Chapter 5 – The Edge of the Mountain
At dawn, the monk told me to follow.
We climbed the frozen steps in silence, higher than before. The air grew thinner, colder. The wind howled through the cliffs like something alive.
Neither of us spoke. The path narrowed until it ended at a dark opening cut into the mountain's side.
The monk gestured toward it. "Go in."
I hesitated. The air that seeped out of the cave was colder than death.
When I stepped inside, sound vanished. The light dimmed. My breath came out in white clouds. The walls were slick with ice that glowed faintly from within, pulsing like veins.
The deeper I went, the louder the heartbeat in my ears became. Three rhythms again — each one faster than the last.
Then came the whispers. Not words I could understand. Just pressure.
I dropped to one knee, clutching my chest. The sword vibrated violently against my back, as if it wanted to be drawn.
The shinobi's voice growled, "Control it before it breaks you."
The samurai's tone was calmer. "Breathe. Anchor your mind."
The man's thoughts were wild, panicked. Get out. Get out now.
But the cave was already closing in. I drew the sword. The blade lit up in a blue shimmer that cut through the dark.
And then I saw it — something vast, frozen in the ice. Not human. Not animal. Eyes that glowed faintly beneath the surface, watching.
A voice rippled through the walls. Not sound — vibration.
"Three live where one should stand."
My hands tightened on the hilt. "What are you?"
The light in the ice flickered. The voice answered again, shaking through the air.
"You were made in the fracture. Choose what survives."
The light burst — a rush of wind and frost slammed into me, forcing me backward. Pain flared behind my eyes. I saw flashes: the shinobi's final battle, the samurai's ritual death, the man collapsing in a storm of light.
Three deaths. One rebirth.
When the light faded, I was on the floor, gasping. The sword's glow dimmed, returning to normal steel. The mountain was silent again.
The monk was gone. Only footprints led back down the path.
I looked at my reflection in the blade. For a second, I saw three faces overlapping — then only mine.
The silence pressed close, thick and heavy.
I sheathed the sword and stepped outside. The wind hit me like a wall, freezing and sharp.
Somewhere deep inside the mountain, something still pulsed — slow, patient, waiting.
The three heartbeats inside me echoed in response. Not in harmony. Not yet.
But alive.
And for the first time, I didn't feel like running from it.
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