The mountain path was cloaked in an air even more treacherous than the day before.
Led by Kuon, they cut a path through unmarked ground, avoiding the main approach where guards stood watch. Fallen branches from yesterday’s upheaval lay in tangled heaps; with every step they took, the scent of damp earth rose to meet them. The night air was biting, turning their breath into white mist. Only the red moon remained, carving sharp shadows from the trees.
"From here on, silence," Kuon whispered. "They are sensitive to sound. The barrier may have sharpened their hearing as it dulls their sight."
Koyoi felt his throat tighten. Even his own heartbeat sounded deafening. The three pressed on along a narrow game trail, treading carefully to avoid the crunch of fallen leaves. The Wind God wove a veil around Koyoi, muffling the rustle of his clothes into a faint sigh. His feet felt heavy on the damp moss, as if the earth were clinging to his soles. The weight was a blessing; a light step would have betrayed them.
...Thank you, Wind, he thought, and the pouch at his side grew warm.
Midway up the slope, a hazy red glow appeared—not the sharp beam of a lantern, but a faint, pulsing light. It bled into the mist, its edges shimmering. Whether it was physical fire or sorcery, Koyoi couldn't tell. He held his breath, fixed on Kuon’s back. Two men in white masks stood among the trees, clutching staves.
"What do we do?" Asahi signaled. "Take them?"
"No. If we’re undetected, we pass," Kuon replied. "We avoid unnecessary combat."
Kuon drew a small stone from his vest. Seeking a controlled distraction, he tossed it away from their path; it tumbled down the slope and struck a root with a sharp crack. The guards spun toward the noise. In that opening, the three slipped past like shadows.
They encountered more guards further up. Four of them this time. The path narrowed, and red threads were strung across the ground—a vibration trap. One step would alert the entire mountain. Koyoi bit his lip as the Wind God trembled, scattering the sound of his movement like grass bowing in a breeze. Kuon signaled for them to wait. As the masked men shifted, the threads pulsed with a rhythmic light.
"We have to fight," Asahi mouthed, hand on his sword.
"Wait," Koyoi stopped him. "Vidro is speaking."
...I cannot be seen, whispered the voice of the Glass Eye. ...I will make you the same.
Koyoi held up the Glass Eye. It drank the moonlight, warping the air until the group melted into the trees. His vision blurred, and the outlines of his hands grew faint. He was there, yet he felt untethered from existence.
"Incredible," Asahi whispered, staring at his translucent hand.
Invisible, they walked right past the guards. The men felt only a gust of wind; within that breeze, Kuon let out a soft, satisfied breath. The tension eased. Koyoi focused on the damp soil beneath his boots, a tether to reality. Even if he was transparent, the resolve in his heart remained solid.
...You’re amazing, Vidro.
Koyoi stroked the glass, feeling it shimmer with pride. The summit neared. Red light bled through the trees, staining the sky as the ritual reached its peak. Deep within his chest, his own light shivered, and he felt the Moon God’s presence weep. The wind died; the world felt drawn toward the peak. Kuon looked back and nodded.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," Koyoi answered.
"Let’s go. No more hiding. From here, we fight."
Koyoi anchored his resolve. The red surge was more than light; it pulsed through his bones. The air grew thin and their breath thick. Kuon came to a halt, listening.
"The guards are increasing."
Asahi gave a short nod. "I’ll lead."
Koyoi tried to step forward, but Kuon stopped him with his palm. "Stay hidden as long as you can. Don't rush."
He gripped his pouch, feeling the chill of Vidro and the warmth of the Moon God beneath it. It’s okay, he thought. I’ll end this soon.
A low, rhythmic thrum reached them from the summit—a sinister heartbeat. The ritual had already begun. Koyoi steadied himself, fueling the flame in his heart. The colder the earth felt beneath his feet, the hotter his resolve burned. Through the trees, the red light heaved like waves.
"Moving out," Kuon said softly.
Asahi readied his blade; Koyoi followed into the light. The ground hardened, the air turned heavy. The time for stealth had passed. The wind stopped, leaving a strange, heavy silence. Koyoi gripped the Glass Eye. Let us end it here, the Moon God whispered.
The plaza came into view, dominated by a rotating pillar of red light. Koyoi paused. Fear remained, but his need to help was stronger. It carried him forward. The moment his boots hit the stone paving, the barrier's heat surged. His heart wavered, but he didn't stop.
There was no turning back. The red light dyed the world in crimson, and within it, Koyoi found the Moon God’s spark. The fear receded, replaced by a tangible warmth. He focused his entire being on the center of the light. A cold wind brushed his cheek, drying his sweat.
Koyoi embraced the sensation, swearing once more to the Moon God. His white breath hung in the air, leaving behind only the shape of his resolve. He walked silently, the cold stone biting into his soles. He welcomed the pain; it told him he was here, in the present.
Ignoring a distant scream, he stepped into the radiance. His heart was steady. His feet did not falter. Inside his pouch, the wind spun in a small circle, crying out in time with his stride.