The bell kept tolling long after we left the ruins behind.
Each strike rolled through the mist like thunder underwater — deep, slow, ancient.
It was not a temple's bell. It was older. Hungrier.
We followed its echo through the forest. The path wound between cedar trees and jagged stones, all drenched in crimson light from the bleeding moon. The wind moved strangely here; it carried whispers that seemed to know my name.
"Ren," the maiden said quietly, her gaze fixed ahead. "You feel it too, don't you?"
I nodded. The Yomi Flame inside my chest pulsed in rhythm with the bell — a heartbeat from the underworld.
"The source is near," I said.
"And so is danger," she murmured.
The forest opened at last into a clearing. The torii gate was cracked, its wood darkened by rot, yet from its center rose pillars of smoke, black and red, wriggling upward like serpents. Beneath them, figures knelt in a circle, cloaked and hooded, their voices joined in low, broken chanting.
The air shimmered. Each word they spoke crawled across my skin like a living thing.
"They are mortals," the maiden whispered. "But they serve the Yomi."
I grapped my sword. "Then they've already forsaken the living."
We crept closer, the ground soft with moss and ash.
As we neared, the circle came into view — thirteen of them, each with crimson ink carved into their flesh, the marks pulsing faintly with the same hue as my flame.
In the center of their ritual, bound in chains, was a body.
No — not a body.
A host.
The skin shimmered with trapped souls beneath, their faces pressed against it like insects under glass. The air warped around it, and a dark column of energy rose upward, reaching toward the moon.
One of the cultists turned toward the shadows where we hid. "The chosen flame approaches," he rasped. "He bears the mark of the Yomi gate."
Their chanting stopped. Thirteen heads turned as one.
"Ren Kagemura," another hissed. "You carry our god's breath within you. Come. Witness rebirth."
The maiden's hand brushed my arm. "Don't listen," she whispered. "Their words are a snare."
I stepped forward anyway.
"What rebirth?" I demanded.
The leader — a tall figure with a mask shaped like a sun cracked in half — lifted his arms. "The old world burns. The blood moon opens the gate. Through your flame, Yomi will rise again."
He pointed a blade toward me — not steel, but obsidian, etched with blood. "You are proof that death can serve the living. Join us, and your clan will live again in the realm beyond."
My grip tightened. "You dare speak of my clan?"
"Your brother already serves," the cultist said. "He awaits you beyond the veil. Why do you struggle, when reunion is only a breath away?"
The world tilted. For a heartbeat, I saw Kaito's face — not twisted like before, but calm, smiling, like the day before he died.
"Ren," he said softly.
The maiden shouted a prayer, snapping the illusion apart. The vision shattered into smoke.
"Yomi deceives through memory," she warned. "It uses love as bait."
The cult leader laughed. "And what is love but a chain?"
He raised his blade, and the others rose with him, their voices merging into a roar. The earth trembled.
The bound host in the center trembled — its skin splitting open as something beneath stirred.
"Too late," the leader declared. "The gate opens now."
I drew my sword. The Yomi Flame answered instantly, surging along the blade like blue lightning.
"Then I'll close it."
The cultists came first, rushing with daggers and curved blades. I met them head-on.
The first strike cut through a throat; the second severed a hand. My movements were faster and deadlier than before. The flame guided me, burning through hesitation.
Each death fed the fire. Each scream echoed through my veins.
"Ren!" the maiden called. "You must resist the hunger!"
But it was too late. The world narrowed to motion and blood. My blade sang through the air, leaving trails of pale blue fire. Every heartbeat drowned in violence.
When the last cultist fell, I stood amid a ring of burning corpses. Their blood steamed, evaporating into blue mist that sank into the shrine's altar.
The host at the center trembled again. From the torn flesh rose a black arm — too long, too thin, the nails like shards of obsidian.
"Ren!" the maiden cried. "Step back!"
The arm tore free, followed by a face — smooth, featureless except for a mouth that opened extremely wide.
The creature screamed — a sound like steel dragged across bone.
The Yomi Flame inside me flared in response. My knees nearly buckled from the force of it.
The creature spoke, its voice layered, echoing from somewhere beyond reality. "Bearer of the Gatefire… you burn with what we lost. Give it back."
Then in lightning speed it lunged.
The fight was nothing like the battle with the corpse. This was no mere revenant — it was a fragment of Yomi itself, a shadow given form.
Its arms lashed like whips. I barely dodged one, feeling the air split behind me. Another strike caught my chest, tearing through fabric, leaving a mark that burned cold.
The maiden threw her talismans, and golden light flared around the monster — but it broke through them like smoke.
"Ren! Only your flame can seal it!"
The words barely reached me. My vision pulsed between light and darkness. Every beat of my heart brought whispers — hundreds of voices overlapping.
Let go.
Accept us.
We will make you whole again.
My grip on the sword trembled. The flame surged, then faltered.
The monster saw its chance. It struck.
I caught the blow on my blade, sparks flying. The force drove me to one knee. Its strength was endless — its form shifting with every strike, like fighting a shadow underwater.
"Ren!" the maiden shouted again. "Remember your oath!"
"My… oath?"
Her voice broke through the haze. "You swore to protect the living — not to join the dead!"
The words hit harder than any blow. I drew a ragged breath. The memories came — my father's voice, my brother's laughter, and the faces of the villagers I'd failed to save.
For a heartbeat, I saw them all — not as ghosts, but as the reason I still breathed.
The flame steadied.
I rose. "You want my fire?" I said, voice low. "Then choke on it."
I drove my sword into the ground. The flame erupted outward — a circle of blue fire expanding from my feet.
The creature screamed as the light tore through it. Its body writhed, disintegrating into smoke and bone.
Still, it clawed toward me. "You… cannot deny… Yomi…"
"I'm not denying it," I said. "I'm mastering it."
The circle tightened, the fire rising like a wall. With a final roar, I lifted my sword and brought it down.
The ground split. The flames consumed everything — the creature, the shrine, the corpses. The light turned white.
When the world returned, I was standing in a clearing of ash. The shrine was gone. The moon's red light had faded to silver.
The maiden knelt a few paces away, her face pale but calm.
"It's sealed," she said softly.
I looked at my hands. The Yomi Flame was quiet now — but it hadn't vanished. It pulsed faintly, a living thing waiting for its next breath.
"Each time you use it," she continued, "you walk closer to their world."
I sheathed my blade. "Then I'll make sure I walk faster than it can pull me."
She studied me for a long moment. "There's pride in that voice again. And pride is where corruption begins."
I met her gaze. "Then remind me, when I forget."
A small smile touched her lips. "I intend to."
The wind rose, scattering the last of the ashes.
Somewhere far beyond the trees, another bell tolled — this time sharper, faster, like a warning.
The maiden looked toward the sound. "There are more shrines," she said. "More gates."
"And more of them waiting," I added.
I turned to the horizon. For the first time since I'd awakened, the path ahead felt clear — not easy, but inevitable.
The blood moon had set, but its stain remained on the clouds, faint and enduring.
I whispered to it, a vow carried on the wind.
"I will end this — for Kaito, for my clan, and for the living."
The flame within me flickered in answer — quiet, steady, alive.
And so we walked on, two souls against the dark, toward a world that no longer belonged to the living alone.