Thanks again for the review, Nanumi! Sorry updates have been taking awhile-my chapters have gotten a lot longer and more complicated than they originally were at the beginning. Hope you (and any other readers) enjoy this one!
Standard disclaimers still apply.
Chapter 10: Ryokan's Revelation
It was dark; it was always dark within the void space that Ryokan charged blindly through. He hated the place-always had, even more so now. The curving tunnel would've been pitch black, were it not for the small candles lining the stone walls, and even then all they did was barely illuminate the staircases that brought the passage deeper into the gloom, and created macabre shadows that danced on the walls like so many hungry wraiths that probably dwelled within the place. The winding tunnel had always had an air of pain and agony present, and with good reason. At it's end laid two separate rooms-both ancient, mysterious, horrible.
Of all the locations and structures in All Gods village, the stone passageway that lead to the Hellish Abyss was one of the very few for which no records existed. It had simply been there since the beginning of the village itself, twisting down into the earth's very foundations. Normally, the lengthy passage was guarded at all times. On the surface, veiled priests took shifts watching over the massive doorway that led into it. Underground, however, the dank passage was patrolled by what many people saw as less than human. The mourners-they had been average people once, the criminals of All Gods. This place was their punishment; anyone who violated the village's law was forcibly blinded and made to serve, at all times, as guards within one of the least desirable work settings on earth. They were never allowed above ground, and were often treated cruelly by the veiled priests that oversaw them. They all had a similar appearance: gaunt, clad in very little clothing, and pale as death itself. Some of the older ones were so unhealthy that their teeth and hair were falling out. Even on the best of days, it wasn't uncommon to hear the twisted screams of one mourner that had finally had enough.
Today wasn't like that. The air was filled with a terrible wailing that intensified as Ryokan came closer. One mourner wasn't screaming, they all were, and this time it wasn't the cruel treatment or lack of light that caused it: it was something even worse.
Ryokan eventually exited the attenuated passage and reached the final chamber of the underground network, and beheld a terrible sight. It was a cavernous void that contained nothing save for three large torches that illuminated the room and, of course, a massive, bottomless pit at its center. The Hellish Abyss: gateway to the afterlife, and tormentor of the village.
But that wasn't the sight that drew Ryokan's attention: it was the mourners in front of him. Many were laying crumpled at the walls of the cavern, killed by self-inflicted head injuries. A few were still alive, rolling around on the ground, scratching at their heads and moaning or screaming for no discernible reason. Ryokan remembered there being more mourners than this, which meant a few were also unaccounted for.
"Oh, master Kurosawa, you've arrived..." a tired voice called at him. Ryokan turned slowly to see one of the "lesser" veiled priests: one who had not come from one of the village's power-holding families. The man's veil had been torn, and Ryokan could see a black eye and several bloody scratch marks adorning his face. He was clutching at his side, stemming the blood flow from another gash he had collected during the apparent riot. There were other priests in the room as well, all looking as clueless as the one who stood before Ryokan, and many bearing similar injuries. The sharp ends of their staves were tipped with blood. It appeared as if the mourners had attempted to do more than simply kill themselves.
"What atrocity happened here?" Ryokan demanded, attempting to keep his disgust from showing.
"We're not quite sure, master. In the wake of the earth's upheaval this morning, the mourners simply lost their minds." The injured priest replied. "In fact, this isn't all of them. When we lost control, most of the mourners simply elected to take the quickest path to death available..."
The priest's voice trailed off. He started to motion behind him, toward the Hellish Abyss, but was cut off by a wailing, almost inhuman shriek that emanated from the hallway that connected the Abyss' chamber to an adjacent one. It was getting closer...fast.
"Master, look out! I couldn't stop him!" A panicked priest called from the adjacent chamber. True to his word, Ryokan looked on as one final mourner burst forth from the passage, barreling in his direction and flailing its arms wildly. The old man stepped to one side and allowed the priests to take care of the menace, but the mourner ran past Ryokan and everyone else before they could get the chance. The creature continued to ignore them as it approached the edge of the Hellish Abyss, and didn't stop until it had disappeared into the pit's endless depths.
Ryokan and the priests, who had momentarily stopped their task of cleaning up the bodies, all stared at the pit in disbelief. Ryokan himself was the most enthralled, for he saw something in the image that the others didn't. It was hovering above the Abyss; barely visible, nearly undetectable, and yet obviously present. The area above the pit was slightly darker than the rest of the already pitch black room, and Ryokan knew that it confirmed all of his worst fears.
It was an ancient force that had existed for as long as men had. Literally named "darkness" by the people who lived in veneration and fear of it, the raven vigor that seeped slowly out of the Hellish Abyss was the collective consciousness of all those in the world who had ever died in the throes of misery and heartbreak; those who had lived the worst lives, or suffered the worst deaths. They were the ones who found power in their demise, insisting past their own deaths on remaining in the world of the living to see their suffering mirrored in the eyes of others. The gods, not seeing fit to allow these spirits to roam the living world, opened a rift in the earth, more than one in fact, to draw them in and imprison them for eternity. According to legend, that is why the village had been named "All Gods"-to honor those who created the Abyss for which the town existed.
