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 his hair scattered into the night. Somewhere, a pebble rolled, bouncing once before vanishing. Koyoi exhaled, his white breath thinning into the darkness.
The light in his chest flickered, but it did not go out.
“It’s really over, isn’t it?”
His knees gave way, and he slumped onto the ground. Cold earth seeped through his clothes, and a sting pulsed in his fingertips. His mouth tasted of burnt dust; his throat felt raw when he swallowed. The glass vidro in his palm had lost its heat, returning to the hard coldness of glass.
Koyoi tucked the vidro into his bag. His fingers trembled as he pulled the drawstring, the cord letting out a dry creak.
“Are you alright, Koyoi?”
Asahi’s voice was close. His hand was warm on his 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 him, he felt a chill.
“Yeah. I can stand. My legs just gave out for a second.”
His voice wavered. Koyoi tried to steady his breathing, but his throat was dry and his tongue felt cold. His feet were numb, the pebbles inside his shoes lost to his senses.
A silver light floated before him. 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 his palm. It was smooth as glass, cold but dry. The temperature soothed his skin, and the light in his 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. He kept his eyes fixed on the Moon God and took a short breath. Swallowing back the urge to cry, he 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 his 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.”
He 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 his hip. It didn't hold him back; instead, it felt as though it supported his spine, making his 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 his soles and dried twigs snapped under his boots. As the tension left his shoulders, exhaustion settled into his back and his breath grew shallow.
They stopped at a spring halfway down. Koyoi washed his face in the ice-cold water, the chill clearing his 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 his side.
Through the fabric, he felt the chill of the Moon God, the lightness of the Wind God, and the hardness of the vidro. Three weights resting together. When he pushed open the inn door, the wood creaked, and he felt the ghost of a splinter against his 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. He placed the bag on his 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 his eyes. With every exhale, the tightness at his core unraveled. Behind his eyelids, a silver moon rose as the crimson light receded. In the next room, he could hear Kuon. Occasionally, the sound of his fingers touching the Disk reached him. 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 he sat up. His arms felt tight as yesterday’s heat left his body. A bird chirped, and the town began to wake. Koyoi placed his 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 his chest, steadying it. When he opened the door, the morning air brushed his cheeks.
Mist mingled with the steam of breakfast fires. He inhaled the cold air, his breath turning white. Though the chill tightened his skin, the light in his chest remained warm.
Asahi approached. “Let’s move. We should be on the road.”
Kuon nodded, and Koyoi followed. He gripped the weighted bag and stepped onto the cobblestones. The stones still held the night’s chill, the cold climbing into his bones. Far off, he heard the town waking—a bucket clattering, a shop door opening, rising voices. In the cold morning, a small heat remained in his chest. With that alone, he could keep walking.
Inside the bag, the quiet breathing of the Moon God continued.