High rise.

The torrid rays of the Sun beamed down upon the group, skin inflamed as they made their rapid escape from the wretched woods. Time dwindled as the storm nipped at their heels, the entire valley engulfed in its shadow. Within seconds of its arrival, acid rain sprinkled down from the roasted clouds as they concealed the clear blue skies.

Takeo and the rest of the Sun Kissed Warriors were quick to escape the valley, cloaks held about their heads as they sped along the beaten gravel path. Their salvation was in sight in the form of a small boxed lift. The small pulley system, managed by a duo of guardian scouts atop the cliffside, hung freely above the ground awaiting their arrival.

Plop. Drip. Drip. Plop. Drip.

Rounded bulbs of toxic water plummeted down from the dastardly invasive clouds above. No time was wasted as the drizzle snowballed into a full downpour. Rapid streaks of such a corrosive liquid could melt one’s skin. Too heavy to ignore, Takeo picked up the pace, arm outstretched as he firmly grasped onto the lift’s central rope.

Tug—Tug. Tug-Tug-Tug. Tug.

A defined pattern was intercepted from above, feet rushed as the guardians thrust themselves into action. Little by little, the dead-wood basket eased its way into the air. The rope stretched thin, frays splintered off from the sheer tension brought on by the group's weight. A breeze swayed it along the coarse hillside, the edges of the box scratched raw by jagged pikes of degraded gray rock.

Bits of vass and wild clubmoss clung to the side of the coarse stone slope. Teeny canary-yellow petals swirled together in spiral pikes from the veins of moss that enveloped the cliffside. Flowers in early bloom were forced to cope with the drastic shift of seasons that came with the eleven-year shift in the Sun’s poles. Now ready and willing to accept the blaring rays of mid-Spring. Vines wound tight on the divots within the cliffside, their green stems rejoicing in the wind as the rain slid down to their exposed roots. Somewhat nutritious even in the direst of circumstances.

Hoisted up to the top, everyone piled out as the cage door swung open. Takeo fanned them all out of the basket onto the stable Nippon grounds. Directed by the sole pathing of his outline in the heavy rainfall, he led the rest of the group to where Genki and Yoshito took Daisuke: the Mishiroah sanctuary.

Dashing through the cobbled streets, shops closed and families ducked back into their houses under the threat of the worsening weather. Yet despite the rain’s low acidity, equivalent to that of gastric acid, the paladinian skin had become adapted to the forbidding cloudburst. Its contact caused only a mild irritation that could lead to a fatality if one stood out for an hour on end. Endurance of the vile precipitation was a trait to be uplifted.

Across a rickety bridge between caverns, the group climbed the central steps from the stone honorary peace grounds to the uplifted temple. A small honorable temporary shrine for the High Priest over the Sunretsu clan. This humbled household Nippon’s offering of residency; an extension of their loyalty.

This shadow of the monumental bethel that Daisuke and Kiyo had always seen on the horizon from the housing village’s wall. It was a sight to behold for marked ones, their represented place of origin, the belief in which they were born to protect; the following of the Sun.

At the tippy top of the smoothed slab stairs, two Noble Bishops were standing guard by the doors. Hands gripped onto naginata spears, the spearheads were constructed from thick shaved femur bones of Sun leechers, a creature of high authority in their beliefs. One feared yet praised. The bone crystalized enough to wear through a thousand men yet sharp enough to cut one in half with a single slash in the air. Those gifted with such a weapon were only liable to do so under permittance from the most high.

Both royal bishops were draped in all red robes, faces obscured by a golden veil that matched the lining on the edges of the silky hand-sewn cloth. The glistening finish accentuated their relation to the high priest; their rank within the system. They were simply warriors assigned to safeguard him with their lives. Their own life made useful through their dedicated protection of the High Priest.

Splash-splash-drip-bloop.

