Dawn Of Twilight

Chapter 16 : The Deity of Untimely Death

Erevin and Dawn stepped off the quiet road and onto the stone path winding up the hillside. From far away, it looked like nothing more than a bump in the land—a gentle, wooded rise. But standing here, at its base, the so-called hill loomed like a forgotten mountain, its shadow stretching long over the land below.

Erevin slipped the hood over his head. It was loose, the fabric dipping low enough to shadow his eyes. The last rays of sun filtered through the trees behind them, flickering like flame across his shoulders. He glanced up.

The structure ahead looked like something pulled straight out of a dream or a memory too ancient to place. No gate marked the entrance. Just two towering stone pillars framing an open archway wide enough to drive a truck through. Beyond it, steps disappeared into the thick green silence of the shrine's inner path.

Nature had crept in over the years—ivy coiled up the stone columns, moss softened the edges, and wildflowers poked through cracks in the stonework—but none of it felt like decay. It was... elegant. The kind of place that hadn't been abandoned, just waiting.

A girl stood near the threshold. Not too far inside, not too close to the outside. Her white blouse fluttered in the breeze, and she had a folder pressed to her chest, eyes scanning for someone. She looked up as they approached.

Dawn slowed. Erevin felt her shift beside him, her steps suddenly more hesitant.

The girl gave a small wave.

Dawn didn't wave back. Not yet.

Erevin's eyes flicked between the girl and the structure behind her. Something about the silence here—the way the wind moved but didn't rustle—made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

He adjusted his hood and leaned slightly toward Dawn.

"...Still want to go through with this?" he murmured.

She didn't answer at first. Just took a breath and stepped forward.

Dawn approached the girl with quiet steps, her voice caught somewhere between her throat and her chest. Erevin followed a pace behind, his hood casting shadows across his features, his hands tucked in his pockets, scanning everything—stone, ivy, moss, sky.

The girl turned toward them. She couldn't have been older than thirteen. Her hair was tied back in a neat braid, and her outfit—an elaborate blouse tucked into a pleated skirt, embroidered ribbons trailing from her sleeves—looked like something out of a historical play. She didn't just look dressed up. She looked out of place, like she'd stepped out of another time entirely.

Her wide eyes locked on Dawn—and for a moment, everything stopped.

Her mouth parted, a breath catching before words. "You're—"

"I know," Dawn interrupted, quietly but firmly. "I know. I just want to see the shrines."

There was a pause. The girl's brows drew together, a flicker of something like disbelief—or awe—passing behind her eyes. Then, without another word, she gave a small bow and stepped aside from the path.

"My name is Ruoxi Devoe," she said, her voice soft but practiced, as if reciting something she'd memorized long ago. "I'm the youngest of the Devoe family, keepers of these shrines. I was told to expect visitors, but... you're very late. And the mountain isn't wired for electricity. After sunset, you won't see much of anything."

"We'll manage," Dawn said, almost immediately. Her tone wasn't impatient—it was determined. Almost pleading beneath the surface.

Ruoxi studied her for a beat longer, then gave a tiny nod. "Very well. But we'll have to go quickly."