Beyond the market’s edge, the three stood in the deepest part of Moon’s Gorge. This place was known as the Boundary Beacon.
In the center of the plaza stood a colossal pillar of light. The silver flame burning at its peak held no heat; instead, it possessed a biting chill that seemed to sap the warmth from anything it touched.
Koyoi felt the anomaly of the place through the soles of her feet. There was no vibration beneath the cobblestones. Even the faint murmurs of daily life, inescapable in any town, were absent here—as if they had never existed at all.
Ruined shells of what were once buildings lay scattered around the plaza's edge. Traces of writing lingered on the exposed sections of the walls, but when she tried to read them, her eyes slid away, unable to grasp any meaning.
Records could not endure here.
Koyoi pulled her pouch close to her chest. The Rain God’s pulse was weak, but it hadn't stopped. The presence of the River God lingered nearby, supporting that thin, fragile heartbeat.
Kuon opened his catalog, using the blue light of his artificial eye to trace the coordinates. Yet, even as words surfaced on the pages, they immediately began to fade. The records were stripping away faster than he could read them.
Sweat beaded on Kuon's forehead, but he didn't look away. Faint sparks flew where the blue light clashed with the silver glow.
"...Look. Past the Boundary Beacon, the path and the records diverge. From here on, the laws we know no longer apply."
Kuon’s voice was raspy. His artificial eye flickered rapidly; he was clearly pushing himself to the breaking point. Koyoi started to reach out to him, then stopped. She wanted him to rest, but in this place, Kuon was the only one with eyes that could perceive the truth.
"...If the laws don't apply, then does that mean the gods we've saved... were they all a lie?"
As she asked, Koyoi looked at her own palms. They were small hands. Yet, these hands had caught the tears of gods. Even if she were told that their warmth was a lie, she couldn't bring herself to believe it.
Asahi rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze fixed on the base of the pillar. In the shadows cast by the silver flames, she thought she saw something stir. Her grip tightened, but she didn't draw her blade. She wasn't so reckless as to strike at something unknown.
She lowered her center of gravity, preparing for a sudden dash.
"...The shadows are thin. The fabric of observation is snapping under its own weight," Asahi said in a low voice. Her tone held both caution and a hint of exhilaration.
If there was a tear in the Observer's control, then there was a way through. Asahi’s logic was simple: if there is a path, take it. If there is a wall, break it.
Kuon narrowed his eyes slightly at her words. He had seen it many times before—how Asahi’s simplicity became their strength when logic alone couldn't force a way forward.
At that moment, the silver flame flickered. Every echo in the plaza vanished. A total, absolute silence descended. Not even the sound of their own breathing reached their ears.
It was as if the pillar were sucking up sound itself, consuming it within the flames. The silence was heavy, a crushing weight against their chests like the pressure at the bottom of the sea.
Koyoi did not close her eyes. She gripped the pouch.
Only the Drop pulsed with a faint rhythm. It was a tiny heartbeat, audible to no one, yet it reached Koyoi’s palm clearly. She decided that was enough.
Even if it couldn't be heard, it was here. Koyoi counted the intervals of that heartbeat, synchronized it with Kuon’s breathing, and recalled the rhythm of Asahi’s stride. As long as these three anchors held, they had not yet been erased. She feared what might be lost before the silver fire, yet she had no choice but to take the next step.