Hours later, in the farthest depths of the narrow cave system, Noah and the priest finally found what they had been looking for. The final chamber, where the glow of the spirit lantern grew bright enough to illuminate the entire space.
While the rest of the cave was narrow and claustrophobic, the walls of this chamber stretched endlessly upwards to create the illusion that it led back up to the outside world. Ahead of them, an underground lake overtook the remainder of the cave.
Up ahead was unmistakably the source of the mountain’s lifeforce.
Noah could feel it.
Despite the vast, open space, there was something about this place that felt more oppressive than the tunnels they’d shuffled sideways to get through.
The craggy stone floors sloped gently downwards until they met the water’s edge, leading Noah and the priest down towards their final destination. The pool of water was large enough that it stretched out into a seemingly infinite distance where it lapsed back into inky darkness.
Even as the hem of Noah’s hakama brushed the edge of the water, the pool remained as smooth and still as glass. It was left unmarked by even the faintest of ripples. The air itself hung heavy with suspense. It was stagnant, devoid of any movement.
Here, miles beneath the earth, it felt like time itself had come to a standstill.
The stillness made the tall red archway that stood in the dead-center of the pool, rising from the surface of the water itself, all the more unnatural. Beneath it sat a stone altar and small wooden offering table. Neither appeared to be suffering from the effects of humidity and the ages, despite being positioned directly atop a body of water.
From the water’s edge, Noah couldn’t make out any sort of platform or underwater supports for the altar and offering table. And yet, there they stood, sitting on top of the glass-smooth pool as if it was solid ground.
The red painted archway and the familiar accompaniments resembled a man-made shrine, but its location and appearance spoke volumes. This was not a place for humans.
“We’re here,” Noah announced quietly.
This place was unmistakably from the other side.
“Divine One,” the priest murmured, gesturing to the last piece of the ceremonial robes that hung over Noah’s arm. “Your gown.”
Noah pulled the thick white overcoat over his shoulders, his lips curving into a wry smile as the rough material caught on his clothes. For all that the Astraeus clan preached that their envoys should be dressed and tended to with great care, the reality was as laughable as it had been the first time he’d done this.
These weren’t ornate, ceremonial robes. They were closer to funeral attire, and cheaply made. The Astraeus clan claimed to honor the gods, yet dressed their offerings in the same fabric that hospitals commissioned for their gowns, layered upon itself until it was thick and then sewn sloppily together at the edges. The only special thing about them was the mana that they were imbued with, to connect the wearer to the Spirit Realm.
They weren’t meant to endure the test of time. They were garments that were made to be used once and then discarded—just like the envoys who wore them. Noah fastened the collar and pulled the hood up over his head, the last piece of the ceremonial garb that designated him as a sacrificial bride of the gods.
Something in the air shifted. There was a faint magnetic pull luring him towards the center of the pool. A chill crept down his spine as a stone path revealed itself, blinking into existence as Noah’s foot hovered over the water.
The cave they’d come through had been alive with the sound of trickling water and skittering creatures, but once they’d stepped into the open chamber there was only silence. The stone steps didn’t budge beneath their weight. The water didn’t shift.
As they approached the altar, even the soft rustling of fabric as they walked felt deafeningly loud.
Apart from the two of them, there were no signs of life here.
The priest poured two cups from the white ritual vessel into the twin cups on the altar. The first he spilled into the lake, an offering for the god of the land, and the other he gently pushed into Noah’s hands.
“Here,” the priest murmured, not quite meeting Noah’s gaze as he gestured to the altar.
Noah drank from the cup, his throat burning with the familiar warmth of alcohol mixed with the so-called elixir of the gods. A lethal dose of anesthetic herbal brew, combined with sake for palatability. Within seconds Noah’s vision warped, the cave around him growing hazy as he climbed up to lie down on the altar table.
“I’m so sorry, Divine One.”
The priest had the decency to look ashamed as he attached the sheer veil—the same gauzy material they used for children’s costumes—and draped it over Noah’s face.
“Don’t. This isn’t something to feel guilty for,” Noah said, his breath and voice slowing with every syllable. “It’s my duty. And yours.”
