Chapter Two: Ceremony

Deep in the underbrush of the forest floor, a priestess crouched near the wooden gate. A thin porcelain mask obscured her face, leaving two narrow slits for her eyes. Through them, she took in the cove, its churning black waters, and the young man wading into the depths.

"Oh, what's this? A young lord?" one of her companions whispered, their heads huddled close together.

"A prince, perhaps?" another hinted.

"No. A monk," said Mirai, gesturing subtly toward the figure by the water's edge. Twin girls flanked her on either side, their features hidden behind matching porcelain masks. Their white robes fluttered in the breeze; strands of pale hair caught in the light filtering through the underbrush. A subtle chill emanated from their breath, leaving a trace of frost in their wake.

"Truly? How sad," remarked one of the twins.

"Such a pretty face," admired the other, stifling a laugh.

Mirai grinned, impressed they had followed her this close to the edge of the shrine. If the high priestess discovered she was leading her younger sisters astray, the repercussions would undoubtedly be severe –perhaps a grueling demonstration of authentic presence. Or reciting holy scriptures word for word. Or worse, enduring the sharp strikes of the keisaku, the flat wooden stick used in meditation practice to enforce concentration. A dull ache resurfaced in Mirai's shoulders as she recalled the last time she had been put through disciplinary training. Despite the rueful memory, she pushed aside her worries and concentrated on the miraculous presence of a human.

The boy waded deeper into the cove; his gaze fixed on the mist veiling the gate.

"Apo, lad. Be careful!" someone called from the glen. "Don't let the water drag you under!"

The boy acknowledged the warning with a nod but remained focused on the cascade.

"Do you think he can see us?" Anzu whispered to her sister, noting the intensity of the boy's gaze directed their way. As he drew nearer, they could discern the contours of his cheekbones and thick brows. He had broad shoulders that stood out against the gray rocks.

"If only," Machi replied, her tone wistful. "You know mortal eyes can't see past the veil."

"Why not step outside of it yourself?" Mirai teased them with mock innocence.

A tense silence followed her suggestion as the twins turned to her, horror-stricken.

"Mirai, you mustn't joke about that," whispered Anzu gravely. "You know it's forbidden."

"We'll turn into vapor. It isn't done!" added Machi.

Mirai responded with a droll nod of her head. They were parroting the old verse that had been ingrained in each of them since their earliest days in the shrine.

In the home of Tanasuya, so divine,

Seven fair maidens, in grace, entwine.

Guardians of mercy, their spirits pure,

Performing her miracles that shall endure.

Within these walls, their duty they weave,

A tapestry of compassion, to all they cleave.

But heed the warning, whispered in hush,

Leave the shrine's haven, to clouds they will rush.

As dawn paints the sky and does fade,

The maidens dance and serenade.

Yet tethered to Tanasuya's sacred ground,

In her grace, their truest forms are bound.

Pretty words for a spell of captivity thought Mirai. Inside the shrine, one could escape all the pain and suffering that came with impermanence. But one could never leave its protection without vanishing into mist. For as much as the shrine protected, it also held everything in place: never aging, never expanding, always the same for all eternity…or so they thought.

Examining the entrance, Mirai could see the shimrasen, the curtain of glamour meant to keep the gate separated from the mortal realm, was shining feebly now. She studied its diminished light with a small frown. Over the past few weeks, the veil protecting the shrine had grown fainter and fainter. What was once a thick, golden bolt of raw silk was now reduced to a frail gauze. Even now, the threads glinted dimly in the sunlight.

This phenomenon filled her with concern, for in the midst of this strange occurrence, the kodama, the sacred camphor tree that dwelled inside the worship hall of the shrine, had also fallen silent. It was as though the guardian spirit held its breath, denying its wisdom in response to this mysterious change.

Without the kodama, they were unaware if there was misfortune to cleanse in this region, or if it was another routine repositioning of the shrine. New stars in the night sky were the only warning of their new location. It was the first time they had come so close to human civilization – and right in the middle of a cove no less! The scent of damp earth and fresh moss enveloped them in what ought to have been a comforting embrace. But the arrival of the young monk stirred something within Mirai, a curiosity tinged with apprehension. His presence symbolized everything she yearned for and feared in equal measure. The temptation to step through the gate and bridge their two worlds was almost too strong.

