Silas approached the merchant stall, his boots clicking against the stone path slick with condensation and old festival dust. The Yokai merchant stood under a canopy of floating paper umbrellas, each casting ripples of colored light over her peculiar form.
She was tall—nearly Silas's height—with skin like glazed porcelain cracked delicately at the edges. Her eyes were large and liquid-black, shimmering with stars, and her four arms moved in sync as she arranged jars filled with glowing insects, dried roots that hissed when touched, and what looked suspiciously like bottled laughter. Her long hair, if it could be called that, flowed like ribbons of ink suspended in water, swaying even though there was no breeze.
Silas stepped up, unimpressed. He flicked his datapad to life, displaying the wave-pattern they'd traced from the devices in Varkath. "You seen this?"
The merchant paused, tilted her head, and then responded in a trill of syllables. "Kurai nyu-taru shika wenra?"
Her mouth never moved. The words came from somewhere else, and echoed as if spoken inside a cavern full of wind chimes.
Silas raised a brow. "...That a yes or a no?"
She blinked slowly. "Unara shiki-wan koto ban ban."
She gestured toward a lantern shaped like a fish and pointed at a jar of pickled moonpetals.
Langley stepped up beside him. "She said you have the soul of a suspicious frog and that your machine smells like melted socks."
Silas glared. "You speak that?"
Langley smirked. "I don't. But it's what I heard."
The merchant let out a bubbly chuckle that sounded like someone gargling stardust. "Ni ko ni ko! Reku-jin furu bana!"
She held up a small wooden charm shaped like a screaming face and handed it to Silas with dramatic flair.
"What the hell is this?" Silas muttered.
"She says it'll protect you from 'the thunder that lives in teeth,'" Langley translated—or guessed.
Veymar wandered over, amused. "Ask her again. But this time, try not to sound like you're threatening to arrest her ancestors."
Silas held up the datapad again. "Listen, glowy tea witch, have you seen this frequency pattern anywhere around here?"
The merchant tilted her head, eyes wide. Then. "Chika ban-ban mo?"
She made the universal hand sign for "money" and pointed at a jar labeled 'dreams of lost birds.'
Langley shrugged. "We're getting nowhere."
Veymar stepped forward, chanted a single phrase in the ancient tongue of spirits. The merchant's eyes flickered with recognition—then she tapped the pattern on Silas's datapad with one long nail, nodded once, and pointed toward the mountains at the edge of the town where the lanterns grew dim.
Silas blinked. "Huh."
Langley grinned. "Guess mysticism works better than sarcasm, for once."
Silas muttered, pocketing the charm. "Shut up. I'm still suspicious frog."
Barry snapped, his voice gruff and fraying at the edges. "Why not just use your damn telepathy and dive into her mind? We're wasting time dancing around riddles and ghost riddles."
The group fell silent. Even the merchant Yokai cocked her head.
Langley blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I don't… usually just dive into someone's head like that. It's rude."
Silas chuckled. "Since when did you grow manners, Professor?"
Veymar arched a silver brow, amused. "Well, now I am curious."
Langley sighed and stepped forward. "Fine. But if she hexes my mind into a soup of nightmares, I'm blaming Barry."
He closed his eyes, fingertips glowing with a subtle violet shimmer as a whisper of mana laced through the air. The Yokai stood still for a moment, her expression softening as though lulled by some distant lullaby.
A long breath escaped Langley's lips. Then, like a ripple across a mirror's surface, his eyes snapped open. "I've got it," he said, voice low. "She wasn't resisting. In fact… she wanted us to know."
He turned to the group. "The place she meant is called Castle Umagiri—an old, sealed palace wrapped in fog and forgotten time. It lies beyond the Haunted Bamboo Forest of Kirakami, nestled under the shadow of Mount Hekarou, where the mist never burns away."
Silas whistled. "Damn. That sounds like a vacation spot for people who hate sunlight and love death."
Barry muttered, "Perfect."
Langley wiped a hand over his brow. "She also kept whispering something... 'The Moon won't watch what's done there anymore.'"
Veymar's smile faded. "Then whatever lies within Castle Umagiri… is no longer bound by light."
