The air in the shrine forest had changed.
Aki stepped carefully through the dim light of dusk, following a trail only his pendant could illuminate. It pulsed with each step, guiding him toward a space that seemed to shift behind his thoughts—a place not quite here, yet not elsewhere either.
Sora-no-Ame walked silently beside him, the starlight in her eyes dimmed. Hoshikiri followed a few paces behind, ever-watchful, her hand resting on her blade.
"This path wasn't here before," Aki said.
"It only appears when remembered," Sora-no-Ame murmured. "And memory is fickle."
They reached an ancient torii gate, half-buried in roots and stone. Beyond it, the trees no longer whispered; they watched. Their bark bore markings in a forgotten script, and their branches twisted toward the heavens like pleading hands.
"This is where the shadows of the thread gather," Hoshikiri whispered. "The unchosen. The broken."
Aki took a breath and stepped through the gate.
In an instant, the world darkened—not into night, but into memory. Visions coalesced around him, flickering like dying candles: his childhood home, his mother's voice, the moment he saw the Star Maiden for the first time.
And then—
A version of himself. One who had never accepted the thread. This Aki had turned away, lived a quiet life, grown older without answers.
"Do you regret the path you chose?" the false Aki asked, voice calm, eyes dull.
Aki stared back, heart steady. "I don't regret choosing. Even if I don't understand everything yet."
The false version nodded. Then shattered like glass.
Aki turned—only to find the shadows forming into something else now: other Chosen, echo-versions like him, but twisted. Anger, sorrow, fear etched into their faces.
"They failed," Sora-no-Ame said quietly. "But you are here, and still walking."
He stepped forward, pendant blazing, and the echoes dispersed like smoke.
He wasn't just walking toward the gods anymore. He was walking toward something they had denied.
And the forest whispered again—not in fear, but in recognition.
—To be continued—