The wind of the plain carried dust and light – a fine, dry veil that shimmered under the three moons and clung to the skin like memories.
Hinokami walked slowly. The hilt of the broken sword rested in his right palm – the only thing he had left from Kagehora. The wooden grip and the metal guard – scratched, but still intact.
Sometimes his fingers clenched around the hilt too tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go, he would lose not just a weapon, but a part of himself.
"The remains of a whole world in my hand… and I still don't know what kind of world I want to create."
Beneath his feet the road was cracked, as if the earth had once been eaten by flame and then forced to cool. The stones were warm, as though old lava still breathed beneath them. Sometimes a faint smoke rose from the fissures – not enough to frighten, but enough to remind that something here had once burned fiercely.
In the distance, the city walls rose like a charred horizon – black, smoothly polished, gleaming in the moons' light. As if someone had taken pieces of night and cast them into stone.
Above them, the three moons burned.
The violet one – deep and heavy, like an eye that sees far too much.
The white one – of the All-Powerful.
The blood-red one – pulsing faintly, like something ancient.
They reflected on the city towers like three different eyes that had been watching the world for centuries and never found a reason to blink.
Hinokami's heart beat steadily, but there was a tension in his chest – like a string drawn to its very limit.
The feeling came before he reached the gate.
Someone was watching him.
There were no footsteps, no sound of movement. Only a weight in the air – like a stranger's breath you could not hear, but your skin could feel.
Hinokami stopped. Lifted his head.
The wind ran through his hair, scattering the dust around his feet. For a moment, the moons blurred in his eyes, as if he were looking through a flame.
A cold shiver ran down his back.
He looked to the right – rocky hills, low shadows, sand.
Then to the left – the same.
Empty.
But the feeling was no lie.
It was like an icy hand on his shoulder that vanished the instant you turned around.
"You are not alone…" something inside him whispered. Not a voice, but a premonition.
Hinokami drew a slow breath.
He did not like fear, but he respected it.
*Fear is a flame,* he thought. *And a flame shows the only certain thing – that you are still alive.*
And he walked on.
The city gate could be seen from afar – a tall arch upon which the three moons were carved in different phases, with shadows beneath them, stretched out like hands.
Before it, however, there were two checkpoints. Two doors one had to pass through before the city would accept you.
The first was almost unofficial.
A low stone arch, two guards leaning on their spears. No magical seals, no runes, no glowing lights.
Only gazes.
One of the guards – a man with greying hair and a furrowed face – watched Hinokami with eyes that had clearly seen more nights than days.
*Another child with a weapon,* he thought. *A broken sword… so he already knows what pain is. Better than those who come with shiny blades and empty heads.*
The other guard – younger, with a faint scar above his lip – simply studied Hinokami's stride.
They did not ask where he came from. They did not seek his story. They were searching for a lie in his walk.
Hinokami passed them slowly, without speeding up. He did not try to look stronger than he was.
The older guard followed his back with his eyes, then said quietly to the younger:
"He's no threat. But he carries a storm."
The younger did not answer.
*Not a storm,* he thought. *More like an ember that hasn't yet realized it can burn the sky.*
After that look, the second checkpoint felt like another reality.
Here stood three guards in heavy armor, fine lines of light running along their shoulders and helms – magical veins pulsating faintly.
On the posts beside them hung bronze seals, connected by thin strings of mana that darted between the stones like invisible spiderwebs.
These were not gazes. These were proofs.
One of the guards stepped forward – tall, grim, with a voice rougher than the stones beneath them:
"Name?"
"Hinokami."
"Where do you come from?"
A moment of silence…
Hinokami thought:
*From a place I took into my hands and failed to hold…*
"From a place that no longer exists," he said calmly.
The guard looked him over. There was no hatred in his eyes. Only fatigue.
*Another one with a past in ashes,* he thought. *These either become monsters… or saviors. There is no third option.*
"You're not wearing a Wooden tag on your belt," the guard said. "Without registration, you can't enter."
"And if I want to register?" Hinokami asked.
"The Adventurers' Guild," the man replied shortly. "In the center. If they accept you – you stay. If not – you leave the city before sunrise."
