The morning of the ritual brought light rain to the area, and for this, Amaya was grateful. It would help nourish the replenished land, wash away the last of the stink of death. It was, she was sure, small consolation to those who had lost people they loved, or those who had lost everything they had. But it was something, and she knew that, though there was much that could never be restored, at the very least, life could be renewed.
Such things, however, were far from her immediate concern at the moment. She sighed softly as an attendant slid the soft fabric of the black kimono over her shoulders. It was entirely plain, save that the obi was a deep crimson red. She went today not as an agent of renewal and light, but as a warden, a gatekeeper, the last remaining embodiment of the power to keep evil at bay, and for this, she wore the colors of night and fire, the colors of the shrineâs creator, the templeâs founder: Kurohiko. Absent her usual shakujo staff, she instead took a long knife, encased in black lacquer, and slid it into her obi. Her headpiece and the feather attached to it were left behind, her white-silver hair freely trailing to the nape of her neck. She was entirely unadorned, and that was the way it was supposed to be.
Her bare feet made no noise on the tatami mat floors that surrounded the Chamber of the Seal, and she passed the door guards without saying anything, ignoring them as they knelt and bowed, standing again to pull the sliding doors shut behind her. The Chamber itself was circular, the floor stone. Pressed into that unnaturally-white rock was a carved sealâthe personal sigil of the Third Dragon Prince, Kurohiko. It was what heâd used to focus his power, and trap his brother in the boundless Void between worlds. Sheâd always thought it a cruel fate, to be bound there, not in the world of the living, but also not able to pass into the next and reincarnate. The one time sheâd ever said so, her teachers had scolded her so badly sheâd never dared say it again. She had never stopped thinking it, however.
Even she knew better than to release him, though. Instead, the first time she had completed this ritual on her own, sheâd reached out, into the Void, and spoken. To her surprise, someone had answered, a soul that she could feel echoing inside herself somehow. He was everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing at all. For all these years, she had never quite understood what his nature was now, fragmented by so many eons in utter oblivion. But it was as though her presence was some kind of magnet, drawing those fragments together, still unwhole but no longer so scattered, until at least now she felt like she was speaking to a coherent person. Someone who was more than just his wickedness. She did not pity him, as suchâAmaya knew that, at least to some extent, he had earned his fate. But⊠she knew what it was like to feel utterly alone, and she didnât think he deserved that, so she was his company, when she could be.
Padding to the center of the chamber, she stood for a time in the very middle of the crest, before gracefully descending to her knees. For a while, she simply sat like that, her power slowly building around her, allowing her what she needed to pass part of herself into the Void. It was utterly empty within, blank to every sense. There wasnât even darkness pressed against her eyes, just⊠nothing. At least not until she felt him. Up, down, left, rightâspace was impossible here, so he wasnât in any direction in particular. He simply was. His voice most of all.
As she usually did, she imposed her will on the Void, giving it just enough form to make sense to her. And so she became a coherent entity in the Void, and he became the other, and then he was before her, and she before him. Concentrating, she started to influence their surroundings as well, to show him something, let him hear something, and to herself, she gave a physical form, a thin, translucent echo of her actual person. She looked down, and had half-visible hands and legs. Even her kimono translated. She dare not force him into any physical form he did not desire to occupy, and so he remained a presence that she could sense, but not with any of the usual five. It was the first time sheâd done this, and she was surprised at the result. The mental image had transferred well, if not wholly, and she now stood in a replica of the shrine garden, the tricking sound of water behind her and birdsong in her ears.
âShiro,â she said, and surprisingly, the voice issued from the mouth of her almost-self rather than from all around as it usually did. She smiled softly, and then shut her eyes. The images were not for her benefit, after all, and it was easier to find him, in that odd mental sense, when she wasnât worried about any of her others. There it was, the same odd connection as always, and she translated everything there as well. The smile, her tiny bit of pleasure at a successful experiment, her hope that having something to see, something to hear, would please him. Though she knew she had to be wary of the sealed Prince, she did not want him to suffer, after all.
How long had it been since he's seen the light? Touched the sky, breathed the air in? How long? An eternity, it seems. An eternity since Shirohiko, the first son and rightful King, was placed into this void, this hell. An eternity since he last spoke with anyone. The only comfort he had was that of his own mind, and even that was not much. An eternity can deteriorate one's mind, and Shirohiko could say with certainty that his mind, was anything of the sort. Something shifted in the void, capturing the White Prince's attention. He knew that shift, knew it like he knew how to breathe. It was time. Time for her to come, to do her duty, and it only caused a smirk to pull at his seemingly void lips.