But such thoughts were dangerous, forbidden. The old verse echoed in her mind, a reminder of the consequences that awaited those who dared to venture outside the shrine's haven. Mirai knew the risks all too well, yet the allure of the mortal realm beckoned to her. It was inviting and irresistible.

Casting another glance at the fading glamour, she felt emboldened.

"Fine. You two play it safe, but I'm going to get a closer look," she said, causing the twins to voice their disapproval.

"No! Mirai, you shouldn't!"

"We'll get into trouble!"

Despite their warnings, Mirai emerged from the ferns, approaching the gate with measured steps. Tradition dictated secrecy outside the shrine, yet she removed her mask and took a deep breath as she meandered through the bushes. Anticipation sparked at her fingertips. She had glimpsed the mortal world through the weathered gate before, but now, everything appeared far more vivid.

The mist swirled, thickening with each passing moment. What was it like, she wondered, to feel a heat so compelling to seek solace in this cool, shadowed haven? Did the water taste as pure as it looked? Sunlight rippled across its surface, drawing her to it. What was thirst like, anyway? She longed to ask the monk, who drew ever closer, tantalizingly near.

His manner of dress indicated that not much time had passed in the mortal realm since their last placement. But to Mirai, it seemed like an eternity since she had last seen a mortal. The forest enveloped him, majestic and imposing. It beckoned her to explore its depths at his side. The weight of confinement pressed heavily against her.

"I can see markings..." the boy's voice broke the stillness, awestruck. "It's...It's a torii!"

Mirai faltered.

He can see the entrance? Disbelief washed over her. No, that's impossible.

"I see an eye with six wings!" The boy's astonishment continued to mount. "Masters, you must come see for yourselves!"

"Mirai, come back! He'll spot you," Anzu's voice trembled with fear. The twins had retreated up the earthen steps, huddled together like startled fawns. "You can't let him see you!"

"He'll break the spell!"

Mirai's heart raced in her chest. She yearned for human contact, but to find it in this young monk, so close to their gate, was astounding. Every detail was crystal clear. She could see the intricate embroidery on his green robes. The hue of his eyes matched the wooden prayer beads adorning his neck. But what captivated her the most was the radiant aura of his soul. She had glimpsed a few human souls in her life, but none had shone as brightly or purely as his. It splintered into rays of warm light.

Spellbound, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

"Mirai, please!" The twins' desperate cries echoed in her ears.

With every step, her pulse quickened. She dipped her toes into the water, craving the cool sensation and the gentle breeze on her skin. The boy gazed upward. He traced the sturdy red pillars until his eyes found hers. Leaning forward, Mirai was completely hinged on what he would do next.

Can you see me? She wondered with bated breath.

A shot fired, and an arrow zipped past her left ear, startling her. There was a solid tok! where she could see the feathered shaft sink deep into the central beam of the gate. From it hung a piece of parchment with characters etched in black ink – a warding spell. As the parchment touched the wood, a surge of energy rippled across the frame, strengthening the shimrasen. The monk squinted in confusion as the golden veil briefly intensified before his eyes.

"I don't understand. It's gone," he whispered.

Mirai spun on her heel.

"Shuka! You almost hit me!" she exclaimed, looking up at a young girl of fourteen standing at the top of the steps. Shuka had sharp amber eyes and a cunning that seemed beyond her years. Masked and expressionless, her ponytail trailed in the wind like a warrior's as she held a bow in her hands. Its polished wood shined in the sunlight; a quiver of arrows slung across her back.

"You know it's against the rules to venture near the gate," said Shuka. "I expected this from you, Mirai. But not from you two," she said, turning to Anzu and Machi.

The twins exchanged sheepish glances.

"You cut my cheek!" Mirai protested.

Shuka scoffed in response. "Would you have preferred becoming a cloud instead?" she retorted, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Mirai hazarded a glance over her shoulder. The monk was nothing more than a shadow now, his outline obscured by the roiling tumult of the water. She was hit by a strong wave of disappointment.

"That's the first time anyone has gotten that close," she said, touching the phantom cut on her cheek. "Something's definitely wrong here. How many of those talismans have you shot today?"

