Chapter 5: Radiance Without Flame

The War God’s temple had not known true light for a long time. For centuries now, its broken pillars were blackened, half-collapsed soldiers, long dead and guarding nothing under the frigid dusky sky of Izumo. The bright gold spilling into the temple was brilliant, piercing the gloom of the broken down temple.

Shion raised her hand to shield her eyes from the intense light. The glow came not from the fractured and sagging ceiling, but from a woman. It spilled into the drab temple halls and seemed far too radiant for the endless twilight that blanketed the land. A figure stepped over the threshold, bringing the glow with her. She was roughly the same height as Shosei, with sun-kissed skin and golden hair that flowed past her shoulders. Her eyes were dark orange, like a fiery sunrise. Shion found that this woman was so beautiful, but so bright, that it almost pained her to look. And this shining goddess was furious.

“So many disturbances in one day,” she tutted, her voice flowing like magma, hot and angry, across the temple as her gaze landed squarely on Shion. “First, Shosei is awakened, and then I sense the War God stirring, and it is all because this mortal girl trespasses among our land. Shosei, do you mock us?” Her voice was laced with condescension as she cast a glare to the youngest god.

Yahata, on the other hand, was unmoving as he stood beside Shion, neither defending nor dismissing her. His lips were pressed into a hard line and the tension in the room was suffocating.

Shosei stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his robes as he bowed to the goddess. “Amayori, wait! You misunderstand my intentions…and her presence. This mortal girl…she isn’t an intruder. Her hands have already restored some of our texts.” He fumbled in his satchel for a moment before producing the book and holding it up as proof against her scorn.

Amayori’s gaze was sharp. “And what of it, Shosei? The sun once painted this world in gold; the moon once lit the sky and guided travelers through the night. Yahata’s voice once commanded armies; mine brought harvests abundant. And now, my radiance has long since dwindled, my words powerless. And yet that girl, a mere mortal, intrudes upon our domain, wielding silence stronger than the dawn itself.”

Her words dripped with frustration, striking Shion harder than a slap. Shion stiffened, a familiar ache rising throughout her entire being. She thought to herself: ‘I don’t belong here…I shouldn’t be here.’

Beneath her insecurity, however, flickered another emotion: guilt. The way Amayori carried herself made Shion believe that the goddess was not only angry – but afraid. Shosei had told her that the Wordless One had taken everything from the gods; it was only natural, she reasoned, that someone such as herself that communicated without spoken words would be feared here.

Heat stirred inside of Shion’s chest and she raised her hands. ‘This time,’ she thought, ‘this time I won’t shrink away.’

Shosei’s eyes brightened and he gave her a reassuring nod. “Shion. It’s okay. Show her.”

Shosei’s friendly tone steadied her, steeling her resolve. She stepped forward slowly, hand extended and heart hammering.

Amayori wore a look of disdain. Yet after a lengthy pause, she offered her hand, daring Shion to fail.

As Shion’s fingers touched the goddess’s bronzed skin, her other hand signed, “warmth.”

Shosei spoke, translating the simple word to the other two but his voice was somewhat drowned out by the power that surged through the temple. Heat pulsated from Shion’s fingertips, spilling outward through her free hand as well as Amayori’s. The temple stones glowed faintly, and the stones radiated with soft heat; the air itself softened as if dawn had broken.

Amayori gasped, her eyes wide with awe rather than anger. And in that moment, Shion felt seen.

“…Warmth,” Amayori whispered, tasting the word on her tongue as though it were her own memory restored. Then she pulled her hand away, her lips tightening into a thin line.

“You borrow from powers that do not belong to you,” she said coldly. “Should you falter, if you are false, I will ensure that you are brought down before you can bring about ruin.”

Yahata’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword one more, his gaze unflinching as it once more fixed on Shion. Though he did not speak, his intentions were clear: if Amayori did not strike her down, he would.

Shion felt uncertain and unsure, her chest tightened with anxiety, yet she forced herself to remain straight and upright. “Where should we begin?” She signed with resolve.

Shosei’s bright grin broke the tension, defiant in its own way, “She asks where our journey should begin. Where, indeed? A fine question, isn’t it?”

He turned his gaze to Shion once more, lowering his voice and speaking more softly, “I would suggest the Temple of the Water God. If anyone can help her utilize this ability and understand what she may be, it is he.”

Amayori’s fiery eyes lingered on Shion, allowing Shion to truly understand her. Shion saw more than suspicion in the other woman’s eyes – she saw envy.

“Go then,” Amayori said at last, shrugging her shoulders, “I will watch from afar and decide if you can prove that you signal salvation or ruin.” Her gaze sharpened and she exhaled, “You will learn that the sun can still burn should your presence threaten us.”

Amayori turned on her heel and left as quickly as she had arrived. Without her radiance, the temple felt even colder than before.

In spite of the threats, Shion’s breathing remained oddly steady. Her hand still tingled from the touch of the goddess who had seen her, rather than erasing her. Her actions were continuously being recognized. She had power here.

“Not too shabby,” Shosei mused, tapping his fingers against the book he still held before putting it away in his satchel. “No mortal has been able to touch the sun and live to tell the tale. If you had a voice to brag with, I’m sure no one would believe such a feat,” he joked.

Shion shot him a flat look, though a corner of her lips tugged upward into the smallest of smiles.

Yahata’s eyes lingered on Shion, his gaze heavy as iron. He did not trust her. Not yet.

Above their heads, high among the rafters, a cloaked figure clung to the shadows, silent as ash as every movement and word was committed to their mind. The cult had already marked her.