The old pier at Yoinami Shore was held up by nothing more than three wooden pilings. Between them, two decaying planks had been precariously laid across, barely clinging to their place.

As Koyoi stepped onto them, the wood groaned and sagged. Below lay a pool of golden liquid.

“How deep is it?” Asahi asked, clinging to one of the pilings for support.

“It has no bottom,” Kuon replied, his prosthetic eye scanning the shimmering surface.

The pale blue light of his gaze was swallowed by the gold. His eye, which could usually see straight through to the earth itself, reflected nothing here.

“These are names—liquefied and sedimented over time. Thousands of years of them. The very concept of ‘depth’ doesn’t apply here.”

Koyoi knelt at the edge of the pier and drew out a single manuscript page.

The first of the Four Pillars.

After confirming the characters of the name, he dipped the edge of the paper into the liquid. A chill raced through his fingertips. It wasn't the temperature of the liquid itself.

It was the coldness of the names.

The sorrow of names that had lost their voices and their forms surged through the liquid and into his hand. The manuscript trembled as the paper began to drink.

As the golden moisture seeped into the fibers and touched the ink, the characters glowed. The surface rippled. The name written on the manuscript was calling to its twin within the depths.

Slowly, a golden mass drifted up from beneath the surface.

It wasn't human in shape. It was a tiny cluster of light, no bigger than two syllables of script. Koyoi scooped the mass up with the page.

The paper absorbed the light. One layer of text overlaid another, the characters fusing together.

“One Pillar recovered,” Kuon confirmed, his artificial eye illuminating the page. “The density of the name has returned. This one still held its shape well.”

Koyoi pressed the manuscript to his chest. The damp paper felt warm.

It was the warmth of a returned name. Three more of the four remained.

He took out the second sheet. Beneath the pier, the golden liquid swirled in a silent vortex.

Koyoi dipped the edge of the paper into the gold once more. This time, it took longer for the liquid to respond. It must be buried deep.

The hand holding the manuscript shook slightly.

The wind rattled the planks of the pier. Deep beneath the surface, a golden light turned slowly in the dark.