Shuka lowered her bow. "Enough to be concerned," she replied. "We ought to warn the others."

"Normally, we'd receive word about what to expect," agreed Anzu in a small voice, "but everything's been different since the new moon."

"The gate might not be the only thing that's failing," Machi murmured.

Their silence weighed on the kodama.

Mirai disliked the fear in their voices and immediately regretted causing them distress. She was quick to place a reassuring hand on both of their shoulders. "We'll get to the bottom of this somehow. Don't worry," she said by way of encouragement. "There's got to be an explanation for all of this."

At that moment, a resounding toll echoed through the air. A brass bell rang behind them.

"We're being summoned," said Shuka as she beckoned them to follow. "Come on."

The twins were quick to obey. Mirai replaced the mask over her face and rushed after them. Each step seemed to distance her from a part of herself, deepening her yearning for a world out of reach. But if they were being summoned to the shrine, something was definitely amiss. Mirai couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger.

They hurried, their steps echoing on the steps carved from exposed roots and compacted earth. Young saplings flanked the path, their leaves rustling in the wind. But as they ascended, the landscape transformed, giving way to trimmed hedges and black pine trees that marked the outer gardens. Following Shuka through the orange grove near the western gate, they sought shelter under the thick leaf cover, the dappled sunlight guiding their way.

The shrine emerged like a fortress; its seven pagodas towering above the surrounding landscape. An outer barricade encircled it, with entrances facing each cardinal direction. Within the courtyard, stone lanterns cast a faint glow, illuminating the guardians: dragons to the east, phoenixes to the south, tortoises to the north, and tigers to the west. Weathered by time, the stone wardens exuded an aura of divine protection.

The tigers on their high pedestals seemed to track the girls' movements, their inlaid precious stones catching at the lamplight. Mirai found some comfort in their watchful presence.

Inside the shrine, nothing was as it seemed. Mirai had learned of its ever-changing nature, with halls, galleries, and gardens rearranging themselves without warning. It was a labyrinthine maze, fraught with ancient enchantments and hidden dangers, including whole sections that had been lost to them since antiquity. Yet, for Mirai and her companions, it was home.

Abandoning their sandals under the eaves of the main foyer, Mirai and the twins followed Shuka, hastily removing their masks.

A gentle luminosity filled its halls as they entered the shrine, casting everything in a soft glow. The air was thick with the scent of ritual incense, its sweet and earthy fragrance mingling with the warm aroma of candle wax. In the main worship hall, a wide, expansive room with an open ceiling and an ancient tree at its altar, Mirai was surprised to find the other three girls waiting, engaged in idle chat.

Though only a few years older than Mirai, they carried themselves with an air of authority befitting their station. The twins were sixteen which made Shuka the youngest among them. But age held little significance in a place where time flowed differently. They were the priestesses of Tanasuya. The seven korai.

"Excellent work, Shuka. Where'd you find them?" called Nagisa, the eldest of the shrine, her deep chestnut hair framing her calm face as she stood below the dais with a broom in hand.

"Down by the gate. They were spying on a human."

"Oh? A man?" Nagisa's curiosity piqued. "Was he handsome?"

The twins remained quiet, still shaken by the close encounter at the gate and how The High Priestess might respond now that their secret was out. Sensing their discomfort, Mirai took it upon herself to address the gravity of the situation.

"The veil is weakening. Without Taizo, we'll have to reinforce it ourselves," she said with a troubled glance at the tree. "The human was able to make out the gate just now."

The High Priestess addressed them from the dais.

"Hence why I have summoned you all here," said Tane, her expression filled with disapproval at their evident rule-breaking. She was holding a bundle of smoking herbs as it filled the hall with perfume. "Did I not request that each of you refrain from venturing toward the shimrasen until a ritual could be held? Was I not clear?"

"Tane," Mirai began, attempting to pacify the elder priestess, "we didn't mean to disobey. It's just…"

"Just what, Mirai?" Tane interrupted, her tone sharp. "Do you understand the consequences of your actions? Venturing so close to the gate is not only reckless but disrespectful to the sanctity of the shrine."

"Tane, I'm sure they meant no harm by it," Nagisa offered gently, "You know how everyone gets when the shrine acts of its own accord. They're simply curious."

