Darkness pulsed like a slow heartbeat. Cold. Wet. Suffocating.
Reiko stood in the dream again.
But this time, she wasn't falling. She was standing at the edge of the well, moonlight trickling through black branches above. The trees whispered in a language she couldn't understand. The wind was wrong here — it moved in circles.
The well groaned.
She looked down.
And he was there.
Seijiro.
Floating like before. But now, he opened his eyes.
Reiko didn't scream. She didn't run. Her heart was a cold, still stone.
He rose slowly from the water, feet never touching the sides. His body was weightless, soaked, yet dry when he stood before her. His black hair clung to his pale face. His smile was small, almost apologetic.
"Reiko," he said softly. "You shouldn't be here."
She swallowed. "I want to understand."
He nodded, looking past her, as if seeing things behind the veil of the dream. "You remind me of her."
"My mother?"
"Yes. Miyako."
The name drifted through the mist like a curse.
"She was always brave. Even as a girl."
The forest changed.
Suddenly, they stood in a different time.
A small courtyard. A girl of eleven running barefoot in the rain, hair wild, laughter sharp and defiant. Chasing after a boy with a paper lantern.
"That was her," Seijiro said. He was no longer an adult. He stood beside Reiko as a child, perhaps eight, eyes wide with innocence. "She always said she'd protect me from the ghosts. Even when we both knew she saw them too."
Reiko turned to him. "You were afraid?"
"Terrified." He smiled without joy. "Our house... it was always full of eyes. Eyes in corners. Eyes behind doors. Grandfather said it was the family blessing. Father called it madness."
The vision shifted again.
Now a dinner table. A young man with stern eyes sat at the head — Keisuke Sakuma. He didn't look at his children. He read from a scroll. His voice was clipped.
Beside him, a woman. Beautiful, with tired eyes. Keshiki.
She leaned over and whispered to little Seijiro, gently wiping soup from his mouth.
"Mother was kind," Seijiro said quietly. "She said the spirits were lost people, not monsters. She said I had a gift."
"What happened to her?"
Seijiro's face darkened.
The dream darkened.
The table rotted. The walls melted. Screams echoed from somewhere deep. And the woman began to burn.
"Father said it was an accident," Seijiro whispered. "But I saw it. I saw the shadow push her. Down the stairs. And when I told him..."
A crack.
Young Seijiro was flung across the room by an unseen force. Keisuke's hand trembled, but he didn't approach. He simply turned and said, "You will learn to be strong."
"He blamed us," Seijiro said, voice trembling. "Said her death was because we invited spirits into our hearts."
The boy curled in on himself.
Reiko reached out, but her fingers passed through him like mist.
"You grew up alone."
"Not alone." Seijiro looked up. "Miyako stayed. Even when she ran away... she never forgot me."
Another memory flickered.
A teenage Miyako outside the Sakuma estate, shouting at her father. A suitcase in hand.
"This place is poison! And I won't let you turn Seijiro into a vessel!"
Keisuke didn't flinch. He simply closed the door in her face.
Then darkness again.
Reiko and Seijiro stood back by the well.
He looked older now, face solemn. Eyes heavy.
"I tried to resist it, Reiko. I really did. But there was something down there. In the well. Something ancient. It spoke to me... in dreams, in pain. It used my grief like a key."
Reiko's hands trembled.
"Okiku?"
He shook his head. "No. She's just a part of it. A shard of something worse. Something buried when this land was young."
A low hum began to rise.
The ground around the well pulsed. Roots moved beneath the soil like veins.
"I thought if I gave myself to it, it would spare her. Miyako. I made a deal I didn't understand."
He looked at Reiko then. Truly looked.
"And now it wants you."
She stepped back.
"Why me?"
"Because you are the lock and the blade. You carry our blood, Reiko. But also something older. You dream in places no one dares walk."
"I don't understand..."
Seijiro's eyes flickered. Behind him, the water rose again.
A woman's face breached the surface.
Keshiki.
Still beautiful. Still burning.
"She follows me," Seijiro whispered. "Even now. Even in death. She was taken too soon, and the well promised me I could see her again. But I didn't know..."
His voice cracked.
"I didn't know I was opening the gate."
The well behind him throbbed.
"You need to run, Reiko. Wake up. Don't let it in."
She tried to move.
But something held her feet.
Hands.
Small. Childlike.
Mai.
"It's too late," the little girl giggled. Her mouth stretched too wide. "We're already inside you."
Reiko screamed.
---
She jolted awake in the room, the candle beside her flickering wildly.
Shin stirred from his chair, eyes alert. "Reiko!"
She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Her skin was cold, her nightdress soaked in sweat.
He held her. "What did you see?"
Her voice came in a whisper. "My uncle. He was trying to save me. But it's deeper than him. Shin... the well isn't just a prison. It's a door. And I think... I think I'm the key."
Shin's jaw tightened. "Then we lock it forever. Together."
But outside the room, the hallway stretched longer than it should have.
And in the mirror across the room, Keshiki watched with eyes of burning gold.
To Be Continued.