Horizon Atoll: Hearts of Steel

I. The Boy Who Was Supposed to Be Home for Dinner

The afternoon sunlight fell softly through the cedar branches.

It painted the old shrine road in long, trembling patterns of gold, catching on moss-covered stones, wooden signposts, and the little stream that accompanied the path for part of its winding journey through the hills.

Somewhere nearby, a cicada was making an extraordinary amount of noise.

A wind chime answered from the veranda of a distant house.

Farther down the mountainside, beyond the dense greenery, the faint ringing of a crossing bell announced that one of Mizunokuni’s local trains was approaching a station.

It was a perfectly ordinary afternoon.

At least, as ordinary as an afternoon could be in a country where fox spirits argued with vending machines, ancient gods occasionally complained about railway timetables, and a perfectly sensible road could decide that it would rather lead somewhere else.

Twelve-year-old Kade Bher loved it.

He was also, at that precise moment, running as though his life depended upon reaching the next bridge before someone else.

”YOU’RE CHEATING!”

The accusation came from behind him.

Kade laughed.

His untidy brown hair bounced as he sprinted along the stone path. His steel-blue eyes were bright with mischief, and the sleeves of his everyday clothes had been pushed up to his elbows.

”I’m not cheating!”

”You cut across the corner!”

”That’s called taking a shortcut!”

”THAT IS CHEATING!”

”Sounds like something a slow person would say!”

Behind him, Ranmei Sakaime made a noise of absolute outrage.

”KAAAADE!”

He laughed harder.

Then accelerated.

The little footbridge was just ahead.

An old wooden structure with carefully fitted railings, it crossed a narrow stream where clear mountain water tumbled over smooth stones. A small shrine marker stood on the opposite bank, its weathered inscription warning travelers not to make promises they couldn’t keep.

Kade had read the warning hundreds of times.

He regarded it as excellent advice.

He also regarded beating Ranmei across the bridge as a much more urgent concern.

”Almost there!”

”Oh, no, you don’t!”

A rush of movement sounded behind him.

Kade glanced over his shoulder.

That was a mistake.

Ranmei was gaining.

Her golden-blonde hair streamed behind her, her large fox ears were flattened with determination, and nine magnificent tails swept through the air in a flurry of golden-orange fur.

She had always possessed an unfair advantage in races.

Several unfair advantages, actually.

The ears.

The tails.

The supernatural reflexes.

The ability to notice shortcuts Kade hadn’t even realized existed.

And the deeply irritating fact that she was one year older than him and occasionally behaved as though that gave her the authority to tell him what to do.

Kade had devoted considerable effort to correcting this misunderstanding.

Usually by making it worse.

Ranmei reached for the back of his shirt.

”Got you!”

He ducked.

Her fingers missed.

He scrambled forward.

She made a furious little noise.

The bridge was only a few steps away.

Kade grinned.

And then, because he had never possessed much restraint when a particularly terrible idea presented itself, he called over his shoulder:

”YOU’RE LOSING, AUNTIE RANMEI!”

Silence.

A brief, terrible silence.

Then:

”WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!”

Kade burst out laughing.

His feet struck the wooden bridge.

One step.

Two.

Three.

He reached the other side and spun around, throwing both hands into the air.

”VICTORY!”

Ranmei arrived a heartbeat later.

She stopped so abruptly that her tails continued moving for another moment.

Her golden-brown eyes narrowed.

Kade regarded her triumphantly.

She regarded him as though considering whether the stream was deep enough to dispose of a particularly annoying boy.

”Take it back.”

Kade smiled.

”Take what back?”

”You know exactly what.”

”Sorry, Auntie. I’m afraid my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

Her ears twitched.

”Kade.”

”Yes, Auntie?”

”I’m going to throw you into the river.”

He glanced toward the stream.

Then back at her.

”That’s a little harsh. Aren’t you supposed to be a responsible adult?”

”I’M THIRTEEN!”

”Really? You seem much older.”

Ranmei lunged.

Kade yelped.

Then ran.

The two tore down the path, laughing and shouting, until Kade made the tactical mistake of attempting another shortcut around an old cedar.

Ranmei knew that shortcut.

She knew it very well.

And she was substantially better at using it.

Kade rounded the tree.

Found her standing directly in front of him.

And skidded to a halt.

”...Oh.”

Ranmei smiled.

It was a very sweet smile.

A deeply concerning smile.

”Hello, Kade.”

He took a careful step backward.

”Hello, Ranmei.”

She advanced.

He retreated.

Her tails spread behind her.

”Now.”

”Yes?”

”What were you saying?”

Kade considered his options.

There were several.

None appeared especially promising.

He glanced left.

A steep slope.

Right.

Dense bamboo.

Behind him.

The cedar tree.

In front.

A very angry nine-tailed fox girl.

He smiled weakly.

”...That you’re my favorite childhood friend?”

Ranmei stared.

Then narrowed her eyes.

”You’re terrible at apologizing.”

”I’ve been told.”

”By everyone?”

”Several people.”

”Good.”

She caught him by the sleeve.

Kade yelped.

And a moment later, both of them were laughing again.

 Kuroha Sakaime watched from farther up the road.

She stood beneath the shade of an ancient cedar, one hand resting lightly against the closed parasol she carried.

The path around her was quiet.

Not empty.

Never truly empty.

There were small spirits sleeping beneath the moss.

Old protective inscriptions lay hidden inside the stones.

And the road itself possessed a history considerably longer than most kingdoms beyond the Hidden Country’s borders.

Kuroha knew that history.

She knew where the path had begun.

Where it could lead.

Which travelers it would accept.

And which boundaries separated this quiet afternoon from places that had no business intruding upon it.

But at the moment, her attention rested almost entirely upon two children arguing beside a stream.

”You’re pulling too hard!”

”Then apologize!”

”I already did!”

”No, you didn’t!”

”I said you were my favorite!”

”That’s not an apology!”

Kuroha smiled.

It was a small expression.

Fond.

A little amused.

And entirely unsurprised.

Kade had been troublesome almost from the moment he’d entered her life.

He had been a little boy then.

Too small.

Too hungry.

Far too accustomed to believing that adults might disappear if he looked away.

Ranmei had found him at the Tsuzura Market House’s Third Stall and brought him into Kuroha’s care.

That single act had changed a great many things.

Nine years later, the frightened toddler who had once clung to the edge of a borrowed blanket had become a twelve-year-old menace who thought calling a thirteen-year-old fox girl Auntie was the height of comedy.

Kuroha considered this excellent progress.

Though she occasionally wondered whether she should have been stricter.

Only occasionally.

Kade noticed her watching.

