The air inside the mountain passage was different. Heavy, almost sacred. Haruki stepped through the broken stone gate, his fingers brushing the worn edges. Moss clung to the cracks, and a soft glow seeped from the pendant on his chest, casting golden light on the narrow stone stairs ahead.
Ayame followed close behind, her blade drawn. Rin came last, her eyes scanning every shadow.
The silence here wasn't empty—it was full. Full of breathless waiting, as if the mountain itself was holding something in.
"Stay close," Ayame whispered. "These kinds of places... they remember."
Step by step, they climbed deeper. The light from outside faded behind them, swallowed by the stone. Haruki's heart beat faster with each stair, matching the rhythm of the pendant's pulse. It felt like he was moving toward something he'd forgotten—but had never truly lost.
A faint wind blew from above, carrying with it the scent of incense and old fire. The kind of smell found in ancient shrines long buried by time.
"I don't like this," Rin muttered. "This whole place feels... wrong."
"No," Haruki said quietly. "It feels like home."
At the top of the stairs, the tunnel opened into a round chamber carved straight into the mountain. Pillars of black stone lined the walls, each etched with symbols like those on the scroll and his father's notebook. In the center stood a raised platform, and on it—a stone basin filled with still, dark water.
The moment Haruki stepped into the chamber, the pendant blazed with light.
Ayame shielded her eyes. "What is it doing?"
Haruki didn't answer. He moved forward, drawn by something deeper than thought. As he approached the basin, the water began to shimmer.
Then, it changed.
The surface rippled like a mirror catching breath, and an image began to form—blurry at first, then clear.
A man stood in a clearing of firelight. His back was to them, but Haruki knew that figure. He'd know it anywhere.
"Dad..." he whispered.
The figure turned.
It was him. Older than Haruki remembered, with streaks of gray in his hair and eyes that burned like embers.
He didn't speak, but his mouth moved, and words filled the chamber—not from the image, but from the walls themselves.
"The ember must be passed down."
Haruki stepped closer. "What do you mean?"
"The blood remembers. The fire lives. But only if it's awakened."
Ayame and Rin stayed silent, watching.
The figure in the water reached toward Haruki—but the surface remained undisturbed.
"The Ashen Circle seeks to smother the flame. But you must carry it. You must find the heart."
"The heart of what?" Haruki asked, but the image was fading.
"Go deeper. The past waits."
Then, the water stilled. The light from the pendant dimmed, and the room returned to shadow.
Haruki stood frozen, hands clenched. His father had spoken—sort of. Not fully real, but not a dream either. Something in between.
"A message?" Ayame asked gently.
"More like a memory," Haruki said. "But alive."
He turned to the wall behind the basin. There, hidden in the cracks, was another staircase. This one led down.
Without a word, he started toward it.
The stairs twisted like a spiral, deeper and deeper into the mountain. The deeper they went, the warmer the air became—not in a comforting way, but like standing too close to a fire. The stone walls glowed faintly with veins of something golden-red—like lava frozen in time.
At the bottom, they reached a second chamber.
This one was vast. A hollow dome carved into the heart of the mountain. Flames burned in suspended braziers that floated in the air with no chains or supports. And in the center, atop a low pedestal, hovered a crystal.
Small. Glowing. Beating like a heart.
Haruki stepped forward. "The Ember...?"
"No," Ayame said, voice quiet. "A fragment. Like a seed."
As Haruki approached, the pendant pulled toward the crystal—like a magnet. His chest ached. The closer he got, the stronger the pain became, but he didn't stop.
Whispers filled the room again.
Not dark or cruel this time. Just voices. Echoes.
His father's voice, younger.
Laughter.
Training in a sunlit courtyard.
A promise: "One day, you'll understand."
Tears burned in his eyes. He reached out and touched the crystal.
A flash—
—Flames surrounding a village.
—A cloaked figure holding the Ember high.
—A circle of masked figures chanting.
—His father, running, hiding something wrapped in cloth.
—A baby crying.
Then—black.
Haruki stumbled back, gasping. Ayame caught him.
"What did you see?" she asked.
"Everything," he whispered. "Or maybe just a piece. My father... he tried to protect it. From them. The Ashen Circle. They want the Ember because it's not just power—it's memory. Blood memory."
Rin looked uneasy. "That crystal just messed with your head."
"No," Haruki said. "It helped me remember."
Ayame studied him carefully. "So what now?"
Haruki looked at the crystal one last time. "We take it. We keep it from them. And we find the rest."
Ayame nodded slowly. "Then we better move. If this shrine is still active, it means others might be too."
Rin added, "And if you triggered something by touching that crystal... someone could be coming."
Haruki slipped the crystal into a cloth pouch and placed it around his neck beside the pendant. The two lights pulsed together now—one golden, one red.
They turned to leave, climbing the spiral stairs once more.
Behind them, the
chamber slowly dimmed. But in the silence, the flame still burned.
And somewhere in the darkness, the past was watching.