The other guard, the younger one, nodded slightly and murmured almost kindly:
"You're not the first to come from nothing. But at least you don't carry darkness in your eyes. Go in."
Hinokami passed under the stone arch.
Behind his back, the magical seals in the wall flared for a moment.
The armored guard felt a faint pull on his wristband – the sign that the magic had "remembered" the new silhouette.
*One more name in the city's registers,* he thought. *Let's hope we don't end up reading it on a gravestone.*
Inside, the city was a different world.
The streets shone not with torches, but with magical stones embedded into the very pavement. Tiny crystals that breathed light – their pulses following the rhythm of the mana channels under the ground.
On the streets moved people of different races and fates –
beastlike beings with wolf ears and tails,
shadowy figures whose eyes reflected the three moons,
mechans – people with metal arms and chests, runes engraved into the steel.
It smelled of spices, hot iron, ink, baked bread, and something bitter – perhaps herbs for magical brews.
Everywhere, voices filled the air.
A merchant swearing that his goods were "blessed by the white moon."
A blacksmith yelling for his apprentice.
An enchanter arguing with a client that "magic for eternal love" comes with no guarantees.
For a moment, Hinokami felt like a child who had stepped into a fairy tale he'd never finished reading.
*So much life in one place… and I still smell like ashes.*
But the feeling of being watched did not fade.
Every time his instincts forced him to look up – to the rooftops, the dark gaps between the towers – a chill ran down his neck.
And just when he tried to catch a shape in the shadows – it vanished.
As if his attention itself was driving it away.
Soon, a large building rose before him, and above the arch of its entrance, glowing runes spelled:
ADVENTURERS' GUILD OF THE THREE MOONS
The door was made of dark wood, worn smooth by hands that had passed through it for many years. Carved lines wound across it, glowing with a pale green light – magic of knowledge, ancient and enduring.
*This is not just a building,* Hinokami thought. *It's a mouth. And if I enter, it will either swallow me… or name me.*
He crossed the threshold.
Inside, it was noisy but not chaotic.
Men and women in armor, cloaks, and weapons stood before large wooden boards, into which runes of light were embedded. Some were reading, others arguing, others laughing loudly.
It smelled of dust, ink, leather, and faintly of coffee – bitter and strong.
From time to time, magical seals along the walls flickered when someone moved too quickly – as if the guild itself was tracking who entered and who left.
At one table, behind a stack of parchments and a small magical crystal, sat a woman.
Long black hair, glossy like wet silk, fell over her shoulders. Her face was gentle, but not fragile – its lines suggested she had smiled and cried enough times to know both equally well.
Her eyes…
Large, deep, with a color close to liquid mercury. Reflections from the magical lamps danced in them, but there was also something warm there. Hope. Patience. And a stubborn, quiet belief that even in a world full of shadows, there was still light worth fighting for.
She was dressed simply – linen shirt, brown corset, dark skirt. She wore no armor, and no weapon was visible, but there was certainty in her posture.
*Another lost one…* she thought when she saw him approach. *A broken sword, but a living gaze. Those are the most dangerous – they haven't yet decided whether they want to live.*
When Hinokami stopped in front of the table, she raised her head and smiled – not too widely, just enough to wipe away the sharp edge of his tension.
"Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild," she said. "Newcomer, right?"
"Yes." Hinokami nodded. "My name is Hinokami."
"Of course." Her smile softened further. "I'm Lisan. I'll help you with the registration."
She examined him carefully.
*A broken sword, stitches on his clothes, the walk of someone who knows exactly where it hurts… He's not one of those who come here to 'try their luck'. He's carrying something. A flame, or a wound. Sometimes they're the same thing.*
Lisan opened a drawer and took out a small wooden tablet, engraved with signs and empty space for new ones.
"This will be your Wooden tag," she said. "Proof that you belong to the guild."
She placed it into his hand.
"There's magic woven inside it that will bind to a part of your essence. When someone tries to 'read' it, they must be stronger than you – physically, spiritually, and mentally. If they aren't… they'll see nothing but a piece of wood. Unless you yourself allow it."
Hinokami touched the surface.
The tablet throbbed faintly beneath his fingers – warm, alive.
"It feels… alive."
