Chapter 2: Echoes In Boiling Water

Rain hissed softly over the broken glass of the greenhouse roof.

Night had long since swallowed the city, but the old woman hadn't moved. Shion sat where she always did, bones bundled under layers of threadbare coats, a dull iron kettle puffing steam beside her. Her hands trembled less now. Not because she was stronger, but because she was still waiting.

The door creaked.

Not wind.

Footsteps.

Her eyes lifted.

Ren stepped through the ruin, boots soaked in red-black mud, the edges of his cloak burned and torn. He said nothing. His hood had fallen somewhere on the journey back, revealing his face. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. And something else in his eyes.

Weight.

Shion didn't smile.

She just leaned forward and whispered, "Well?"

Ren moved past her, something glowing in his waistband, then he sat across from her, not looking at her at all.

She stared at the glowing cross. "Is that—"

"Yes."

Shion let out a slow breath. It sounded like wind through leaves. "So you found it."

"I guess so" he said, voice low. 

Her eyes tightened. "And the thing guarding it?"

"I killed it," Ren muttered. "I think."

Shion turned her head, brittle bones popping. "Did it speak?"

Ren shook his head. Once. "Not a single word."

She waited.

He looked at her then, for the first time since entering. His expression was unreadable.

A long silence stretched between them.

Shion stirred the kettle beside her, as if trying to distract herself from the word's weight. "That blade doesn't lie. It shows what it sees. And what it cuts."

Ren didn't answer.

The kettle hissed. The vines beneath the floor gave a low groan. Petals drifted from the broken ceiling like ashes from the stars.

Finally, Shion poured a cup and slid it across the floor to him.

"Drink," she said. "If you're going to carry that thing… you'll need the warmth. Or something close to it."

He picked it up, steam curling around his fingers.

Her voice was soft when she spoke again.

"That sword… it's not just a tool. It remembers. Every soul it's ever cut, every lie it's ever bled, it keeps them. And now… so will you."

Ren looked down into the cup. "I know."

A beat.

And then, barely louder than breath.

"I think it remembers me too."

Shion went still.

The steam curled from the cup in Ren's hands, warming his fingers but not his expression. Across from him, Shion stared at the fire, unmoving, as if caught in something far older than the room.

Rain ticked against the glass overhead. The roots under the floor gave a faint pulse.

Ren didn't look up when he asked.

"So. How do you know so much about the blade?"

The fire cracked.

Shion didn't speak right away. Her breath shook, not from cold, but from memory.

"I was there for it's creation of course."

Ren raised his head.

She was still watching the fire. Her voice wasn't dramatic. Instead it was dry, soft, fragile as old cloth. The kind of voice used to bury things.

"My husband was a blacksmith before he was a prophet. A builder of gates. Strong hands. Quiet eyes. I loved him before the petals ever fell."

A silence grew. Ren didn't interrupt.

"Our son was born during the First Blooming. We named him Kai. The world was unraveling, but he laughed like it would never matter."

She reached into her coat and pulled out something wrapped in faded silk, a child's wooden ring toy. Petals were carved along the edges. She set it gently on the table.

"My son didn't take fall to a fairy. A priest had murdered my oh so sweet boy. Tried to burn the rot out of him. Claimed his soul was tainted.'"

Her voice didn't shake, but her eyes blurred.

"He was only but five if I remember correctly."

Ren said nothing. He couldn't.

Shion stared at the toy.

"My husband left after the burial. Said he had plans for an 'ultimate weapon'. Said it would fix things permanently." She laughed once bitter, small. "It never did. I waited ten years for his return. And that's when I stumbled upon Shinkazura in the snowy mountains."

Ren's eyes narrowed.

"You used it?"

Shion nodded once.

"I searched for him. I searched for over two decades. Across dead cities. Into the forest veins. Into the Petal Wastes where breath goes dry and time forgets itself. I slayed many Fairies along the way, they began to name me the 'second coming.'"

The roots under the floor shifted again, slightly faster now. Listening.

"And when I failed in finding my husband..." Her fingers curled around the tea cup. "The blade made sure I'd never stop remembering it."

Ren looked at her fully now. His voice was low.

"That's your curse."

She nodded again. "Immortality. A curse so powerful one is deluded to believe it's a gift. One day someone will fulfill the task handed to them by the blade, freeing me from this damned world."

She looked up, eyes glassy but clear.

"That's you, isn't it?"

Ren stared back, silent.

Shion smiled, a thin, tired smile.

Then she turned away, and didn't look at him again.

Outside, the rain poured, and the night deepened.

The old woman didn't move.

Petals drifted through the shattered windows.

And the roots began to whisper.

The wind began to pick up again, curling through the cracks in the greenhouse like a slow exhale from the earth. Ren moved toward the broken door, hand tightening around the blade still wrapped at his side.

Then Shion's voice caught him.

"There's someone else you should know about."

Ren turned, eyes narrowing. "Another old friend?"

Shion shook her head. "I'm unsure myself."

She shuffled toward the fire, kneeling beside the kettle with a groan, as if weighing whether to tell him everything. She didn't speak right away, just stared into the flickering orange.

Then:

"They say there's a man out west. No one knows his real name. He never gives it. But the Fairies call him The Boundary of Darkness."

Ren frowned. "The Boundary of Darkness?"

Shion nodded slowly. "He leads the ones who haven't given up. The broken. The burning. He teaches them how to fight. Really fight. Not run. Not beg. Not hide."

She looked up, eyes catching Ren's like hooks.

"They say he's the only man who's ever killed a Fairy Lord and lived."

Ren was quiet for a long time. "Why haven't I heard of him?"

"Because most who seek him die before they find him," she said flatly. "Fairies want him gone more than anything. They say even the presence of his name can scar a high ranking Fairy."

Ren shifted his weight. "And you think he's real?"

"I know he is," she rasped. "I once tried to find him."

That caught Ren. "You did?"

She nodded. "Long ago. Before the curse. Before I gave up. Back when I was chasing my husband." She pointed to his waistband

"If you really plan to use that thing, then you'll want to meet him. Because whatever's coming, will put humanity itself in even more danger. You'll need others. And you'll need someone who doesn't flinch at the sight of what you carry."

Ren looked down at his waistband.

It pulsed once.

Not with light, with memory.

He looked at Shion "Where?"

Shion's lips twitched. "If I knew that, I'd have told you by now kid. But the rumor says he moves with the petals. Never stays long. Last seen near the ruins of Hiratsuka, east of Kazanka."

Ren nodded once.

Shion stepped forward, lowering her voice.

"He doesn't take in cowards. And he doesn't trust those who just want revenge."

Ren met her gaze, unflinching. "Then he'll trust me. I promise."

He turned, stepping out into the morning mist, leaving the scent of old roots and burning tea behind.

The petals had begun to fall again.

And far to the west, a name without a face waited in the ash.