His expression brightened.

”Aunt Kuroha!”

She raised an eyebrow.

”Yes, Kade?”

”Ranmei’s being violent!”

Ranmei spun toward her.

”HE STARTED IT!”

Kuroha looked at the two of them.

Then at Kade’s entirely unharmed sleeve.

Then at Ranmei’s indignant expression.

”I see.”

Kade nodded solemnly.

”It’s terrible.”

”Very.”

”Someone should intervene.”

”Perhaps.”

Ranmei stared.

”Kuroha!”

The older woman smiled.

Then regarded Kade.

”Did you call her Auntie again?”

Kade went still.

”...Maybe.”

Ranmei pointed at him.

”HE DID!”

Kuroha sighed.

A long, theatrical sigh.

”How dreadful.”

Kade grinned.

Then she continued.

”Ranmei, I believe you are entitled to one retaliation.”

His grin vanished.

”...Wait.”

Ranmei’s expression transformed.

”Really?”

”Within reason.”

”Of course!”

Kade looked between them.

Then pointed accusingly at Kuroha.

”BETRAYAL!”

She smiled serenely.

”Consider it an educational experience.”

Ranmei lunged.

Kade ran.

The road filled with laughter.

And Kuroha, Lady of the Boundary Roads, one of the twelve extraordinary women who had helped raise a human child in a country full of beings far older than civilization, allowed herself to enjoy the sound.

There was no urgency in the afternoon.

No crisis demanding her attention.

No hostile power standing at the edge of her territory.

Only sunlight.

The stream.

The distant railway bell.

And two children who had probably been told to return before dinner.

Kuroha intended to remind them.

Eventually.

 II. The Road Home

By the time the two children finally exhausted themselves, the sun had begun its slow descent toward the western ridges.

They were sitting beside a roadside shrine.

Kade had acquired a small scrape on one elbow.

Ranmei had acquired three leaves in her hair.

Neither was willing to explain exactly how those things had happened.

Kuroha regarded them both with patient suspicion.

”Finished?”

Kade nodded.

”Yes.”

Ranmei nodded too.

”For now.”

Kuroha raised an eyebrow.

Kade looked toward his friend.

”...For now?”

Ranmei smiled sweetly.

He narrowed his eyes.

”You’re planning something.”

”No.”

”That’s what someone planning something would say.”

”And you would know.”

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

”Fair.”

Kuroha sighed.

”Both of you.”

They straightened.

”Yes?” Kade asked.

”Come along. It will be time to eat soon.”

That was enough.

Kade rose immediately.

”What’s for dinner?”

Kuroha smiled.

”Does it matter?”

”Yes.”

”Why?”

”Because I need to know how excited I should be.”

Ranmei rolled her eyes.

”You were hungry twenty minutes ago.”

”I’m growing.”

”So am I.”

”You’re already ancient.”

”I’M ONE YEAR OLDER!”

Kuroha closed her eyes.

The argument began again.

She considered briefly whether time manipulation might allow her to experience ten minutes of silence.

Then decided that would be excessive.

Instead, she began walking.

The children followed.

The path curved gently between cedar trunks, passed beneath an old stone lantern, and continued toward a fork where one branch led downhill to the market roads while the other wound through a grove of carefully tended trees.

The afternoon light was beautiful.

It filtered through the canopy in long golden shafts, catching on drifting insects and the fine mist rising from the stream.

A small roadside shrine stood beside the path.

Someone had left a fresh offering there.

Rice wrapped in a leaf.

A little cup of tea.

And a folded paper charm bearing a handwritten prayer for safe travel.

Kade slowed as they passed.

He looked toward the offering.

Then toward Kuroha.

”Aunt Kuroha?”

”Hm?”

”Do roads remember people?”

She glanced at him.

”Some do.”

”All the time?”

”Not necessarily.”

He considered that.

”What makes them remember?”

Kuroha looked toward the stones beneath their feet.

”Many things. Repetition. Recognition. A promise kept. A name spoken often enough. Sometimes simply the care people take in returning.”

Kade nodded slowly.

Then frowned.

”What if someone leaves?”

”That depends.”

”On what?”

”Whether there is still a road for them to return by.”

He thought about that.

Then looked toward the small shrine.

”...So if somebody goes away, you can still find them?”

Kuroha’s expression softened.

”Usually, if the road is known and the boundaries permit it.”

”Usually?”

She regarded him.

The boy looked unexpectedly serious.

He was twelve.

Old enough to understand that people sometimes disappeared.

Young enough to still want reassurance that the important ones wouldn’t.

Kuroha reached out and gently rested a hand on his head.

”You’re thinking too hard.”

Kade frowned.

”I’m allowed to think.”

”Of course.”

”Even if everyone says it’s dangerous.”

Ranmei snorted.

Kuroha smiled.

”Especially then.”

He looked up at her.

She continued.

”There are many ways to become lost, Kade. But you have a great many people who would come looking for you.”

Kade grinned.

”Even if I ran away?”

Kuroha raised an eyebrow.

”Would you?”

”No.”

”Good.”

”Probably.”

”Kade.”

He laughed.

Ranmei stepped closer.

”I’d find you first.”

Kade turned.

”Oh?”

”Yes.”

”How?”

She looked offended.

”Because I know you!”

He considered that.

Then nodded.

”...Fair.”

Ranmei folded her arms.

”And if you ever actually got lost, I’d drag you home myself.”

Kade smiled.

”Even if I called you Auntie?”

She glared.

”Especially then.”

He burst out laughing.

Kuroha smiled.

Then they continued walking.

Three figures beneath the cedars.

An old guardian of boundaries.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A golden-haired fox girl with nine magnificent tails.

And a small human boy who had once believed there was nowhere in the world he belonged.

Now he had too many people willing to claim him.

Too many homes where dinner would be waiting.

Too many aunts who would become deeply unreasonable if he failed to return when expected.

For Kade Bher, the problem was no longer whether someone wanted him.

It was figuring out how to avoid being grounded by twelve different women at once.

He considered that a wonderful problem.

The path curved ahead.

And somewhere beyond the trees, a dinner bell rang.

Kade’s eyes widened.

”Oh!”

Ranmei looked at him.

”What?”

”Food!”

She sighed.

”Of course.”

He grinned.

”Race you!”

Before she could answer, he ran.

”Kade!”

He laughed.

”LAST ONE THERE DOES THE DISHES!”

Ranmei’s ears shot upright.

”YOU CAN’T MAKE THAT RULE!”

”JUST DID!”

”KAAAADE!”

She ran after him.

Kuroha watched them go.

Her smile remained.