But the spirits didn't stay dead. Although the Hellish Abyss unraveled their minds and shredded their souls, their thoughts and whims still remained. Even with the rituals performed in All Gods to keep their thirst for blood satisfied, the collective hatred and malice that dwelled within the void was never truly quenched. It had always been in the stagnant air of this cavern, and its increasing disturbances only proved to Ryokan what he had not wanted to believe. The Repentance was coming, and even he was powerless to stop it.
"It's not enough time." Ryokan echoed his own thoughts in a dry, almost breathy tone of voice. He didn't hear Kanehira approach him from behind.
"Ryokan...," Kanehira stuttered, trying to come up with a reassuring statement, "could you not simply have Yae and Sae perform the ritual before the Repentance comes? You had told me that you finally convinced Yae..."
"As I have, Kanehira...as I have." Ryokan snapped, cutting him off. "But...the crimson sacrifice ritual is not as simple as choosing to perform it whenever you desire. It must be executed, if at all, on the third year of the decade-no other year is acceptable. Itsuki and Mutsuki were our last chance...our last hope. And now, with their sacrifice a failure..."
Ryokan stopped talking. Kanehira lowered his head in shame as fear drained the color from his face. For that moment that they stood there, wreathed by other veiled priests cleaning up the remains of the mourners, the two men felt alone. Feeling that the only destiny now laying before them was the cold embrace of darkness, Ryokan and Kanehira felt as if they were without help.
They were wrong.
Something small materialized on the top of Ryokan's court hat. A bug; Ryokan quickly raised his hand to crush it, but stopped cold when his hand rose to the level of his forehead. Gazing intently, he could clearly distinguish a faint red glow bouncing off of his dried hand, and it didn't take him long to realize what it was.
"Hikaru." Ryokan mouthed silently to himself. What was his butterfly doing down here? As he pondered the answer to that question, the butterfly answered for him by gliding off of his court hat and sailing away from him, heading toward the tunnel that led back to the light of the surface world. Without a word, Ryokan began following it, his eyes glazed over almost in a trance-like state. Kanehira's attention was caught by the audible shuffling of Ryokan's kimono on the ground, and he followed Ryokan, calling after him in a futile attempt to find out where he and the butterfly were headed. Eventually, Kanehira became silent as well, and for their entire trek back into the house, and through its winding hallways, the silence was only broken by the creaking of Ryokan's aged floorboards under the weight of their feet, and also by the occasional sounding of an ethereal chime that didn't appear to have any source. Finally, the butterfly reached its destination.
It was Ryokan's study-a modestly sized room lit by several candles and amber lamps that did their job only marginally. With the exception of a couple of odd decorations lining the walls-a suit of armor here and a mask there-the only furnishing in the room was an old desk made from hiba tree wood, and several shelves lining the walls with books upon books; All Gods' most important literature collected throughout time. As Ryokan and Kanehira filed into the room, the butterfly that they had been following fluttered up to the center of the room, coming to rest near the top of one final bookshelf. This one wasn't like the others; it was circular, and it was responsible for housing the most important books in Ryokan's collection. Some were there simply for age; crumbling, almost illegible books with moldy spines that had originally been in the possession of the first Ceremony Master. Others were listed for importance; books such as the "five tomes" that summarized the knowledge of such macabre unspeakables as the Hellish Abyss, referred to merely as * in almost all literature, and the rituals which satisfied its appetite. Others were illicit materials; books collected by the women who had ventured into the outside world to entice kusabi sacrifices back to the village.
Yet, as Ryokan approached the bookcase and eyed the butterfly's movements carefully, it tucked its wings in and crawled along the bookshelf to rest upon one that was none of these things. It was a relatively new text, collected during his father's reign, and it didn't appear special to him at all. What was it even doing on this shelf? Had his father intended for it to be kept there?
The butterfly flapped its wings and flexed its antennae impatiently, willing Ryokan to investigate for himself. Not seeing any reason not to, Ryokan pulled the book off of the shelf and examined its front cover. A thin layer of dust, which Ryokan promptly blew away, coated a grainy picture of a mansion, built to look almost like a Shinto shrine, shrouded by the cloak of a forest engulfed in nightfall. The mansion looked huge, easily twice the size of the Kurosawa estate by the appearance of its front, and there was a plaque barely visible above the double doors leading into its depths. A plaque bearing the family name-Himuro.
Ryokan glanced back up at the butterfly that sat atop the bookcase, to have his look returned only by the light, almost playful beating of its wings. Eventually looking away, Ryokan took a seat at the desk and flipped through the book's pages, still not sure of what he was supposed to see in it. However, as he skimmed the text and, more intriguingly, the pictures contained within, the book's importance, and the reason behind the butterfly's actions, became clearer. Every few pages explained something new to him. He read the brief background of a certain Himuro mansion, located not far from his own village, and it became clear what he had seen in the picture on the cover. He read the history of the family that lived there, and it became clear how they bore similarity to him. Finally, he read about the rope shrine maiden, and glimpsed a picture of a beautiful young woman with ropes binding her arms, legs, and neck, and it became clear to him what he had seen in his dream, why he had dreamed it, and what he would have to do.
