The Last Bargain

Chapter IX: The Shrine Of Forgotten Voices

The path grew steeper as Zento and Shin continued their climb, the jagged rocks underfoot making each step treacherous. The air was thin here, colder with each passing moment, and the fog had given way to a biting wind that whipped at their clothes and skin. Zento kept his eyes fixed ahead, pushing himself forward. He could feel the weariness in his legs, the dull ache in his muscles, but he refused to let it slow him down. They were getting closer; he could feel it in his bones.

Shin walked beside him, his breathing heavy but controlled. "That woman back there," he said, breaking the silence, "do you think she was a human, or... something else?"

Zento considered the question for a moment. "I'm not sure," he replied. "She could have been a spirit, a guardian, or even one of the gods in disguise. Whatever she was, she wasn't invincible. And if she was meant to stop us, it means we're getting close."

Shin nodded, glancing around. "The air feels... different up here. Like it's charged with something."

Zento felt it too—a strange, electric sensation that seemed to hum in the air around them, like the air before a thunderstorm. "It's power," he said quietly. "We're nearing the shrine. The gods are close."

They pushed on, their steps steady but cautious. The path wound around a sheer cliff face, narrowing to the width of a single person. Below them, the mountain dropped away into darkness, the sound of a distant river echoing up from the depths. Zento kept his back against the cliff, moving carefully, one step at a time. The wind howled, threatening to knock them off balance, but he stayed focused.

After what felt like an eternity, the path widened again, opening up into a small clearing. Zento stepped forward, and there, in the center of the clearing, stood the shrine. It was an ancient structure, made of dark, weathered stone, its roof sloping steeply like the wings of a great bird. Moss and vines covered its surface, and the entrance was guarded by two large stone statues of fierce-looking foxes, their eyes seeming to glow in the dim light.

"This is it," Zento whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.

Shin nodded, his eyes fixed on the shrine. "It feels... alive," he murmured.

Zento stepped forward, feeling a strange sensation wash over him as he approached the shrine. The air grew thicker, heavier, and he felt a slight pressure against his chest, as if the very atmosphere were pushing back against him. He stopped in front of the entrance, staring up at the ancient wooden doors, carved with symbols he did not recognize.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and touched the door. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the door began to creak open, the sound echoing like a deep groan through the clearing. A rush of warm air burst forth, carrying with it the scent of incense and something else—something sweet, like old flowers or rotting fruit.

Zento stepped back, instinctively reaching for his sword. "Stay alert," he warned Shin. "This place may be protected."

They stepped inside, the darkness of the shrine swallowing them whole. The interior was vast and dimly lit, with thick columns holding up the roof, their surfaces etched with more of the strange symbols. The floor was made of smooth stone, polished by centuries of footsteps, and at the far end of the hall, they could see a raised platform with a large stone altar.

On the altar lay an object, covered with a cloth of deep crimson. It seemed to glow faintly, pulsing with a soft, steady light. Zento felt his heart quicken. "That must be what we're looking for," he said.

Shin nodded, his eyes wide with awe. "But what is it?"

They approached cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the empty hall. As they drew closer, Zento felt a strange pull, like an invisible hand reaching out and tugging at his soul. He hesitated for a moment, then forced himself to move forward. "Whatever it is, it's important," he said. "We need to see it."