“I only hope that this is not in vain.”
The elixir was fast acting.
Noah had scarcely laid down when he felt his muscles go weak. The rise and fall of his chest grew labored and shallow.
“Continue with the ceremony,” Noah mumbled as darkness began to eclipse his vision. “I can feel it kicking in.”
“Yes, Divine One. And… thank you. When this is over, I will pray for your safe passage to the other side.”
Noah no longer had the strength to respond. His grasp on his physical body was fading.
The vivid red paint of the archway was the last thing he saw, fading in and out of focus as the heaviness continued to settle in his limbs. He could feel his heartbeat slowing and his lungs burning for air, the familiar feeling of death creeping closer and closer.
“O’ Great Spirit of the mountain, it is to your honor that we dedicate this sacred rite. When the waters rise to claim this body, we implore you to accept this bride as your own as we bind their soul in your name, to serve you into eternity..."
The priest was speaking, but his voice was getting farther and farther away—and then it was gone. Noah’s eyes fell heavily closed as his consciousness and body finally surrendered.
The world was falling away.
Noah had experienced this before, the slow, strange sensation of falling backwards out of his own body. Not a freefall, but a placid drift.
He was sinking—drowning—but it felt… serene. It had the same fuzzy, ethereal quality as a dream.
Somewhere, in the back of his head, he knew that what he was experiencing was only the natural phenomenon created by the brain on the brink of death. A series of dreamlike, peaceful visions and sensations.
His lungs no longer burned with the need for oxygen. His limbs were heavy, but he didn’t need to muster the strength to swim against the current. He was inhaling water as he sank, but it didn’t hurt.
His eyes opened and he was no longer in that chamber. He was suspended in an ocean of stars, floating effortlessly on his back as constellations danced around him. He was at the border of life and death.
“Noah Astraeus,” a familiar voice spoke his name, whisper-quiet. “Why…?”
Noah’s gaze shifted, picking out a figure as they drew nearer and nearer. In his foggy trance, it took a moment for the figure to come into focus.
A petite woman, deceptively youthful looking, approached. Her face was as pale as moonlight, in stark contrast to the deep black of her dress and the crimson of her lips and gaze. Despite her silvering hair, her face was frozen in time.
Eternally young and beautiful, even if those doll-like features were marred by the downward twist of her lips and the soft knit of her brows.
“Lady Izanami,” Noah murmured, tightness and warmth pricking at his chest as he laid eyes on the familiar goddess. “As much as it suits you, I wish you wouldn't wear that sadness on my behalf.”
The silver-haired woman laughed, brushing away the moisture welling up in her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe you’re back, after everything.”
“And yet you don’t look happy to see me,” Noah teased, reaching out to give her hand a weak squeeze.
“I’m not!” Izanami managed to muster up a scowl, even as her eyes softened and her cold hand tightened around his. “Are you sure about this? You really want to… go back?”
“Iza,” Noah interjected softly. “What choice do I have in the matter? The people are suffering and the Spirit Realm requires the right sacrifice.”
“It’s been more than seventy-five years, Noah,” Izanami said. “These aren’t even your people anymore. Let them suffer. You owe them nothing.”
“All the more reason, Iza,” Noah said firmly. “This is my responsibility, as one of the last descendants of the Astraeus clan. Shamans are few and far between in the modern era. If not me, who would answer their call?”
“But your life—”
“You know who I am, Iza. You know how much blood is on my ledger.” Noah laughed bitterly. “You aren’t implying my one life is somehow more valuable than hundreds of others, are you? Don’t make me live with that on my conscience. Not again.”
Iza winced and fell quiet. After a long while, she spoke again.
“It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t. But Tama asked us to keep you safe. He never wanted you to end up back here.” Her voice was whisper soft. “He gave up everything to send you back to the Mortal Realm. He wanted you to live a normal life.”
“I know that,” Noah closed his eyes tightly. “But I can’t, Iza.”
Even after all this time, his chest still ached at the mention of his former lover’s name. The god he had once been wed to. The reason that his ledger was dripping in the blood of all those he’d failed to save.
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