The temple ruin sat in eerie silence, veiled in the blue hush of dawn. Shafts of sunlight slanted through shattered wood beams and vine covered pillars, illuminating floating dust motes that danced like ghosts in the morning stillness.
Akari sat cross legged on the smooth stone floor of the inner chamber, her breath shallow, her eyes transfixed on the underside of her wrist. The mark was still there burning faintly beneath the skin like ink made of moonlight.
A perfect ring of symbols encircled her wrist, glowing with a cold, argent fire. Each rune was foreign, yet familiar. Alien, yet intimate. They shifted slowly under her skin, as though alive. As though they were remembering.
She didn't blink. Didn't dare to. Not until she felt a breeze stir behind her.
"Still staring at it?" Yoru's voice broke the silence, smooth and quiet like the wind slipping through leaves. "It's not going to explain itself."
Akari looked up. Yoru stood in the doorway, leaning lazily against the warped wooden frame. His usual sardonic smirk was absent. His foxlike eyes amber and ancient were narrowed in thought, and the edge of his mouth twitched with tension.
"This isn't normal," she murmured. "This isn't human."
"No," Yoru replied, stepping inside. His boots made no sound on the cracked floor. "It's not."
He crouched beside her, his gaze dropping to the rune on her skin. The color from the mark reflected faintly in his eyes. He reached into his coat and pulled something out a worn leather-bound journal tied with a single red thread. It was weathered, old enough that the corners had frayed into curls.
"I've seen it before," he said, untying the thread. "In one of Master Tenkai's forbidden scrolls. They called it The Soul Brand."
Akari blinked. "Soul Brand?"
"A tether," he said. "Not a blessing. Not a curse. A binding. Meant to stitch your soul to a cause, a person, or more rarely a purpose. Something powerful or ancient marked you for resurrection. Your death was not your end. Just your intermission."
Akari's lips parted, but no words came.
The memories were still fragments nightmares and dreams blurred into flashes of another life. She saw fire. A burning sky. A golden blade in her own hand. And always, always that same voice whispering from the edge of the void: "Return."
"But why me?" she asked. "Why would someone go that far for me?"
Yoru closed the journal and tucked it away, his expression unreadable. "I don't think it's about you as you are now. I think it's about who you were."
Akari's heart dropped into a pit of unease. Deep inside, something cold curled like smoke.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the chamber, knocking over a rusted incense bowl. The sound echoed like a warning. The torii gate at the entrance rattled softly an omen.
She stood up slowly, her gaze locked on the brand as it pulsed once twice and then dimmed.
"I need answers," she said. Her voice was calm, but her spine was straight, her chin lifted. "If I've been resurrected by force, if this mark means I'm not human anymore, I want to know why. Who I was. What I did. And who wanted me back."
Yoru stood too, brushing dust from his cloak. "There's only one place left with that kind of knowledge. The Heavenglass Archive."
Akari's brow furrowed. "That's under Council lockdown. You'd have to be suicidal or stupid to break in."
Yoru's grin returned, lazy and sharp. "Lucky for you, I'm both."
They stepped outside the ruined temple. The light had grown stronger now, gleaming off the mossy stones and splintered roof. Akari took one last glance behind her, then turned her face to the east.
A bell tolled far away. One ring. Then another. Its sound was strange too deep for any human temple. It wasn't a call to prayer.
It was a summons. Or a warning.
From the distant peaks, a pair of eyes opened in the dark. A figure cloaked in violet silk stirred, watching their every move through the lens of an ancient scrying pool. The Queen of Ash had found her quarry at last.
And the game was only just beginning.