The merchant Yokai gave a slow, knowing smile, then vanished in a puff of petals and laughter.
Barry crossed his arms. "Still think mind-diving was rude?"
Langley didn't respond. He simply turned, his long coat sweeping softly against the lantern-lit stone, and began walking in the direction the Yokai had indicated. No dramatic remark.
Even Seraphina, normally bubbling with dry wit and sarcastic brilliance, fell into step behind him, her silver hair catching lanternlight like threads of starlight. She didn't say a word.
Kai Vex, who'd usually be flickering between trees or rooftops just to show off, for once kept his feet on the ground. He gave no smirk, no blink-out vanish. Just a quiet, unreadable glance at Barry, then at Professor M, before following.
Kevin—the ever-cocky, flame-fisted hothead—had his hands in his pockets, the faint heat that usually shimmered around him entirely gone. He looked at the ground, jaw tight, expression unreadable. When he walked, he didn't trail sparks—just shadow. None of them said anything. None of them chose a side. Just silent gestures.
The Haunted Bamboo Forest stretched before them like a dream twisted into memory—a winding corridor of ancient green pillars that whispered in voices no one wanted to understand. The air was thick with floating spores that glowed faintly violet, dancing like fireflies birthed from long-forgotten spells. Bamboo stalks arched and breathed as if alive, creaking softly as if bearing witness to their passage.
Shadowy figures drifted just at the edge of vision—eyes blinking in and out of existence, laughter like chimes made of bone carried on the breeze. A fox-headed yokai wearing a scholar's robe stared from atop a crooked branch, flipping a paper fan closed with an audible snap before disappearing in a gust of petals that had no source.
Kevin muttered once, "Why do I feel like every leaf here knows my browser history?"
Kai didn't laugh. Nobody did. They walked. Hours passed. Their boots crunched over moss that sighed like old lungs. The forest never broke for sunlight—though it didn't feel like night either. It was a limbo, endless, neither here nor elsewhere. A realm stretched between heartbeats.
Finally, Seraphina whispered, her voice a barely audible thread, "If the sun ever moved in this cursed sky, we'd be having breakfast by now."
No one argued. The fatigue had rooted deep in their bones. Then—without warning—the bamboo parted, almost reverently, revealing a clearing where the land sloped upward toward an ancient hill shrouded in cold mist. There it stood. Castle Umagiri.
Its walls were black stone laced with glowing crimson sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. Spires jutted into the never-changing sky like claws. The gate was massive, aged iron and bone, closed shut, yet humming faintly as if it knew they were coming.
Silas, with the unshakable confidence of a man who once punched a dragon just to prove a point, strode up to the colossal gate of Castle Umagiri without a shred of hesitation. While the rest lingered, their instincts whispering caution like a nervous mother hen, Silas balled his fist and knocked—three times. Loud. Like someone asking their neighbor to turn the music down at 3 a.m.
Kevin gaped. "Did he just—knock?"
Barry grunted, "He's gonna get us killed. Again."
Kai facepalmed. "I vote we disown him."
"I second that," Seraphina muttered, not even pretending to hide her embarrassment.
The gate remained still. No creak, no curse, no trap door swallowing them whole. Just silence.
Then, without warning, the air shimmered, twisted, and pulled inside out. A soft pop—like the universe sneezed politely—and suddenly the group found themselves standing inside a grand palace hall made of obsidian glass and glowing veins of gold.
And there they were. Kitsunes. At least a dozen of them, each one more stunning than the last. Draped in flowing silks that shimmered like starlight and moonlight made love, they twirled in an elegant, entrancing dance. Fox tails—two, three, some with nine—flicked behind them with hypnotic rhythm. They laughed and whispered in a language both melodic and mischievous.
Seraphina's mouth fell open. Kevin looked like he just walked into his browser history. Kai blinked twice and muttered, "I'm not touching anything."
The Kitsunes weren't dancing alone, though. They swirled around him. At the center of the hall reclined a figure on a throne woven of shadow and sakura petals.
Tall. Lithe. Ridiculously attractive in that 'he definitely knows it' way. His silver hair flowed like silk in water, one lock rebelliously falling across his mischievous amber eyes. A fur-lined black kimono half-hung from his shoulder, revealing a lean torso etched with glowing tattoos that shifted with every movement like living ink. A sake cup dangled from his fingers as if it were born there. He smiled, lazy and devastating.
