The wind carried a different silence that night—heavier, like the hush before a truth is spoken aloud.
The shrine's presence hadn't faded since that encounter. Something in your chest pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat — quiet, but insistent. A rhythm not your own. You stood alone on the beach, the moon looming vast and low, its silver light bleeding over the waves and painting the sand with soft fire.
You tried to remember that moment again—the moment when time itself had softened. When the world shimmered like glass and the veil between things had thinned. You held your breath, searching.
Nothing.
Only the sea. The hush of wind. Your own breathing.
Then the cold hit you.
Not wind. Not water.
Something within.
A pulse. A shudder. A pull.
Then — flickers behind your eyes. Not your memories. Not your pain.
A girl, crying in the rain. Her hands cupped around a fox's body, trembling. Blood on her palms, not her own.
A boy, standing before a burning tree. "Don't follow me," he whispered, even as his shadow reached back.
Then the voice came. Low. Ageless.
> "Do you remember the promise she made under the eclipse?"
You staggered. "What?"
> "She gave up her soul to keep yours warm."
A riddle? A memory? A warning?
> "One broke the sky. One held the sea. One fell into silence. Which are you?"
You tried to speak. Couldn't.
> "If you cannot answer, then show me."
The sand beneath you shifted. The air trembled. And suddenly—
Heat. Pressure. A weight bearing down on you.
The beach was gone.
You stood in a ring of glowing stones, the moon now a blazing eye above. Around you, phantom figures flickered — none looked at you, but each wept in silence. Grief soaked the air like salt.
> "They remember you, even if you've forgotten them."
A figure stepped forward — cloaked in fur and shadow, eyes glowing gold.
> "This is the trial. Not of strength, but of echo. Survive not with power, but with truth."
They raised a hand.
The ground cracked.
And the wind screamed.
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