It was time to return to Boundary Village.
Koyoi turned his back to the spring. He held the empty pouch close to his chest. It was light—empty—and yet, he felt a pang of loneliness. He had delivered the three deities to their respective places.
The God of the Pathfinders to the first site. The God of the Shrines to the second. The God of the Waterways to this, the third.
As a Gatherer, he had fulfilled his first mission.
"...Time to go."
Koyoi began to retrace his steps along the path he had come.
◇
He walked through the forest.
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting streaks of warm, gentle light across his path. The terror of the previous night felt like a distant lie.
Birds were singing. The wind was blowing. It was a peaceful morning on the other side of the boundary. And yet, something felt different.
Koyoi came to a halt and scanned his surroundings.
"...Something is different."
The scent of the wind had changed. The air felt heavy, as if it were holding something—a trembling, invisible presence.
"...Am I just imagining it?"
He started walking again, but the sense of unease remained.
◇
The pouch grew warm.
Koyoi gasped, pressing his hand against his chest.
It was supposed to be empty. No one was inside. And yet, it was warm.
"...Why?"
He stared down at the pouch.
Light and vacant, yet radiating a distinct heat. The warmth of the gods still remained.
No, that wasn't it. It wasn't just a lingering heat. It was a connection.
"...Are we connected?"
The God of the Pathfinders. The God of the Shrines. The God of the Waterways. He felt as though the pouch remained tied to the deities he had delivered.
◇
He emerged from the forest.
Before him rose a hill—an open space with a clear view of the horizon. Koyoi climbed toward the summit.
As he stood at the peak, a refreshing breeze swept past him. He looked out over the landscape.
"..."
He caught his breath.
◇
The mountains were glowing.
To the north, where he had delivered the God of the Waterways, the ridgeline pulsed with a faint, ethereal blue light.
"...The God of the Waterways."
To the west, another glow. At the site where he had left the God of the Shrines, a steady, golden light shimmered.
"...The God of the Shrines."
And to the east, where he had first delivered the God of the Pathfinders, he could see a soft, vibrant orange light.
"...The God of the Pathfinders."
Three lights. From three different directions, the glows were visible—faint, but unmistakable.
Shiori was not among them. She was not a god; she had been anchored in place to ensure his escape. He felt as though her sorrow remained as a single shadow within that radiant light.
◇
"...What is this?" Koyoi whispered.
The lights were flickering, as if calling out to one another. As if they were responding.
The blue light in the north wavered. The golden light in the west answered. The orange light in the east followed suit.
In sequence. In turn. The lights were communicating.
"They're talking," Koyoi said.
To his eyes, it looked as though the gods were conversing through the light. Even though they were far apart, they were connected.
◇
The pouch grew even warmer.
Koyoi gripped it tight.
It was empty, yet the heat was almost intense.
He felt as though the lights from the north, west, and east were all converging toward the pouch.
As he clutched it to his chest, the three distant lights pulsed in unison. Slowly, steadily, they synchronized with the beating of his own heart. He felt a strange sensation, as if invisible threads were stretching out from his body to the very ends of the world.
"Kamiatsume..."
He remembered the words of the God of the Waterways.
"We shall meet again at the time of the Kamiatsume."
Was this the sign? The gods were preparing to gather, reaching out to connect across the distance.
◇
A wind blew.
It was a different kind of wind—one that carried something with it. A wind that felt like the very breath of the gods.
Koyoi closed his eyes.
He thought he heard the voice of the God of the Pathfinders. He thought he heard the voice of the God of the Shrines. He thought he heard the voice of the God of the Waterways.
"...Thank you."
"...We are waiting."
"...We shall meet again."
The three voices overlapped.
"...At the time of the Kamiatsume."
◇
He opened his eyes.
The lights were still there. Blue to the north. Gold to the west. Orange to the east.
The three lights flickered, calling to each other, waiting for the Kamiatsume—the moment when all the gods would be gathered.
"Someday," Koyoi murmured. "Someday, I'll see everyone again."
He pulled the pouch close. It was warm. He was connected to them.
◇
The grass on the hill swayed in the wind. At his feet, a tiny white flower had bloomed—a nameless thing wet with morning dew, reflecting the light. Koyoi stared at it for a moment. Even a life this small had its own rhythm, its own changes. He felt a sudden, fleeting desire to protect it.
He began to descend the hill, heading back toward Boundary Village.
The pouch was empty, yet it wasn't. The bond with the gods lived within it.
The God of the Shrines was waiting. The God of the Waterways was waiting. The God of the Pathfinders was waiting.
And he felt as though Shiori, anchored in her place, was watching over him from somewhere.
We shall meet again at the time of the Kamiatsume.
That promise lived inside the pouch.
Koyoi walked on toward the village where the Elder waited. The wind was at his back, as if the gods themselves were guiding him home.
I will see them again. At the time of the Kamiatsume, I will see everyone.
That certainty stayed with him, glowing like a small, eternal flame deep within his heart.