"It is." Lisan smiled. "This magic is older than the city. And a lot smarter than some of its inhabitants."
*And than most of us,* she added inwardly.
She placed the tablet into a carved circle on the table. The symbols of the circle lit up, light crawling along the lines like a drawn breath.
"From this moment, you're registered," she said softly. "At least on paper."
Hinokami nodded in thanks and was about to step back when he saw her brows knit slightly.
"Wait." She leaned toward the circle. "It seems… you have a donation."
"A donation?"
"Sometimes an anonymous member leaves money for new faces," she explained. "Looks like you're one of the lucky ones. Five gold coins."
Around them, a few adventurers who were pretending not to listen – but absolutely were – exchanged glances.
*Five gold?* one of them thought. *We didn't get that when we arrived. The world clearly likes this kid more than it liked us.*
Hinokami blinked.
"Is that… a lot, or a little?"
A short silence followed. Then came the laughter.
Some laughed openly, others only smiled into their hands.
An older adventurer muttered:
"Guess the newbie doesn't know how much his life costs yet."
Lisan shook her head with a small smile.
"You really aren't from around here, are you?" she said calmly.
From the drawer, she took out a small leather pouch and shook it lightly. Then she poured the contents out in front of Hinokami.
"One gold coin is worth fifty silver," she said. "One silver – fifty copper. One copper – fifty metal shards."
She looked him straight in the eyes.
"And don't even think about forging them. They have a magical seal from ancient times. If a coin isn't used for fifty years – it returns to the treasury on its own."
"To the treasury… by itself?" he repeated.
"That's right," Lisan replied. "The magic of order."
A shadow flickered through her eyes for a moment.
*The world can fall apart, but money always finds its way home.*
"The world can crumble," she said aloud, a little sadly, "but money always finds its way back."
Hinokami tightened his grip around the pouch.
*Order… that never asks whether it's just. Only whether it's kept.*
For the first time, the thought crossed his mind that this world was not merely different. It was ordered.
Where order is absolute, freedom is nothing but a flame in a jar.
"So… I'm an adventurer now?" Hinokami asked.
"Not exactly." Lisan flicked her hair back slightly and leaned back comfortably.
*This is always the moment when their eyes light up. And then we have to put out half the sparks so they don't burn themselves alive.*
"Officially, you're accepted into the guild," she said. "But whether you're an 'adventurer'… that's decided by your deeds, not the ink on your Wooden tag."
She tapped the thin tablet on the table. It seemed to be breathing – its warmth steady and subtle.
"What do I get as a member of the guild?" Hinokami asked. "Besides the five gold and this tag."
Lisan smiled.
"First: protection. If someone attacks you without reason – in the city or outside it – the guild has the right to demand compensation or a duel by the rules."
*And sometimes we win. Sometimes we don't. But at least no one dies quietly and forgotten.*
"Second: access to quests," she went on. "Work. There will always be someone willing to pay you to risk your life."
"Third: legality." Lisan raised a brow slightly. "If they catch you outside the walls with a weapon and no guild tag… they might decide you're a bandit."
"And with this tag?" Hinokami lifted the wooden tablet.
"With it, you're the guild's problem, not the city guard's." She smiled. "And that's a difference that sometimes keeps you alive."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping:
"And fourth: the library and the archives. If you ever want to learn something you shouldn't know… it's most likely in there."
Hinokami's eyes narrowed a little.
*Archives… Always the archives. That's where the highest heights and deepest falls are buried.*
"Sounds better than dying alone in a forest," he said.
"Oh, yes." Lisan smiled. "Although that, too, has its romantic admirers."
Someone behind him laughed roughly:
"Lisan, are you charming the newbies again?"
"Leave the boy alone," she said without turning. "At least he's polite."
"Are there… rules?" Hinokami asked.
Lisan sighed. That question always came.
"There are." Her eyes grew more serious. "If you want to remain part of the guild, there are a few simple things."
She began counting off on her fingers on the tabletop:
"First: you don't hand over another guild member to his enemies. If you have to kill him…" she paused briefly, "you do it face to face. Not in the back."
*At the very least, the dead deserve to know who killed them.*
"Sounds fair," Hinokami said.
