Sound returned to the mountain plaza.
With the red pillar gone, the sky was darker than expected. Moonlight cast a thin, white glow across the cobblestones. A faint ringing lingered deep in Koyoi’s ears; the ringing felt oddly loud in the silence. The scent of char lingered, then a delayed breeze carried the smell of soot and damp earth down the slopes.
Grit of ash brushed from her hair scattered into the night. Somewhere, a pebble rolled, bouncing once before vanishing. Koyoi exhaled, her white breath thinning into the darkness.
The light in her chest flickered, but it did not go out.
“It’s really over, isn’t it?”
Her knees gave way, and she slumped onto the ground. Cold earth seeped through her clothes, and a sting pulsed in her fingertips. Her mouth tasted of burnt dust; her throat felt raw when she swallowed. The glass vidro in her palm had lost its heat, returning to the hard coldness of glass.
Koyoi tucked the vidro into her bag. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the drawstring, the cord letting out a dry creak.
“Are you alright, Koyoi?”
Asahi’s voice was close. His hand was warm on her shoulder, still tense from gripping a sword. The scent of blood was a grim reminder of the battle. His sleeve was damp, and where it touched her, she felt a chill.
“Yeah. I can stand. My legs just gave out for a second.”
Her voice wavered. Koyoi tried to steady her breathing, but her throat was dry and her tongue felt cold. Her feet were numb, the pebbles inside her shoes lost to her senses.
A silver light floated before her. It was the Moon God. The sphere was clear and crisp, radiating a sharp coldness. Yet at its center flickered a tiny warmth, like an ember at its core.
The Moon God drifted closer and touched her palm. It was smooth as glass, cold but dry. The temperature soothed her skin, and the light in her chest pulsed with a quiet rhythm.
『...Thank you.』
『...I was afraid. The red light... it was scraping me away.』
“It’s okay now,” Koyoi said. She kept her eyes fixed on the Moon God and took a short breath. Swallowing back the urge to cry, she let the words fall softly. “There are no more cages here.”
Behind them, Kuon huffed. He tucked his Stargazing Disk into his robes, tapping the rim once. The small sound echoed sharply across the summit. The glass over his left eye caught the moonlight and flashed; Kuon blinked to hide it.
“Don’t thank me. I only wanted to spite their records.”
Koyoi sensed Asahi smiling, though his breathing sounded labored. “Always so prickly... but it’s a fact that you saved us.”
Kuon didn't answer, but his silhouette seemed to soften. Koyoi gripped her bag, feeling the Wind God stir inside.
“Great God. What do you want to do now?”
The Moon God did not hesitate. Its cold light brushed gently against Koyoi’s fingers.
『...I will go. With all of you.』
『...The wounds here are deep. My light alone cannot protect this place.』
『...They will come again. The Watchers... surely.』
『...So, I wish to be the light upon your path.』
The bag glowed faintly. Inside, the Wind God and the vidro resonated together in a shared rhythm.
『...Come.』
『...Together.』
“I understand,” Koyoi whispered. “Let’s go together.”
She opened the bag. The Moon God floated upward and vanished into the darkness. Silver light filled the interior for a moment before settling into a quiet, steady temperature.
A new weight settled at her hip. It didn't hold her back; instead, it felt as though it supported her spine, making her breathing easier.
“Dawn is coming. Let’s move while we can,” Asahi said. The edge of the blackness was thinning, and the scent of the wind was changing.
Kuon nodded. “Agreed. I have no more business on this mountain.”
The path down was unforgiving. Stones bit into her soles and dried twigs snapped under her boots. As the tension left her shoulders, exhaustion settled into her back and her breath grew shallow.
They stopped at a spring halfway down. Koyoi washed her face in the ice-cold water, the chill clearing her head. A night bird called once from the depths of the forest.
By the time they reached the town, the sky had paled. A rooster’s crow echoed, and the scents of the town began to rise—hearth fires, damp earth, and human life. Koyoi exhaled and adjusted the bag at her side.
Through the fabric, she felt the chill of the Moon God, the lightness of the Wind God, and the hardness of the vidro. Three weights resting together. When she pushed open the inn door, the wood creaked, and she felt the ghost of a splinter against her fingertip.
The landlady looked up, her voice trembling with relief. “Oh. Thank goodness. You’re safe.”
Koyoi nodded, unable to speak. The landlady’s hand hovered, almost touching Koyoi’s shoulder, before she drew it back. Boiling water and damp wood scented the air from the kitchen.
Asahi adjusted his gear, and Kuon turned down the floor lamp. As Koyoi sat on the tatami, the scent of the mats brought a sense of safety. She placed the bag on her lap, tracing the opening.
The Moon God’s cold radiated through the cloth. “It’s okay now. Rest well.” At the bottom of the bag, the wind hummed, and the vidro gave a faint reply. The Moon God’s breathing layered over them both.
Koyoi closed her eyes. With every exhale, the tightness at her core unraveled. Behind her eyelids, a silver moon rose as the crimson light receded. In the next room, she could hear Kuon. Occasionally, the sound of his fingers touching the Disk reached her. It sounded like someone worrying at their doubts. Listening to it, Koyoi sank into sleep.
Morning. Faint light filtered through the lattice window. Koyoi’s joints felt heavy; the tatami creaked as she sat up. Her arms felt tight as yesterday’s heat left her body. A bird chirped, and the town began to wake. Koyoi placed her hand on the bag. It was cold. It was truly there.
“Let’s go. To see a new world.”
In the hallway, Asahi and Kuon were packing. The creaking of wood and friction of ropes broke the morning silence. Koyoi pressed a hand to the light in her chest, steadying it. When she opened the door, the morning air brushed her cheeks.
Mist mingled with the steam of breakfast fires. She inhaled the cold air, her breath turning white. Though the chill tightened her skin, the light in her chest remained warm.
Asahi approached. “Let’s move. We should be on the road.”
Kuon nodded, and Koyoi followed. She gripped the weighted bag and stepped onto the cobblestones. The stones still held the night’s chill, the cold climbing into her bones. Far off, she heard the town waking—a bucket clattering, a shop door opening, rising voices. In the cold morning, a small heat remained in her chest. With that alone, she could keep walking.
Inside the bag, the quiet breathing of the Moon God continued.