Morning never came.
The sun rose, yes, but its light did not touch Hurukoya. The fog had grown thicker overnight, smothering the fields, bending the sky into a pale blur. No shadow could be found, because there was no true light.
The villagers moved carefully through it, speaking in whispers. Children no longer played in the square. Laughter had been buried with the flames.
And then the scream came.
It was Mira.
She had gone to fetch water from the river, but the bucket clattered from her hands when she returned. She was pale, shaking so violently that Kaien had to grip her shoulders to keep her upright.
"There's… someone at the river," she stammered, voice breaking. "It is not right. It is not right."
The villagers followed her trembling hand to the bank.
There lay Jaren, the miller. His body rested on the rocks, but it looked… wrong. He was not cut, not burned, not drowned. He was hollow.
Every muscle, every vein, every drop of blood....gone. His skin clung to his bones like paper stretched too thin, his mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Rei's stomach turned. He staggered back, bile rising in his throat. He had seen dead animals before. This was not death. This was something that had emptied a man and left the shell behind.
Tosa whispered hoarsely. "No blade could do this. No fire. Not even disease."
Envelon hobbled forward, leaning on his staff. He bent close, his cloudy eyes unblinking as he examined the husk of a man that used to be Jaren. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent.
"This is no death we understand. This is hunger."
The villagers erupted. Some cried, some prayed, others demanded to burn the body at once. Mira clutched her mouth to keep from screaming again.
Kaien looked to Rei, eyes wide with fear he refused to admit. "Tell me this isn't you."
"It is not," Rei whispered, but even he could not believe the sound of his own voice. His Enso pulsed violently in his chest, as though it recognized something in the corpse.
Shira appeared at the edge of the crowd, silent as always. She did not speak, but her eyes stayed locked on the body. For the first time since anyone could remember, her hand gripped her blade....not in readiness, but in hesitation.
That terrified Rei more than the body itself.
As night fell, the villagers gathered in the square, torches burning blue again though no one touched them. The flames bent inward, all pointing toward the center of the village.
And in the center, where no one had placed him, Jaren's body lay once more.
The husk. The empty man. Returned from the river, waiting.
Rei could not breathe. His Enso sparked uncontrolled, and the crowd backed away from him, fear twisting their faces.
But he did not care. His eyes were locked on the hollow shell of Jaren, whose mouth was still open in silent scream....
And in the torchlight, Rei swore he saw it move.