"Second: you don't refuse more than three consecutive quests of your rank, unless you have a good reason. You have to be useful, not just a name on a list."
"Rank?"
"We'll get to that." She gave a small smile. "Third: ten percent of the reward from every quest goes to the guild. Maintenance, archives, seals… and my salary."
"So I shouldn't forget the ten percent."
"If you do, the guild will remind you." Her smile was gentle, but steel flashed in her eyes.
"And fourth: you don't use forbidden kinds of magic inside the city."
Hinokami flinched inwardly. It wasn't a movement anyone outside could see, but his chest tightened.
"Forbidden?" he asked.
"Blood magic. Demon summoning. Soul devouring." She listed them calmly, as if reading a shopping list. "Some particularly bright displays of elemental magic aren't looked on kindly, either. Depends on when. And who saw you."
The fire in his chest shrank.
*Particularly bright displays… If they see the true flame, they'll call it a curse, not a gift.*
"I understand," he said evenly. "I'll be careful."
"And about the ranks?" he asked after a moment.
Lisan opened another drawer and took out a small tile with several engraved symbols.
"The rank shows how far you've gone in the eyes of the guild," she said. "Not in your own."
She traced the first sign – a simple circle with a diagonal line through it.
"First is the Metal rank. Newcomers. People who still don't know whether they want to live long or die quickly. They get the easiest jobs – courier work, guarding warehouses, scouting around the city."
Soft smiles spread among the nearby adventurers.
Then she pointed to the next sign – three small circles connected together.
"Then comes Copper rank. Those who've already proven they don't die at the first problem. They can take quests outside the walls and lead Metal-ranked adventurers with them."
The next symbol was more complex, with interwoven lines – almost like a web.
"Silver rank. They already decide fates. If you reach that, you'll be able to choose your quests and your partners."
She touched the next sign – sharp, angular, with two small "eyes."
"Gold rank. The legends of the guild. They do whatever they want, as long as they don't break the core rules. When a Gold walks into a tavern… everyone pretends they're not staring, but no one blinks."
Hinokami fell silent for a moment.
"Is there anything above Gold?" he asked quietly.
For a heartbeat, Lisan's face darkened. She stared at the tile, thinking.
*We shouldn't talk about this. But legends are more stubborn than rules.*
"There is…" she whispered. "But it's not a rank we carve onto the tags."
"What is it?" Hinokami's voice was low.
"Some call it a rank, others – a curse," she said. "They say there is an 'eye' that doesn't shine upon the earth, but in the sky. An eye that sees through people, through worlds… through the moons themselves."
"The Purple Eye…" Hinokami whispered, not knowing where the word had come from.
Lisan looked at him sharply.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"I don't know," he answered. "It just… surfaced."
Something stirred in his chest, as if the very air thickened for a moment.
Lisan studied him for a long time.
*This can't be coincidence. The Purple Eye… In our archives, it's just a legend, but legends always start with one person who says something they shouldn't know.*
She sighed.
"Forget it," she said softly. "In our official books, there's no such rank. Only stories of people who stared too long at the violet moon… and stopped being like us."
*And somewhere, deep in the archives, one old parchment still bears the sign of a Purple Eye watching the First Flame…*
"Anyway." Lisan put the tile away. "Your rank is Metal. For now. If you survive long enough… we'll change it."
She stood and offered him her hand.
"Welcome officially, Hinokami."
Her hand was warm and steady.
"Thank you, Lisan," he said.
"And one more thing." Her smile returned, this time with a slightly teasing edge. "If you ever don't know what to do, there's a simple rule: don't die stupidly. The guild hates filling out paperwork for idiots."
Hinokami chuckled softly. It was the first true laugh he'd had since coming into this world.
Hinokami left the registration hall, but the chill along his spine returned almost instantly.
The feeling of a gaze pressed between his shoulder blades — sharper now, more deliberate.
He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned abruptly.
At the far end of the hall, near one of the pillars, something shifted.
Not the shadow of a person.
Not a trick of the torchlight.
More like the absence of light — a dense blot that refused to follow the flicker of the flames.
It lingered for a heartbeat, like a void in the world.
Then it vanished.
A line of cold slid down Hinokami's neck, and a heavy weight settled low in his stomach — as if his body remembered something his eyes failed to see.
