The rain had stopped, but the air remained heavy, saturated with humidity and the scent of wet earth. The sky, still streaked with heavy clouds, cast a gray light that made every shape darker, every shadow thicker.
Shinome walked slowly toward the church. The tall grass, soaked with water, clung to his legs at every step. Beneath his feet, the mud lightly sucked at his shoes, as if trying to hold him back.
Up close, the building looked even more dilapidated than he remembered. The stones, blackened by time and weather, bore deep cracks. Part of the roof had collapsed, letting shafts of daylight through in broad silver blades. The smell of rotten wood and damp stone rose to his nose.
He paused at the entrance, placing a hand on the shaky door. The wood was cold, almost icy. For a moment, he thought he felt a vibration, like a shiver running through the fibers, but he blinked and the sensation disappeared.
He pushed the door open. The creak echoed strangely, spreading through the empty nave as if the walls themselves held back the sound to release it slowly.
Inside, everything seemed frozen for decades. Splintered benches, an overturned altar, broken stained glass windows letting the wind pass through. Dust mingled with plaster that had fallen from the ceiling.
Shinome stepped to the center of the room. His footsteps raised faint echoes.
This was where… his father had fallen. The image came back, brutal. The body stretched out, empty eyes. And that unreal moment when he vanished in a breath of light and ashes.
He clenched his fists and looked away. He had to search, find something—anything—that could explain why his father was here.
His instinct told him the answer was not in what was visible, but beneath the surface.
He began by inspecting the overturned altar. The stone seemed heavy, but he quickly noticed that part of the floor behind it was different: the central slab was slightly lighter, as if it had been shielded from time… or moved recently.
He placed his hand on it. Cold. Very cold.
A draft escaped through a tiny crack between the stones.
"There's something…"
He knelt and tried to slip his fingers into the gap. The slab was heavy, but using a piece of wood he found nearby, he managed to lift it a few centimeters. A hoarse creak rose, like a muffled moan, before the stone slowly tilted to the side.
Beneath, a small recess carved directly into the floor. And inside… a cracked leather cylinder, closed by a frayed cord.
Shinome took it gently. The leather was stiff, almost ready to crumble under his fingers. He blew on it to clear the dust and smelled something strange: a mixture of incense, old paper, and… something acrid.
He untied the cord and unrolled the leather.
Inside, a scroll. Yellowed but intact. The letters traced on it seemed to shimmer faintly in the diffuse light. The handwriting, fine and angular, was not entirely unfamiliar to Shinome—he recognized some ancient characters his father had taught him to decipher when he was a child.
He read softly aloud:
"For the one who seeks the truth…"
His heart beat faster. The words seemed to speak directly to him. He continued, focused.
The text spoke of a forgotten place: "the sanctuary in the mountains, where the echo of the world sleeps." A hidden place, protected by ancient forces. And, above all, a warning: "Do not go alone. The shadows watch."
Shinome swallowed.
Kazuhiko… His father had left this message here, that was certain. And if he had done so, it was because he knew Shinome would come one day.
But one question burned: why him? Why now?
A noise made him jump.
A crack outside. As if a branch had just snapped under weight. He turned toward the open door. Nothing. Just the wind stirring the tall grass.
Yet… he no longer felt alone.
Shinome stood still, the scroll clenched in his hands. His gaze fixed on the gaping doorway, where the shadows of the grass swayed softly in the breeze. His ears, strained, searched for another sound. Nothing… yet the oppressive feeling remained, as if the air itself carried a weight.
He carefully rolled up the scroll and slipped it back into its leather case, which he tucked against his chest under his jacket. His instinct told him not to stay here any longer. Every second inside this church seemed to attract something… or someone.
A shiver ran up his spine as he crossed the threshold again. The outside air, though damp and cold, felt almost more breathable. The sky had darkened further, and the clouds, lower now, seemed ready to crush the surrounding hills.
Shinome quickly moved along the side of the building, casting brief glances behind him. The puddles, the tall grass, the crumbling stones… everything seemed normal. But this normality felt forced, like a frozen backdrop hiding an invisible gaze.
He allowed himself to slow only when Reiji's silhouette appeared, a little further down the path. His friend, leaning against a trunk, raised his head as he saw him approach.
"So? Did you find anything?" he asked, brow furrowed.
Shinome hesitated for a moment. The words from the scroll echoed in his mind: Do not go alone. Should he tell him everything right away?
"Yes… and it's serious. I think I know where my father wanted us to go."
Reiji's gaze locked onto his, searching for answers.
Shinome took out the leather case, opened it, and carefully unfolded the scroll. The gray daylight slipped over the ancient ink, revealing the curves and angles of a nearly living script.
He read softly, so only Reiji could hear. When the word sanctuary was spoken, his friend's expression hardened.
"In the mountains…? Do you realize how vast that is?"
"Yes. But there are details here that could guide us. Mentions of a forgotten path, an old stone bridge… And this phrase: 'where the echo of the world sleeps.'"
Reiji crossed his arms.
"We can't go alone."
"I know. But if we wait too long, we might lose the trail."
They remained silent for a few seconds, only the wind whistling through the grass accompanying them. Then Reiji nodded.
"Okay. We go at dawn tomorrow."
Shinome nodded, put away the scroll, and cast one last glance at the church. Its blackened walls and collapsed roof cut into the sky like a scar.
He did not see, behind a broken window of the bell tower, the motionless shadow watching them.