Ryokan looked slowly up from the book, traces of optimism evident on his face. After staring briefly at the butterfly, his facial expression thanking his brother's spirit wordlessly, Ryokan closed the book and swiveled around to face Kanehira in one swift motion. Kanehira, who had been standing silent the entire time, nearly jumped back in shock, not only due to Ryokan's swift movement but also due to the look on his face. He was...smiling!
"I think I have the answer to our problem, Kanehira!" Ryokan got straight to the point, remaining indifferent to the look of surprise on Kanehira's face. Eventually, though, Ryokan realized that his friend was baffled by his exuberant attitude, and he regained his reserved personality with no delay.
"Kanehira, I've often implied to you in our discussions that I could not orchestrate and carry out a crimson sacrifice at the end of this year, even if I wanted to. Have I ever endeavored to mention why?" Ryokan couldn't stifle his sense of optimism, and Kanehira noted that his eyes were still slightly wide with excitement. When Kanehira shook his head, Ryokan nodded in understanding and continued.
"Well, then let me ask you another question, Kanehira...bear with me if you would. Have you ever heard of Hallowe'en before?"
Kanehira couldn't stop his mouth from going agape. He had heard of the holiday before, but it was a product of western culture. Ryokan didn't favor the discussion of western beliefs within his village's borders, so why would he of all people mention it?
"I know that it's strange that I should bring it up, but Hallowe'en is a holiday that has been emerging in the western world. It has its roots in a Gaelic festival called 'Samhain' that was practiced by pagans on October 31st-a seemingly pointless day on the calendar. However, to them, the importance of the last day of October is grounded in their belief that the boundary between our world and the afterlife would grow particularly thin on that day."
Ryokan paused. To answer Kanehira's unspoken question of where he had learned all of this, Ryokan pulled another book off of the shelf and handed it to Kanehira. It was adorned with pagan drawings, and obviously a member in the series of forbidden books that came into Ryokan's possession. It seemed as if the Ceremony Master wasn't following his own laws.
Eventually, Kanehira gave the book back to Ryokan and turned his attention toward the matter at hand.
"Sir, with all respect, I'm still unclear on the meaning of your words. It's an interesting book, but what does it have to do with us?"
Ryokan smirked at his friend.
"Because, Kanehira, our understanding of the Hellish Abyss happens to be similar. We don't simply perform the crimson rituals during the third year-and only that year-of each decade because we feel like it. We do it because the first Ceremony Master discovered that the spirits that dwell within the Hellish Abyss would draw closer to the surface of the pit during that year. That, Kanehira, provides us with our one chance to make our appeasement. Try to perform the ritual at any other time, and the spirits simply will not heed you!"
Kanehira frowned. This new bit of information seemed simple enough, but it was decidedly not good news.
"But Ryokan, why should you be happy over that knowledge? It only affirms our imminent destruction."
Ryokan continued to smirk.
"Ha! Only because I initially thought it to be unpreventable! There are special rites in existence that, when performed correctly, can be used to draw spirits out of hiding and into the open, and if I perform them, we will be able to carry out the crimson sacrifice immediately. Alas, I don't know how to perform such rites; it was for this reason that I mourned for our village prematurely."
Ryokan's mood soured momentarily, but he soon looked back up at Kanehira. He took the Himuro book and handed it to his friend, who flipped through it while Ryokan continued to speak.
"But I finally understand that this is why I have been having nightmares of that woman. She was dressed in a white kimono and had ropes that bound all of her limbs, just like the women portrayed in the pictures in this book. It would also routinely take place in the same dank, underground location-referred to as the 'Hell Gate' in this book-not unlike our own Hellish Abyss."
Ryokan approached Kanehira, who looked up at him.
"Don't you see, Kanehira? It wasn't just a nightmare, or even a warning! It was a reminder that we're not alone in our quest to keep the darkness at bay. And perhaps this revelation also explains why Sengoku elected to keep this book in the most important shelves of the Kurosawa collection. He didn't know how to perform the special rites either, but he apparently knew that it might some day be important, because he left clues such as this book behind-so that other generations of ritual performers might help us."
Kanehira's face contorted into a worried expression. He was beginning to fear that he knew where this was going.
"And...what exactly does all of this mean?" He asked timidly. Ryokan removed his court hat, took Kanehira's hat and veil off of his head, and placed his own on Kanehira's head in its place.
"It means, my dear friend, that you are in charge of the village while I am gone."
A couple of notes:
1. The halloween stuff is based on the true history of the holiday.
2. I conceived the "special rites" idea because I needed a reason for Ryokan to be going on this journey, but I'm a little disappointed that I couldn't come up with something more original. Sorry if it seems lame, but I promise the next chapter will be better.
Reviews will be appreciated.