Rain slid off the weathered cloaks of Takeo’s group as they stood in the presence of the bishops. With a right fist pounded on their hearts, their greeting finished and respect paid to the higher-class warriors.

“State your rank and purpose of business.” The right guard uttered sternly, fingers wound tight on his staff's leather grip.

Takeo threw up his right hand and displayed his current rank within the clan. A Roman numeral ‘V’ seared into his calloused meaty wrist over the ingrained carving of a star. The symbol of a level seven warrior, dwarf class. 

“My business is this boy and another taken here for care earlier.” Takeo stepped forward and leaned in close to the guard with a raised brow. “Both are marked children who broke the holy word.”

“How so?”

“We found them in the forest during the cleansing hour for today, and well—it doesn’t take much to see that the priest will want to see this child,” Takeo said confidently with a loose gesture back to Kiyo.

Motioned forward, Ena hauled Kiyo’s unconscious body into the dim lantern light and removed the leather tarp shielding him from the storm. Tarp whisked off his arm, the bishops pressed forward for a clear view of the boy’s charcoal club hand. Skin encrusted in a thick crumbly crust. On the verge of falling off, his skin clung together from the blood that seeped through the charred cracks.

But the right guard didn’t even flinch. He was fascinated, confused, yet fearful all at once, emotions concealed beneath his veil. Kiyo’s judgment passed with merely a glance toward the left guard, a head tilt all that was required for confirmation. Their silent debate about the urgency of this child was one of higher clearance. The High Priest’s direct instructions exalted over such a circumstance as this.

“Well?” Takeo prodded, a bit of worry scurried within him as he winced at their silence.

“Hmph. The first boy is uplifted.” The right guard lowered his spearhead toward Kiyo. “But this one—under the priest's decree himself shall be evaluated.”

“Evaluated?” Kaiya bumped past Takeo and fanned her open palm toward Kiyo. “He needs healing, now. With his burns who knows how long—”

“Kaiya. Fall off.” Takeo ordered dryly, his tongue sharp and direct as it struck her back.

“But . . .” One look back from Takeo sent her interjection running, opinion sequestered. “Apologies to those of the high.” Kaiya sulked back into line and straightened up.

Arms flung down to her sides, her fingers pinched at the muddied cloth in bitter annoyance, she knew better, medical aid was her priority. Having served as a previous maiden herself she was more than capable of treating Kiyo's burns. Of saving the child.

“Never step out of line. You all have much to learn even still. Understand this.” Takeo made clear with an emotionless gaze, disappointment evident in the glimmer in his faded sunflower yellow eyes.

Ena, Jun, and Hijame offered their respects with a solemn nod. Kaiya was slow to fall into line with them as she grinded her teeth, distaste over the situation choked down her throat. Faces reduced to husks, they emptied their minds of any personal opinions in the light of their superiors. Each was laced with an inner desire to achieve higher ranks. This squad was a collection of those en route to lead others, to become their own squadron leader.

Takeo spun back to the bishop and pounded his heart.

“I understand. May I accompany the boy to make sure he returns home safely afterward?”

“No.” The bishop responded without hesitation.

“What do you mean no?”

“Only those permitted by the priest may enter.”

A heavy gust of steam wafted out of Takeo’s nose, a bitter vexation toward their secrecy. Exhaustion over the situation surmounted, Takeo clutched the bridge of his nose and backed away from them for a moment of thought. Their training mission to clear the woods only continued to spiral out of control. This rescue mission had taken its mental toll on Takeo. His mind stressed over this mystery-marked child.

“Right, of course, customs. Could you formally ask him if I may come in?” Takeo slung out with a janky toss of his hand down to his side.

The bishop took in his request and raised his left palm to put the conversation on pause. The door slid open behind him, he dipped inside the sanctuary, a brief scuttle of whispers evident through the thin boarded bone lined door. 

