Resolution and Departure — The Road to the Ruins
In Akio’s town, preparations were steadily underway for the investigation of the ruins where Ayane and the others had once lived, based on the decision made at the recent “Wives’ Council.” The purpose was twofold: to support the Spirit’s wish for the Creation of the Forest, and to gather information vital for the town’s future. A small but elite expedition team was formed—Akio as captain, Leonora as scout, Sylvia for her knowledge of herbs and the forest, and Alto, a young but trusted craftsman.
On the morning of their departure, Ayane handed Akio some handmade preserved food and a small woven bracelet as a charm.
“Akio-sama, everyone… please, come back safely.”
In her eyes flickered a mix of complex emotions toward her old home, and deep love for her husband.
The Spirit herself had also decided to join the expedition.
“I must see that land with my own eyes,” she said. “To understand what is needed for the future—what remains and what is lost.”
Her resolve was unwavering. After much discussion, Akio and the wives accepted her participation, on the condition that her safety would be their highest priority.
The road to the ruins was not particularly treacherous, but as they advanced, the forest gradually changed. Unlike the lush, life-filled area around Akio’s town, the trees here grew thin, the undergrowth sparse, and the air itself seemed heavier. The brightness faded from the Spirit’s expression; her keen senses were picking up the lingering presence of death woven into the land itself. Her face turned pale, and her steps grew unsteady.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Akio asked, concern in his voice.
The Spirit gave a faint nod, but her eyes shimmered with unease. After a moment, she reached out a trembling hand and grasped his arm.
“Akio… forgive me, but… may I hold your hand for a while? The air of this place… it torments my heart…”
Her pleading gaze pierced him. Without hesitation, Akio clasped her cold hand in his—firmly, warmly. At his touch, a faint calm returned to her features.
After several more hours of travel, the party finally reached the ruins of Ayane’s old village. What spread before them stole their breath away.
Collapsed houses stood like skeletal monuments, the cracked earth lay dry and barren, and dust stirred by the wind coated everything in shades of gray. There was no sign of life—no sound of birds, no scent of soil, no trace of warmth. The place felt less like a ruin and more like a land abandoned by life itself.
The Spirit stood frozen, still holding Akio’s hand. Her wide eyes trembled as tears welled up and began to spill down her pale cheeks—one after another, silent and endless. It was no mere sorrow; it was grief from the depths of her soul, a cry of the spirit itself made manifest.
Akio, Sylvia, Leonora, and Alto could only watch in stunned silence. The devastation before them—and the Spirit’s anguish as she faced it—left them all without words.
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