Whisper of the Forgotten

"The forgotten speak in whispers, their voices carried by the winds of despair."

— Letter from Hotaru no Yakusha

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The wind wound through the shattered remains of the old shrine, carrying with it the faintest murmurs—

echoes of souls lost to time, whose names had been swallowed by the relentless march of years.

Shindō paused at the shrine's broken threshold,

feeling the weight of forgotten prayers heavy on his shoulders,

a silent chorus of regrets rising from the cracked stone.

---

Yuuki stood beside him,

her blind eyes reflecting the hollow emptiness of a world abandoned by mercy.

"They are the forgotten," she whispered,

"those who once held faith, now lost in shadow and silence.

Their voices reach us only when the wind is still."

---

Shindō knelt, placing a hand upon the cold altar,

letting the whispers seep into his veins like poison and salvation intertwined.

The forgotten were more than memories—they were warnings,

ghosts tethered to a past that refused to die.

---

The war was no longer merely fought with swords or cunning—it was a battle to be remembered,

to carry forward the flickering flame of those erased by time and cruelty.

---

And as the whispers grew louder,

Shindō vowed he would not let their voices fade into nothingness.