For another few seconds, the world was exactly as it should have been.

Then the road changed.

III. The Ring of Gold

Kuroha noticed it before the children did.

The first sign was almost imperceptible.

A change in the space between two shadows.

The cedar branches still moved in the breeze, but one patch of sunlight remained perfectly motionless upon the stones.

A falling leaf stopped halfway to the ground.

The shrine bell in the distance continued ringing, except that its sound had begun arriving from the wrong direction.

Kuroha stopped walking.

Her smile disappeared.

Ahead, Kade was still running.

Ranmei followed, shouting something about unfair rules.

Neither had noticed.

Kuroha’s eyes narrowed.

There were boundaries everywhere.

Between sunlight and shadow.

Between one step and the next.

Between a road and the places to which it led.

She knew them.

She knew how they fit together.

And she knew when something had no right to be where it was.

The motionless patch of sunlight deepened.

A thin golden line appeared across the path.

Kuroha moved.

”Kade!”

Her voice cracked through the afternoon.

The boy looked back.

”Huh?”

”Come here. Now.”

The command was sharp enough that his smile vanished.

Ranmei stopped too.

”Kuroha?”

The golden line curved.

It did not rise from the earth.

It did not descend from the sky.

It simply appeared, as though an invisible hand had begun drawing a circle upon a surface that had never been visible before.

Kuroha’s expression changed.

”Ranmei. Get him away from it!”

The fox girl’s ears flattened.

She turned toward Kade.

”Come on!”

”What is—”

The circle closed.

And the world rang.

It was not the sound of a bell.

Not truly.

It was too deep.

Too vast.

A single note passed through the stones, the trees, the stream, and Kade’s body as though everything around him had become part of the same enormous instrument.

He stumbled.

”Ah!”

Golden light erupted beneath his feet.

A perfect ring surrounded him.

Symbols raced along its circumference.

They were neither the shrine inscriptions he knew nor the boundary characters he’d sometimes watched Kuroha use.

They seemed to crawl across the ground without touching it.

Kade stared.

”What—?”

Ranmei lunged toward him.

”Kade!”

She caught his wrist.

For one wonderful instant, he thought that would be enough.

Then the light surged.

Ranmei cried out.

Her tails flared behind her, and the air around her rippled with the familiar power of the Sakaime household. Golden threads of fox magic raced along her arms, wrapping around Kade’s wrist and anchoring themselves to the stones beyond the circle.

She pulled.

Hard.

Kade stumbled toward her.

The light resisted.

Not like a hand.

Not like a rope.

Something inside him seemed to be moving while the rest of the world remained still.

He felt a terrible tug behind his ribs.

”R-Ranmei?”

Her expression had gone white with fear.

”Don’t let go!”

”I’m not!”

”Kuroha!”

The older woman was already there.

A dark opening appeared beside the road.

Then another.

Then a third.

The ordinary distance between Kuroha and Kade folded away as though someone had lifted one edge of a paper map and placed it directly against another.

She reached for him.

The first golden line broke.

The sound was sharp enough to make Kade flinch.

Kuroha’s hand passed through the boundary of the circle, and a brilliant violet seam opened beneath her fingers.

The ring shuddered.

Ranmei gasped.

For an instant, Kade felt the terrible pulling sensation weaken.

He lurched forward.

His free hand reached toward Kuroha.

”Aunt Kuroha!”

”I know!”

The words came faster than he’d ever heard her speak.

Kuroha seized the edge of the light itself.

The impossible circle twisted.

Around them, the path began changing.

The stream appeared on both sides.

The cedar trees seemed to stretch away into a hundred different distances.

The bridge Kade had crossed moments earlier vanished from one position and appeared in another.

Every familiar road in the surrounding forest began bending toward the place where the boy stood.

Kuroha was not simply opening a gate.

She was dragging the entire geometry of the road into alignment around him, trying to make every possible direction lead back to his home.

The golden ring resisted.

The symbols along its surface brightened.

And something answered from very far away.

Kade couldn’t understand the words.

He didn’t even know whether they were words.

But he understood one thing.

Something wanted him.

Something that did not care whether he wanted to go.

His stomach twisted.

”No...”

Ranmei pulled harder.

Her feet slid across the stones.

”Kade, look at me!”

He turned toward her.

She was crying.

That frightened him more than the light.

Ranmei didn’t cry like that.

She got angry.

She shouted.

She chased him down paths and threatened to bury him beneath all nine tails.

She complained when he stole food from her plate.

She grinned when she won.

She knew the roads.

She knew Kuroha.

She knew how to get home.

But now her hands were shaking.

”Ranmei?”

”Don’t you dare let go!”

”I won’t!”

The golden ring expanded.

The stones beneath Kade’s feet disappeared beneath an intricate pattern of light.

Something cold wrapped around his ankles.

He tried to step backward.

He couldn’t.

Kuroha’s voice cut through the strange sound.

”Release him.”

The words carried an authority Kade had never heard her use against anything.

The air compressed.

The trees bent away.

The entire path seemed to recoil from the force of her command.

”Release my child.”

The circle fractured.

A dozen golden lines snapped.

Ranmei gasped.

Kade stumbled forward another step.

Then the ring changed.

Its light turned inward.

Instead of spreading across the road, it began collapsing toward him.

Kuroha’s expression sharpened with sudden understanding.

This wasn’t a gate opening onto a known destination.

No road had been laid between the two places.

There was no threshold she could seize and turn.

The spell had reached across a separation it refused to acknowledge, fastened onto one specific soul, and begun drawing him away before a passage existed.

Kuroha could break the boundaries around it.

She could fold distance.

She could make a thousand roads converge beneath the boy’s feet.

But the summoning was already completing its claim, and every boundary she seized became another surface along which the golden inscription attempted to close.

Whoever had performed this ritual had not bothered to ask whether the place they were reaching into would permit the crossing.

Kuroha’s eyes widened.

”No.”

The word was scarcely audible.

Then she moved again.

A vast seam opened above the road.

The blue sky split along an impossible line.

Beyond it lay darkness filled with distant lights, like the backs of a thousand doors standing where no wall had ever been built.

Kade stared upward.

He had seen Kuroha do remarkable things.

He had watched her open shortcuts through places nobody else could reach.

He had followed her along roads that should have taken days and arrived home before dinner.

He had never seen her use her power like this.

Not desperately.

Not with both hands outstretched and her face stripped of every trace of its customary composure.

She thrust her arm through the golden light.

The symbols screamed.

Ranmei cried out as the force trying to take Kade dragged her forward too.

Kade turned.

Her heels were no longer touching the ground properly.

The light had begun pulling against the magic binding them together.

