It began with the roses.
One afternoon, as Mochi and Rael strolled through the palace gardens, the first oddity occurred. They walked past a thicket of wild roses—brilliant, red as rubies—when the petals of the closest bush fluttered, as though they were trying to capture the sunlight in a deliberate manner. A shimmering flash of light enveloped them, like a soft mirage.
"Did you see that?" Rael asked, narrowing his eyes at the flowers.
Mochi tilted her head. "See what?"
Rael reached out, fingers brushing against a petal, but froze when it disintegrated in an instant, scattering into dust like fireflies.
"That…" he breathed. "That's not normal."
Mochi raised an eyebrow, her expression neutral. "Maybe they're enchanted? Rose magic tends to be... unpredictable."
She had always been the type to shrug off the strange occurrences that sometimes flared between them, as if they could all be explained away with a flick of her wrist. But something stirred within her, a pull deep in her chest, unlike any magic she recognized. This wasn't a spell. No, this was something older. Something that had waited for her, always.
And that was just the beginning.
The winds shifted the next day.
They were in the Royal Courtyard, Mochi snatching another pastry (a classic raid) when the sky turned an unsettling shade of greenish-gray, as though the heavens themselves were uncertain. Birds flew in erratic patterns above, their wings fluttering like specters trapped between realms.
Rael saw it first—the far-off look in her eyes. The same look she'd had when she'd been knocked out after the explosion at the Cake Vault. That distant, haunting stare, as if she were listening to something no one else could hear.
"Mochi?" His voice sliced through her haze.
She blinked, as though shaking off a fog, her focus returning. "I… I felt something."
Rael frowned. "Felt something? What kind of something?"
Before she could answer, a low hum from the direction of the castle was followed by a high, echoing laugh that sent a chill down Rael's spine. It wasn't a voice they recognized. It was unfamiliar, strange, and utterly unsettling.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the moment was gone. The courtyard returned to normal: the breeze soft, the sun warm on their skin. But Rael's hand trembled as it brushed against Mochi's.
She didn't seem to notice.
The feeling of something... pulling... didn't go away.
Days passed, and the inexplicable events continued. Shadows darted at the edge of her vision, too quick to follow. Things moved by themselves—candles blowing out without wind, curtains swaying in silent rooms. Sometimes, the air grew thick, heavy with secrets long forgotten.
And then came the day when nothing would ever be the same.
Mochi was lounging in the window seat, re-reading one of Rael's novels for the fifth time (she still hadn't returned it, but oh well—it was a great book). Rael had popped out for a moment, leaving her alone.
That's when the whispering began.
At first, it was soft, like the wind whispering her name—so gentle she might've written it off as a trick of the mind. But it wasn't.
"Mochi," the voice whispered, a resonance that seemed to speak directly to her very soul.
She stiffened.
"Who's there?" she demanded, but only silence answered. The room grew colder, shadows creeping closer.
"Is this… magic?" she murmured, the discomfort gnawing at her. But this wasn't magic as she knew it. No, this was something deeper. Something fate-bound.
The wind stirred, and a scrap of parchment fluttered to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, but as soon as her fingers grazed it, the paper crumbled to dust, leaving behind a faint trace of lilacs.
The whisper returned, but this time, it wasn't just a voice—it was an impression, a torrent of rapid, disjointed memories.
You have to go back. You have to depart from this world.
The words sent an electric shock down her spine. She stepped back from the window, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Rael," she whispered, but when she glanced at the door, he wasn't there. Only the emptiness of an unoccupied room.
A pressure, like the weight of an unseen force, settled over her, crushing her chest.
A shadow shifted in her periphery, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw someone standing just outside the door.
It wasn't Rael.
It was a figure, draped in somber cloth, its face hidden in shadow.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The figure lifted a hand, as if to silence her.
Then, without words, it spoke—not in speech, but in feeling, in a cold, heavy knowledge that settled between them.
You have no other, Mochi. Your sacrifice is foreordained. Your time among us is ending.
Her breath hitched. "Sacrifice? What do you mean?"
The figure moved closer, its presence filling the room with a sadness that crushed her spirit.
In order to live, one must die. You gave your life once already. The payment is now due.
Before she could speak again, the apparition vanished.
The room fell silent.
But the burden lingered.
When Rael returned, he found her by the window again, but this time her gaze was distant, her expression unreadable.
"Mochi?" His voice was soft, filled with worry.
She didn't respond.
"Are you... okay?"
Slowly, she turned to him. A faint smile played on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't think I will be, Rael. Not for a while."
He frowned, moving closer. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "I think… I think the world is showing me it's time to leave. And I don't know how to make it stop."
For the first time, Rael saw something in her eyes that wasn't mischief, wasn't fire—it was resignation.
And deep within him, a voice whispered that whatever this was… it had nothing to do with them.
Not anymore.