Minutes dragged on as they waited. Left to the will of nature, the group stood idly by amid the serene rainfall behind them. Their enjoyment of the elements was interrupted by a rumble of footsteps that came to a halt at the door. With haste, it was pulled open enough for the bishop to shuffle through, a maiden seen through the gap for a brief glimpse on the other side. The door closed the instant the bishop crossed the threshold.

Takeo crossed his arms and awaited the word of the High Priest. Ears craving his response like many, the ability to enter the sanctuary for once a gift very few Sun Kissed Warriors, found themselves able to access. Head swarming with questions and ideas he held dear in search of answers. First starting with the boy. With Kiyo.

“You.” The right bishop pointed his spear into the center of Takeo’s chest. “Take the boy inside to the fifth level. You are allowed to wait outside the room, but no one else. Understood?” The bishop said severely.

Takeo grasped at the scarf wrapped around his neck, he found himself caught between intrigue and confusion, eyebrows furrowed. The shrouded meaning behind their reactions and commands for Kiyo to meet with him at once was concerning. No time to recover in between, this confrontation demanded by the utmost High Priest. But why?

Releasing the blackened cloth Takeo came to terms with the limitations set. A subtle bow of his head was enough to communicate his agreement to the formalities demanded of them as the bishop bowed back.

“Good. Take the boy with you to the fifth level.” The bishop stepped aside and gestured to the doorway. “Maiden Aiko will lead you to the holy one’s room.” The bishop uttered, and in a single motion slid the door open to reveal a petite girl on the other side. Her head overrun white hair was crowded with blond curls that clashed with her bleak charcoal robes, a maiden in training.

“Happy to serve you, t-today sir!” Aiko squirmed out nervously with an overly eager bow, the seven-year-old new to the frontlines of maiden work.

Being the same age as Kiyo and Daisuke, born in an eleventh year, she was one of the many that were left unmarked by the priestess. The Sun’s designation of her life was seen to be for another purpose. Her designated role was a maiden until further notice, training underway with the first visit from the High Priest since the poles shifted.

As were all new maidens, Akio was draped in the traditional white robe encompassed in a black cloak that hung down from her waist. Panic flushed her face pink, excitement clashed with stress to master the lifestyle appointed to her.

Takeo turned back to the group and stretched his arms out to Ena. Hesitant to release Kiyo, Ena jerked back for a peek around Takeo into the sanctuary. Possible ideas of entry came to mind but ending up gutted and shamed wasn’t a possibility he wanted to consider. Out of options he handed off an unconscious Kiyo into Takeo’s arms.

“All of you go back to the north post and inform Genki and Yoshito of the situation. That’s all for today.” Takeo ordered with an upward tilt of his chin.

The four bowed and darted off down the stairs through a thick curtain of rain, their outlines dissipating within the storm that consumed them. Soon out of sight, they shielded themselves beneath their leather-worn tarps en route to the northern outpost—a bunker for squads of warriors along the Nippon wall.

“Now.” Takeo gestured toward the dancing light that bled out from the doorway onto the drenched stone floor. “May I come in?”

“Agreed. Best to not have the priest wait any longer.” The right bishop responded in a dreary voice.

“I guess so.”

“I’ll take you th-there. Just right up here!” Aiko butted in joyfully with another bow, a wide smile braced on her face.

“Thank you,” Takeo replied with a slight nod, his menacing glare swamped with a hint of delight, kindness shed through a half smirk at the child.

The door slid closed behind Takeo, the two bishops left to guard it under all circumstances as the high priest conducted trials. Beyond the awning the storm persisted, the entire village coated in a faint green film as the clouds soared over the cratered vastelly. Windows shuttered and doors barred to remain dry, Nippon was doused in high noon darkness. Precious light became obscured by the trials of the new world.

In the center of the storm, the boys' futures came into question. Daisuke and Kiyo each equal in their part to play for the Sunretsu clan, their lives leading to something greater than they could ever anticipate. This day of darkness was a mere glimpse into that future.