The blue flame in the village square had burned low by morning, its glow dimmed to the faint shimmer of starlight caught in glass. Yet the air was far from quiet. The Kokoro-Zoku village stirred with an energy unlike anything Zenith had felt before — warriors sparring in open courtyards, spirit beasts being fed from shimmering bowls, artisans weaving cloth from strands of living Flow.
Above it all, the great citadel of the Kokoro-Zoku rose like a crown, its white stone towers laced with vines that glowed faintly, as though every leaf remembered a fragment of ancient magic.
Kairi emerged from the inner hall, her spear resting against her shoulder. She wore the same battle skirt and patterned top as before, but over them was a mantle of silver feathers that shimmered with each step. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes were sharper than the spear she carried.
Kairi: "You've all agreed to help me. That means you should know what you're walking into."
She motioned them toward the edge of the village, where the ground gave way to a vast sea of rolling mist. The air here felt heavier, like each breath pulled at their very souls.
Kairi: "The herb I need grows in Kumokiri-no-Tani — the Valley of Cloud-Cutting Mist. It blooms once every century under the gaze of the twin moons. And tonight… is that night."
Hinazuki frowned slightly.
Hinazuki: "And the guardian?"
Kairi: "Shiryū." She didn't hesitate on the name. "A yokai born from the Flow of a thousand slain warriors. Scales of obsidian, eyes like molten gold, breath that can unmake a spirit's form in seconds."
Zenith cracked a small grin despite the ominous tone.
Zenith: "Sounds like a warm welcome."
Kairi's gaze flicked to him.
Kairi: "You'll lose that smile if you face it unprepared."
Lithos adjusted the talisman cords on his wrists.
Lithos: "So why send us, if you can't defeat it yourself?"
For the first time, her voice softened — almost imperceptibly.
Kairi: "…Because my Flow is bound here. By oath. If I cross into the valley, the spirits of my ancestors will restrain me. The Kokoro-Zoku made a pact centuries ago: we protect the valley, but never take from it. The herb is my only chance to heal my father, but if I go myself… I'll never return."
Her words hung in the air. Even Zenith, who thrived on momentum, didn't speak right away.
Finally, Yatsurugi stepped forward, his voice steady.
Yatsurugi: "Then we take it for you. That was the agreement."
Kairi's eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned, whistling sharply.
From the mist emerged a line of spirit mounts — kirin with manes like flowing rivers and hooves that sparked light with every step. Each warrior in the Kokoro-Zoku bowed their head as the mounts passed.
Kairi: "The valley lies three ridges east. The mists will confuse your senses — don't trust what you see. Stay together, or the Flow currents will pull you into Gekai before you realize you've stepped wrong."
She handed Zenith a small crystal charm, its core swirling like captured moonlight.
Kairi: "Break this only if the Shiryū kills you. It will send your Flow essence back to me, and I'll see that you're reborn in Jōkai."
Zenith took it slowly, a faint smirk returning.
Zenith: "Not exactly a comforting gift."
Kairi: "It's not meant to comfort you."
---
The group mounted the kirin and rode into the mist. The village's glow faded behind them, swallowed by a horizon that no longer seemed to have an end.
At first, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain. But the deeper they went, the thicker the fog became. It clung to their clothes and hair, coiling around their weapons like living hands. Every sound was muffled — even the kirin's hooves made no noise here.
Hinazuki's eyes darted around.
Hinazuki: "This place feels… wrong."
Lithos: "That's because it bends Flow itself. The Valley doesn't exist in a straight line. If you tried to walk it without guidance, you'd keep circling back to where you started… until something in the mist decided to claim you."
Oborozuka rested his hand on the hilt of his blade, his voice low.
Oborozuka: "And something is following us."
A faint shape moved just beyond the edge of their sight — massive, sinuous, gliding through the fog as if it were water. Every so often, a faint glimmer of gold caught the light.
Zenith's grip on his katana tightened.
Zenith: "Guess we've found our welcoming party."
From somewhere deep within the mist came a low, resonant growl — one that seemed to vibrate in their very bones.