The Last Altar

 The wind howled as they ran.

Branches whipped at their arms. Roots clawed at their feet. But no one stopped.

Not even for a breath.

Not even when the path began to crumble beneath them.

Kaito was ahead—just a shadow now, vanishing into the thick fog. They could barely make him out. Just a flicker of black and silver in the pale moonlight, like a memory slipping through their fingers.

Renji gritted his teeth. “Faster! If he reaches the last altar—!”

“He won’t,” Haru growled, pushing past him.

Sora stumbled, caught by Yita’s hand before he fell. “Do we even know where we’re going?”

“No,” Yita said, pulling him along. “But the island does.”

It was true.

The path was opening up on its own now—trees shifting, leaves parting like they were being led. The island itself was alive… and it had chosen its finale.

Kaito’s breath burned in his lungs. His legs ached. But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

The altar was near—he could feel it, calling to him like a whisper in his blood. He could hear Sakio’s voice again, echoing in the forest. Not angry. Not sad.

Just… lonely.

“You promised we'd get out together.”

“I know,” Kaito whispered, eyes stinging. “But this is the only way now.”

He emerged into a clearing.

And there it was.

The final altar.

It stood at the edge of a cliff, jagged and ancient, carved from black stone that pulsed faintly red—like it had a heartbeat. Vines coiled around its base, with five swords embedded in a circle.

Each sword had a name.

Each one belonged to someone he’d brought here.

Sora. Yita. Renji. Haru. And Sakio.

The last sword—Kaito’s—hovered above the altar, glowing faintly.

One last offering.

One last betrayal.

Then it would all be over.

Kaito stepped forward.

But before his fingers touched the blade—

a voice cut through the wind.

“Don’t.”

Haru emerged first, panting, face streaked with dirt and tears. “Don’t do this.”

Kaito turned slowly. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“We had to,” Yita said, appearing beside her.

Sora stumbled in behind them, wide-eyed. “The island… it showed us everything.”

Renji’s footsteps were slower. He came last, sword still drawn. But his hands trembled.

“You lied to us,” he said. “Again and again. You used us.”

Kaito didn’t argue.

He just nodded.

“I did.”

“Then why hesitate?” Renji demanded. “Why didn’t you finish it already?”

Kaito’s eyes flicked toward the altar. “Because part of me… part of me still wants to be saved.”

Silence.

Yita stepped closer. “Then let us.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is,” Haru said. “Maybe it always was. You said this curse feeds on trust. On betrayal. But you don’t have to finish it. Not like this.”

Kaito’s voice cracked. “And if I don’t? What then? I keep rotting from the inside? I live every day hearing their voices—Akura, Sakio, my parents—over and over?”

“You’re not the only one who lost someone!” Sora shouted, eyes wet. “You think we didn’t bleed too?! You think we came here just for fun?!”

Kaito looked away.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” Haru said. “Stop running. Stay.”

Renji lowered his sword. Just slightly. “We came to save you, Kaito. Even if you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t,” Kaito said. “That’s the problem. I don’t.”

The island trembled.

The altar pulsed faster.

Something ancient stirred beneath the ground—watching, waiting.

Time was running out.

And still, Kaito hesitated.

“I killed Sakio,” he whispered. “she trusted me. Believed in me. And I gave her hope just so I could—”

“We know,” Yita interrupted, voice soft but firm. “We know. And still we’re here.”

“You should hate me.”

“We did,” Renji muttered. “For a moment. But then we remembered everything.”

“The way you carried us when we collapsed. The way you stayed up every night keeping watch. The way you laughed, even when it hurt,” Haru added.

“You’re not a monster, Kaito,” Sora said. “You’re just someone who broke.”

Kaito’s legs buckled.

He fell to his knees.

The altar lit up behind him, reacting to his doubt.

The five swords began to hum.

Then a voice echoed from the cliff’s edge.

“You were always meant to fall.”

Everyone turned.

And from the mist… stepped Akura.

Or what was left of him.

His body looked burned—skin cracked, eyes glowing like embers. A wraith made of memory and rage.

Sora stepped back. “That’s not possible. He’s dead. Kaito—he killed him.”

“You can’t kill vengeance,” Akura said, voice like smoke. “It just finds another shape.”

He raised a hand, and the ground split.

Black vines shot up, snatching at their feet.

Renji slashed them away. “What the hell is he?!”

“Something I should’ve destroyed completely,” Kaito growled, standing again.

“You tried,” Akura sneered. “But you left a piece behind. And now I’ll finish what you started.”

He lunged.

But Kaito met him head-on.

Their blades clashed—Kaito’s katana against Akura’s twisted shadow weapon. Sparks flew. The altar cracked.

The others backed away, watching in horror as the two former friends fought beneath the moonless sky.

“Kaito!” Haru shouted. “Don’t let him use you!”

“He already has!” Kaito yelled back. “He’s the reason this curse started! The reason Sakio died! The reason I—”

“You made your own choices!” Renji yelled. “But you still have another!”

Kaito locked blades with Akura, faces inches apart.

“You cursed me,” he growled. “You ruined everything.”

“No,” Akura whispered. “You did that… all by yourself.”

Then came a scream.

Not from Kaito.

Not from Akura.

From the altar.

The five swords shattered at once—releasing a blast of white light that knocked everyone to the ground.

The curse was unraveling.

Not ending.

Not lifting.

Breaking.

And in that moment… Kaito understood.

The curse didn’t want sacrifices.

It wanted truth.

Not betrayal.

But acceptance.

It was never about trust gained and destroyed.

It was about facing the past—completely.

He looked up at Akura, panting.

“You were my friend,” Kaito said, voice raw. “And I hated you for what you did. But I hated myself more.”

Akura’s form began to flicker.

“You don’t get to move on.”

“I already did.”

Kaito drove his blade into the ground—not Akura’s chest.

And with a final scream, the shadow vanished.

Silence fell.

The wind stopped.

The altar turned to dust.

And for the first time since arriving… the island felt quiet.

Peaceful.

They helped Kaito to his feet.

No one spoke.

They didn’t need to.

There were no more lies left between them.

No more masks.

Just scars.

But they were real.

And they were alive.

As dawn broke over the island, painting the sea gold, Kaito looked out over the edge of the cliff.

“Sakio,” he whispered. “I kept walking. Just like you said.”

The wind carried no reply.

But somehow… that was enough.