*"You… again."* he thought.
He didn't know who he was addressing.
The main hall of the guild was divided into sections.
To the left — a massive quest board. Each mission carved onto a small wooden plaque, much like his own tag, with engraved symbols and embedded stones that pulsed faintly.
To the right — tables where adventurers played cards, argued, drank, shared stories and lies.
At the back — a rune-covered door leading to the archives. The runes were silent, but not dead. More like waiting.
Hinokami approached the quest board.
As he neared it, he felt a subtle wave in the air — as if the guild itself were offering him a choice.
He touched one of the plaques.
For a moment, a vision flashed through his mind:
A small village, attacked by tiny creatures in the night.
Fear. Screams. The trembling glow of torches.
"Don't take that one," a voice said beside him. "You're Metal rank, and that one's for Copper. You'd die too stylishly."
Hinokami turned.
A boy a little younger than him stood there.
Chestnut hair, messy and unruly. Eyes bright, almost golden, with dark rings beneath them from sleepless nights. His clothes were simple, but the sleeves were stained with ink.
At his belt hung not a sword, but a stylus and a small parchment knife.
"And you are…?" Hinokami asked.
"Kai," the boy said, giving a lazy half-smile — the smile of someone who has already watched too many stories end badly.
"Scribe. Apprentice mage. Half-legal archive rat."
"Half-legal?"
"Officially, I have access to the lower archives," Kai shrugged. "Unofficially… sometimes I read things that aren't meant for me."
*And sometimes I understand them. That seems to worry the old magi the most,* he added silently.
His gaze drifted to the hilt of Hinokami's broken sword.
"Metal-ranked newcomer, huh? Hinokami, right? Heard your name at the entrance."
"I didn't know the guild had ears everywhere."
"The guild doesn't, but I do," Kai chuckled. "I record the names of newcomers. I like to know who might survive long enough to end up in the legends."
His eyes returned once more to the broken hilt.
*A broken blade, a heavy gaze, and a flame in his aura… This one won't die quietly. He'll either shine or explode.*
"And you…" Kai added softly, "you've already lost something important, haven't you?"
Hinokami's heart skipped.
"That doesn't matter."
"It does," Kai said more seriously. "People who've already lost something rarely waste what they have left."
Kai gestured for him to follow, and they stepped out into the city once more. The streets hummed with life and overlapping voices.
"Come on, Metal," Kai said over his shoulder. "Don't tell me you plan to stand at the board all day wondering how you're still breathing."
"You're giving me a tour?" Hinokami asked.
"Exactly. If we're going to die for this city, you should at least know it before you burn."
---
THE FORGES
The first stop was the Forges — enormous halls with open doors from which heat rolled like a living thing.
Inside, blacksmiths didn't merely strike metal.
They commanded elements.
With each hammer blow, sparks rose — but they didn't fall like normal sparks. They flew in curved lines, following the patterns etched in the air, sinking into the metal as if pulled by invisible threads.
Some smiths had rune tattoos glowing on their foreheads with every exhale.
Others worked with giant machines driven by steam and mana. Tiny flame spirits hovered above the anvils — guardians of the fires.
"Every blade here is born with a name," Kai said.
"And not all blades agree with their names."
"What does that mean?" Hinokami asked.
"If the blacksmith is arrogant, the metal mocks him," Kai grinned. "It bends wrong, cracks, dulls itself. Metal here has personality."
Hinokami watched the forging with quiet intensity.
*Living metal… living flame… If I could unite them…*
A young smith struck his anvil and whispered something.
The metal answered with a spark.
That spark twisted into the shape of an eye before fading.
---
THE STREET OF MAGIC
They moved on.
A long, narrow street greeted them with the scent of oil, incense, and powdered silver.
"This is the Street of Magic," Kai said. "Some people call it the Street of Fools. Half these folks have no idea what they're doing, but they do it with their whole heart."
Small workshops lined both sides.
Inside, men and women engraved runes into metal, wood, stone, even skin. Lines of light curled along every surface, forming intricate symbols.
Some craftsmen whispered spells; others worked silently, hands moving with the certainty of someone who had repeated the same gesture a thousand times.
