marung, mais encore davantage par ses propres contradictions.

Sans demander son reste, Pü fit volte-face et s’éloigna de la berge, prenant le chemin de sa cabane perchée sur la rive nord de l’île. Marung, immobile, ne fit aucun geste pour le retenir mais l’interpella malgré tout. Cette fois, cependant, sa voix était dénuée de colère et de sarcasme. Elle était empreinte d'une gravité inhabituelle.

« J’étais sincère lorsque j’ai dit que ce que l’on m’amenait devrait t’intéresser. Car cela aurait dû t’intéresser ! Si tu veux comprendre qui tu es vraiment, si tu veux percer le lien qui t’unit à ce Kami et t’émanciper du destin qui semble te peser, tu dois t’intéresser à tout ce qui dépasse l’hominité ! Aux Puissances qui dominent Atys ! »

Marung éleva la voix et, dans un geste théâtral, saisit le casque de l’agent. Il le brandit haut, la matière noire cabossée scintillant faiblement sous la lumière de l’Astre du Jour. Tous les masques étaient tournés vers lui, sauf celui de Pü.

« Sans cela, tu resteras à jamais un esclave. Un esclave des Kamis, de la Karavan, de ton passé... et de ta propre dissonance ! Mais moi, je peux t’aider. Je peux t’aider à trouver une obsession digne de toi, Pü Fu-Tao ! »

Le Masque Noir s’arrêta. Il ne savait pas s’il pouvait faire confiance à Marung. En vérité, il en doutait fortement. Ce dont il était certain, en revanche, c’était qu’il ne souhaitait pas passer sa vie à être obsédé par la Guerre Sacrée.

Enfant, il avait cru qu’il serait heureux de mener la Guerre Sacrée au côté de son frère.

Adulte, il avait compris que cela ne le rendrait pas heureux. Devenu Masque Noir, il s’était convaincu qu’il pourrait mener la Guerre Sacrée à sa manière.

Puis, le Kami Noir lui avait fait comprendre que, pour mener la Guerre Sacrée, il lui suffisait de vivre sans chercher à mourir. Comme si sa volonté propre n’avait aucune portée. Comme si, quelles que soient ses actions, l’issue resterait immuable. Cela ne pouvait plus durer.

Marung, convaincu d’avoir ébranlé ses certitudes, s’empressa de conclure sa tirade.

« Je vais donc clarifier ma proposition : accepte de devenir mon disciple, Pü Fu-Tao, et prends enfin le contrôle de ta vie ! »

Oui, il devait reprendre les rênes de sa vie. S'émanciper des Kamis. Surmonter son obsession pour la Karavan. Et finalement, ne pas permettre à Marung de le modeler, comme il semblait le faire insidieusement avec Nung chaque jour.

Refusant intérieurement l'offre du sorcier, Pü poursuivit sa route.

— Bélénor Nébius, narrator

Шаблон:Портал The Great LibraryШаблон:Портал Zoraï