"I don't find fault in their curiosity, but their lack of discipline," intoned The High Priestess.

"We're sorry, Tane," one of the twins chimed in, her voice small and apologetic. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not," Tane retorted, her gaze unwavering. "We cannot afford such lapses in judgment, especially now with the veil weakening. You must remember your duty as priestesses of Tanasuya. We must keep her light burning strongly."

"Can you explain what has happened to Taizo then?" Mirai pressed, choosing to ignore her chastisement. "It's been weeks since he's spoken. It's not like him. Do you think they are connected somehow?"

She fixed her gaze on the camphor tree with its boughs of silver-green leaves. Though central, it remained disconcertingly silent among them.

"The kodama has duties that are outside our concern, Mirai. Remember that," said Tane. "I'm sure he intends to return to us soon, but it's not for us to question his whereabouts."

This answer did not satisfy Mirai. Everything about the worship of Tanasuya was shrouded in mystery. Being the newest priestess to join the sect, she could understand being left in the dark on some matters, but it was concerning that Tane and Nagisa, the two korai who had been with the shrine the longest and witnessed the rise and fall of several divine blessings, knew as little as she did. They had been a part of the sanctuary for over a thousand years. Ever since Tanasuya first came into being.

And yet, little was known about the elusive spirit of mercy. Mirai couldn't be sure if she was once a cloud, or a human, or a spirit before receiving the gods' favor. Perhaps they were all doomed to become vapor because that was what they all truly were: vapor. What little the korai understood about their origins, the other spectral inhabitants of the shrine were equally ignorant.

"Better do as she says," whispered Fuyume with a smile, her serene voice matching the soft lavender of her gaze. "Perhaps the kodama simply needs rest. Trees hibernate after all, why not him?"

"Fine," said Mirai as she relinquished her argument. "Is it to be the Firework Dance then?"

"How about the Sparrow Dance?" Shuka suggested. "The stars' alignment seems favorable for it."

She pointed at the open sky above the tree, which was a bright, midday blue. They all glanced up to see a trailing cloud.

Tane shook her head. "No. We'll perform the Dragon Dance."

"Why that one? It's not in accordance with the season," said Anzu, sounding puzzled. "This is a time for birds and festivals–"

"–Fire," said Mirai, watching Tane's reaction. "Summer is the domain of fire."

The High Priestess ignored her, choosing to waft smoke in a lazy circle as she held her sleeve back to prevent ashes from marring the crisp white hem. She took her time, forcing Mirai to stand in awkward silence.

"The Ryu no Mai has a fire element to it," she said at last, "but more force and less…chaos."

Mirai looked away, feeling her cheeks flush with shame. She was well aware that of the entire sect, she was the least in control of her power. It didn't help matters that Tane reminded her of it every chance she could. It was seen as a mark of poor discipline.

"If this is about the equinox," she began.

"It's not about the equinox," said Tane tritely.

It most certainly was about the equinox, thought Mirai with a spark of anger. The ceremony had required seven skilled weavers, but Mirai had been unable to maintain the steady flow of energy required of the dance without losing control of her power. The result had been nearly disastrous, catching the worship hall in flames. Among the seven korai, this problem was unique and unusual. A priestess learned very early on how to open her spirit and receive energy to weave magic. For the others, it was as effortless as breathing. For Mirai, it was nearly impossible.

This impracticality made it difficult for the others to trust in her abilities, forcing Tane to choose dances that were less complicated and therefore less effective. If Mirai were in better control of her power, they would have performed a dance that would have cast a much stronger spell over the shrine.

As it were, they were limited to Ryu no Mai.

Anzu and Machi spared her consoling glances which only made her burn with more shame.

"Come. It's time to prepare," called Tane, clapping her hands together.

The korai stood as their attendants entered the hall, bearing silk robes, flowers, and bowls of liquid gold. The yurei, human spirits held together in ghostly form, were the other mysterious inhabitants of the shrine. Legend held they were the people saved by the divine blessing who pledged themselves into her service after death. The ghosts of men, women, and children resided in the cavernous halls of the shrine, attending to its needs.

Though the yurei retained their intelligence and humanlike appearances, it was considered improper to inquire after their mortal lives. The yurei retained little beyond their most precious memories and lived in tune to nature's undisturbed flow. They were instructed to treat the korai with the same reverence as Tanasuya herself, creating a strange coexistence between the dead and the divine.