The silhouette, frozen in darkness, followed their movements with icy precision. No breath, no blinking. Only a slight flicker of its form betrayed that it was not entirely… human.
When the two teenagers disappeared around a bend in the path, the shadow slowly receded into the darkness, as if drawn back into the stone.
Shinome, meanwhile, felt a prickling at his neck. Without knowing why, he turned around. The church was now just a black dot in the rising mist.
But the feeling persisted: something, somewhere, had just marked their departure.
The next dawn rose under a low sky, tinged with metallic hues. The hills were still shrouded in thick mist, and every leaf glistened with cold droplets. Shinome tightened the straps of his bag, feeling the unusual weight of the leather case against his chest.
Reiji arrived silently, a canteen hanging at his belt and an old knife tucked in his boot. His serious look contrasted with his usual casual demeanor.
"Ready?" he asked simply.
Shinome nodded. They had agreed to follow an ancient path mentioned in the scroll: "where water roars and stone echoes." According to the rough map drawn on the document, they first had to follow the river, then reach an old ruined bridge marking the entrance to the mountains.
At first, the path was familiar. Tall grass, muddy trails, the scent of wet wood. But the further they moved from the village, the more the landscape subtly changed. The trees grew larger, their branches twisted as if they had struggled against an invisible wind for centuries. The birdsong grew rare.
"Doesn't it feel… empty?" Reiji murmured, looking around.
Shinome nodded. The silence was unnatural. Not here. Even the river, though wide, flowed in a muted murmur, as if the air was swallowing it.
After an hour, they found the bridge. Or what remained of it: two blackened stone arches, one half collapsed into the water. The carvings on the pillars were almost erased, eaten away by time. Yet some figures were still visible—tall faceless silhouettes, arms raised to the sky.
Shinome pulled out the scroll, comparing the drawings. This was the place.
"After the bridge… we enter the sanctuary zone," he said.
They crossed it cautiously, their steps thudding softly on the wet stones.
On the other side, the path narrowed. Vegetation gained ground, sometimes forcing them to push aside giant ferns or thick brambles. The air grew heavier. Not just humid: dense, almost tangible.
Shinome felt that with every step, something watched them. Not like in the church—no, here it was more diffuse. A presence… moving with them.
Further on, a rock stood like a stone tooth, bearing strange marks. Not quite letters, but deep gouges, as if scratched by blades.
Reiji ran his hand over it.
"Do you think that's human?"
Shinome said nothing. He looked up toward the ridge visible in the distance. Up there, barely seen through the mist, stood an angular shape: maybe a building… or an illusion of light.
A chill ran down his spine.
And, hidden behind a trunk a few dozen meters away, a dark figure stood motionless. Its form blended with the shadow, but its contours flickered like a flame without heat. Its eyes—two pale glints—followed each of their movements.
Shinome took a step, and the shadow retreated into the forest depths.
He turned sharply.
"Did you hear that?"
"No… What?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
But he knew it was not "nothing."
They resumed their walk, and soon the path opened onto a circular clearing. The ground there was oddly even, almost paved, though covered with moss. In the center, an ancient staircase carved into the rock climbed toward the darkness above.
Shinome took a deep breath.
"We're almost there."
Above, somewhere in that mass of stone and mist, awaited the sanctuary. And perhaps… the answers they had been seeking all along.
The sun climbed high in the sky, light filtering through the thick forest foliage. The group advanced with determined but cautious steps on the steep trail, their bags loaded with only essentials. The morning coolness had given way to a humid, oppressive heat, and shadows played hide and seek on the mossy stones.
After several hours of walking, Shinome set his bag against a fallen trunk and stretched slowly. Reiji sat nearby, pulling out some provisions.
"Taking a break?" he suggested, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead.
Shinome nodded silently, too absorbed in his thoughts. The scroll, carefully rolled, rested beneath his hand like a silent promise.
The group's silence was only broken by rustling leaves and the distant call of a bird.
As they caught their breath, Shinome looked around. The forest seemed alive, almost tangible. Yet a strange sensation persisted: that of an invisible gaze, a presence lurking in the shadows.
He pushed the thought away, focusing his attention on the task ahead. They had a destination, a clear goal—the sanctuary. Nothing should distract them.
The meal was simple, made up of dried fruit and hard bread, but it gave everyone strength. Reiji, in a lighter tone, broke the tension:
"Do you really think this sanctuary still exists? After all these years of forgetting…"
Shinome frowned.
"It's written here. And it's where my father wanted us to go. I think it's our best chance to understand what's going on."
Hours passed as the group continued their ascent, guided by the few clues on the scroll: an old stone bridge hidden under vegetation, carved marks on eroded rocks.
Finally, around a nearly erased trail bend, they emerged onto a clearing.
Before them stretched an almost unreal landscape.
There, nestled in the mountains' hollow, stood an ancient sanctuary. Its stones, worn by time, seemed to merge with nature, overgrown by ivy and moss. Broken columns told a forgotten story, and a massive sealed stele stood at its center.
The silence fell again, heavy.
The group stood still, contemplating this place charged with ancestral power.
Shinome felt his heart quicken.
They were not alone.
In the shadow, at the edge of the clearing, an indistinct silhouette watched them, invisible to the group's eyes. Its piercing gaze fixed on them, patient, calculating.
A slight shiver ran down Shinome's spine.
The sanctuary was here.
The mystery was only beginning.