(Yami Kurikage – 3rd Person POV)
The road to Eldoria had always been gentle—lined with cedar trees and wind-chimes made of glass that sang when touched by the breeze. But today, there was no breeze. No birdsong. Not even the rustle of leaves. The woods felt held, as if the entire forest were waiting for something that had already arrived.
Yami Kurikage walked in front, her black cloak swaying softly at her boots. Her steps were light, deliberate. She had the face of one who had seen horror and learned not to flinch from it. Her eyes, however—sharp and cautious—never stopped moving.
Behind her followed:
Fukugen Dokumizu, spear strapped to his back, jaw set in uneasy silence.
Yakesake Yakitori, fire mage, usually loud—now quiet, hands tucked into his sleeves.
Akihiro Kongo, their healer, carrying a staff carved with prayer runes, gaze soft but wary.
The gates of Eldoria were open.
No guards.
No sound.
No wind.
They entered.
---
Eldoria was a city where old and new touched fingertips—the tall white towers rising above the treeline, ancient shrines moss-covered at their base. A grand library tower pierced the sky like a pillar of memory. The hundred-stepped garden terraces of the guildhall glittered with morning dew.
It should have been beautiful.
But it wasn't the architecture that froze them.
It was the stillness.
Homes with sliding wooden doors stood ajar.
Meals lay on tables—steam long gone cold.
Chairs pushed back, as if people had just stood up and never sat back down.
No blood.
No broken glass.
No overturned carts.
No signs of a fight.
Yakesake swallowed, voice thin.
"Did they… evacuate?"
"No," Yami answered.
Her voice did not tremble.
"They didn't leave."
They rounded a corner into the main plaza.
That was when they saw them.
Dozens of residents.
Standing in the street.
Frozen mid-step.
A mother holding a basket.
A merchant with his hand raised to wave.
A child mid-run, one foot never touching the ground.
No movement.
No blinking.
No reaction to footsteps.
Living statues.
Akihiro stepped forward, slowly. He touched the shoulder of a young man who should have been alive.
Warm skin.
Pulse present.
But no awareness.
"They're alive," he whispered. "Their spirits… feel distant. Like something is holding them."
Fukugen gripped his spear tightly.
"Necromancy?"
"No," Yami said, eyes narrowing.
"This is something else."
A glow flickered at the edge of her vision.
She looked up.
---
A light hung above the city—brighter than the sun, but without heat.
It pulsed.
Slow.
Steady.
Like a heartbeat.
Within that sphere of radiance floated a figure.
A man.
Limbs relaxed, arms outstretched slightly, as if suspended in slow water. White robes drifted around him, though there was no wind. His face could not be seen—only the outline, drowned in light.
The air around him hummed—a low, resonant tone that buzzed in the bones.
Yami felt her breath catch.
Not in awe.
In recognition of something unnatural.
Yakesake whispered, hand lifting toward the sky.
"Is that… a god?"
Fukugen stepped back.
"No god leaves people like this."
Akihiro bowed his head, uncertain.
Yami did not speak.
Her gaze dropped to the ground.
Shadows stretched beneath the frozen people—sharp, perfectly shaped, untouched by the light.
But then—
Yami looked again.
The shadows of the frozen people did not move with the light.
They did not flicker.
They did not shift.
They were pinned.
Held to the ground like insects beneath glass.
But her team—
Her team cast no shadows at all.
The realization hit like ice.
Yami's hand went to her staff.
"Don't move," she whispered.
The others looked down.
They saw it too.
The still people had shadows.
They did not.
Silence thickened.
Fear did not rise—it sank.
Deep.
Low.
Heavy.
Yakesake's voice was barely sound.
"…what is happening here?"
No answer came.
Only the endless light above.
The adventure ends there—on the street of a city that is alive and yet not, beneath a sun that isn't a sun, watched by a man who may not be a man.
The team stands still.
Four adventurers.
No shadows.
And every breath trembling with the sense that they are no longer alone.