The forest swallowed the path behind them.
Ren glanced back, but the trees had already shifted, rearranged, as if the mountain itself refused to let them leave the same way they came. The mist grew heavier, curling around their feet like fingers.
Kiyomi moved ahead without a word, her tails swaying low, her posture alert.
"Where are we going exactly?" Ren asked, keeping close behind.
"The Veil Path," she said. "It wasn't always hidden, but after the Ashen Court tainted the mountain's flow, it became… unpredictable."
Ren frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"
Kiyomi smirked. "Everything worth learning is."
They pressed forward.
The deeper they walked, the quieter the world became. No birdsong. No wind. Just the wet crunch of earth beneath their feet and the occasional snap of distant branches—never close, but never far enough to ignore.
Then, suddenly, the silence broke.
Voices.
Faint. Echoing.
Ren turned sharply, eyes scanning the mist.
"I heard—"
"I know," Kiyomi said softly. "Ignore them."
"But they said my name."
"That's how it starts."
The mist ahead shifted—and something stepped out.
It looked like Ren's mother.
Hair damp from the rain. Eyes wide. Hands trembling.
"Ren," she said, her voice brittle. "Come home."
Ren froze.
Everything inside him screamed that it was wrong, but seeing her—he felt himself step forward.
"Stop," Kiyomi said, blocking him.
"But—"
"That's not her."
The figure's face twitched.
For a moment, it melted—features sagging, eyes warping—then snapped back into place.
"She's a Wisp-Echo," Kiyomi whispered. "A memory given form. Fed by your fear. If you touch her, she'll bury herself in your soul and wear your body like a coat."
The thing snarled, its voice breaking. "He's ours."
Foxfire flared in Kiyomi's palm. One step forward—and she hurled the flame.
The echo screamed as the blue fire hit it, unraveling into ash and shadow that the mist quickly swallowed.
Ren's heart pounded.
He looked at her. "I almost believed it."
"You will again," she said. "That's what they do."
A long silence passed between them.
Then she turned. "Keep moving."
They did.
The forest changed.
Roots jutted from the ground like ribs. Trees bent unnaturally, twisted toward some unseen center. The air thickened with something ancient, like breath held for too long.
At the edge of a sunken clearing, Kiyomi stopped.
There, nestled between crumbling stone lanterns and crooked statues, stood a torii gate—half-covered in moss, cracked and crooked.
Beyond it, the world shimmered.
"The Veil Path," she said. "Once we cross, we won't be in our world anymore."
Ren hesitated. "And what's on the other side?"
Her tails curled low. "Truth."
He nodded once.
Then stepped through.
The shift was instant.
The air buzzed.
Colors sharpened—too vivid, almost painful. The sky above bled gold and violet, and the trees glowed faintly with veins of fire under their bark.
Ren gasped.
It felt like stepping inside a memory that didn't belong to him.
"What is this place?"
Kiyomi stepped beside him. "The echo of the mountain's soul. What it was before corruption. What it remembers."
As they walked, the world rippled with visions—ghosts of battles, of fire and sorrow.
Ren saw a younger Kiyomi in flashes—fighting, bleeding, laughing beside faces he didn't recognize.
"You were here," he whispered.
Kiyomi's gaze didn't waver. "I was."
They came to a pool—a perfect mirror.
In its center, a small island with a single tree stood, its leaves aflame with ghostly light.
"This is the Heartroot," she said. "You'll train here."
Ren stepped closer. "Why here?"
"Because time moves differently here. Hours become days. Days become minutes outside. And because—" she paused, eyes sharp "—what lives beneath the water listens only to those who bear fire."
He stared at the water. "Wait, what lives beneath—?"
A ripple.
Then something moved—huge, slow.
A shape passed under the surface.
Ren staggered back.
Kiyomi touched his shoulder. "You'll be fine. Unless it senses weakness."
"Thanks," he muttered. "Very comforting."
She grinned.
Then nodded to the water. "Go. Touch the surface."
He knelt beside the pool. His reflection stared back—haunted, tired, uncertain.
But he reached forward.
His fingers brushed the surface.
Everything changed.
Pain.
Light.
A sudden scream—not his own—echoed in his mind.
He saw flames. Not blue. Not orange. **White.**
The same color as the Hollow-Eyed Girl's dress.
Then he was falling—
—but not in the real world.
Inside himself.
Into memory.
No… not memory.
Vision.
He stood in a field of ash.
Above him, a black sun burned. Around him, silhouettes burned in silence.
Then a figure turned.
Her eyes—those same voids.
She smiled.
"You're waking up."
Ren gasped—and was pulled back.
He collapsed beside the pool, coughing, trembling.
Kiyomi was beside him in an instant. "What did you see?"
He didn't speak for a moment. Then, hoarse, he said:
"Her."
Kiyomi's face went still.
"She knows where I am now."
He looked at her.
"And she's not waiting anymore."
From the trees above them, something shifted.
A bird—but
not a bird—perched high above, watching. Its feathers glistened like ink.
It opened its beak—and whispered a name.
Ren's name.
Then flew toward the clouds.
---