A message

The four didn’t speak much on the way back. Merchants closing stalls with quick hands, children pulling baskets behind them, and guards in pairs walking the avenues with blank stares and heavy yawns. Hibiki muttered under his breath now and again, swearing at the whole situation, but no one answered him. The orchard lingered heavily in their heads. Alice walked with her arms locked across her chest; the pear she’d carried clung tightly to her chest, the bloom swaying gently in the breeze. Ren kept looking back, his thoughts circling the three robed figures. They hadn’t moved. They hadn’t followed. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes digging into his back long after the gate had closed.

When the inn came into view, it felt more like a shelter than a place for sleep. They moved up the narrow stairs without hesitation, squeezing into their room without even checking the hall. The walls seemed thinner yet intimidating and Hibiki slumped into the corner, rubbing at his face with both hands. “Well, that was fun.” His laugh was sharp and weak. “Flowers from rotten pears and Ren nearly sucking us into a hole.” Miyako turned her head sharply. “Why do you always have to make stupid jokes?”

“I’m not joking.” Hibiki looked up, exhaustion coating his face. “We nearly got torn apart out there. It’s not like me or you have ever done anything like that. If those hooded freaks had come closer—" “They didn’t,” Miyako cut across him, voice like steel. “And we’re still here. That’s what matters.” Alice had sunk onto her bed, staring at her hands as though she didn’t recognise them. The black flower flashed in her mind every time she blinked. “It didn’t look alive,” she said quietly, almost whispering to herself. “It looked… wrong. Like I made it sick.” Ren forced himself to speak before Miyako could. “You made it. That means something. Even if it was strange.” His throat was dry, but he kept going. “We don’t even know what this… power is meant to look like. Maybe it’s always like that.” Alice shook her head hard, curling tighter into herself. Hibiki groaned and threw himself back against the wall. “And Ren almost fell into his own pit. That’s not normal either. We’re supposed to be learning, but it feels like we’re just breaking things.”

“That’s because we don’t know the rules,” Miyako said. She sat cross-legged on her bed, knife in her lap, running her thumb across the flat of the blade. “No one taught us. No one explained. But the woman in white… she knew. She saw something. If she’s right, then it’s not just us messing around. It’s something more.” Her words left the room cold. Ren couldn’t help thinking of Darius then — the way the barkeep had said it wasn’t like him to vanish. Two days gone, no word, no sightings.

If anyone could have given them answers about what was happening or the strange threads, it would’ve been him. But the man had disappeared. They spoke in fragments through the rest of the night. Hibiki cursing the orchard. Miyako insisted they couldn’t stop, not now. Ren kept quiet until he finally lay down, staring at the ceiling until his eyes burnt. The sleep that followed was shallow and restless.

The scratching sound woke Ren before the sun had risen. It was faint, just outside the door, like something dragging across wood. He sat up instantly, hand on the knife under his pillow. Hibiki was snoring in the corner, Alice curled tight under her blanket, and Miyako was already sitting up like she’d been waiting for it. She raised a finger to her lips before moving to the door.

The hallway outside was empty. But on the floorboards just in front of their door lay a small flask. Ren recognised it instantly — the beaten tin surface, the dent in the side, the way the cap was barely screwed on straight. Darius’s flask. It was stained dark with dried blood. Next to it, a scrap of folded paper. Miyako crouched, picking it up carefully.Inside, written in jagged ink, were only a few words: “Docks district warehouse 2. Back entrance. Sunset.”

Beneath the writing was a faint smear of blood, as though the writer hadn’t had time to wipe their hand. Ren’s stomach turned to stone. “It’s him. It has to be him.” Hibiki stirred awake, rubbing at his eyes. “What the hell are you all staring at?” When they showed him, his face went pale despite the bravado in his voice. “This is a trap. No way it’s not. Darius wouldn’t—” “He wouldn’t vanish either.” Miyako snapped back, her tone sharper than she intended. She held the paper up, shaking it slightly. “This could be the only lead we get.” Alice sat up, the colour draining from her face and eyes locked on the flask. “There’s so much blood on it... What if he’s—”

“He’s alive,” Ren cut in before she could finish. His chest hurt as he said it, but he forced the words out. “He has to be; otherwise, why would they leave a note?” There was silence and Hibiki finally stood, pacing. “So what? We walk over there, into whatever lunatic nest left this note, and hope they hand him back with a smile? Come on. We barely survived a few bandits. This is… bigger.” Miyako’s eyes narrowed, weighing each word. “Bigger, yes. But we can’t ignore it. If we do, we’ll never know. And if he’s alive, we owe him.” Alice’s voice shook. “And if it’s a trap?” “Then we deal with it; right now it’s our only chance for answers,” Miyako replied, flat as steel.

Ren held the flask in his hand. The dried blood was flaking under his grip. He thought of Darius’s as he turned the flask around in his hand. Two days without that voice, and now this. His hands trembled, but his voice came steady enough. “We don’t get to choose easy roads anymore. If we don’t go… then what are we even doing here?” Hibiki cursed, punching the wall once before throwing up his hands. “Fine. But when this goes wrong, I’m blaming all of you.” Miyako tucked the note into her pocket, her eyes hard. “Then it’s decided. We prepare. When the sun sets we head there, but we need a plan.” Ren set the flask down on the table, unable to shake the thought that it was already too late.