He saw pain flash across her face.

His eyes widened.

”Ranmei!”

”I’m fine!”

She wasn’t.

”Kade, hold on!”

The golden pull intensified.

Ranmei’s grip slipped a fraction.

Kade felt it.

And something inside his chest went cold.

”You’re getting hurt!”

”I don’t care!”

”Ranmei!”

”I SAID HOLD ON!”

She pulled again.

Her nine tails spread behind her like a magnificent golden fan, their pale tips trembling as the boundary magic strained against the impossible distance opening around him.

Kade tried to hold on.

He really did.

But the light was drawing him away, and Ranmei was being pulled toward the same terrible place.

If she fell into it with him—

His heart hammered.

He looked at her hand.

Then at her face.

”Ranmei...”

”No.”

She seemed to understand before he moved.

Her eyes widened.

”Kade, don’t—”

He pushed her.

Not hard enough to hurt her.

Just enough to send her backward beyond the inner edge of the circle.

Her grip broke.

For one instant, the pull against her stopped.

Kuroha caught Ranmei with an arm that emerged from a folded section of space.

The fox girl screamed his name.

”KADE!”

He reached for her.

Too late.

The golden circle rose around him.

A wall of light separated them.

Kade slammed both hands against it.

”RANMEI!”

Her figure blurred on the other side.

He could see her struggling.

Kuroha held her back with one arm while her other hand tore through the boundary between them.

The barrier fractured.

A section collapsed.

Kade saw daylight through the opening.

He stumbled toward it.

There.

Home.

The path.

The trees.

Ranmei.

Kuroha.

He stretched out his hand.

”AUNT KUROHA!”

She reached for him.

Their fingers almost touched.

Almost.

The light flashed.

Something struck Kuroha’s outstretched hand, and the entire golden ring convulsed as she tore away another section of its structure.

For a heartbeat, the summoning faltered.

Kade felt the familiar stones beneath his feet again.

He began falling forward.

Then a second circle appeared.

Smaller.

Brighter.

Drawn not around him, but through him.

Kuroha saw it.

And for the first time in his life, Kade Bher saw genuine terror on her face.

Not concern.

Not anger.

Not the stern expression she wore when he’d wandered somewhere dangerous.

Terror.

The kind that stripped all dignity from a person’s features.

Her eyes widened.

Her mouth opened.

Her hand reached toward him with a desperation so complete that Kade suddenly understood how terribly wrong everything had become.

”No!”

She lunged.

The distance between them vanished.

Then returned.

Then vanished again.

The light was closing faster.

Kade screamed.

”KUROHA!”

Her fingers brushed his.

Warm.

Real.

For one last instant, he felt the familiar touch of the person who had taken him in when he was small enough to believe the world had forgotten him.

Then the touch disappeared.

Kuroha’s expression broke.

”KAAAAADE!”

Her face was the last thing he saw.

The frightened face of the strongest person he knew.

The face of the aunt who had always been able to find a road home.

The face of someone who had reached him—

And still failed to keep him.

The gold swallowed everything.

The road disappeared.

The cedar trees vanished.

The stream.

The shrine.

The distant train.

The sound of Ranmei screaming his name.

All of it was gone.

And twelve-year-old Kade Bher fell into a world he had never heard of.

 IV. Marble Beneath His Hands

The first thing Kade felt was cold.

Not the crisp cold of a Mizunokuni winter morning.

Not the chill of river water splashing over his ankles.

A hard, merciless cold pressed against his palms.

Stone.

He was lying on stone.

His stomach lurched.

He tried to breathe.

The air smelled wrong.

Incense.

Wax.

Old dust.

Something sharp and metallic beneath the heavy sweetness of burning perfume.

He coughed.

Then pushed himself upward.

The surface beneath his hands was smooth white marble, veined with gold.

He stared at it.

His ears rang.

For several seconds, he couldn’t hear anything clearly.

Then the sounds began returning.

Voices.

Many voices.

Someone crying.

Someone shouting in a language he didn’t recognize.

A bell tolling somewhere overhead.

And a chorus of people speaking with the unmistakable sound of relief.

Kade lifted his head.

He was inside an enormous chamber.

Its ceiling rose so high that the uppermost vaults were lost in shadow. Golden columns climbed toward painted arches, each decorated with scenes of armored figures standing beneath radiant skies.

Banners hung between the pillars.

White and gold.

Deep blue.

Crimson.

Some bore crowns.

Others depicted stylized suns, swords, books, winged emblems, and unfamiliar heraldic devices.

Tall windows admitted shafts of afternoon light.

Beyond them, Kade could see towers.

Real towers.

Constructed of pale stone, crowned with golden roofs, rising above a city that spread toward distant hills.

There were bells ringing outside.

Not one.

Dozens.

Their voices overlapped until the entire city seemed to be celebrating something.

Kade stared.

”...Where...?”

He looked behind him.

There was no road.

No shrine.

No cedar tree.

No bridge.

No Ranmei.

No Kuroha.

Just polished marble.

And an intricate golden circle beneath his knees.

His breath caught.

He scrambled to his feet.

”Aunt Kuroha?”

His voice sounded very small inside the enormous room.

He looked around.

”Aunt Kuroha!”

Several people turned toward him.

They wore long ceremonial robes, some white, others embroidered with gold and crimson. Their clothing bore symbols Kade didn’t recognize.

A few were kneeling.

Others stood with their hands clasped before their chests.

An elderly man was openly weeping.

Kade barely noticed them.

”Ranmei?”

He turned in a full circle.

”Ranmei!”

No answer.

His heart began hammering.

He ran toward the nearest doorway.

Or tried to.

Two armored guards stood beside it, and one instinctively stepped forward as the boy approached.

Kade stopped.

The guard was enormous compared with him.

Metal armor.

A polished breastplate.

A sword at his hip.

He wasn’t holding the weapon, but the sight of it still made Kade hesitate.

”Please,” Kade said quickly. ”I need to go back.”

The guard blinked.

Kade pointed toward the place where he’d appeared.

”I was just there. I was with my family. Something happened, and now—”

His voice caught.

He swallowed.

”Please. I need to go home.”

The guard looked toward the robed figures.

One of them approached.

An elderly priest with trembling hands and a long ceremonial mantle.

He looked at Kade.

Then smiled.

”My child.”

Kade stepped backward.

The man extended both hands.

”Rejoice. You have answered our prayers.”

Kade stared at him.

”...What?”

The priest’s eyes filled with tears.

”The sacred calling has succeeded.”

Kade’s stomach tightened.

He looked past the man.

Toward the doors.

Toward the windows.

Anywhere that might offer a way out.