Mirai watched them float with an ethereal grace, wondering what vows held them there with such conviction. If given the choice, she would not tether herself in such a way. Trade freedom for eternal servitude? She would rather live with the brightness of a fleeting moment than succumb to infinite monotony.

A sigh escaped her lips.

Four spirits surrounded each priestess. Shuka was forced to give up her beloved bow and arrows. The twins were seated, facing each other. Mirai lowered herself onto the floor too, feeling the peculiar dewiness of ghost flesh on her skin.

"Kanna," she greeted with a respectful nod.

The yurei was round and matronly, her face set into a gentle smile. Thick white hair was bound in loops at the sides of her face, the remnants of a previous era.

"Must you always fight with the older girls?" Kanna teased gently, her tone tinged with affection.

"I'm not fighting."

Kanna fixed her with eyes that were dazzling and opaque as opals.

"If you spent more time on your training, and less time moping around near the gate–"

"–I wasn't moping!"

The air around Mirai turned suddenly cold, making her shiver.

"You've always been a willful child. But there comes a time when you must put aside your fantasies and accept your responsibility. What is the greatest lesson of this shrine?"

Mirai stared at the bowl of liquid gold, glaring.

"Letting go."

"Ah, so you do pay attention."

Mirai submitted to her attendants. They combed her hair, braiding it down her back while fixing a tiara of peach blossoms to the crown of her head. Another draped a blue chihaya over her robe, the fabric smooth and iridescent. Mirai suppressed a laugh when the fourth painted both her palms and the bottoms of her feet bright gold.

She wasn't the only one. The twins were laughing as well, Anzu trying to avoid the persistent brush of her attendant.

"There. All set," said Kanna with a final straightening of Mirai's ceremonial robes. She held up a mirror.

Mirai peered at her reflection, taking note of her red eyes, tawny skin, and brown curls framing her troubled face. She was fire in human form, all burning coals and hot embers of a roasting blaze – traces of the power she was still learning to wield. It was believed that each shrine maiden took on the unique coloring of the elemental power she possessed to weave magic. Though it was considered most desirable for the color to be kept in the eyes and the eyes only. It was a mark of distinction.

Mirai glanced at her fellow korai.

Tane, with her eyes of piercing jade, was given the highest honor in the sect: The High Priestess. Her attendants placed a circlet of twisted gold on her brow along with delicate laurels made from fresh orange blossoms. An overcoat of palest blue was draped over her white kosode. Unlike the others, she did not require the additional aid of gold brushed onto her hands and feet to channel her earth-bound power. Tane could refine energy all on her own and wield it with unmatched accuracy.

Even Nagisa, the eldest and most senior korai, still required the gold to help conduct her power. Mirai wondered if it bothered Nagisa to be surpassed by her junior. With her deep indigo eyes rimmed in silver and her long chestnut hair, she could summon salt water at her fingertips in an instant. Despite this, she showed nothing but support for her younger counterpart, finding Tane's rigorous discipline less appealing for herself.

Mastering your flaws is a form of strength, Nagisa once said to Mirai during meditation, but having the ability to guide others to master their flaws is a mark of true strength.

Mirai looked to her contemporary, the third eldest and loveliest korai of the sect. "I would like two fishtail braids please," Fuyume was saying to her attendants, levitating just a fraction off the ground. The yurei, though trying desperately to remain serene within the worship hall, appeared exhausted by the wind priestess. Her silver hair floated over her shoulders, making her look as if she were perpetually airborne. Her garments had the same effect, moving with an uncanny swirl around her ankles.

Though childlike in demeanor, the wind priestess could summon a gale-force wind strong enough to uproot trees in a single stroke. Mirai had watched Fuyume cultivate air currents like ribbons, letting them carry her into the air if she so pleased.

Sometimes, Fuyume would even engage in a duel with the twins who were more akin to arctic foxes with their gazes cut from the snow and frost they wielded. Both spritely and playful, they often used their powers to bring winter upon the shrine.

