The storm hadn't touched this far north yet—but the sky promised it would.
Aira stood barefoot on the cliff's edge, eyes closed, cloak fluttering like broken wings. Below her, a valley carved in ice, untouched for centuries. Behind her, a dozen soldiers lay unconscious, blades knocked from their hands. Not killed. Just sleeping.
She didn't kill if she didn't have to.
Even if she could.
Her blade, Shiranami—"White Wave"—rested in the snow, humming faintly with a pulse only she could hear. It was alive, in a way. Some said the sword chose her. Others whispered that she wasn't human at all, but a wandering curse. A ghost born from the last breath of a fallen empire.
But that wasn't the truth.
The truth was worse.
She had once had a name: Aira no Yukiko—the daughter of a rebel general and the last seer of the East. She had watched her father bleed out beneath the cherry trees. Watched her mother scream as flames devoured their temple. That night, something broke inside her. Something ancient.
And when the ash settled, her hair had turned white.
Her sword had begun to sing.
And Aira stopped crying altogether.
—
In the shadow of the dusk, another figure climbed the cliff slowly, breath ragged, boots bloodied.
Kaien.
His crimson cloak clung to his soaked armor, the silver scar across his cheek stinging in the cold. He saw her silhouette against the pale clouds—still, almost inhuman. But when he stepped closer, the air changed. Warmer. Like stepping into memory.
"You disappeared," he said. "For five months."
Aira didn't turn. "So did you."
"I was hunting the Mirrorless. Tracking what's left of the Obsidian Line."
"You weren't hunting," she whispered. "You were hiding."
Kaien flinched. "And what about you? What do you call this?"
She finally looked at him—eyes like glass over fire. "I call it… waiting."
"For what?"
"For the storm to reach us."
—
They didn't speak for a long time. The wind howled between them, carrying the smell of old magic and rotting snow. Far below, an army moved. Quiet, patient, cloaked in dusk-blue flags.
The Empire's new hunters.
Kaien unsheathed his sword slowly. "They're close."
"I know," Aira said.
"We'll have to move at dawn."
"No," she replied, kneeling by her blade. "We'll move now."
"You're not ready."
She looked up at him—eyes tired, voice steady. "Kaien… I've been ready since the night I lost everything."
He nodded once.
Then the ground began to shake.
And the sky tore open