"The priestess has come to do her duties, has she not?" he spoke, his voice in a low rumble. If one were to compare it to a sound, they would consider it closer to the sounds of a volcano on the verge of eruption. Though, it wasn't as powerful as that sound. "Or has the priestess come to actually neglect those duties?" Either way didn't matter to him. In the last thousand, she was the first to speak with him. In over a thousand years, it was her voice who had entered his dreams, filled his nightmares, and caressed the void in a soft blanket of something. He wasn't entirely sure he knew what that something was, however; he knew he would never want to let go of it.
That blanket was his, and he did not like the idea of sharing it with anyone else. He shifted in his prison, feeling the cold shackles biting into his skin. He wasn't necessarily chained, but the void had a tendency to make it feel like he was. He would leave this place one day. He would leave, return to the plane of existence, and reclaim all that his brother had stolen from him. Everything. His life, his title, and he would make a new future. And that future included having the little bird by his side, whether she wanted to be or not. She was his, and his alone. He would make it so when he escaped. She would be his queen, his salvation, and more importantly, his. The sounds he heard, the visions he saw when she pressed them forward, almost made him loathe his fate.
It was a fate he earned, perhaps, but who were they to say he did? He was as any other, trying to right a wrong, and for that, he was paying. Instead, he focused on her and her presence. This was the first time she had ever manifested herself into the void, and even then he could see her loveliness. She sported silver-blonde hair, cut short, much too short than what he would have preferred, however; it was of little consequence. He manifested himself, adorned in the same attire he wore when his wretched brother sealed him. Nothing seemed to have changed upon his appearance. His snow-white hair contrasted drastically against the emptiness of the void, and the ice-blue of his eyes pierced through even more. They seemed almost translucent, as if one could see past them.
He reached out towards her, trailing a long finger down the side of her face, however; he could not feel anything. Such as it was to be as they were, transparent. "Does she intend to release these?" he continued, raising his wrists towards her. Chained to his wrists were silver bonds, created with a special kind of seal. It was created by the first White Tengu, and his powers. He'd be released one way or another, however; he would suffice himself for now with being able to see and hear the outside world. He wanted to know before he returned to destroy it all.
Amaya shook her head slightly, studying this new aspect to someone sheâd known for so long and also knew not at all. Shiro was a stranger, and yet she knew him better than anyone. He certainly knew her better than nearly anyone ever would, some product of this, their strange, fated connection. Neither of them had any choice in the matter, really. Raising her own hands, she laid her palms gently over the shackles, almost able to perceive cold metal and warm skin under her hands. âThat is not for me to decide,â she said quietly. He was imprisoned here by the authority of his brother and the Dragon-Princes in succession, and it was only on order from they and the High Council that he could ever be set free. The choice was not hers, even if she was perhaps physically capable of doing as he suggested.
It wasnât as though she relished keeping him here, though she could see the necessity in it. Still, that necessity was somehow lesser when she was looking at a person, rather than feeling a scattered consciousness. Even so, it would be dangerous to let a living face lull her into what a collection of thoughts alone could not do. For what did a face tell you of the truth? Much less, that was to be sure. âBut I⊠I can show you things, if you want to see them. Tell you what little I know of the world beyond the shrineâŠâ It wasnât much, but it was all she had to give.
Outside the Void, her body began to move in ritualistic motions. She loosened the kimono she wore, the soft fabric sliding down her shoulders to rest at her elbows, exposing her neck and much of her back. Her voice, at once hers and not-hers, the voice belonging to the soul which had inhabited many bodies, but always of the same kin, chanting as though with every set of lungs it had ever occupied. Her hand drew the dagger from her obi, sliding the lower sheath off in a practiced motion. The price of keeping him here was steep indeedâshe, as every White Tengu that had come before her, sacrificed parts of her very life force to strengthen the seal. He knew that much, surelyâit explained why his guardian changed every hundred years or so, when they should have been just as immortal as any other Tengu. But she doubted he knew how it was done⊠and perhaps that was for the best. None were permitted to see this, and that was just as well.
Flowing into a stand without breaking her meditation, she let the rest of the kimono fall to pool on the ground. Her manifestation, however, remained as she was.
"And what makes you think I want to see the outside world, hm?" he questioned, pulling away as he turned his back to her. What use did he have just to see the outside world when he would rather feel it? Seeing it brought very little to him, very little. It wasn't a comfort, it was misery. It was a constant reminder that he was forever bound into this wretched void, with only one way out. Her. Her, and her previous predecessors were his only way out, however; none before her had ever dared to speak with him. They always ignored his pleas, his calls, his cries. But not her. In a way, he knew she would be gone in another millenia or so, perhaps sooner. Who was to say with the world she lived in? It wasn't a kind place, he was no fool to not know that. He narrowed his eyes before peering over his shoulder.
