Beyond the door lay a flight of stone steps.
At the feet of the three who had just disembarked from the Mist Train, the moss-covered stones stretched upward, one step after another. The staircase was wide—broad enough for three adults to walk abreast. Each step had been rounded by the passage of ages, their surfaces etched with thin grooves where rainwater had carved its path over time.
Koyoi placed his foot upon the first step. What traveled up through the sole of his shoe was not coldness. The stone held a lingering body heat. It was the final warmth of the path the Names had once traveled.
"We’re heading up."
Asahi took the lead. He shifted the greatsword on his shoulder and looked up toward the top of the stairs. Though the path was swallowed by the mist barely ten steps ahead, the staircase itself remained unbroken.
Kuon opened the Catalog. A golden streak of light pointed upward. It was a straight, unwavering line.
"It’s close," Kuon murmured.
"What is?"
"Everything."
The three began their ascent.
Ten steps. Twenty steps. Around the thirtieth step, the quality of the mist began to shift.
The milky white shroud turned a pale, translucent gray. Beyond it, silhouettes began to take shape. Trees. There were trees growing there.
Trees with leaves.
Koyoi came to a halt.
These were the first living leaves he had seen since their journey began. They were not green, but a silver-gray, shimmering with a faint, inner light. They were swaying in the breeze.
There was a wind.
He could feel it against his face. Inside the mist, there had been no wind. For so long, there had been nothing.
But now, there was.
Koyoi’s hair fluttered. The strings of his drawstring pouch swayed. Asahi’s heavy traveling cloak snapped in the air.
"Wind," Asahi said. It was an obvious observation, yet he said it anyway—as if to confirm the reality of it aloud.
Kuon narrowed his artificial eye. The pale blue light pierced through the haze, illuminating the way forward.
"Twelve more steps, and we’ll be out of the mist."
Koyoi climbed. With every step, the mist grew thinner. With every step, the air felt lighter. The pouch at his waist felt warm. Within it, the Droplet pulsed with a gentle rhythm. It wasn't afraid. It wasn't rushing. It simply seemed... happy.
The final three steps.
The mist receded above their heads.
Though a white haze still swirled around their chests and feet, from the face up—they could see the sky.
It was a dark sky. There were no stars. Instead, the "Lights of Names" floated in the heights. Unfrozen Names. The same lights they had seen above the Well of Hoshino were here as well.
Koyoi stood upon the topmost step.
Before him, a path stretched out. A narrow trail lined on both sides by silver-gray trees. Moss carpeted the ground, looking so soft that one’s feet might sink into it.
The air was damp, smelling of soil, wood, and water. It was the scent of a place that was alive.
Asahi stood beside him, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "So, we made it."
Kuon closed the Catalog. The blue light of his artificial eye faded, and he looked down the path with his own natural sight. The narrow trail wound between the trees, curving gently into the depths of the forest. From where they stood, they couldn't see what lay at the end.
Koyoi pressed his hand to the pouch at his chest. The pulsation of the Droplet synchronized with the beating of his own heart. The same speed. The same temperature.
Below the stone steps, the mist still swirled in white eddies. If he turned around, he would see the entirety of their long, arduous journey.
He did not look back.
He took a single step forward.
The moss accepted the sole of his shoe, sinking softly. The silver-gray leaves rustled in the wind, a small, delicate sound. Behind them, the shadows of the three travelers stretched long across the path.