The mist had thinned by morning, but Ren hadn't slept.
He sat on the cracked steps of the ruined shrine, staring down at the woods below. The forest was quiet now—too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Every now and then, he thought he saw shadows flickering at the edges of the trees. But they never came closer. Not with Kiyomi nearby.
She was seated behind him, legs crossed on a patch of mossy stone, tail tips gently swaying, eyes closed in what looked like meditation. For someone who claimed to be centuries old, she looked peaceful. Almost human.
Almost.
Ren finally broke the silence. "So what now? We just live up here, fighting off whatever decides to crawl out of the woods?"
"You assume I intend to stay here," Kiyomi said without opening her eyes. "I don't."
Ren turned to look at her. "Then where do you plan to go? The local convenience store?"
"I intend to return to the world," she said calmly. "To see what has changed in my absence. And to find the source of the corruption that has awakened with me."
Ren frowned. "You mean those yokai?"
She opened her eyes now—slowly. "No. The yokai are symptoms. I'm looking for the sickness."
Before Ren could ask what that meant, the wind shifted. The scent of ash rolled through the air—faint but distinct. Kiyomi stood immediately.
"Someone's coming."
Ren tensed. "Another Hollow-Eyed girl?"
"No," she said. "This one breathes."
Through the trees, a figure emerged—cloaked, hooded, walking with deliberate calm. A man, maybe late twenties, his face partly hidden by the shadows of his hood. He carried no weapon Ren could see, but something about him felt... heavy. Like the air got thicker wherever he stepped.
He stopped at the edge of the courtyard.
"Kanzaki sent me," the man said.
Ren blinked. "You know Kanzaki?"
The man nodded. "Name's Daigo. He said you'd need help surviving what's coming."
Kiyomi narrowed her eyes. "You're not just a messenger."
"No," Daigo agreed. "I'm a Flamebound. Like him. Like you."
Ren's heart skipped. "Like me?"
"You've only touched the surface," Daigo said. "But the fire in your blood—it's old. Rare. And very, very dangerous. You need training beyond what your fox friend can give you."
Kiyomi took a slow step forward. "Watch your tone, human."
But Daigo didn't flinch. "Kitsune or not, this boy is carrying a spark that could either cleanse the rot from this land—or reduce it to ashes. If you care about his life, you'll let me teach him to wield it properly."
Kiyomi's tails twitched. Her expression was unreadable, but after a long silence, she turned away. "Fine. Burn him, then."
Ren stood awkwardly between them. "You people really need to work on your metaphors."
Daigo smirked. "You'll learn. Pain makes the lessons stick."
---
The rest of that day blurred into fire.
Daigo did not teach gently. He pushed Ren—harder than Kiyomi ever had. Through forms, through focus, through breath and will and raw memory. Every time Ren failed, Daigo made him try again. And again. Until his hands bled and his head spun with heat.
By nightfall, Ren lay on the ground gasping, smoke curling from his fingertips. His arms trembled. His legs refused to move.
"You're not using anger," Daigo said, crouching beside him. "That's good. Fire drawn from rage is unstable. You're pulling from something deeper."
Ren coughed. "Like what?"
Daigo stood and looked toward the forest. "Regret. Longing. Love. They burn slower. Last longer. That's the fire you need to survive the Ashen Court."
The name made the night feel colder.
Ren pushed himself up. "Have you fought them?"
Daigo didn't answer right away.
Then: "Yes."
A pause.
"I lost."
Ren looked at him. "What did they take?"
Daigo's jaw tightened. "My sister."
Kiyomi, standing farther back near the shrine steps, quietly turned away.
Ren lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Daigo said. "Use it. Let their sins become your fuel. Because they'll come for you next."
---
Later, while the others slept—Daigo on the stones, Kiyomi curled near the shrine—Ren wandered toward the old path that led deeper into the woods. The moon hung low, pale and distant.
He didn't know what he was looking for.
Until he saw her again.
The girl in white.
She stood in the same spot as before, at the edge of the mist. This time, her hair was dry. Her dress clean. But her eyes were still hollow. Still watching.
Ren took a step forward. "Why me?"
No answer.
He took another. "What do you want?"
Her lips moved, but the sound was wrong—more like a memory than a voice.
"You'll burn," she whispered. "One way or another."
Ren's fire flared, a pulse of heat rising behind his ribs.
The girl smiled—empty, cruel, beautiful.
Then she vanished.
This time, though, Ren saw it.
Not a fade.
Not a blink.
She stepped sideways—into nothing. Like the world had peeled open for her.
And closed again.
Ren stood alone in the dark, heart
pounding.
He didn't know what she was.
But he knew one thing:
She wasn't finished with him yet.
---