As Mirai's attention travelled across the dais, she met gazes with Shuka, who sat with a bored expression on her face. "Oh dear, what's happened now?" one of her attendants was tutting, noticing the blotches of ink on the sleeve of her robe. The youngest korai remained unfazed, having no patience for ceremony preparations. Shuka preferred the wilds of the outer gardens to the worship hall, as befitting her nature as the sun priestess.

Mirai loved her sisters. But she couldn't shake the unease from her close encounter with the monk. She wondered why no one else seemed alarmed by the weakened shimrasen. Perhaps inaction had dulled their senses after centuries of relative peace.

"Kanna, would you be able to sense it if the shrine were in trouble?" she asked her attendant. "Do you know what would happen if the veil broke?"

The yurei grew still, the edges of her frame coming in and out of focus.

"What troubling questions you ask," she said with a small frown.

Mirai held her gaze.

"This shrine is like the moon. It wanes and waxes, changing with the tides," said Kanna after a moment of thought. "It's a place where timelines converge and collapse all at once. There is no today, tomorrow, or yesterday. Only the now."

Mirai studied her attendant with mild confusion. The yurei spoke in a cryptic language not much different from divination runes. Her look of confusion must have been evident for Kanna chuckled.

"You are asking if I can sense danger or if I can see the future. But I can do neither," Kanna said with a soft smile. "Only you can, my dear."

"But surely you can remember a time when the shrine was under duress as it is now?" Mirai pressed. "A time when the veil grew thin?"

Kanna placed a cool hand to her cheek.

"Everything has a sacred time and purpose. For there to be light, there must also be darkness. Where there is darkness, a light is born. It is as Tanasuya wills it." Kanna touched fingers to her brow. "Now stop fretting and be a brave korai and weave us some powerful magic. Go on."

Mirai nodded, finding little comfort in the old woman's words.

"Let us begin," said Tane, her voice carrying authority as she swept her arms in a commanding gesture. The seven korai, resplendent in their matching robes of blue silk, stood poised in a diamond formation atop the dais as the haunting rhythm of drums filled the antechamber. Around them, yurei, ethereal shades wielding drums and flutes below the stage, lent an otherworldly aura to the proceedings.

The ceremony started the moment Tane emitted a low vibrational resonance, causing the dais to tremble underfoot. Her features remained smooth, masking her intense concentration, as she drew her hands to her chest in prayer. The vibrations beneath their feet intensified, causing the kodama's leaves to quiver until the hall achieved perfect equilibrium. It was this rare ability that distinguished Tane as The High Priestess, priming the space for their magic.

On her signal, they broke into dance, striking elegant poses that required equal parts precision and control. Mirai was light on her feet as she transitioned from one sacred mudra to the next, using the graceful arcs of her arms and legs to perform intricate turns. A priestess trained every part of her body to take part in the dance. She displayed nothing but liquid grace. Controlling every movement, every thought, every breath that escaped her lips.

As the dance unfolded on the dais, the seven korai moved in unison, their silk robes swaying gently. The haunting beat of the drums reverberated through the hall, creating a lively cadence. As Mirai surrendered to the dance, a profound sense of calm washed over her. With each steady breath, she felt the tension within her dissolve, allowing energy to flow freely through her. It was as if a dormant force awakened within her, filling her with a warmth that radiated from her chest outward. The fire drew to life and crackled under her skin, but in this state, her mind was sharp and focused as she followed the dance.

The music swelled and a great humming emanated from the dais. Everyone summoned their power and began conducting it through the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet. Soon, golden light trailed in the air, alive and electric.

They called it weaving for a reason.

Tane flung her wrists, releasing a cascade of golden threads into the air. The strands, wispy as spider silk and nimble, wove a tapestry of magic above the dais. Nagisa and Fuyume joined the maneuver, their power blending seamlessly. Shuka and the twins filled in the gaps, leaving Mirai to furnish the embellishments. Weaving glamour was an art form. As the dance unfolded, the magical tapestry took shape, resembling a thunderhead in the sky promising the release of rain and the crack of lightning. They seemed on the verge of invoking a tempest.

As the dance continued, the tapestry took on a life of its own. The golden threads shimmered and swirled, intertwining in intricate patterns as if responding in time with the music. With each twist and turn, the weaving gained substance, its threads extending towards the sky. They coalesced into the sinuous forms of two dragons. Mirai's eyes widened in awe as the creatures slithered through the air, scales glistening with the same magic that birthed them.