”I didn’t answer anything.”

The priest seemed not to hear him.

He turned toward the assembled clergy.

”Another has arrived!”

A murmur swept across the chamber.

Several people began crying openly.

Others bowed.

One woman pressed her hands over her mouth, overcome with emotion.

Kade stared.

He had no idea what they were celebrating.

He only knew that somewhere far away, Ranmei was probably still screaming.

And Kuroha—

His throat tightened.

He remembered her face.

The terror.

Her hand reaching for him.

His fingers almost touching hers.

Kade’s eyes began burning.

He rubbed them angrily.

”No.”

The priest turned back toward him.

”My child?”

”I didn’t agree to come here.”

The man’s expression softened in a way that made Kade suddenly, irrationally furious.

”All will be explained.”

”Then explain!”

The words echoed through the chamber.

Several guards shifted.

The priest blinked.

Kade stood with his fists clenched.

”Where am I?”

Silence.

”Where’s Ranmei?”

The priest glanced toward another robed figure.

Kade’s voice rose.

”Where’s my aunt?”

Finally, the man answered.

”You stand within the royal sanctum of Wysteria’s sacred summoning.”

Kade stared.

Wysteria.

The word meant nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He had never heard it before.

He didn’t know whether it was a city, a country, or a place so far from Mizunokuni that even Kuroha couldn’t reach it.

The priest knelt before him.

His eyes shone.

”You have been chosen.”

Kade stepped backward.

”...Chosen for what?”

The man smiled.

And the bells outside rang louder.

V. Seventeen Children

A girl was crying.

Kade heard her before he saw her.

It was a thin, frightened sound coming from somewhere behind the kneeling priest, almost lost beneath the bells and the murmuring crowd.

He turned toward it.

And only then did he realize he wasn’t alone.

The marble floor stretched across the chamber in a vast circular arrangement.

Golden summoning inscriptions covered its surface.

One circle lay beneath his feet.

Others occupied the surrounding floor, each separated by carefully carved channels filled with a faintly glowing substance.

And inside them stood children.

So many children.

Kade stared.

There was a boy who looked slightly younger than him, standing barefoot in a circle near the western pillars. His clothes were dirty, and one sleeve had been torn as though he’d been dragged away in the middle of something.

Another child wore a school uniform.

A girl with long hair stood beside a circle marked with the image of a blade. She looked about eleven, and her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely keep them together.

Near the center stood a boy perhaps sixteen years old, considerably taller than Kade, dressed in clothes that looked entirely unfamiliar. His face was pale, but he was trying to remain composed.

A younger boy kept turning toward the doors.

A girl was shouting for her mother.

Someone else was asking what had happened to his brother.

Another child had begun crying so hard that he could scarcely breathe.

Kade counted.

Not carefully.

Not at first.

He was too frightened.

But as his eyes moved across the marble floor, the numbers slowly arranged themselves.

Seventeen circles.

Seventeen children.

All of them surrounded by adults who appeared delighted.

The youngest looked no older than ten.

The oldest couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

And Kade, at twelve, was somewhere in the middle.

His stomach twisted.

They took all of us?

A little girl was kneeling near the center of the chamber.

She had dark hair and wore ordinary clothes that looked familiar enough to make Kade think of the world outside Mizunokuni’s hidden roads.

Her feet were bare against the marble.

She was looking around frantically.

”My bag...”

Her voice trembled.

”Where’s my bag?”

Nobody answered.

She turned toward a nearby attendant.

”Excuse me...”

The woman knelt.

The little girl looked at her.

”I was going to cross the road.”

The attendant’s expression softened.

The girl continued.

”There was a convenience store, and I...”

Her voice broke.

”I need my schoolbag.”

Kade felt something tighten inside his chest.

The woman took the girl’s hands.

”Do not be afraid, little one.”

The girl stared.

”Where’s my mom?”

The attendant didn’t answer.

Instead, she looked toward the elderly priests.

Then her expression filled with wonder.

”The Book...”

A pale radiance appeared above the little girl’s hands.

Kade stepped forward.

”What—?”

The light unfolded.

Pages appeared where there had been nothing.

Then a binding.

A cover.

An enormous, beautiful book settled into the child’s hands.

She gasped.

Its weight pulled her arms downward, and she nearly dropped it.

The attendant began crying.

”Thank the gods,” she whispered. ”The Book has answered.”

The little girl stared at the object.

She didn’t look blessed.

She looked terrified.

A priest approached the center of the chamber.

His voice rang beneath the vaulted ceiling.

”The Holy Book has manifested!”

A great murmur passed through the gathered adults.

Several bowed.

Others raised their hands.

The priest continued.

”Ayame Fubuki, bearer of the Holy Book!”

The girl flinched at her name.

Kade turned toward her.

Ayame.

She looked so small.

Ten years old, perhaps.

Her fingers clutched the book because she didn’t seem to know what else to do with it.

And tears were running down her face.

Kade stared at the adults surrounding her.

”Why are you happy?”

Nobody heard him.

Or perhaps they did, and simply didn’t understand the question.

 Another circle ignited.

This one was occupied by a boy of approximately fourteen.

He wore a worn jacket with carefully mended cuffs. His clothes looked older than the garments Kade recognized from ordinary modern life, though he couldn’t have explained exactly why.

The boy stood rigidly.

He wasn’t crying.

But his face had gone pale.

His eyes moved across the doors, the guards, and the gathered clergy with the tense attention of someone who had learned to notice danger before it announced itself.

Then light formed in his hands.

Metal appeared.

Dark.

Heavy.

A long-barreled weapon assembled itself beneath a lattice of pale golden script.

The boy gasped and staggered under its weight.

He managed not to fall.

Barely.

Kade recognized the shape.

A gun.

Not exactly like the firearms he’d occasionally seen in the outside world’s shops and museums, but close enough.

The fourteen-year-old stared at it.

Then looked toward the nearest guard.

”What is this?”

The guard hesitated.

The boy’s voice hardened.

”I said, what is this?”

The weapon shifted slightly in his hands.

Its metal surface seemed to rearrange itself, as though the object possessed more than one possible shape.

The boy froze.

A priest began shouting.

”The Guardian Firearm!”

Another answered.

”The Firearm Guardian has been called!”

The boy looked horrified.

A herald consulted a ceremonial register.

Then announced:

”Elias Vale! Guardian of the Sacred Firearm!”

Elias stared at him.

For a moment, his expression became almost angry.

Then he looked toward the other children.

Toward the crying girl with the Book.

Toward the guards.

Toward Kade.

Their eyes met briefly.

Neither spoke.

There was nothing useful to say.