"My honored guests," he said, voice velvet-wrapped thunder, "Welcome to Umagiri. I see you've met my... entourage."
Silas blinked. Then grinned. "Well damn," he muttered, turning to the others. "And here I thought I'd finally be the prettiest one in the room."
Kevin coughed. "We're so gonna die."
The man on the throne raised an eyebrow, amused. "Die? No, no. Not unless you insult my tea."
A Kitsune refilled his cup. Another whispered in his ear and giggled.
Silas turned back to the group, thumbs in his belt. "I like him already."
Barry pinched the bridge of his nose. Seraphina was still stunned.
Kai whispered, "Is this a fever dream?"
And then the charming man rose, his aura flaring like the northern lights—powerful, ancient, and somehow seductive. "Call me Raitsune," he said. "Master of Umagiri."
Veymar narrowed his eyes, his voice a whisper stitched with awe. "No... it can't be."
Silas turned, one brow arched. "What now, wizard?"
The archmage took a step forward, scrutinizing the enthroned figure as the ethereal lantern light flickered across his flawless features. "I've seen that face before... in the Chronicles of Ereshan. You are—are you Nurarihyon? The Drifting Lord... King of Yokai?"
The man smiled slowly, like a mask of charm sliding into place. "Ah. That name. It echoes still in the mortal tongue." He spread his arms, the Kitsunes parting like waves around him. "They have called me many things, friend. Nurarihyon. The Mist King. He Who Walks in Lantern Fire. But all names lead to the same truth."
He leaned back with languid grace, and that's when another figure emerged from behind the throne.
She moved like molten honey, each step effortless yet deliberate. Draped in scarlet silks barely clinging to her lithe frame, the nine tails behind her swayed hypnotically. Her amber eyes gleamed like twin suns eclipsed in mischief, and the room seemed to hold its breath as she approached the throne.
She leaned casually—intimately—across the lap of the King of Yokai, her fingers curling around his robe with the familiarity of a lover and the danger of a queen.
With one hand, he lifted her chin, caressing it with something between reverence and possession. The very air pulsed with their connection.
He glanced at the stunned group. "This," he said with a soft purr, "is Daji—my queen. Flame of the foxfire. Whisperer of dreams. The delight of emperors... and now, your most gracious host."
Daji gave a slow, intoxicating smile. "Welcome to Umagiri."
Silence fell. A few insects might've chirped in the background if they weren't likely vaporized by the sheer heat of the moment.
Then Nurarihyon leaned forward with an amused gleam in his eye. "Now... you've journeyed far, braved my forests, ignored the polite suggestion that guests knock less aggressively—" he gave Silas a sideways look "—and yet, you bring no offerings?"
"We're here for answers," Veymar said, tone tight.
"Of course you are," the Yokai King replied, standing now with a swirl of silk and power. "But answers are earned, not given. And since you are guests... Daji and I insist on one small custom."
He held out his hand toward his queen. She rose beside him with a grin that could melt stone. "As a welcome gift," he said, "I offer you the first night's delight—with Daji herself. Fear not. She can entertain all of you. At once. Should the need arise."
Kevin choked. "Wait—what?"
Kai took a step back like the word delight physically hit him.
Barry's face went blank—then red—then blank again. "Is this... is this real life?"
Even Veymar's eye twitched. "This... is highly unorthodox."
Silas just burst out laughing. "Oh man," he clapped a hand to his hip. "I haven't seen this many jaws drop since Langley tried karaoke at the Battle of Ebonridge."
Langley muttered under his breath, "There were explosives involved. It was tactical."
"I'm sure it was, Professor," Silas grinned.
Nurarihyon chuckled. "Ah, don't worry. She won't bite unless asked nicely."
Daji winked. More stunned silence.
Kai whispered, "I wanna go home."
Nurarihyon folded his arms, looking thoroughly amused. "Well, are we negotiating, or do you want to hear what's awakening in my domain beneath Mount Kurokiba?"
He gestured grandly. "Come. Let's have tea instead. And perhaps later... some less traumatic hospitality."