The two serpents spiraled and dove, their scales shedding bright sparks. As the music reached its zenith, they intertwined, their forms merging into a singular, radiant cloth of pure gold.

The shimrasen.

As it began to unbolt and spread across the worship hall, Mirai was reminded of what it was to be a priestess of Tanasuya. Heavenly light filled her body, and it melted away all the fear and trepidation from earlier. Kanna was right. The only thing that mattered was the present moment and, when shared in the company of others, was a magnificent thing to behold. The golden threads of magic, woven into intricate patterns, danced around her.

Surprisingly, her power was yielding to her this time. The threads of her magic were not reverting back into flames, which was rare. The shimrasen was vibrant and alive. It grew stronger from the deep connection between the korai, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect.

But just as quickly as it reached its summit, everything stopped.

Help! Someone, please help me! Please! Don't leave me!

A terrible ringing filled Mirai's ears, throwing her into vertigo. Her vision lapsed and she saw starbursts in a field of black. The screams of a child filled her head with cries for mercy.

It sent a shiver down her spine, disrupting the euphoria that had embraced her moments ago. She stumbled, losing her place as she tried to make sense of the sudden intrusion. The tapestry, instead of continuing its intricate pattern, seemed to freeze in mid-air.

A stillness settled over the dais. Mirai's gaze shifted to the others, searching for an explanation. Tane, with a furrowed brow, exchanged a quick glance with Nagisa who was caught in a fearful trance. The dragons, once majestic in their flight, now lingered as if caught in a net, their vibrant forms quickly losing their luster.

The sudden shift in energy was palpable, and a shadow of doubt crept into Mirai's mind. She felt a sudden shakiness in her body. Her hands and feet both grew cold, and she felt a rush in her cheeks. The room began to spin, and she felt faint. Dropping to one knee, she caught herself by the palms of her hands and slumped against the cool stone floor. That was when the ripping started. A terrible pain that ignited from the base of her spine to the crown of her head. Mirai curled into herself, writhing in pain as the others watched in shock.

"What is it? What's happening to her?"

"Is she losing control again?"

"Help! Tane, something's wrong." Mirai choked. "My body. It's splitting!"

Tane's eyes widened for a second.

The sensation continued to wreak havoc in her whole body. It reached the point that her nails, teeth, and hair all twinged with a terrible ache. Mirai had never felt so much pain. It shocked her all the way to her core.

She felt several hands reach for her.

"Mirai? Mirai, honey, you need to breathe! She's not breathing," said Nagisa to Tane.

"Her power is acting strange," cried Machi.

"Someone, bring water! She's burning!" Anzu demanded through sobs. "It's burning her!"

Mirai was on her back now, staring up at the glamour that started to dissolve before it could take its final shape. Flecks of gold drifted over the dormant tree like fresh snow. In a matter of seconds, the spell had broken.

And then, the drums stopped.

A/N: This chapter has been edited from its original version. I wanted to leave a brief glossary of terms as well– granted, some are of my own invention for the purpose of this story. I have placed an asterisk to my made-up terms.

Mirai – traditionally pronounced Mur-ah-ee, but I catch myself reading it as Mur-eye

Keisaku – flat wooden stick used by meditation masters to prevent sleepiness

Kodama – tree spirit; also Japanese for "echo"

Shimrasen* – golden glamour; derived from the Japanese word shimenawa which is a white tassel rope

Korai* – priestess; derived from the Greek word kore, or young woman/girl

Tanasuya – pronounced Tah-nah-soo-yah; inspired by Kannon, the goddess of mercy, but only loosely

Ryu no Mai – dragon dance (an invented precursor to the contemporary Kinryu no Mai)

Chihaya – ceremonial overgarment

Kosode – white robe with long sleeves; usually worn with pleated red trousers

Sukuna is such an exciting character to center a story around, and I love how everyone is playing with the dynamic of evil/pure, dark/light, corrupt/sacred, damnation/redemption, curse/blessing. Having a priestess as the main heroine is not ground-breaking in the slightest, I know, but I hope you enjoy this fantastical romp nonetheless!

Until next time,

Lavendermoonmilk