"This is where spell tablets and mana channels are made," Kai explained. "Without them, smiths would just be people with hammers, and mages — people with attitudes."
Hinokami leaned close to a table where an old mage carved a rune into obsidian.
The symbol pulsed like breath.
"If you interfere in the process, the magic remembers you," Kai said. "After that, no prayer will wash off the mark."
A frail old woman at the next desk smiled without looking up.
"First day, boy?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then remember this: every rune has memory, and every memory — a price."
*And some memories should never be awakened,* she thought silently.
---
THE BAKERS
The sharp smell of metal and mana soon faded, replaced by a warm, comforting aroma.
"My favorite place," Kai said with genuine joy. "The Bakers of the Three Moons."
Open ovens glowed inside the shops, sending out waves of golden heat.
People and spirits stood side by side in lines — even two mechans with metal arms carried baskets of pastries.
"No one argues with bakers," Kai said. "They feed the city. A hungry person is more dangerous than a drunk one."
Hinokami inhaled deeply.
"It smells better than the guild."
"In the guild, it smells like sweat, steel, and ego," Kai smirked. "Here, it smells like hope."
For a heartbeat, Hinokami imagined another bakery, another place, different faces…
He pushed the memory away.
---
THE TAVERNS
They reached a wide plaza overflowing with sound.
"Welcome to the Taverns," Kai said. "Where adventurers and ordinary people mix. Sometimes by choice."
There were dozens — taverns, inns, halls. Some tables glowed with fire lamps, others cooled by frozen stones.
People laughed, argued, signed deals, sold trophies, bought weapons.
"More destinies are decided here than in the royal palace," Kai noted.
"Doesn't look like a place for heroes," Hinokami said.
"There are no heroes, friend," Kai handed him a mug of non-alcoholic honey brew. "Only people who aren't dead yet."
*And some who died inside long ago but still walk,* he added silently.
Hinokami drank. The taste was strong, sweet, with a trace of bitterness.
"Strong flavor."
"Life here won't be softer," Kai replied.
---
THE METAL RANK HOUSING
When the moons rose higher, coloring the sky in shades of white, violet, and blood-red, Kai led him down a narrow lane.
Ahead stood a cluster of small stone houses with a shared yard.
Protective runes glowed faintly on their walls.
"These are the Homes of the Metal Rank," Kai said. "The lowest step. But at least it's a roof."
Inside each were several rooms, a shared kitchen, and a meeting hall.
*Smells like cheap food, fear, and hope… A mixture only the Metal can endure,* Kai thought.
He opened the door.
Inside sat five people — three men, two women.
A large blond man polishing armor.
A thin, nervous one repairing knives.
A red-haired, freckled woman laughing at a story.
A dark-skinned woman sewing a torn glove, eyes gleaming in the firelight.
For a moment, they all looked at Hinokami.
*Another one,* the blond thought. *Let's see how many nights he lasts.*
*His face is too calm for a first day… That's never good,* the dark-skinned woman noted silently.
"These are your people," Kai said. "Most will ignore you until you survive a week. That's how Metal works."
"And you?" Hinokami asked.
"I'm from another house," Kai smirked. "But I come here often. Someone has to show the newcomers what real life looks like."
The evening passed in stories — failed quests, monsters that weren't as monstrous as the people behind them; first battles and last words.
Hinokami listened. Sometimes smiled. Sometimes his eyes darkened.
For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel entirely alone.
"Kai…" he asked later. "This forbidden magic Lisan mentioned… What elemental magics are we talking about?"
Kai froze.
*They always ask. But this one asks differently. Not out of curiosity. Out of fear.*
His eyes hardened; his voice lowered.
"This isn't a conversation for walls," he said. "Here, rumors have ears, and shadows — tongues."
"And still?" Hinokami pushed.
Kai leaned in.
"Tomorrow we have a quest. Outside the city," he said quietly. "There I'll tell you. About the First Flame, about those who followed it… and why the word 'flame' makes people here fall silent."
Hinokami nodded.
Outside, a shadow slid along the window.
This time, when he felt it, he didn't flinch.
*If you're watching me, then watch closely,* he thought. *Because even I don't know what I'm becoming.*