The Wind and Thunder Gorge, one of the four territories within the Western Lands ruled by a high-ranking yōkai, was home to the Tengu tribe's most representative branch — the Crow Tengu.
On either side of the gorge, sheer cliffs soared skyward, layer upon layer of jagged rock in strange formations. At the gorge's base, a wide river surged forward, its waters a deep indigo-blue. The current was swift and violent, white spray rising where the waves broke.
Above, the skies were ever-shifting. Clouds as black as ink rolled overhead, lightning flashing like silver serpents across the heavens, followed by thunder that shook the gorge itself.
Guarding the gorge's entrance camp stood figures with the heads of crows and the bodies of men. Each had four taloned limbs, and behind them stretched a pair of black wings, two to three meters in span. Male or female, they all wore armored garb, the form of warrior-samurai. These were the Crow Tengu; tall, humanoid bird-demons — stationed here in the hundreds.
The camp itself was not large, housing only three to four hundred Crow Tengu of lower and mid-level strength.
One Crow Tengu commander, his expression tense, beat his wings and flew inward toward the heart of the gorge. He passed into an ancient hall built into the cliffs, where the clan's leadership gathered.
Inside the broad chamber, dark-purple demonic aura filled the air. At the head sat the Crow Tengu clan's sole high-ranking yōkai — their chieftain, An'umaru.
In his brown avian eyes flickered the weight of thought. At last, he spoke, voice deep and deliberate:
"Matters stand as you have all observed. Our clan faces two choices, and each must be weighed with utmost care."
"First," he continued, "we may bind ourselves fully to the Dog Clan. When the Leopard Cat Tribe musters their strength to strike at the Dog Clan's fortress, we would commit ourselves to restraining them. But should we do so, our clan risks bearing the brunt of the Leopard Cats' wrath. The Dogs may not come to our aid swiftly enough — leaving us crippled."
Within the Western Lands, once two great Daiyōkai had arisen — the Panther King and the Dog General — there had been a tacit balance. Neither would make a move against the smaller powers.
But the Crow Tengu had ever to fear the Leopard Cat Tribe's elders, who could press them with overwhelming force.
An'umaru's gaze swept over his silent commanders. To the Cats or the Dogs, these might be captains at best. Yet to the Crow Tengu, they were irreplaceable pillars of strength.
"Were it not for how vital the Wind and Thunder Gorge is to us," he sighed inwardly, "I would have long since led the clan away from the Western Lands."
Still, his face remained stern as he pressed on:
"The second path — to turn a blind eye when the Leopard Cats redeploy against the Dogs' fortress. Afterwards, they are unlikely to bear us much ill will. Yet understand this: if we do nothing, the Dog Clan will no longer trust us. To them, the Crow Tengu will be seen as unreliable."
Finishing, An'umaru narrowed his avian eyes, a sharp gleam flashing within. He studied his commanders — most already tempted by the safer course, while he himself weighed the risks.
But he knew the truth: the choice had never truly lain with the Crow Tengu.
Had the Dog General not suddenly emerged long ago, the Leopard Cats' ruler would have given them only two options — submit, or abandon their ancestral home.
Survival left no room for choice.
And now, in truth, little had changed.
His taloned hand brushed the great wings upon his back, already fused with the clan's treasured Storm Wings — the Wind Wings that crackled faintly with arcs of lightning. His thoughts flickered further, to the Thunder Spear, still being forged deep within the gorge.
These heavenly treasures, born of rare fates and materials, were divine gifts to the Crow Tengu. The thought of them set his blood aflame.
With such weapons… perhaps even I could step into the realm of a Daiyōkai.
When his commanders offered no better counsel, the discussion ended swiftly, An'umaru's final word sealing their course.
The Crow Tengu would buy time. They would let the Leopard Cats redeploy their higher ranks, offering token resistance only — enough to appear involved, but never risking the clan's fate.
An'umaru did not see himself as a vassal of the Dog General. The Crow Tengu would not wager their entire destiny for the Dogs' sake.
Meanwhile, within the hollowed heart of the cliff…
A slender young woman in flowing black robes descended a spiral staircase, candlelight flickering against her pale face.
The deeper she went, the drier the air became. With each step, static cracked faintly at the brush of her garments.
Passing through two guarded checkpoints, she emerged into a vast chamber where a wide altar gleamed under ghostly blue arcs of lightning.
Her cold gaze fell upon the weapon laid there — a long spear inlaid with a sapphire gemstone, still half-complete, yet radiating a power that made even the storm-born Tengu shudder.
"The hope of the clan… how grand it sounds," she murmured.
The girl, known as Nuyā, advanced with unhurried steps. Her raven-black hair flowed like liquid silk down her back, swaying softly as she moved.
Her face, beautiful yet aloof, betrayed no joy nor sorrow. When she lifted her hand, her wide sleeve slipped back, revealing a pale wrist — marred by scars, some fresh, others long-healed.
Her fingers shifted, forming sharp talons. With a faint scratch, she opened her own skin.
Scarlet blood welled forth, gathering at her clawed fingertips. With a shake, she let it fall. Encased in demonic power, it splashed upon the sapphire of the Thunder Spear.
This weapon — still but a half-forged relic — required the blood of the clan itself to purge its violent essence.
Under Nuyā's watchful gaze, crimson patterns flickered faintly across the spear's surface. The weapon still resisted her, yet now a fragile thread of connection had been formed.
Nuyā was the third daughter of An'umaru. Her elder brothers were both commanders of renown. But she, weak in power, had been condemned to this ritual task for two long years.
Yet her keen mind had already discerned her father's design.
Her brothers were no less ambitious. Should either obtain the Storm Wings, they might well break through to become a high yōkai. With both Storm Wings and the Thunder Spear… even the level of a daiyōkai might not be beyond their grasp.
How could An'umaru allow them to be the ones to shed blood in ritual? What if they seized the spear to challenge him, cut down his wings, and cast him aside?
But a daughter, unsupported within the clan — she posed no such threat.
Even should she falter, An'umaru was confident he could reclaim the spear.
"What a joyless clan," she whispered.
Her voice low, Nuyā lowered her hand, the sleeve falling once more to hide her wrist. She cast no backward glance at the Thunder Spear, but turned and left in silence.
Her slender figure wavered faintly in the candlelight, as though staggering.
At the same time, within his own estate, Tōga sat cross-legged in meditation. His golden eyes shone, filled with resolve.
He was ready to break through.