The morning sun was pale, veiled behind drifting clouds, its light thin and cold over the ruins of the Kurogane Shrine. The forest had gone quiet again, too quiet — the kind of silence that follows after something sacred has been broken.
Amaya stood among the shattered stones, her breath a ghost in the mist. The faint gold veins beneath her skin had dimmed, but they were still there — pulsing softly, like whispers beneath the flesh. Her hands trembled as she tried to rub the light away, but it only shimmered brighter in defiance.
Elder Haru watched from where he knelt beside the collapsed torii gate. His eyes, usually hard as obsidian, softened with both awe and sorrow.
"You carry her soul," he said, voice roughened by fear. "The Goddess of the Emperor is not a myth — she sleeps inside you, Amaya."
Amaya shook her head violently. "No. I'm just… me. I'm nobody."
But deep inside her chest, something stirred — a memory not her own. A woman standing before a burning palace, her silver hair flowing, her voice a storm. A golden throne shattered beneath the moon.
> "If you break your vow, I will fall… and the heavens will never forgive you."
The echo made her stumble. She clutched her head, gasping. "Why do I remember this? Who is she?"
"The past always returns when the gods awaken," Haru said quietly. "You are remembering your other life — before you were born human. Before the Emperor's line betrayed the heavens."
She stared at him, her voice trembling. "Then… the Emperor — does he still live?"
Haru hesitated, glancing eastward toward the horizon. "His bloodline endures. The same soul that once ruled beside the goddess still sits upon the throne."
The words sank into her like ice. The warmth in her chest pulsed harder, faster, until she could almost hear a second heartbeat.
---
Far away, in the Imperial Palace of Tsukiyomi, that same heartbeat echoed.
Emperor Raiden stood before the Sacred Mirror — the relic said to have been forged from the tears of the gods. Its surface was clear as water, yet it shimmered with visions. As he reached toward it, light bloomed — and he saw her.
A girl kneeling amid ruins, her hair streaked silver, her eyes carrying the same fire that had haunted his dreams.
Raiden's throat tightened. "Tsukihara…" he whispered.
The image flickered, and Seer Kairin's voice broke the trance. "You've seen her, haven't you?"
Raiden turned sharply. "She's real. Alive."
Kairin bowed. "Then the cycle begins again. The Heavens mark their chosen, and the Earth trembles to follow."
Raiden frowned. "You speak in riddles, old man. Tell me what this means."
Kairin stepped forward, holding out an ancient scroll bound in black cord. "This prophecy was sealed for a thousand years, by decree of your ancestor — Emperor Akatsura, the first mortal to bind a goddess. It speaks of her rebirth."
Raiden unrolled the parchment, his eyes scanning the lines.
> 'When the moon breaks and blood stains the sky, the Goddess shall rise from mortal clay.
Her light will call the Emperor's mark, and together they shall awaken Heaven or end it.'
As he read, a sudden pain lanced through his chest. He ripped open his robe, and there — glowing faintly over his heart — was a sigil of gold fire: a perfect mirror of the mark that now pulsed beneath Amaya's skin.
Raiden's breath caught. "The Mark of Heaven…"
Kairin nodded grimly. "The bond between god and ruler has returned. You are linked by fate — her rebirth will shape your empire's doom or salvation."
Outside, thunder growled though the day was clear.
---
Back in Kurogane, Amaya helped Haru to his feet. The air smelled of rain though the skies were empty. "If I'm truly her… what am I supposed to do?" she asked.
"Survive," Haru said. "The yokai will come again. So will the servants of the Emperor — they will feel your awakening. Some will worship you. Others will wish to end you."
A shadow fell across the path below. Amaya's hand went instinctively to her chest, where the light still pulsed. A figure stood among the trees — tall, cloaked, wearing the black armor of the Imperial Shadow Guard. The symbol on his mask was unmistakable: the crest of the Emperor.
The stranger bowed his head slightly. "By decree of His Majesty Raiden no Mikado," he said, his voice low but steady, "the bearer of the divine light is to be taken to the capital — alive."
Haru stepped protectively in front of Amaya. "She is no prisoner! She is sacred!"
The soldier's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "Sacred or not, her presence disturbs the balance. You would do well to stand aside, old man."
Amaya's fear flared — and with it, the goddess stirred again. The light in her chest burst outward in a wave, and the soldier staggered back as petals of white fire spiraled through the air. The torii gate behind her rebuilt itself in a flash of divine energy.
She stepped forward, her voice no longer her own — layered, echoing with the weight of eternity.
> "Tell your Emperor," she said, eyes blazing like twin suns, "that the heavens remember."
The soldier fell to one knee, trembling before her power.
Haru whispered, half in awe, half in dread, "Tsukihara has truly awakened."
And as the wind swept through the broken shrine, far away in the palace, Emperor Raiden fell to his knees — his mark burning bright, his pulse perfectly aligned with hers.
The gods had returned to the mortal realm.
The Mark of Heaven was whole again.
---