A streak of silver light tore through the darkness.
The heavy, stagnant air inside the crumbling house was sliced open, thinning as it scattered. Koyoi, still pressed flat against the floorboards, gasped. The smell of grit and dust clung to his nose, leaving the back of his throat stinging.
With a sharp crack that sliced the air, the black shadow looming over him was cut in two.
The shadow let out a sound like a muffled shriek before dissolving into mist, vanishing against the wall. Sand rattled against the wooden planks as it fell, and the frigid air pooled in the depths of the house trembled.
"Stay down!" a voice roared from the doorway.
Asahi stood there, holding a naked blade at the ready, his chest heaving. His expression was lost in the backlight, but his entire being radiated a palpable, taut killing intent. His traveling cloak, whipped by the wind, billowed behind him, and the tips of his hair swayed sharply. In the gloom, he looked like a single, honed blade.
"Asahi...!"
Koyoi’s voice nearly broke. A surge of relief and shock welled up within him, leaving his throat burning.
"Don't stand up! There’s more!"
Just as he warned, the shadow began to coalesce again in the corner of the room. The black mist gathered, warping into a larger, more malevolent shape. This time, it took the form of a gargantuan wolf. Its silhouette flickered and swayed, leaving only its fangs looming bone-white in the dark.
"...E-lim...i-nate..."
The creature let out a low growl and lunged. It was fast—as fast as the wind itself. The floorboards gouged open, sending sand and wood splinters flying.
But Asahi didn't flinch.
He held his sword in a mid-level guard, dodging the oncoming fangs—blades of wind—by a hair’s breadth. The sheer pressure of the air tore his sleeve, and a sharp pain shot through Koyoi's ears. Koyoi instinctively ducked his head, feeling grit work its way into his hair.
Asahi’s feet slid across the floor. Left, then right. Even as the wolf-shadow pursued him, his sword tip stayed steady, fixed on the creature's core.
Then, in one fluid motion, he drew a slip of paper from his tunic.
"Disperse!"
Asahi threw the talisman, and the paper burst in mid-air, releasing a pale blue light. The moment the shadow touched the light, it shriveled with a sharp hiss. A smell like scorched oil filled the room as the mist shrieked.
"Now!"
Asahi stepped in with a strike that had his full weight behind it. The blade pierced what seemed to be the shadow's nucleus. With a final death rattle, the shadow dissolved completely into mist.
The wind died down. Silence returned, leaving nothing but a ringing in his ears. The howling outside grew distant, and the creaking of the house subsided. The sound of falling sand felt unnervingly loud. Koyoi pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart gradually find its rhythm.
Asahi flicked his sword to clear the residue—not blood, but some kind of viscous fluid—and sheathed it with a sharp clack.
"...Good grief. You're a handful."
He walked over to him, his face showing a mix of exasperation and a relief he couldn't quite hide. A small graze on his cheek glistened with a bead of sweat.
"Are you hurt?"
"...No. I'm okay."
Koyoi nodded, still slumped weakly on the floor. His legs were shaking too much to stand. Tiny nicks from the wind-blades covered his fingertips. More than the pain, it was the overwhelming sense of survival that filled him. He tasted salt as he licked the dust from the corner of his lip. As he exhaled, the terror that had been bottled up in his chest slowly began to leak away.
"How did you... find this place?"
"The sound of the wind changed."
Asahi set his gear down in the corner of the room. "I had a bad feeling and doubled back. ...Looks like I was right."
"I'm sorry. I lost sight of you and... I got scared."
"Don't apologize. I moved too far ahead."
Asahi inspected the remains of the hearth and quickly gathered some firewood. He struck his flint, and a flame caught almost immediately. The crackling fire began to warm the chilled room. The scent of smoke filled Koyoi's senses, settling his mind. As the flames flickered, the shadows on the walls stretched and contracted. Koyoi watched them, mesmerized, his hand instinctively tightening around his drawstring pouch. The texture of the cloth grounded him.
"...What was that thing?" Koyoi asked, drawing closer to the fire.
The dancing flames cast shadows that overlapped with where the creature had been. Koyoi winced, his shoulders tensing.
"A stagnation of the wind," Asahi said. "What remains of a god, or perhaps something that failed to become one. The wind around here is mad. Something is damming the flow."
Through a crack in the window, a red light flickered toward the mountains. Looking at it, Koyoi felt a chill deep in his marrow. He felt intuitively that the light was what held the wind in chains.
"...An Observer?"
"Likely. They try to harness the power of the gods. The distortions born from that process become monsters like that."
Asahi looked at the pouch at Koyoi’s waist. The empty bag swayed faintly in the firelight.
"You're a Gatherer, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you might be the one picking that thing up next."
"...What?"
"That wind. If you can calm it and give it form, it might return to being a god."
Koyoi looked out into the darkness. He could still hear the wind echoing in the distance. That terrifying shadow... was a god? He couldn't believe it. Something so violent, so cold.
"...Can I really do it?"
"You've done it before, haven't you? You delivered the shrine and the waterway."
Asahi spoke curtly, but there was trust in his voice. He was acknowledging Koyoi's power. He took several remaining talismans from his tunic and squared them in his hand. The edges were singed, bearing the marks of yesterday's battle.
"Next time, I'll use these to open a path. You move in while I do."
His brief words were packed with calculation and resolve. Koyoi nodded, hardening his own determination. He gripped his pouch. An empty pouch—but perhaps not for long. Could he really accept that wind?
"...Yeah. I'll try."
"Good."
Asahi gnawed on a piece of dried meat. "Eat. You can't fight on an empty stomach."
Koyoi pulled out some dried mochi. As he bit into the hard cake, a simple sweetness spread through his mouth. It tasted like being alive.
The fire crackled on. Asahi was here. That alone seemed to halve the terror of the night. The wind outside was still strong, occasionally shaking the house, but Koyoi was no longer trembling.
He quietly uncapped his canteen and let water flow over his hand. The cold water stung his nicks, washing away the thin red streaks. He tore a strip of cloth and wrapped his fingers; the pain receded a little.
Asahi stood by the door, listening. The wind rattled the pillars and whistled through the gaps in the roof. He gave a short nod, affixed a small warding charm to the doorframe, and finally checked the hilt of his sword.
"Sleep if you can. Even a little."
His voice was blunt, but it held a certain softness. Koyoi nodded, hugging his knees by the fire. When he closed his eyes, the black shadow and the silver flash flickered behind his eyelids. Yet, the sound of the fire swayed gently, anchoring his heart.
The scent of smoke seeped into his hair, mingling with the lingering chill of the wind on his palms. His body quietly memorized this place as his temporary shelter.
As he watched the flickering flames, the sound of the wind seemed to recede. The wailing was still there, but now it seemed like a thin, glowing thread in the night's darkness. Koyoi steadied his breath, making sure not to lose sight of that thread.
Tomorrow, they would head for the mountain.
The night wind was cold, but the light in his chest would not go out. Koyoi closed his hand lightly, as if clutching that small flame.
As he drifted off, the scent of the distant wind felt as if it had drawn a little closer. It was a faint sign.
The night was long, but he had no doubts.
The fire swayed silently.
Toward the wailing of the wind. That was where he had decided to go.