They were strangers.

Children.

And neither knew where he was.

 The manifestations continued.

A bow appeared in the hands of a teenager who looked old enough to be approaching sixteen.

Its limbs glimmered with strange script.

The boy stared as though he expected the weapon to vanish if he stopped believing in it.

A small girl recoiled when a dagger formed in her hand.

She was only eleven.

She began shaking her head.

”No.”

The priest beside her announced the Vassal Dagger.

She shook her head harder.

”No, I don’t want it.”

An axe appeared in another circle.

Then a staff.

A spear-like weapon with an attached chain.

A scythe whose blade shimmered with pale magic.

An object resembling a ring, surrounded by impossible reflections.

The air above another child filled with the outline of a vessel unlike any ordinary sailing ship, its luminous framework folding and changing as though some greater form existed beyond the chamber’s dimensions.

The adults continued naming them.

Vassal.

Guardian.

Holy.

The words passed through the chamber like titles being assigned during a royal ceremony.

Kade heard them without understanding.

He watched a boy clutch a hammer nearly too large for him.

A girl struggled to untangle the coils of a weapon that resembled an enchanted whip.

Another child stared at a hunting knife that had materialized in her hand.

Some of the weapons looked magnificent.

Others looked frightening.

All of them belonged to children who had been standing in entirely different places only moments earlier.

A priest lifted his hands.

”The Vassal Weapons have answered!”

Another voice cried:

”The Guardians are present!”

Then a third, almost overwhelmed with emotion:

”The Holy Weapons! The sacred pillars have returned!”

The crowd began praying.

Kade stared.

Praying.

They were actually praying.

While children cried for their parents.

While a girl begged for her schoolbag.

While a boy stood shaking with a gun in his hands.

While Kade himself couldn’t stop seeing Kuroha’s terrified face.

His throat tightened.

”Stop it.”

Nobody reacted.

He raised his voice.

”Stop!”

The nearest priest turned.

”My child?”

Kade pointed toward the other circles.

”Can’t you see they’re scared?”

The man’s smile faltered.

Kade continued.

”They don’t know where they are!”

The priest hesitated.

”We understand that this is overwhelming—”

”No, you don’t!”

Kade’s voice cracked.

He hated that.

He hated how small he sounded.

But he couldn’t stop.

”That girl’s crying! That boy doesn’t even know what he’s holding!”

Several guards shifted near the doors.

The priest raised his hands.

”Please, young Hero. You must understand—”

”Don’t call me that!”

Silence spread through the nearest part of the chamber.

Kade’s chest rose and fell.

His hands shook.

He clenched them into fists.

”Just tell us how to get home.”

The priest looked at him.

Then glanced toward the elevated gallery.

Kade followed his gaze.

Above the chamber, behind a carved stone balustrade, stood a group of figures dressed in elaborate court clothing.

Nobles.

Advisers.

Members of the royal household, perhaps.

Some wore expressions of relief.

Others looked astonished.

One was weeping.

Kade stared at them.

The priest slowly lowered his hands.

”My child...”

Kade swallowed.

”Don’t.”

A pause.

”Please don’t call me that.”

The old man’s expression became uncertain.

Then, in a quieter voice, he answered:

”You have been brought here because our world is in grave danger.”

Kade stared.

The man continued.

”The Waves threaten our kingdoms. Our people suffer. Our armies have fought bravely, but without the sacred Heroes, we cannot hope to endure forever.”

Kade listened.

He didn’t understand.

Waves?

Kingdoms?

Armies?

What did any of that have to do with the path outside his home?

The priest knelt before him again.

”Your arrival is a blessing beyond measure.”

Kade looked past him.

Ayame was still crying.

Elias stood motionless, both hands gripping a weapon he clearly didn’t understand.

The others watched in frightened silence.

Kade turned back toward the priest.

”...Did you bring us here?”

The man hesitated.

Then nodded.

”Through the sacred summoning, yes.”

Kade felt something cold settle in his stomach.

”You did?”

”By the grace of the gods—”

”Did you?”

The question came louder.

The priest stopped.

Then answered.

”Yes.”

Kade stared at him.

For several seconds, he couldn’t speak.

Then he asked the only question that mattered.

”Why didn’t you ask?”

The priest blinked.

Kade’s voice trembled.

”Why didn’t you ask if we wanted to come?”

No one answered.

 VI. The Holy Gauntlet Hero

The circle beneath Kade’s feet began glowing again.

He stumbled backward.

The priest straightened.

Several attendants moved away.

A fresh murmur passed through the chamber.

Kade looked down.

Golden symbols were flowing toward him.

They climbed from the marble like threads of light.

He tried to step away.

The circle followed.

”No...”

The light reached his hands.

Kade jerked backward.

”Get off!”

The symbols wrapped around his wrists.

He pulled harder.

They tightened.

Not painfully.

That almost made it worse.

The sensation was impossibly intimate, as though something he had never met already knew the shape of his hands.

He looked toward the priest.

”MAKE IT STOP!”

The man stared.

Then his expression changed.

Wonder.

Awe.

Relief.

”Oh...”

Kade’s eyes widened.

”No.”

The light condensed.

Metal appeared around his fingers.

Not suddenly, in a single flash.

Piece by piece.

Articulated plates formed around his knuckles.

Reinforced structures settled across the backs of his hands.

Protective cuffs enclosed his wrists.

The metal was dark beneath its radiant markings, with pale gold seams tracing intricate patterns across the surface.

Small inset matrices glimmered between the plates, each containing a light that seemed to pulse according to rules Kade didn’t understand.

The gauntlets weren’t enormous.

They fitted his twelve-year-old hands.

That was somehow the most frightening part.

They fit perfectly.

As though they had been waiting for him.

Kade stared.

Then pulled at the right gauntlet.

It didn’t move.

He tried the left.

Nothing.

”Come off.”

The metal remained in place.

”Come off!”

A thin sound rang through his skull.

Not a bell.

Not a voice from the chamber.

Something closer than sound.

Lines of pale light appeared before his eyes.

Kade stumbled backward.

”What—?”

The letters moved when he moved his head.

He blinked.

They remained.

He closed his eyes.

They were still there, pressed against the darkness behind his eyelids.

His breathing quickened.

Then the symbols settled into words he could understand.

SACRED WEAPON RECOGNITION

 HOLY HERO CONFIRMED GAUNTLET HERO: KADE BHER WEAPON BOND ESTABLISHED WELCOME TO WYSTERIA

Kade stared.

His name.

It knew his name.

He hadn’t told anyone.

The letters glowed softly.

Beneath them, more information began appearing.

Numbers.

