The Altar of Truth

The Soul Garden wasn’t what Kaito expected.

No gleaming shrine. No sacred lights or heavenly choir. Just a crater of silence, as if the world had caved in here a long time ago and forgot how to breathe.

The ground was soft with ash. Gray petals drifted through the air like snowflakes, settling on broken stones and lifeless vines. In the center stood a stone altar, half-buried in roots that slithered like veins through the soil.

Kaito stood before it, his cloak torn, face streaked with dirt and blood. The Auroria flower pulsed faintly in his grip. The closer he got to the altar, the heavier his body felt—as if the island itself was pushing back.

“Don’t fight me now,” he whispered. “You wanted this too.”

The flower pulsed once, then dimmed.

Behind him, the path he'd carved through the forest was already being swallowed. Trees closed in, leaves curled tightly. The island had grown tired of visitors. Especially liars.

But Kaito wasn’t here to lie anymore.

He placed the flower on the altar.

The stone cracked.

A low hum began, vibrating through the earth, up his legs, into his bones. The sky darkened—not with clouds, but with something thicker. The air tasted like smoke and old regrets.

Then a voice spoke—not aloud, but inside him.

You carry five souls.

“Yes.”

Each gave you their trust. Each gave you their truth.

Kaito didn’t respond. His hands clenched into fists.

You must return that truth with blood.

The altar split open.

Inside was a hollow basin, filled with black water that shimmered like oil. Reflections danced across the surface not his, but theirs.

Sora, laughing as he held up a shell he swore was magical.

Yita, sketching maps with her tongue poking out in focus.

Renji, clumsily trying to cook.

Haru, gazing at the stars as if they could answer her questions.

And Sakio.

Smiling. Always smiling.

Kaito stepped back.

“No.”

This is the price.

“They’re not the ones who deserve to die.”

Then give us the one who does.

Kaito stared down at the basin.

His reflection didn’t appear. Only the others. As if he was already gone.

He didn’t flinch when footsteps crunched behind him.

“You really came here alone,” Renji said.

Kaito turned.

The others were all there.

Renji, blade drawn.

Sora, arms shaking.

Yita, eyes narrowed.

Haru, silent.

No one looked surprised to find him here.

“You left in the night,” Haru said softly. “You took the flower. And you left us behind.”

“I didn’t need you anymore,” Kaito said plainly.

Sora stepped forward. “You’re lying.”

Kaito chuckled. “I’ve been lying since the beginning.”

Yita raised her voice. “Was any of it real, Kaito? Any of the laughs? The stories? Did you even care when Sakio ”

“Don’t,” Kaito cut in sharply. His voice cracked.

They all paused.

Then Yita’s eyes widened. “You did care.”

Kaito’s jaw clenched. “And that’s why I have to do this.”

Renji tightened his grip on his blade. “Do what, exactly?”

“End the curse,” Kaito said. “Even if it means becoming something worse than cursed.”

Sora’s voice shook. “So you’re going to kill us?”

“No,” Kaito said. “I’m going to give you a choice.”

He turned back to the altar, and the island trembled.

“Five souls,” Kaito said. “One flower. One cure.”

They stared at him in horror.

“You brought us here to choose who dies?” Yita’s voice rose.

Kaito didn’t respond.

Because in truth—he already knew who it would be.

The island began to hum louder.

The sky above them cracked not physically, but spiritually. The clouds shifted into shapes familiar ones. Faces. Memories. Their laughter twisted into screams.

The island was revealing everything now.

Every lie Kaito told. Every time he pretended to smile. The false comfort. The fake tears. The moments he hesitated not because he cared but because he didn’t want the plan to break too soon.

Renji shouted over the noise. “You used us!”

“I had no choice!” Kaito yelled back.

“Yes, you did!” Haru screamed, her eyes red with tears. “You always had a choice!”

The ground split near the altar.

A voice rose from the earth.deep and rumbling.

Choose.

Sora collapsed to his knees, hands over his ears. “Make it stop!”

The basin’s black water rippled violently, and one of the faces vanished.

Sakio’s.

Kaito stepped forward.

“I already lost her. I won’t lose the rest of you too.”

Yita hissed, “You expect us to believe you now?”

“No,” Kaito whispered. “I don’t.”

He turned back to them, slowly.

“But if one of you steps forward… willingly… I can end it. Just one.”

Silence.

Then, unexpectedly, Sora stood.

“Kaito…”

“Don’t,” Kaito warned, voice trembling. “Don’t make me hate you more than I already hate myself.”

Sora smiled sadly. “You’re already gone, aren’t you?”

Kaito didn’t answer.

Sora turned to the others. “If this ends it… I’ll do it.”

“No,” Renji growled. “Hell no. We didn’t come all this way just to ”

“It has to end somewhere!” Sora shouted. “If not me, then who?! Yita? Haru?”

The basin’s glow intensified. The altar shook.

The island was growing impatient.

Haru stepped forward. “Then we do it together.”

Everyone stared at her.

“What?”

Yita nodded slowly. “Split the curse. Share the pain. No sacrifice. Just truth.”

Kaito looked at them like they were insane.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Maybe it is,” Haru whispered. “Maybe that’s the one thing you never tried being honest.”

The Auroria flower pulsed softly. Almost… gently.

Kaito stared at it.

Could it really be that simple?

Or was this just another cruel trick from the island?

He reached out and touched the flower.

It didn’t recoil.

Instead, it opened wider, revealing a small glowing seed within.

The curse in his body writhed screaming in protest.

And in that moment, he knew.

The island wasn’t powered by betrayal.

It was powered by truth.

And the only thing it demanded now was for Kaito to face his own.

He turned to his friends.

“I killed her,” Kaito said. “Sakio. She trusted me the most. And I let her die. Because I was too afraid to admit that I loved her more than I hated this curse.”

No one spoke.

The wind picked up. The petals swirled in circles.

Kaito stepped into the basin.

The black water turned clear.

Then, one by one, the others joined him.

No screams. No pain.

Just light.

The island sighed.

And the curse began to break.