The graveyard was older than the city around it—buried by time, erased by maps, and swallowed by fog that never lifted. The deeper I wandered through its forgotten rows, the more my form flickered. Being a spirit had its perks, but in places like this? I felt barely there.Still, I moved like a detective on a scent. My eyes didn't need to see the living; they read the remnants—residual energy, footprints left in air, emotions imprinted into dirt."Someone was here last night," I whispered, crouching beside a disturbed grave.Miranda's voice echoed faintly behind me. "Malik?"I shook my head. "No. Not him from the energy. Someone faster. Quieter. Obsessed."The grave was freshly unsealed, but not looted. No signs of chaos—just a method. Precise cuts in the dirt. Old runes brushed clean with reverence. And in the air, a heat that shouldn't have been there. Not death energy. Desire.I followed the trail deeper. Each broken leaf and disturbed stone told me a story, one written in instinct and sorrow. The pull became stronger near a collapsed mausoleum—a quiet ache in the soulspace.There.I phased through the broken archway, and found him.Jin.The Bloodmoon Ronin knelt before an exposed sarcophagus in the center of the chamber. His long coat pooled around him like smoke. Twin swords leaned against the cracked stone wall, forgotten. In his hands, he held the Grave Orb—a sphere of translucent bone and shadow, glowing from within with pulsing cyan light.But he wasn't weaponized. Not yet. His posture wasn't that of a soldier preparing for battle.It was someone mourning.He whispered something into the orb. A name, maybe. A plea.I floated closer, unseen. His voice reached me like a memory."…just a little more. I'll bring you back."He pressed his forehead to the orb, and for the first time since I'd seen him, he removed his mask.Jin was young—surprisingly so. His features were sharp, but worn by grief. Scars curled along his jawline like ghost stories.And his eyes? Crimson. Not by birth, but by choice.That much rage had to be chosen."I know what you're doing," I said, revealing myself.He flinched, but didn't attack."You're not looking for power," I continued. "Not for Malik. You're looking for her."He stood slowly, holding the orb close like it was sacred. "You're clever for a ghost.""I see what others overlook. It's what kept me alive—until I wasn't."Jin studied me. "You're not a banshee. Not fully. You haven't crossed.""I'm still alive," I said. "Body missing. Malik's doing."At that, his face darkened like he knew. "Then you understand. What it's like to be torn in half."I nodded. "Who was she?"He looked down at the orb, the way someone might hold an old photograph. "Her name was Alina. A Yokai. She was outcased and killed, same as me. She was part of the original Moonbound— "My last dying memory is jumping in front of her right before being stabbed in the chest with a katana.""Do you know what happened to her?"" These remains are the rest of her body. The only way to rebuild her is with a Grave Orb—if I get enough pieces.""And Malik promised to help.""He said he'd fund my search. That I could rebuild her once he tore the Veil open.""But he lied," I said.Jin smiled bitterly. "How?, Why?. But he gave me access to places even the Order won't touch. For her."I floated closer, my voice softer. "What if the thing you're making isn't really her?"He didn't answer.I reached out, touching the air just above the orb. Its glow flickered, and I felt her. A woman's essence curled inside like smoke—splintered and afraid."She's still in there," I whispered. "Trapped."Jin looked at me, his eyes gleaming with unshed rage. "Then you understand why I won't let you take this from me.""No," I said. "But I understand what it's like to love someone who's gone and the rage left behind."He turned away knowing he had a hand in my demise.And that's when Miranda appeared, stepping through the mausoleum's door, energy pulsing at her palms."Jin," she growled. "Step away from the orb."He faced her, mask dropping back into place. The swords glinted in the torchlight."This isn't your fight, Miranda."He readied himself. But I moved between them."Stop!" I yelled. "This isn't about war. Not yet.""He's working for Malik," Miranda said, voice sharp. "You know that.""He's also broken," I said. "And searching for someone the world already buried."Jin held the orb tighter. "You're not stopping me.""No," I said. "But you're not leaving here with that orb either."Jin's hand twitched toward his sword, but then something strange happened.The orb pulsed—once, then twice—then violently shuddered in his hands. He dropped it, startled, as a whispery voice escaped its core."…Jin?"His face went pale.The orb cracked.A strand of pure soul-light bled from its center, curling into the air like mist."Yukiana," he whispered.And just like that, the light vanished.Gone.The orb fell silent, dark.Jin dropped to his knees.I approached him, slow and careful. "That was all that was left, wasn't it?""She's fading," he said, voice hollow. "Even in death, she's slipping away from me."I knelt beside him, a ghost comforting a man haunted by love. "Then let me help. Malik's not going to save her. But maybe… maybe we can."Behind us, Miranda lowered her hands.Jin didn't speak. But he didn't fight either.And in that silence, I knew something had changed.Not peace. Not yet.But something close to trust.