Symbols.

Categories he didn’t recognize.

Something labeled a level.

Several lines concerning weapon forms.

A series of empty spaces beside small gemstone-shaped markings.

He tried to focus on them.

The display shifted.

He looked away.

It followed.

The room spun.

”No...”

A priest shouted.

”The Gauntlets!”

Another voice answered.

”The Holy Gauntlet has manifested!”

The enormous chamber erupted.

The gathered clergy bowed.

Some dropped to their knees.

Several began weeping.

The bells outside rang faster.

A herald lifted a ceremonial staff.

His voice thundered through the vaulted hall.

”Behold! The Holy Gauntlet Hero has answered the summoning!”

Kade stood frozen.

The gauntlets felt heavy.

Not impossibly heavy.

But real.

The metal pressed against his hands.

The fitted plates moved when he moved his fingers.

He could feel their weight.

Their temperature.

The faint vibration of whatever magic lived inside them.

They were not an illusion.

They were not a costume.

And he couldn’t take them off.

The herald continued.

”KADE BHER!”

His name echoed between the pillars.

”BEARER OF THE HOLY GAUNTLETS!”

The clergy answered with a great cry of thanksgiving.

The sound struck Kade like a physical blow.

He stared at the adults.

At their smiles.

Their tears.

Their bowed heads.

And he understood something with the terrible simplicity of a frightened child.

They weren’t going to send him home.

Not now.

Not because he asked.

Not because he cried.

Not because Ranmei was waiting for him.

They had wanted him here.

They had reached into another place, taken him from the people who loved him, and brought him into this chamber because they needed something from him.

Kade’s throat tightened.

”...No.”

The priest approached.

”My young Hero—”

”No.”

The man stopped.

Kade raised his gauntleted hands.

They trembled.

”I don’t want these.”

Silence.

He looked toward the Book Hero.

Ayame was trying very hard not to cry again.

He looked toward the Firearm Guardian.

Elias’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Kade could see the strain in his face.

He looked toward the oldest children.

One had begun holding a younger boy’s hand.

Another stood between a frightened girl and a priest who kept attempting to reassure her.

Kade looked back at the man before him.

”I want to go home.”

The priest’s expression softened.

”I understand your distress.”

”No, you don’t.”

”You are frightened.”

”Yes!”

His voice broke.

”Yes, I’m frightened!”

Kade blinked angrily as tears began gathering in his eyes.

”I was with my friend!”

The priest remained silent.

”We were playing!”

A tear slipped down Kade’s cheek.

He wiped it away with the back of his wrist.

The metal gauntlet felt strange against his skin.

”My aunt was there.”

His voice grew smaller.

”She was right there.”

He remembered her face.

The fear.

Her hand reaching toward him.

The warmth of her fingers for one impossible instant.

Kade swallowed.

”She almost got me.”

The chamber was quiet around him.

The priest looked down.

Kade continued.

”She almost got me back.”

The old man opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Kade’s hands shook.

”...Please.”

The word barely escaped.

”Please let me go home.”

For a moment, something changed in the priest’s expression.

A flicker of discomfort.

Perhaps shame.

Perhaps the belated realization that the child standing before him was not responding like a figure from a sacred painting.

He was a little boy.

A little boy with tears on his cheeks and strange metal wrapped around his hands.

But then the bells outside rang again.

The priest lowered his gaze.

And when he spoke, his voice had regained its ceremonial certainty.

”The sacred Weapons have chosen their bearers. You have been called to save Wysteria.”

Kade stared.

The man continued.

”We will help you understand your duty.”

Duty.

The word felt ugly.

Kade looked toward the other children.

Some were crying.

Some had stopped.

The ones who had stopped weren’t necessarily calmer.

They simply seemed too frightened to make noise anymore.

A priest near the entrance began leading a prayer.

The words rolled through the chamber.

A hundred adult voices answered.

Kade looked down at his hands.

The gauntlets glimmered.

The strange words still hovered at the edge of his vision.

WELCOME TO WYSTERIA.

He hated them.

He hated the golden circle.

He hated the bells.

He hated the fact that everyone was smiling.

And more than anything, he hated the empty space where the road home should have been.

 VII. The First Promise

The formal celebration continued for some time.

Kade couldn’t have said how long.

Minutes passed strangely in the enormous chamber.

Priests moved between the children, offering explanations that seemed to raise more questions than they answered.

Attendants brought water.

Some tried to help the younger children sit down.

A few of the guards quietly moved away from the doors, apparently realizing that their presence was frightening people who had already endured more than enough.

The nobles on the gallery continued observing.

And the bells outside eventually stopped.

That was the first relief Kade had experienced since arriving.

The silence afterward felt enormous.

He stood near one of the pillars, holding a small cup of water someone had pressed into his hands.

The gauntlets made the cup awkward to hold.

He kept expecting them to vanish.

They didn’t.

When he set the cup down, he tried again to loosen the fitting around his left wrist.

Nothing.

He pulled harder.

The metal refused to move.

A frustrated sound escaped him.

”Stupid thing...”

”Does yours come off?”

Kade turned.

The little girl with the Book was standing nearby.

Ayame.

Her face was blotchy from crying.

She held the enormous volume against her chest, struggling slightly with its weight.

Kade looked at her.

Then down at his hands.

”...No.”

She lowered her eyes.

”Mine doesn’t either.”

He considered that.

Then said, ”Maybe the adults know how.”

Ayame glanced toward the priests.

Her expression suggested she did not find the possibility particularly comforting.

Kade couldn’t blame her.

A pause followed.

Then he asked, ”Are you okay?”

Ayame looked at him.

For a moment, she seemed unsure how to answer.

Then she shook her head.

”...No.”

Kade nodded.

”Me neither.”

The little girl looked down at her Book.

”I want my mom.”

His chest tightened.

He looked toward the windows.

Beyond them, the city glowed beneath a brilliant blue sky.

It was beautiful.

Golden towers.

White stone.

Banners moving in the wind.

A city large enough that thousands of people might live within its walls.

None of it made him feel better.

”My aunt’s going to be really mad,” he said.

Ayame blinked.

”Your aunt?”

Kade nodded.

”Yeah.”

”At you?”

”No.”

He hesitated.

Then looked toward the clergy.

”...At them.”

Ayame followed his gaze.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then she asked quietly, ”Can she come get you?”

Kade opened his mouth.

He almost said yes.

Of course she could.

Kuroha could find anything.

She knew the roads.

She knew the boundaries.

She could make impossible distances disappear.

She’d been doing it for as long as Kade could remember.

There wasn’t a place in Mizunokuni he couldn’t imagine her reaching.

