At the furthest edge of the Town of Charts lay the Stairs of Providence.
Jutting out from the depths of a dense fog, the massive stone steps rose upward, their summit hidden beyond the mist, above a pitch-black abyss. There were no handrails or walls on either side; a single misstep meant falling into a bottomless darkness that lay waiting with an open maw.
With every gust of wind, the stone steps creaked. The sound was amplified many times over in the depths of the void, pressing down on the three of them as if they were trapped inside the belly of a gargantuan beast. Koyoi looked down at the very first step and caught his breath.
Names were carved into the surface of the stone.
They were faint and shallow, yet undeniably etched by human hands. However, their outlines were fading, halfway to being swallowed by the color of the stone itself.
This was the Bleaching of Providence. One by one, the characters making up the names of those who had tried to climb this path were being erased. Koyoi knelt and traced the letters with his fingertip.
Cold.
A chill deeper than ice raced from his finger to his wrist in an instant. The moment he realized that the final body heat of those who had carved their names was trapped within the stone, Koyoi’s vision blurred.
The drawstring pouch at his waist was trembling. The Droplets inside had lost their usual warmth, huddling together as hard, cold grains. The weight of Providence in this place was attempting to freeze even the memories of the tiny gods.
Koyoi gently wrapped the pouch in both hands. It’s okay, his lips moved silently. If he gave it a voice, it would be stolen by Providence.
Here, everything was a target for the Bleaching.
Kuon opened the Tome. The moment the blue light of his artificial eye illuminated the pages, the text moved. From the edges of the lines he tried to read, the strings of characters began to fade like bleeding ink.
"…It’s being erased. It’s being rewritten even as I read it."
Kuon’s voice was low and flat. But Koyoi did not miss the slight tremor in his fingertips.
Every time the blue light of his eye slid across the page, the characters returned to white, line by line. Kuon chased the vanishing rows, his eyes racing as if to sear the remaining fragments into his memory. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Every time the blue light flickered, he could see the veins at his temples pulsing.
"…There is no time. I will read as we climb."
Kuon did not close the Tome; he kept the pages pinned down with one hand as he set foot on the first step.
Asahi took the lead. Resting his right hand on the hilt of his sword, he stared into the depths of the fog. There was no hesitation in his eyes.
"…Look only at your feet. I’ll watch what’s ahead."
The words were brief. But the weight carried in that voice restored the strength that had been draining from Koyoi’s knees. Without looking back, Asahi stepped onto the second step.
The width of the stone steps was already beginning to narrow. By the third step, two people could only just stand side-by-side; by the fifth, there was only room for one. With every step, the number of carved names increased. It was clear that many had made it this far.
Yet, most of those names were nearly dissolved into the color of the stone. Among them were names he could barely make out: a woman’s, a child’s, a name from a distant land written in characters he had never seen before.
All were being erased with equal indifference.
Tears traced a path down Koyoi’s cheeks. He couldn't hold them back. He made no sound, but the tears kept coming.
The moment a tear fell onto the surface of the stone, a tiny sound rang out. A faint noise, like ice cracking or glass splintering.
Koyoi squinted. The characters where the tear had touched were a fraction darker. As if resisting the Bleaching, the fading outlines of the name absorbed the moisture of the tear and flickered back to life for a single heartbeat.
They immediately began to pale again. But for a certain instant, the name had returned.
Koyoi did not wipe his tears. He felt that if he did, even this fleeting moment would be lost.
As he turned the pages of the Tome, Kuon spoke quietly.
"…The components of the tears are delaying the Bleaching. Theoretically, it is impossible. And yet, it is a fact."
The blue light of his artificial eye observed the traces of Koyoi’s tears with cold precision. There was no emotion in his voice. Yet, Koyoi sensed that the hand gripping the Tome was slightly gentler than before.
Asahi did not stop. Only once, he looked back over his shoulder to see Koyoi’s face.
He said nothing. Instead of words, a single sharp thump of his hand against his sword hilt echoed against the steps. It was the signal: Let’s go.
The three continued to climb. With every step, the fog grew thicker, and the low growl of the abyss chased them from below. The steps narrowed further until they had to turn their feet sideways just to stand.
Koyoi’s pouch emitted a faint glow. It was a weak light, more fragile than a candle flame, looking as though it might vanish with a single gust of wind.
But every time that light fell upon the stone steps, the fading names surfaced for a fleeting second. It was as if the light from the pouch was a tiny vigil light for the forgotten.
The sound of their three sets of footsteps was swallowed by the mist. Below them on the steps, the names touched by the tears held onto their final outlines, resisting the Bleaching. Eventually, those too would vanish.
Even so, the three climbed on. With only the faint light of the pouch as their guide, they moved one step at a time, deeper into the heart of the fog.