Autumn Hill was not on any major map.
It was the kind of place people drove past without knowing, where fog clung to trees year-round and old wooden signs leaned with the weight of forgotten years. Ren Takahashi had never even heard of it until three weeks ago—when his father died, and his mother shipped him off to live with a grandfather he barely remembered.
Now, at seventeen, he found himself standing outside a creaking bus station that smelled like mildew and pine needles, staring at a crooked wooden post that read: Welcome to Autumn Hill — A Place for Quiet Hearts.
He didn't have a quiet heart.
Just a heavy one.
The town was quiet—too quiet. No cars. No kids. Just crows and cicadas, like the forest never fully gave way to the people trying to build a town inside it.
Ren followed the directions scribbled on an envelope. His grandfather's house was just beyond the shrine district. It sounded traditional. Peaceful.
He hated it already.
A half-hour into the walk, his GPS blinked out. No signal. Of course.
He sighed, adjusting the strap on his duffel bag and trudging into the narrowing path, where old stone lanterns lined the trail like ghostly sentinels. Some were broken. Most were covered in moss. The deeper he went, the more he felt… watched.
Ren didn't believe in spirits.
Not really.
But as the path twisted deeper into trees that arched like skeletal fingers, he started to doubt his certainty. It was too quiet. The way silence pressed against him made every footstep sound like a threat.
That's when he saw it.
At the top of a hill, half-hidden by vines and fog, stood a torii gate—tall and ancient, its wood darkened by centuries. Beyond it, stone steps stretched into the forest.
This wasn't the way to his grandfather's house. He should've turned back.
But something pulled at him. A heat in his chest. A whisper he couldn't quite hear.
Almost like… a memory he didn't own.
He climbed the stairs without meaning to.
There was no shrine sign. No plaque. Just the thrum of something old. Something alive.
At the top, the shrine stood collapsed and choked in ivy. The roof sagged. The wooden beams were cracked. But right in front of the entrance sat a stone lantern still intact—and glowing. Blue fire flickered inside like a candle in a storm.
Ren narrowed his eyes. His hand moved.
And then—
He touched it.
The flame surged.
The lantern cracked.
The wind roared from nowhere.
The world exploded in a burst of silver leaves and screaming wind. The ground trembled beneath his feet as foxfire spiraled around him, a cyclone of pale blue and orange light.
And then, the voice came.
Sharp. Feminine. Ancient.
"Finally."
A shape rose from the center of the flame—graceful, tall, wrong in the most beautiful way. A girl. No, something more.
Silver hair whipped around her like living threads of moonlight. Nine tails shimmered behind her, made of flame and fur and smoke. Her eyes were burning gold.
She hovered just above the ground, barefoot, arms crossed over a blood-red kimono.
She looked like something drawn from myth.
And she looked furious.
"Are all humans this reckless?" she said, voice like wind over glass. "Touching things they don't understand. How typical."
Ren backed up, heart hammering.
"I didn't know—"
"Didn't know?" Her lips curved into a sharp smile. "You lit the flame. You broke the seal. You called me back from my prison."
"…Who are you?"
She tilted her head. "Your guardian. Your punishment. Your problem, now."
Ren blinked.
She sighed and floated down, finally touching the earth. Her expression was unreadable.
"You bear the scent of the old bloodline," she murmured, stepping closer. "The same fire that sealed me burns in you. How poetic."
He flinched as her finger lightly touched his chest. It felt like lightning.
A pale blue rune flickered over his skin—then vanished.
"What the hell did you just do?"
She turned and walked toward the shrine, speaking like she was tired of being alive.
"The bond is complete. Your soul is now linked to mine. If you die, I fade. If I die, you burn."
Ren stared at her.
"…I should've stayed on the damn road."