But then he remembered her face.

That moment of terror.

Her fingers brushing his.

The golden light closing between them.

Kade looked down.

”...I don’t know.”

Ayame’s shoulders slumped.

He hated seeing that.

He hated how small she looked.

How frightened.

How carefully she held the Book, as though dropping it might make something worse happen.

He tried to think of something reassuring.

Something an adult might say.

But every adult in this place seemed to have forgotten how to answer the simplest questions.

So Kade said the only honest thing he could.

”I’m going to try.”

Ayame looked up.

”Try what?”

”To get home.”

She stared at him.

He looked toward the enormous doors.

Then toward the golden circles.

Then at the gauntlets he couldn’t remove.

”I don’t know how yet.”

His voice shook.

”But I’m going to try.”

Ayame considered that.

Then asked:

”...Can I come too?”

Kade blinked.

She looked embarrassed immediately.

”I mean, if you find a way. I don’t know where your home is, and I don’t know how I got here, and—”

”Yeah.”

She stopped.

Kade nodded.

”Of course.”

Her eyes widened.

”Really?”

”Yeah.”

He tried to smile.

It wasn’t particularly convincing.

But he managed.

”We’ll figure something out.”

Ayame looked at him for several seconds.

Then nodded.

”...Okay.”

A small silence settled between them.

Then someone approached.

The boy with the firearm.

Elias.

He looked toward Kade.

Then toward Ayame.

His weapon rested awkwardly in his hands.

He kept its muzzle pointed toward the floor.

”Did either of you understand what that man said about the Waves?”

Kade shook his head.

”No.”

Ayame shook hers too.

Elias sighed.

”Wonderful.”

Kade looked at him.

The older boy looked tired.

Not physically exhausted.

Something else.

He had the expression of somebody who’d been trying to keep himself calm for so long that the effort was beginning to hurt.

Kade understood a little of that.

”My name’s Kade,” he said.

Elias looked at him.

”I heard.”

”Oh.”

A pause.

Then the older boy answered.

”Elias.”

Kade nodded.

”Hi.”

”Hi.”

Ayame looked between them.

Then spoke quietly.

”I’m Ayame.”

Elias glanced toward her.

His expression softened.

”Hello, Ayame.”

She hugged the Book closer.

For a moment, the three stood together.

A ten-year-old girl.

A twelve-year-old boy.

And a fourteen-year-old boy.

All holding weapons they had never asked for.

All surrounded by people who seemed delighted by their arrival.

All trying to understand what had happened to their lives.

Then Elias looked toward the doors.

”They haven’t told us whether we can leave.”

Kade’s expression hardened.

”I asked.”

”What did they say?”

”They didn’t answer.”

Elias nodded slowly.

That seemed to tell him enough.

Ayame looked frightened again.

Kade noticed.

He took a small step closer.

”It’s okay.”

She looked at him.

He hesitated.

Then corrected himself.

”...Well, no. It’s not okay.”

Elias glanced toward him.

Kade continued.

”But we’re not going to just stand here forever.”

Ayame nodded faintly.

Elias studied him for a moment.

Then looked away.

”...Good.”

The word was quiet.

But Kade heard it.

 Later, when the priests began gathering the children to escort them away from the summoning chamber, Kade looked back one last time.

The golden circles had gone dark.

The marble floor was clean.

The banners stirred in the faint breeze moving through the high windows.

Everything looked terribly ordinary.

As though nothing important had happened.

As though nobody had been stolen.

As though the chamber hadn’t just changed seventeen lives forever.

Kade stared at the place where he had appeared.

He remembered the shrine road.

The stream.

The cicadas.

The smell of warm cedar.

Ranmei shouting because he had called her Auntie.

Her nine tails flashing through the sunlight as she chased him toward the bridge.

Kuroha standing beneath the trees, smiling as she watched them.

Then the ring.

The light.

The screaming.

Her face.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

For one desperate moment, he tried to remember exactly how she’d looked before everything went wrong.

Not frightened.

Not reaching for him.

Just smiling.

He could almost hear her voice.

Come along. It will be time to eat soon.

His chest hurt.

He wanted dinner.

He wanted to run home.

He wanted to complain about washing the dishes.

He wanted Ranmei to chase him down the path again.

He wanted to sit beside Kuroha and ask her another silly question about roads.

He wanted the afternoon back.

A guard called gently from the doorway.

”Young Hero?”

Kade opened his eyes.

The gauntlets remained on his hands.

The strange System still waited at the edge of his vision.

Outside, an unfamiliar city stretched beneath an unfamiliar sky.

He swallowed.

Then looked toward the guard.

”My name is Kade.”

The man blinked.

”Yes, Holy Gauntlet—”

”Kade.”

A pause.

The guard hesitated.

Then nodded.

”...Kade.”

The boy looked at him for another moment.

Then turned toward the doorway.

Ayame was waiting beside Elias.

The other children stood beyond them.

Some were holding hands.

Some were crying quietly.

The oldest were trying to keep the youngest calm, despite looking hardly less frightened themselves.

Kade walked toward them.

His gauntlets made faint metallic sounds as he moved.

He didn’t like the noise.

He didn’t like the weight.

He didn’t like the people calling him blessed.

But when Ayame reached toward him with one hand, he took it.

Carefully.

The metal around his fingers felt strange against her small palm.

She looked up.

He tried to smile.

”Come on.”

Together, the children followed their attendants out of the chamber.

Beyond the doors lay corridors decorated with gold.

Beyond the palace rose towers.

Beyond the city waited kingdoms they had never seen, armies they had never met, and a war they knew nothing about.

Kade didn’t know any of that.

He didn’t know how long he would remain in this strange place.

He didn’t know what the Gauntlets could do.

He didn’t know what the adults intended to make him fight.

And he didn’t know whether Kuroha had found even the smallest trace of the road that had taken him.

He only knew that he’d been stolen.

That the people around him had called the theft a blessing.

And that somewhere in Mizunokuni, a thirteen-year-old fox girl and the aunt who loved him were waiting for a boy who had been expected home for dinner.

Kade tightened his hold on Ayame’s hand.

Then made himself a promise.

A simple one.

The sort a frightened twelve-year-old could understand.

I’m going home.

He didn’t know how.

He didn’t know when.

But he was going to try.

Behind him, the summoning chamber doors began closing.

Their heavy hinges groaned.

The light from the great windows narrowed.

Then vanished.

And deep inside the strange magic bound to his hands, words he had never wanted to see remained written across his vision.

HOLY GAUNTLET HERO — KADE BHER

WELCOME TO WYSTERIA

The doors closed.

And the first day of his captivity began.