Chapter 19: Shadows in the Snow

The wind screamed through the mountains like a dying beast, hurling sheets of ice and snow into the darkness. Itsuro barely felt the cold anymore. His limbs were heavy, his breaths shallow. The fever had set in, wrapping around his mind like a noose, pulling him deeper into a fog he couldn't escape.

Each step was agony.

Kaizen walked ahead of him, his black cloak whipping in the storm, his posture rigid with impatience. His crimson eyes flickered back toward Itsuro every few minutes, sharp and calculating.

"If you collapse, I'm leaving you," Kaizen warned, his voice almost lost to the howling wind.

Itsuro forced himself forward. He couldn't tell if Kaizen was serious or not. Probably both.

His wound throbbed with each step, sending sharp waves of pain up his spine. The poison was still in his veins, festering, spreading. He could feel it, an unnatural heat crawling under his skin. His body was trying to fight it, but it was losing.

And Kaizen knew it.

"You're dying," Kaizen said bluntly.

Itsuro clenched his teeth, pushing forward through the snow. "Not yet."

Kaizen snorted. "You're stubborn. I'll give you that."

Itsuro wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. Maybe both.

But deep down, he knew Kaizen was right.

He wasn't getting better.

He was getting worse.

The Weight of the Past

The snowstorm thickened around them, turning the world into a swirling void of white. It reminded Itsuro of another time, another place.

A different winter.

He had been just a boy then, wandering through the snow with nothing but rags on his back and hunger clawing at his ribs. He had been alone, abandoned, left to die in the freezing cold.

Until the monastery found him.

They had taken him in, clothed him, given him a name. Given him a purpose.

But what had that purpose been, in the end?

He had followed their teachings. Had devoted himself to their ways.

And yet now, the monastery had turned on him. The Capital had branded him a traitor. Jubei had betrayed him.

Everything he had believed in, everything he had fought for—it was gone.

Lost to the snow, just like he was.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stumbled.

Kaizen's hand shot out, grabbing him before he could fall.

"Tch. You're worse than I thought," Kaizen muttered, his grip tightening on Itsuro's arm.

"Let go," Itsuro gritted out, trying to pull away.

Kaizen didn't.

"If I let you go, you'll sink into the snow and never get up again. And that's a pathetic way to die."

Itsuro said nothing. He didn't have the strength to argue.

Kaizen sighed, adjusting his grip before throwing Itsuro's arm over his shoulder.

"You owe me for this," Kaizen muttered, half-dragging him forward. "I don't babysit dying monks for free."

Itsuro let himself be dragged. He didn't have a choice.

The Icebound Ruins

Hours passed.

Or maybe it was days.

Itsuro's sense of time had dissolved into a haze of pain and fever. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his thoughts tangled in half-formed memories and nightmares.

He saw flashes of the past. The monastery. The Capital's warriors. Jubei's cold, unreadable eyes as he took the shards.

Then, something darker.

Something ancient.

It whispered his name from the depths of his mind, a voice older than the ice itself.

He didn't know if it was real or just the fever twisting his thoughts.

"Wake up."

Itsuro's eyes snapped open.

The storm had passed. The snow had settled into an eerie silence.

And before him stood something he hadn't expected.

Ruins.

Black stone jutted out from the frozen earth, half-buried in layers of ancient ice. The structures were massive, towering over them like the remnants of a forgotten civilization. Strange markings covered the walls, their symbols glowing faintly against the frost.

Kaizen stood a few feet ahead, his expression unreadable.

"We're staying here," Kaizen said.

Itsuro frowned, his voice weak. "What is this place?"

Kaizen didn't answer immediately. He stared at the ruins for a long moment before finally speaking.

"A graveyard."

Itsuro shivered, though he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or something else.

There was something wrong about this place.

Something watching.

The Whispering Darkness

Kaizen set up a small fire within one of the ruins, the flames flickering weakly against the frozen stone. Itsuro sat beside it, trying to ignore the way his hands shook.

He could feel something stirring in his blood.

The poison?

Or something else?

Kaizen was watching him closely.

"Your body is failing," Kaizen said bluntly. "If we don't do something soon, you won't wake up next time."

Itsuro exhaled slowly. "Then fix it."

Kaizen raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm a healer?"

"You're something," Itsuro muttered.

Kaizen smirked. "That I am."

There was silence between them for a moment. Then Kaizen leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the firelight.

"Tell me, monk—how far are you willing to go to survive?"

Itsuro's breath caught in his throat.

Kaizen wasn't just talking about healing.

He was talking about something else.

Something darker.

"There are ways," Kaizen continued, his voice quiet. "Ways to purge the poison. Ways to keep you alive. But none of them are… righteous."

Itsuro swallowed. He already knew that.

Nothing in their world was righteous anymore.

"What do I have to do?"

Kaizen studied him for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

"We'll see if you're ready when the time comes."

The fire crackled between them, sending flickering shadows against the ancient ruins.

Itsuro could still feel something watching.

Whispering.

Waiting.

And in the distance, beneath the ice… something stirred.