"Do you wish to die, Tengu?" he stated, quirking an eyebrow as he gauged her, watching her as she stood in place. "Others have, before you, and you shall perish as well. I do not know what it is that keeps your kind from changing every so years," he spoke, stepping towards her before circling her. She would die... eventually, but if he could prevent that, if she wanted to prevent that, all she had to do was say so. He extended his hand, holding it out to her as his face emptied of everything he was feeling. "All you need to do is remove these, free me, and you will have no need to perish for those ungrateful vermin," the vermin who kept him bound inside this place.
Amaya tilted her head at him. It was strange, to think that he wouldnât know why they died. Sheâd have thought someone would have told him by now. But then, she didnât know her predecessors, what kinds of people they were. In the end, she knew very little at all. But she did know that she could not give him what he was asking for. She let the image, the sounds, the smells she had created fade away. If they troubled him, and she believed they just might, she would abandon them.
She would not, however, tell him lies. She had never done that. Not even once. âItâs you,â she confessed softly. âYou kill us. Keeping you here, containing your power. The ritual requires part of our life every time we do it. In time, I will die, just as those before me have died.â On the other plane, her hand moved, flicking the knife ever so gently over her closed eyelids, producing just a little trickle of blood from each. They ran down her pale flesh like red tears. Next, the blade caressed her lips, and these bled down her chin. Last of all, she raised the knife to her throat. If done improperly, these cuts could cripple or kill her, to say nothing of the scars they might leave.
Her figure in the Void touched each place the knife kissed with the tip of a finger. âEyes to watch you, lips to grant the power to speak with you⊠and our lifeblood, to strengthen it.â Her physical counterpart drew the knife over the junction of her neck and shoulder, the blood welling from the wound and trailing down her exposed skin, pooling at her feet, filling the carven rivulets that comprised the seal, until all of the grooves were swollen with crimson. Her healing factor closed the wounds, but not before she had lost a lot of blood. From there, it was a matter of applying her spiritual power to the seal, of giving the sacrifice proper direction.
âI think I was meant to be glad to do it. But no part of me is glad for this.â She did it anyway, because it was necessary and her duty. It was, in fact, the very reason she existed at all. She was the only one who could hold back the destruction he would visit upon the world if ever freed. âBut because I die, there are many more who do not.â She knew his nature; she knew what would come of his freedom, and he would not bother to spare any he thought beneath him. It was their lives she was protecting, and that was what gave her the strength to do it, even if she did, in some strange way, feel a sense of affection for her prisoner. Misplaced at best, but present all the same. Perhaps that was simply her nature.
Shiro scoffed, a light sound if any. He was the one who killed them? Odd, he never saw it like that. If anything, it was they whom were killing themselves. They need not do that, if any part of them had ever been selfish. Were that the case, none of them needed to die for him. He wasn't a sentimental being, and he could care less if those before her gave their life to keep him from returning, however; some part, a little spark perhaps, cared that it was her that was dying. He narrowed his eyes at her, lowering his wrists as he disappeared, becoming one with the void again. His voice was the only thing left she could sense, and it was darker than when it first began.
"It is not I who kills you," he spoke, his voice as close to her as if he were whispering it in her ear. "It is that damn conscience of yours, and what you all perceive as the right thing to do. Tell me, do you really believe it is true, those things that I have done, have did? The crimes I committed because I was insane?" he used the term loosely. Perhaps he was insane, and only those around him were providing a sense of sanity to the world, however; it could have been the other way around. Perhaps... all he ever wanted to do was provide sanity to an insane world. He dismissed the thought, becoming nothing, as even his voice faded away.
"It matters not, what you believe, Hime. You will not always be strong enough to fortify this seal. You would do well to remember that. You should be enjoying what little precious freedom you have. I will come for you when I am free," he stated, his voice laced with a certain confidence that did not lie. He would be free soon, and once he was, he would come for her. "I will be in your nightmares, tonight."
Amaya shivered, almost feeling a hot gust of breath on her neck. She closed both her facsimileâs eyes and those belonging to the version of herself on the mortal plane. But she smiled softly all the same, because she did not hate him, not even when she feared him. âYou always are,â she replied softly, and then slowly, she withdrew from the Void, drained of just about everything she had and much weaker than she had woken this morning. It would take her days to recover, if not a week. But that, like so much of her life, was simply the way it had to be.
RPG
