Shattered Prophecy

The lanterns along Valdorne's western parapet had barely begun to fade before the pulse reached Shin Soma. It was not a sound, nor was it light. It was a sensation, a tug in the marrow of his bones that rippled through the crystal orb nested in his left palm. In an instant, the pulse became a vibration that hummed across every silver filament bound to the orb's core. The feeling sharpened when Yoshimatsu responded, the katana singing within its sheath as if answering an ancient summons as it appeared suddenly.

Shin stood alone atop the fortress wall, the night air carving cold lines across his cheeks. Dawn still hid below the horizon, and the world hung in a hush that felt sacred. Beneath the towers, Valdorne slept, bruised but unbroken after weeks of relentless skirmishes. Far beyond the city's edge, the Obsidian Dunes lay in silent darkness. Somewhere inside that sea of sand, a relic stirred, and Shin knew it was calling to him. He closed his eyes, letting the pulse resonate through his body until it found its match inside his chest.

He did not need Tessara's voice to confirm his suspicion, yet he heard her anyway. She arrived quietly, guided by the rumbling thread of power only she and the mirror understood. Sightless eyes stared into the same darkness that claimed the dunes. Her hand rested on the banister beside him.

"It woke you, too," she murmured. The reverberation fluttered over her words like a second heartbeat.

He replied with a single nod. "The mirror wants us to see something. Something buried."

Tessara angled her head toward the distant desert. "Orahm," she whispered, and the name carried an echo as if spoken through glass.

A gentle wind lifted her golden hair, and for a moment, the world felt brittle. Shin inhaled slowly, grounding himself before turning away from the parapet. There was work to do before sunrise.

The council chamber of Valdorne was an austere vault of stone arches and fractured stained glass that shimmered with dawn's first embers. Valdorne's interim lord, Baron Caldis, sat at the head of the long oaken table, eyes weary from too many sleepless nights. To his right, perched Guild Master Davis Ravencraft, already wrapped in a new leather brigandine and smelling of roasted coffee. To Caldis's left sat Commander Mira of the Fourth Talon, her rifle propped like a steadfast sentinel beside her chair. As Shin and Tessara entered, the room hushed.

The baron gestured. "You asked for immediate audience, Master Soma. Speak."

Shin bowed with minimal ceremony. "Tsukuyomi's Mirror has awakened." He felt the pulse again even as he spoke, a tremor beneath his ribs. "It points to an ancient site in the desert. The Lost City of Orahm."

Several councillors exchanged uncertain glances. Mira leaned forward. "We barely stabilized the western lines. You suggest abandoning fortifications to chase a legend?"

"The pulse is not legend," Tessara interjected, her voice carrying the hush of temple bells. She lifted a hand, and moonlit glyphs surfaced along her fingertips. "The mirror's resonance rides the same frequency as the Crests. That is how it speaks."

Davis tapped his knuckles on the table. "Explain why this cannot wait."

Shin chose his words carefully. "When the mirror calls, it is because something older than these wars has shifted. If we ignore it, Falzath will not."

Laverna stepped from the doorway, the rest of the Servants trailing behind her. She spoke before anyone could challenge Shin's claim. "You have all seen what happens when we wait. The avatar in Duskford nearly razed three provinces before we moved."

Mira planted her elbows on the table. "Give me the stakes."

"Prophecy," Shin answered. "And a weapon we may need for Laginaple. Orahm is rumored to house relics that predate Falzath's first whispers."

Caldis exhaled. Lines of fatigue etched deeper across his brow. "You want official sanction to leave the front, cross the desert, and retrieve an artifact no one has seen in thousands of years."

"Yes," Shin replied simply.

Silence followed, broken only by the hiss of morning wind against cracked glass. Finally, Davis pushed back his chair with a low scrape. "Baron, we cannot win this war with swords alone. If Soma believes this relic changes the odds, I support the expedition."

Caldis locked eyes with Mira, who gave a terse nod. The councilors murmured, then gradually acquiesced.

"So be it," Caldis said. "You leave at dusk. No banners, no fanfare. Take only those you trust. If this fails, Valdorne can ill-afford the morale loss."

Shin inclined his head. "No escort. Just us. A larger group will only draw attention. If the mirror calls for clarity, we travel in silence."

Caldis studied him for a long breath before nodding. "Then may your silence lead you to what we cannot see."

Preparations consumed the daylight hours. Zera supervised supply crates, ensuring weapons were coated in anti‑corruption oil. Maika double‑checked canteens treated with sunfire runes to purify water. Tessara remained in meditative communion with the mirror, mapping ley currents of the dunes from memory of echoes she alone could hear, adorning the Kagetsu no Men on her face. 

Laverna stalked Shin through each errand, her expression earnest. She watched the pulse in his left hand accelerate every time he spoke of the city. She saw the deeper bruises he ignored, hidden beneath the tunic and stoic expression. Waiting until they were alone in the briefing tent, she confronted him.

"You slept only two hours last night," she said, brushing her fingers along his collarbone, her touch featherlight but firm.

His response was gentle but unyielding. "I will rest when we have answers."

Without hesitation, Laverna straddled his lap, the weight of her presence anchoring him. Her legs folded around his hips, her arms looping behind his neck. Shin tensed for a heartbeat, startled, then relaxed as the pulse in his hand slowed under her touch.

She caught his wrist, guiding his hand between them, pressing his palm to her heart. "If the mirror consumes you, everything we built will crumble."

He looked up at her, his voice softer now. "I am not alone anymore."

"Then act like it," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. Her lips grazed his cheek—not quite a kiss, but a promise. The plea in her voice trembled between command and love.

Shin let his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her just a little closer. The orb dimmed between them, as if comforted by her warmth. He closed his eyes, not in surrender, but in silent gratitude—for her presence, for her fire, for her unwavering care.

And in her arms, for the first time since the mirror pulsed, he allowed himself to breathe.

Dusk painted the horizon in ochre and amethyst when only Shin's party departed Valdorne's gates. No banners fluttered. Only the soft crunch of boots against sand and the low hum of arcane energy marked their departure. The Servants traveled lightly, their sand-sled pulled by a single arcane-engine construct whispering steam and mana into the air.

Zera walked beside Shin near the front, her gaze scanning his face. "You're quiet. More than usual," she said.

Shin offered her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just focused."

Zera didn't press further, but the others noticed too—Maika, Tessara, and Laverna all sharing brief glances as they trailed behind him. Each of them felt it: that Shin carried not only their hopes, but the burden of the rebellion's future on his back. Even when he smiled, it was the smile of a man wearing armor on the inside.

The first night's silence gave way to whispers on the wind. Unseen sands shifted like serpents below the sled's skids. Tessara raised her staff. "There," she said, pointing to a swirl of moonlit dust.

Zera instinctively reached for her sword. "Bandits?"

"No," Tessara replied, voice distant. "Memories of stone."

Phantoms, etched in glassy sand, rose around them—faint outlines of statues long eroded. They turned as one, pointing eastward. Shin bowed his head, acknowledging the guiding spirits of Orahm. The party followed.