The Night the Talisman Fell for the Last Time

Akari opened her eyes.
Not slowly, not gradually — all at once.

Yuki stood before her, arms raised, voice anchored in an ancient tongue that vibrated through the wooden galleries of the shrine.
The circle blazed with a blinding gold. Beneath Akari, the white lilies were crushed, releasing a sweet, humid scent — almost intoxicating.

And she felt the sacred paper.
It was burning.

Not a burn of the flesh, but a living heat, as if something inside her was being awakened.
The yellowed rectangle trembled against her forehead, resisting the words that sought to dissolve it.

“Yuki!”

Yuki did not stop. Her voice rose higher, confident, carried by the night wind.
“Let the divine chains be broken…”

“Stop!”

“Let the prisoner be released…”

The mark on Akari’s forehead flared — red, crimson, danger.

And she knew. A cold certainty settled in her heart: something terrible was about to happen.

“YUKI, STOP!”

She tried to rise, but an invisible force pinned her down — the circle’s power, binding her in place.

Yuki, eyes closed, chose not to hear:
“By my blood, by my will, by my heart…”

Then — it happened.

A second circle appeared.

It materialized beneath the first, etched directly into the stone, as if it had always been there, waiting.
Its sigils were older, darker, ominous.

Yuki’s eyes snapped open, wide with shock. “Wh-… what ?”

“The trap!” Akari screamed. “It’s a trap!”

Both circles began to spin — Yuki’s golden one clockwise, the buried one counter-clockwise — two gears grinding, biting, throwing sparks of light.

Yuki tried to step back, but her feet were rooted.
The ritual had passed the point of return.

The paper on Akari’s forehead glowed — red, orange, then white, incandescent.

Runes burst across its surface, searing themselves into Yuki’s mind as if someone were carving them into her chest:

She who breaks oblivion shall inherit oblivion.
She who frees memory shall lose her own.

“No…” Yuki whispered, pale as ash. “No, no, no…”

“Get out of the circle!” Akari shouted. “Now!”

“I can’t!”

“Try!”

Yuki pulled with all her strength — to no avail. The ritual held her fast.

The seal exploded.

Not physically — in light.

A blinding white engulfed everything — the shrine, the forest, the sky itself.

And in that white, everything returned.

A dam broke.
Floods of memories poured into her mind.

Hana.
Her face. Her black hair tied in a ribbon. Her gentle eyes.
The visits to the shrine, the white lilies offered at the altar.
The stream, their fingers intertwined, laughter muffled so the world wouldn’t hear.
The crown of lilies placed on her head with a soft “You’re beautiful.”
The night of torches. The screams.
Hands tearing them apart. “Leave her alone !”
The storm. The rage. The tears of fire.
The light falling from the heavens.
The judgment: You shall forget. The one you loved. Who you are. Why you suffer. Again, and again, and again.

Fifty years of cyclical forgetting — and now it all rushed back in one breath.

The pain was unbearable. Like having her heart ripped out.
Hana lost. Hana forgotten. Hana perhaps long dead.

But there was something else.

Another face. Another name.

Yuki.

Every awakening. Every shared moment.
The crown of lilies upon Yuki’s hair.
The laughter. The silences. The half-spoken words that lingered in the air.

Akari opened her eyes — when had she closed them? — and searched for Yuki.

She was there, standing amid the gold and red, her face frozen in shock.

Their eyes met.

And in Yuki’s gaze, Akari saw the same white light that had swallowed her — memories fading one by one, like stars dying out.

“No,” Akari breathed. “Not her.”

She tried to break the chains that held her — nothing.

“YUKI!”

Yuki blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream.

“Who… who are you?”

The words cut through Akari like a blade.

“It’s me. Akari. Do you remember?”

But Yuki stared with empty eyes — eyes that recognized nothing.

“A… Akari… I… I don’t…”

The two circles of light spun faster — gold singing, red rumbling.

Seconds. That was all they had left.

Akari had to say something — anything — something that might remain, even after the forgetting.

“Yuki!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Listen to me! Even if you forget my face, my name — even if everything disappears — you saved me. You gave me back my life. My memories. Because of you, I’m whole again!”

Yuki wavered.

“My name… is Yuki ?”

“Yes,” Akari said, crying and smiling all at once. “And you’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Yuki pressed a trembling hand to her temple, as if the light were piercing straight through her skull.

“Why… why am I here? What was I doing ?”

The light reached its peak.
The circle’s grip released in an instant — Akari leapt forward.

They reached for each other.
Their fingers touched.

In that single touch, Akari felt everything she wanted to say — everything she would never have time to.

I love you. Not like Hana. Differently. But just as deeply.
Thank you. For existing. For being you.

White flash.

Silence.

The light receded like the tide. Stars reappeared in the sky. The shrine’s pillars redrew themselves out of the void.

Yuki knelt, gasping, palms pressed against the still-warm stone.

Around her — faint white traces of the circle, scattered offerings, crushed lilies whose sweet scent filled the heavy night air.

“Where… where am I?”

She tried to remember. Why was she here? What was she doing?

I’m here… for…

Nothing. A black hole in her mind.

She looked at her wrist — a small, clean incision, barely bleeding.

Ritual? The word floated but never settled.

Yuki staggered to her feet, found a bag lying nearby — her bag ? — and took a few hesitant steps backward.

The shrine stood hollow before her, an outline without meaning.

An immense emptiness tore through her chest — a void without a name, the perfect shape of something irreplaceable she no longer knew she’d lost.

She turned and began to descend the moss-covered steps.

Behind her, the crushed lilies perfumed the night.

***

In the forest, far from the shrine, a lone figure walked between the trees.

Akari.

Free.

For the first time in fifty years — free without forgetting.

Her forehead was bare — the skin smooth, cool, light as clear water.

She stopped, looking back toward the dark mountain.

“Thank you.”

The word dissolved into the warm air.

She knew she would probably never see her again.
She knew Yuki would not remember her.

It’s my burden now, she thought. To remember for us both.

She pressed her hand to her heart — that heart now filled with two loves:

Hana, lost to the fury of men.
Yuki, lost to the cunning of gods.

Tears streamed freely down her face. But she was smiling.

Because she was alive. Whole.

Because of Yuki.

She turned and walked deeper into the forest — free, but alone.

Behind her, the fireflies still danced, stubborn and shining, in the summer night.