Mist coiled low across the valley floor as Shino descended the last hill. The River of Mist was close—he could hear its rushing water faintly in the distance—but another sound reached him first: the rise and fall of a man's voice, commanding and persuasive.
He followed the sound until he came upon a gathering of travelers and villagers in a clearing. At the center stood a tall man in ragged white robes, his long hair tied back with a strip of cloth. He held a crooked staff in one hand and spoke with a voice that carried like a temple bell.
"…the world burns because the old spirits have abandoned us!" the man cried, pointing dramatically toward the sky. "But fear not! I alone have spoken with them. I alone know the way to cleanse this land of its curses!"
The crowd murmured, some nodding, others whispering nervously.
Shino stopped at the edge of the gathering. Something about the man's presence unsettled him. His words were full of fire, but his eyes were cold—too calculating, too sharp.
The preacher's gaze fell on Shino. "Ah," he said with a smile that felt like a blade. "Another wanderer seeking truth? Come closer, boy. Do you not wish to be free of the world's sins?"
Shino stepped forward cautiously. "I wish for the world to be free of lies," he said evenly.
The preacher's smile faltered for a heartbeat before returning, wider this time. "Lies? No, child. What I speak is truth. These people have suffered drought, sickness, misfortune—do you think it coincidence? No. The land is cursed. And there is only one way to lift it."
He struck his staff against the ground. "A sacrifice must be made. The spirits demand it. One pure soul must be offered to cleanse the valley."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Fear took hold of their faces.
"That's not true," Shino said firmly. "The spirits don't demand blood. They demand understanding. The land suffers because men fight and take more than they give. Sacrifice won't change that."
The preacher's eyes narrowed. "Ah, so you claim to know the will of the spirits better than I?"
Shino met his gaze without flinching. "I don't claim anything. But I've seen what happens when people believe fear over truth. It leads to more death, not less."
The preacher turned to the crowd, gesturing dramatically toward Shino. "You hear him? He dares to defy the will of the unseen! Perhaps he is the cause of your misfortune. Perhaps he carries the curse upon him."
The crowd murmured again, this time with fear directed toward Shino.
For a moment, he felt the same chill he had felt in the village square during the Fire Circle. But this time, he had already walked through fire and survived.
He stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying. "If I am cursed, then strike me down now. Let the spirits judge me here, before all of you."
The clearing went silent. Even the preacher froze, his staff hovering in midair.
The wind picked up suddenly, swirling the mist around them. It was as if the valley itself had been waiting for this moment.
Then the mist parted, revealing the river beyond—clear, shining in the morning light. Birds called from the trees. The heaviness in the air lifted.
The people gasped. Some began to cry softly, realizing what they had almost done.
Shino turned back to the preacher. "If the spirits wanted blood, they would not have opened the way. You speak not for them, but for yourself."
The preacher's face twisted in anger, but he said nothing. With a hiss of frustration, he turned and vanished into the forest, his followers scattering after him.
The crowd turned to Shino, some bowing, others simply watching in silence. One old man stepped forward and pressed a packet of dried herbs into Shino's hands.
"For protection," he said quietly. "And… thank you."
Shino nodded and moved toward the river. As he crossed the clearing, he looked back once. The people were still there, staring at him as if he were something more than just a boy.
But Shino felt no pride. Only the weight of knowing how easily they could have been led to darkness.
He tightened his grip on the talisman.
"The Preacher of Lies will find others to deceive," he murmured to himself. "But not here. Not today."
And with that, he stepped into the mist that rolled from the river, ready to face whatever waited on the other side.